#it can’t be returned bc it’s past the date

[grandtheftautumn]

The only FOB CD I’m missing is American Beauty/American Psycho & my mom heard me complaining about it (I was holding off buying bc everywhere I looked it was either sold out or overpriced) and bought one for me.

Anyway, it shows up in the mail & …

This fucker is shattered, dented, and chipped along every possible edge/surface. What the fuck.

[almostempty]

Self Esteem

Pairing: fuckboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel blows you off for your date. You end up blowing him when he shows up looking to score. Inspired by the song Self Esteem by The Offspring. 

Warnings: kinda mean/fuckboy joel, mild dub con, smut, PWP, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv sex, joel comes on your tits, dirty talk, one (1) slap, choose your own joel era, readers on some dumb bitch juice for this man (i would be too), hit and run, smash and dash,

Notes: PLEASE send any feedback, this is the first thing i’ve ever written and posted, i’m tryn’ to practice and gain confidence bc my dream fic doesn’t exist so i gotta write it, it’s scary to post, y’all are so brave wtf 

WC: 2.9K

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57513220 

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 3: Kick and Scream

Part 4: The more you suffer

Masterlist: Here

It’s a moderately painful type of suffering. Like purgatory. You’d made plans to go out tonight with Joel. It’s useless to expect him to show up, but you got ready and anxiously paced around your living room anyway. Checking your phone, at thirty minutes past the time he had said he’d pick you up. You sent him a text. His read receipts were on; he saw your message. Another thirty minutes pass agonizingly slowly. He hasn’t responded. You can feel a mild headache forming behind your eyes. 

You grab a drink from your fridge and collapse on the couch with a sigh. A mixture of anger, regret, and rejection churns in your gut. You shouldn’t have set yourself up for disappointment. 

No, he shouldn’t be such an asshole. You’ve got to stick up for yourself. Tell him off for his bullshit. The manipulation, standing you up, the lies. You know he’s using you. 

Unfortunately, you find the toxic rush addictive. The way he charms and seduces you after disappearing or acting like an idiot. You enable his behavior every time. 

And it’s sick that you like it. You like knowing it’s your door he knocks on in the middle of the night. He won’t take you on a date, but he still can’t stay away. 

No. Not this time. You’re done letting him waste your time with plans that never materialize. You’re going to practice all the things you should say. Tell him to fuck off. 

You grab another drink and return to the couch. The rejection is sinking in, and you’re feeling pretty low. You silence notifications from him in an attempt to take control of your thoughts. To stop waiting for it to light up with his name. You aren’t going to keep waiting for him. 

You shower and change into a big T-shirt and underwear. Returning to the couch, you turn on some trash TV to shut your brain off. It helps. Keeps you distracted. When it hits 2 AM, you crawl off the couch and turn out the lights. You hope you’re tired enough to sleep without Joel haunting your thoughts. 

You’re getting a glass of water to take to bed when you hear the knock at your door. Your stomach swoops and your body tenses with excitement. 

You’re fucked. 

You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face. 

He’s like a stray cat. Or, more like a tomcat. You know he’s gonna sweet talk his way in. You should ignore him. You should leave him outside on your doorstep, horny and alone. Let him feel rejected this time. 

You crack open the door and face Joel. He glows in the moonlight, stupid eyes sparkling when he looks at you. He leans an arm on the door frame and purrs at you. 

“Baby.”  

You roll your eyes. His breath smells like whiskey. 

“What the fuck, Joel? Where were you?”

He frowns. Big brown eyes try to weaken your defenses. 

“Work thing.” 

“Til 2 AM?” 

“One of the guys on the crew. Was his birthday, so we had to take him out.” 

You don’t believe him. You feel the urge to slap him across his scruffy cheek. You feel the urge to pull him in and kiss him. 

No. You can’t listen to that voice. The voice that still gets butterflies over him showing up at the door. He’s only here because all the bars closed, and now he’s looking to score. 

He preys on your moment of weakness. You’re in a debate with your inner demons, and he barges his way into your space. He moves like a blur. You blink and his rough hand is tracing the line of your jaw. 

He’s caging you in against the back of your door. He leans in closer. Hot breath fanning over your face. Your breath is still caught in your throat. You have half a mind to shove him off of you and begin your lecture, but he gives you no chance. 

He presses urgent kisses and bites along your jawline and down the column of your throat. A vampire at your door. You didn’t invite him in, but he’s got his teeth sinking into your flesh anyway. 

He smells like sweat, sawdust, and some over-scented men’s deodorant. Smells like a man, your lizard brain thinks. 

Trapped between him and the door, the closeness is intoxicating. His body is large and powerful and radiates a frenetic energy. Like he’s buzzing with need for you. You can’t help it; you like feeling wanted like this. Desired. The way he crashes into you like a feral beast—

“Wait.” Some sense flashes into your conscience. 

“Hmm?” he growls in your ear. His face is still buried against your neck while his hands grope at your body. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hands move to knead at your breasts through your soft, faded shirt. You fight to ignore the pleasure. 

“Joel.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t just show up in the middle of the night after bailing on me and expect to get laid.” 

His hands slide under your shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes you dizzy. He pinches and pulls at your nipples, and you fight back a moan, trying to refocus. 

“Joel!” you snap at him. 

“C’mon, I’m sorry, baby,” he coos into your skin. 

He rocks his hips against you, and the sensation of his hard bulge in his jeans against your soft skin sends a jolt of need through your nervous system. The words you practiced earlier slip further and further from your mind. 

“You can’t keep treating me like this.” You lob at him. The rest of your speech is hazy. You're grasping at sentence fragments, trying to remember the points you wanted to make. 

“Not gonna keep working.”

“Quit,” he replies sharply. 

“What?” 

One of his large hands slides up, still under your shirt, bunching it up, and wraps around your throat. He bites at your chin. Sharp teeth. He kisses your cheek. Soft lips. He nips your earlobe. You gasp. He sucks it into his hot mouth. Your eyes slam shut. 

You feel like you’re at his mercy, and the cavewoman inside of you just wants him to drag you to bed. 

“Quit arguing,” he grumbles. His deep voice in your ear sends a rush of arousal down your spine. 

“It’s not fair,” you protest. 

He shifts. His hands travel downward to squeeze at the plush skin of your ass. He tugs you forward and shoves his knee between your legs. You lose any train of thought. Cruel man. You don’t care anymore. You’ll let him keep tearing pieces out of your heart. As long as you can keep using each other's bodies. 

The pressure and friction of his thigh against your tingling pussy is the ultimate betrayal. You can’t stop the whiny gasps that come out of your mouth at the contact. 

He lets out a satisfied chuckle at that. Cocky bastard. 

“Not fair,” he repeats after you. “Hmm. Tell that to your wet cunt dripping on my leg, baby.” 

Your core flutters at his words. You feel your face flush, but it’s hard to argue with him. 

“I think you want me,” he continues. 

You try to glare at him. Your hips don’t care, though, as they roll against him. 

“S’alright, baby.”

You wish it were. 

“I only want you.” 

You desperately want to believe him. You shove that thought out of your mind. 

He pulls your shirt off and rakes his eyes down your body. He’s menacing. His broad shoulders and tense muscles loom over you. He’s fully clothed while you’re bare except for your wet panties clinging to your folds. 

Your chest heaves as you watch him. He has a carnivorous gaze. You’re prey with your soft body exposed; he’s a hungry predator waiting to make a lethal move. 

But he doesn’t strike. 

He moves painfully slowly. Tracing a finger down over your lips, down your chest, and belly, to the hem of your underwear. He slips the tip of his finger underneath and skates it across your skin from left to right. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, tense and twitching at the sensations. It’s too delicate. His expression looks like he wants to eat you whole, but his movement is restrained. 

“Know you do.” his voice washes over you, and a slight hum echoes in your throat. 

“You want me.” he husks. 

He pushes you back off his thigh. His hand dives further into your panties, and he drags his fingers through the pool of your arousal and spreads it through your folds. A smile breaks out on his face. 

“Yes,” you exhale as your body shudders. 

A look flashes across his features, and his eyes darken with lust. You peer down to watch his hand disappear in your underwear. 

“Say it.” He demands. 

“What?” Your eyes flick up to his. 

“Say it.” He repeats firmly. 

You writhe a little as he continues to toy with you. He’s wicked. Tracing circles around your clit, but not long enough to build a satisfying rhythm before he dips down and fills you with two fingers. He moves them lazily for his own enjoyment. 

You groan in frustration. It’s a tempting sound to his ears, but he doesn’t look amused. He’s waiting to hear it. 

“I want you?” you guess what he’s waiting for you to say. 

There's no use lying about it if that’s what he wants to hear. You want him. Even if you’ve been ruminating over his shitty behavior all night. 

“You askin’ or tellin’?” 

“Want you,” you repeat as a statement. 

He pulls his hand away completely. Your body jerks, chasing his touch. 

“Please,” you try. 

“Again.” he’s gruff. Ferocious as he demands you confess your desire. 

You sigh. Maybe for giving up so quickly or maybe because you always knew you would. 

“I want you.” 

He doesn’t relax. Or move. 

“Again.” He repeats like he’s a malfunctioning robot. 

“I want you, Joel.” 

“Again.”

“Please, Joel, I want you.” 

The hint of a smirk appears on his face. 

He taps your chin, encouraging you to part your lips. He slides his wet fingers in your mouth, along your tongue, and then removes them. He holds your open mouth, fingers around your jaw, and looks as if he’s assessing the quality of your tongue. 

“Prove it.” He commands. 

His tone does something to your brain.

Tomorrow, you might be confused at how he blew you off, but you ended up on your knees blowing him. But right now, you’re chasing a desperate need.

He steps back to give you space. You drop to your knees as he undoes his belt. Your eager hands work his jeans and boxers down far enough to expose his leaking cock. 

If you looked, you might’ve caught his condescending smirk, now fully exposed. 

You don’t look. You don’t wait for further instructions. You lap at his tip and tease with your tongue. You start working him into your mouth. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue causes you to moan. The vibrations cause him to moan right back. 

His arm shoots out to the door behind you for support. His head hangs, watching you move. 

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight of your lips wrapped around him. His clipped grunts and the way his core flexes encourage you. Your soft hand works in tandem with your mouth, and you’re drooling openly. You coat him in saliva. Messy. Your lips are swollen. 

When he breaches your throat, you slow down to focus on your breathing and swallowing. Little gags contract around the head of his cock as you focus on relaxing. 

“Fuck. Yeah, baby, show me you want it,” he rambles above you. 

You keep going and take him deep until your jaw aches and your pussy throbs. Hearing him react and spew filth at you stokes the fire in your core. 

“Knew your cock hungry mouth was waiting for me,” he slurs. 

A flash of embarrassment courses through you at that statement. 

You did wait for him. You should’ve said no. But it’s so hard when he shows up ready to go. You may be dumb for tolerating his actions, but you’re not going to turn down a man that looks like him and fucks like he does.  

“Eyes up,” he orders. 

You whine around him, looking up through your lashes. Obedient. With your eyes locked on each other, something passes briefly between you. Easy to miss, hard to describe. Like you could look at each other like that forever. Then it’s gone. 

He slides out of your mouth. Ogling the pornographic way spit trails between his tip and your tongue. The way your lashes are wet from trying to blink away the tears of exertion. 

“I did wait, Joel. Waited for you all night,” your voice comes out a little hoarse. You can’t be bothered if it sounds desperate. 

“‘Course you did,” he smiles and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Get up.” 

You don’t argue. He helps to pull you up, spins you around, and walks you the few steps over to your couch. He bends you over the armrest. You’re burning with need. 

He takes his time pulling your panties off. The way he has you presented for him makes you impatient. 

“Joel,” you whine his name in protest. 

“Quit.” He slaps your ass to make his point. 

You huff, but when both of his large palms spread your cheeks wider for his own enjoyment, another needy whine slips out of your throat. 

He chuckles darkly at you. 

“I’ll give you what you need,” he assures you before he sinks into your desperately empty hole. 

You groan in unison as he fills you. 

“So deep,” you murmur. He fits like he was made for you. Fills you up, so you can’t think of anything else. Can’t think of what you wanted to say or how you felt watching the time pass while you waited for him to show up earlier. 

“Always,” he agrees. 

He picks up a bruising pace. On edge for so long, you might go blind with the force of your building climax. 

He grasps your hair at the base of your skull and pulls, further arching your back and ripping another moan from deep in your chest. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind feels blank. The sounds of his hips slapping into you and your combined panting, grunting, and babbling turn to white noise. The consistent drive of his cock against the perfect spot inside of you has you hurtling to the edge. 

“Yeah, baby, I know what you want,” he croons. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and his other hand wraps around you to squeeze at them tightly. He remains steady and brutal with his movements. He does know what you want. And he keeps giving it to you. 

“Please, yes, don’t stop,” you beg. 

You wriggle one hand down to touch yourself. The pressure from your fingers around your clit brings you over the edge. You clench around him and gasp as you come.

“Yeah, that’s it. You come on this cock,” he rasps behind you as he works you through it. 

You feel the release melt your muscles, causing you to slump forward. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and you know he’s trying to hold on as he pulls out and pants heavily. 

“Turn around for me,” he demands, stepping back. “On your knees.” 

You obey and turn to kneel in front of him. He looks wrecked, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth hanging open. His fist wrapped around his cock, still glistening from your release. 

It’s a debauched scene. He’s still fully dressed, only as exposed as necessary. He charges towards his climax with frantic force. You pose for him eagerly despite your boneless, damp form. 

He looks so primal it makes you lightheaded. You bite your lip to stop yourself from letting a giggle out. Your face shines with a sated glow.

You tilt your head up and squeeze your tits together for him. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he rasps out like it’s the only word he knows at this point. Your glossy, swollen lips pout up at him. Like, you need him to finish for you. That sends him. He comes across your chest as you release your hands, dropping your breasts with a little bounce.. 

He stares at you as his breathing slows. His warm spend is rapidly cooling against your skin. You still have a glowy, dreamy look on your face. Content.

“You look so good like that,” he praises you. A flush creeps up your chest and neck. 

You stand up and grab your forgotten water from the coffee table. He tucks himself back into his jeans and fastens his belt. 

“You gonna buy me breakfast to make up for bailing?” you float the idea with a joking tone, but there’s hope behind it. 

“Sorry, baby, got a job early in the morning.” 

“Right,” you snarl at him as he leans in to kiss you. 

“How about dinner after?” he suggests and fishes for his keys in his pocket. 

“Okay, yeah, what time?” You ask. 

“Not sure when I’ll be done.” He’s not looking at you. “I’ll text you.” 

He turns, slips out the door, and then he’s gone. 

You’re still standing there, naked and dumbfounded, with his drying come across your tits as he drives away. 

You groan and curse at yourself. He’s not going to text you tomorrow. 

You should stick up for yourself. But he did say he wants only you. And the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care, right? 

[safetypinxtales]

400 years | Azriel

summary: drinking with your best friend takes a turn when you happen upon some of Feyre's art supplies.

words: 3.2k

warnings: steamy 18+ mdni, nudity, sex is insinuated but not described, kissing, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly), reader and azriel are drunk, making out, big dick azriel, fluff, no use of y/n, neutrally described reader/no reader description

notes: happy valentines day, here's some azriel for youuu🤍 I got the inspiration for this whilst reading this fic by @solbaby7 bc who wouldn't want to draw az like one of your French girls?? Frankly there is nothing I would like to do more. Their fic is amazing and you guys should totally check it out if you haven't already! Anyways, I'm sorry for the "shut the door" type ending, but I cannot write smut to save my life so this will have to do. Hope you enjoy!🤍

masterlist

Thud.

The sound of Azriel accidentally smacking his head on the wall as he plopped down on the sofa across from you echoed within the walls of the cabin, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of you. Azriel’s own shaking shoulders and scrunched up nose let you know that he couldn’t help it either. 

But that was to be expected wasn’t it? The past hour had been filled with nothing but bubbling laughter from the both of you, giggles from Az, and some very graceful snorts… also definitely from Azriel. 

The reason why he had brought you to Rhys’ cabin in the mountains was long forgotten after the two nearly empty bottles of alcohol on the table in front of you. The heartache of getting stood up on your date earlier that evening buried under a considerable amount of drinks. 

“As long as the glass is never empty in between refills, they don’t count.”

Azriel’s words from earlier came back to you, only fuelling your cramp inducing giggles. 

That had always been your motto in times like these. A consistency that had lasted centuries. 

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out in between fits of hysteria, your arms coming up to wrap around yourself. But your laughter didn’t die down, and neither did Azriel’s. Your uttered words only seemed to fire him on as he tipped over on his side, hand landing a slap on the armrest.

Seeing him like this, so free and relaxed, was rare. You could probably count each separate occasion on your hands. He only really let go like this when you needed it. When the urge to drink your walls down and flush the pain away seemed like the only remedy to whatever situation you were dealing with.

It was a very rare occurrence indeed. But one of your favourites. 

Azriel’s carefree giggles, that luminous light in his eyes; you swore it could make budding flowers bloom.

You sat up straight, and the situation stopped feeling so funny as you laid eyes on Azriel’s still laughing frame. The uncontrolled giggles, and the way his wings shook in time with his chest. It was enchanting, the sight of your best friend being so relaxed, so happy. 

The shadows that were usually crowding his frame were nowhere to be seen – with the exception of the lone swirl of darkness slowly snaking its way around your wrist, coming down to entwine with your fingers every now and again.

It took a couple more minutes until Azriel’s laughter had finally seized. You both sat on separate sofas, smiles stretched wide and eyes glazed over from the alcohol you had ingested, and as your breathing started to return to normal a thought struck.

“What?” Azirel asked as he leaned forward on his elbows, a curious glint in his eyes. 

“What?” You prodded back, more confused than curious, blinking a few times to try and rid the alcohol-induced veil that surrounded you. What was he on about? 

“Well,” he waved one floppy hand in your direction, “you just perked up, it was like you grew ten inches,” he exclaimed, before continuing in a slightly lowered, bemused voice, ”and that means you just had one of your ideas.”

The corners of your mouth quirked upwards as you slowly nodded your head. He was right – you had come up with an idea.

“Well, I was just thinking about how Feyre mentioned after the last time she was here,” you stood up from your seat, swaying slightly but quickly finding your balance, doing your very best to not bump into the table separating you. “Something about forgotten art supplies.”

Like a predator sighting a prey, Azriel’s interest piqued in a moment. His razor sharp focus was on your every step as you walked towards the supply closet at the other side of the room. 

The closet was unusually dusty, a strange thing for being Rhysand’s property. He was usually very meticulous when it came to things always being spotless and presentable. But you supposed that a small, rarely used supply closet in the family cabin wasn’t a priority of his. Keeping it clean was not a good enough use of his magic. 

Luckily for you, that just made your quest easier. You just had to look for whatever was covered in the least amount of dust bunnies.

“Aha!” You whipped around to face your friend, triumphantly displaying the sketch pad and charcoals in your hands. 

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at your revelation, grin still present on his beautiful face.

“That’s your big idea? Drawing?”

“You should know I used to be quite the whiz with the charcoals when I was younger,” you rebutted and Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. 

“I have seen your penmanship, so I will believe this talent of yours when I see it,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sheer audacity in his words. Your penmanship was not that bad.

Taking a few steps back in his direction with a huff, you flipped through the sketch pad in search of an unused sheet of parchment. You were gonna show him, alright…

You couldn’t help but admire Feyre’s old sketches as you went through the pages. Some you recognised as early-version sketches of paintings you had seen around the river house, and some were–

“Oh!” Your fingers froze as your eyes landed on what seemed to be an anatomical study. A very detailed, very beautiful, anatomical study of – oh my Gods. You felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Is that Rhysand?!”

At the screech in your voice and the mention of his brother’s name, Azriel shot up off the sofa to get a peek at whatever had managed to pull such a reaction from you. 

The warmth of his body radiated into your side as he peered over your shoulder at the drawing of the very naked high lord. 

You noticed him stiffening out of the corner of your eyes and then, like a tether snapping, laughter started to boom inside the walls of the cabin. With a steadying hand on your shoulder he doubled over in giggles so contagious it didn’t take long before you joined in with his hysterics. 

“No way,” he wheezed, “oh Gods – I can’t wait to tell Cassian!” 

The mere thought of how Cassian would react to such a revelation, the look on his face, had you clutching your stomach. Poor Rhys would never hear the end of it.

And by the cauldron, if you don’t wake up with rippling abs tomorrow from the amount of laughter this night had brought….

“You can’t blame her though,” you mused once you managed to get your giggles under control, “I mean, nice job Feyre.” A low whistle left you as you peered down at your clearly blessed high lord.

The laughter quieted down beside you and you raised your gaze to look at Azriel, only to be met with an incredulous look. 

“What, I’m just calling it as I see it!” You exclaimed and raised your hands in defence, charcoals and disrobed Rhysand still in your grasp.

His eyes flicked down to the sketch pad, before slowly coming back up to meet yours, that look never leaving his face.

“Oh, please.” 

The words fell from his lips with such cool confidence your smile faltered momentarily, eyebrows knotting together.

“You can’t be serious?” He asked, and when you stayed quiet he continued, “that’s nothing.”

Nothing?

From where you were standing, respectfully, it looked like everything.

“What? Like you can do better?” 

Your challenge seemed to light a spark in his eyes and time slowed as he took a step backwards, fingers coming down to grip the hem of his t-shirt.

One swift movement and his shirt was off, muscles rippling under his bronzed skin as he tossed the dark fabric on the floor, his eyes not once straying from yours. 

He kept backing up, step after torturous step, until his legs hit the sofa. The corners of his mouth tugged up in a smirk as he plopped down, arms behind his head, far leg propped up, large wings casually draped over the armrest.

“Draw me then, whiz,” he challenged, using your word from earlier, “let me be your muse.” 

The heat crawling up your neck, scorching the tips of your ears, were not solely from the liquor as you padded over to the opposite sofa. 

No, it was from something very different. Something strikingly sobering, yet oh-so intoxicating. 

You sat down and carefully placed the pad in your lap, flipping through it until you reached a blank page. You moved some hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear, picked up a charcoal and brought it to the parchment – when you felt yourself hesitate. You took your lip between your teeth as you contemplated your next move. The risk. The absurdity. The excitement. 

He was your friend. Your best friend, and yet…

You lifted your gaze to find Azriel’s eyes locked to yours with such focus, such challenge. Like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. 

His eyes flicked down to your hand, if only for a split second, as you gently put down the charcoal. He cocked an eyebrow when his gaze once again found yours. 

“I just,” you took a deep breath, “I just don’t think it’s really fair on Rhys, you know?” The shadow around your wrist flickered, as if sensing what you were about to do. The lines you were about to cross.

You watched as Azriel’s eyebrows drew together, and you fought the twitching of your lips as you continued, “I mean, you are still half clothed.”

With a slight shrug of your shoulders, you watched as your words sank in. How his eyes seemed to darken, the corner of his mouth raised in the smallest of smirks. 

“Is that so?” He mused, and you tried your best to level his stare. To not back down. Not shy away. 

With an incline of your head, you nodded. And watched his hand inch closer to his pants. Down past that dark trail of hair, to the laces tied together at the waistband. Watched as he grabbed a hold of the string… and pulled. 

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus on anything other than his hand. How his fingers untied the font of his pants so slowly, so delicately it felt like torture. You were transfixed by his fingers. Loosening the laces, his thumb slipping beneath the waistband…

You snapped your gaze up to his face, to find him still looking at you – studying you. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sound of his pants hitting the floor. With your eyes still locked to his, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into. Here you were, in front of your fully naked best friend – about to draw him. 

Let me be your muse.

His words from earlier echoed in your mind as you tore your gaze from his face and dragged it lower, and lower, until…

Your head emptied. Your tongue felt about as dry as the beaches you had visited in Summer last year. Because the sight that beheld you was breath-taking. 

The length between his legs, standing aroused and proud, really did make Rhysand’s portrait look like nothing. 

A part of you had almost hoped that Azriel’s confidence had just been for show. That it was just his competitiveness shining through, a feat to best his brother. 

The reality?

Monstruos would have been a fitting word had the sight not compelled you so. Had it not caused you to burn for him. Crave him. 

Delicious seemed to be a better word to describe your friend. Beautiful. Mouth-watering. A thing of art.

Which is why you picked up your discarded charcoal and put it to the parchment. 

You studied the planes of his body, the hard lines, the soft skin. The muscles that could have been carved by the Mother herself. You avoided looking at his face though, instead focusing on the various scars that marred his skin, telling stories of battles and fights. Of brawls with his brothers. 

You felt him looking at you, however. He hadn’t stopped looking at you. Not since the sketch pad came into play.

It made it annoyingly hard to focus. 

The scratching sound of charcoal on paper stopped. 

“How long have we known each other?” Your voice wavered, mouth dry. You cleared your throat and raised your gaze to finally meet his. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, contemplating, “about 400 years.”

400 years. And never before had you seen him naked. Not like this. Not splayed out like a feast, waiting to be devoured. Not with his gaze so burning you were afraid it was going to singe your clothes to ashes. 

“Right,” you mumbled, eyes flicking back down to your hands. They were smudged with soot, your thumb and index finger blackened, that lone shadow still curiously snaking around your wrist. 

That is a very long time.

Azriel seemed to notice how the little confidence you had faltered, for he straightened somewhat from his leisurely sprawl. 

“You okay?” There was only soft concern enveloping his words, a drastic change from the tension flooding the space between you just seconds before. 

It was a very long time, indeed. So why didn’t this feel wrong? 

You let out a deep breath, “yes, I think so.” 

Your answer apparently didn’t settle his worries though, because he raised from the sofa and rounded the table between you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as he stopped in front of where you sat. 

Only when he lowered his hand – fingers coming to rest under your chin, tipping you face up – did you meet his eye. 

The heartbreaking concern written all over his face seized your heart. The soft furrow of his brow. The slight dip at the corners of his pouty lips. The brutal softness swimming in those hazel eyes. 

It took your breath away.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t trust your voice, not with the vulnerable proximity between you. All you managed was a meager nod. A small up and down bob of your head. 

His fingers tugged on your chin, and as if in a trance, you followed the wordless command and rose to your feet. 

“I need you to use your words here, sweetheart,” his voice was soft, but the underlying command was undeniable, “please.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you swallowed and managed to breathe out “I’m okay.” 

That seemed enough to ease Azriel’s concern, a breath of relief fanning across your face. 

“Good,” he murmured, almost as if more to himself.

His eyes left yours, and flicked down. To your mouth, you realised, as his thumb moved from your chin up to graze your bottom lip.

That intensity was back in his gaze, that predatory focus – all directed at you. His thumb pulled at your lip before letting go, and the shudder that overtook your body could have made the earth shake.

There couldn’t be more than a foot of space between you. 

So dangerously close.

He was your friend. 

Right? 

“400 years,” you whispered, eyes flicking down to follow the bob of his throat as he swallowed. “400 years of friendship.” 

You felt light headed. 400 years, and all could be thrown away as easy as breathing. All you had to do was take half a step.

“Three,” Azriel’s voice grumbled above you as your eyes trailed down to inspect the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

“Hmm?” Your mumble was absent minded, your thoughts being too preoccupied by the male in front of you. What he would feel like. Taste like. The sounds he would make if you dipped your head and licked up the drops of sweat beading at the center of his chest.

“That’s how long I’ve loved you. Three hundred years.”

You froze. 

The thickness coating Azriel’s voice was not something you were familiar with. Nor were the words he uttered.

Your gaze snapped up to his, scanning his features for any sign that he was, for some reason, making the cruellest joke in all of Pythian’s history. But all you found was open, unguarded truth. 

Azriel loved you?

Azriel loved you. 

The rapid beating of your heart was a stark contrast to just how very safe you felt. How right it seemed to take that half step forward. To cradle his face in your hand, the other coming to rest on that glorious chest – right over his own heart. And as you felt that wild drumming beneath his ribs echo your own, nothing seemed as easy as rising up on the tips of your toes and slotting your mouth against his. 

The kiss was tentative, like the two of you were just dipping your toes in – testing the waters. You moved your lips against his, gently, savouring the feel of his pillowy lips. The feel of his body so close to yours. How the scent of him seemed to envelop you. You savoured how easily he took all of your senses hostage. 

He was everywhere.

The sound of Azriel’s wings rustling behind him, the rapid beating of his heart in his chest, the taste of liquor on his lips – it intoxicated you in a way you didn’t know was possible. 

You stayed like that, gently exploring each other's lips, savouring each other's closeness, until you had no other choice but to break away for air. 

You pulled away only a few inches, rapid breaths fanning your faces. The pounding of your heart didn’t seize, and neither did his. You could feel every rapid beat under the hand still planted on his warm chest. 

“Your heart is beating very fast,” you whispered, voice shaky from your breathlessness. 

He swallowed, “It is.”

“So is mine,” you revealed. 

“Yes, I can hear it.”

Oh. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Your voice was so low, you wouldn’t have known he heard you if not for the strangled sound he let out. 

Or for how he grabbed you by your waist and captured your lips with his. 

This time the kiss was less gentle. This time he pressed your body against his as he devoured you. It was all tongues, and teeth, and needy gasps.

His teeth pulled on your bottom lip and you thanked the Mother he was holding you so tightly, for your knees almost gave out. A throaty groan escaped you as his hand cupped the back of your neck, angling your head upwards and deepening the kiss further.

Your own hands found his hair – and pulled. The deep rumbling in his chest and the way he moaned your name into the kiss was your undoing.

This kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative.

It was claiming.

And so you let him claim you. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded as you laid down on the sofa, Azriel’s body on top of yours. And as you crashed together, entangled limbs and sworn promises, you let those 400 years of friendship, of tension, of longing dictate the start of this new chapter.

A chapter of what would hopefully be 400 years of something more.

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missus-shadowsinger

[astralis-ortus]

against the world

✱ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader

— for as long as i love you.

w.count → 2k genre → angst, fluff, a dash of comedy warnings → reader mocked by a character, self deprecating thought a.n → based on this request! took me a while to figure how to write because brain did not want to work together with the pictures i had in mind but we're here! it's a fun one to work on (despite the angst)(i actually love the angst) and i hope it's up to your expectation!<3 ⋆ see masterlist

the bus ride felt like forever.

honestly, you weren’t even sure why you ended up arguing with chan in the first place. hell, you couldn’t even remember what even really irked you about his response. all you remembered was about feeling upset and ended up lashing out at chan to the point where he decided to head back to his studio despite just coming back the hour prior, just so he doesn’t say anything he might regret.

when he still hadn’t returned hours later, however, guilt started to dig its sharp nails into your sore heart.

you knew you had to let him cool his head—you understand that, but you can’t sit still knowing he’d likely lock himself in and drown himself in work. you can’t, especially when you knew for a fact he hadn’t got anything to eat since you two were planning to go on a date had the argument never happened. he hasn’t been on top of his condition as is, and you won’t be able to forgive yourself if this whole absolute ridicule of a situation you caused made him fall sick.

hence, after your nth call went straight to his voicemail, you know there’s only one thing left you could do—go to his studio and apologize.

“thank you,” you offered a smile at the familiar security guard, bowing your head enough as you entered through the trainee and artist entrance of the building. usually, either you or chan would offer him a snack or coffee whenever you got there together, but with all the chaos happening inside your head, all you could remember to grab was the light meal you had hurriedly prepared for chan as an apology.

“bang chan is still in his studio,” the security guard quietly informed with a knowing smile, abruptly stopping you in your track with your eyes wide at him, “most of the staff, trainee, and artist have left for the day, but you could let me know if you need access to the rooftop. the weather is good enough for you to talk there.”

you blinked at his offer, a little stunned at the conclusion he took just by looking at you. is it that obvious…?

“it’s going to be okay; fights are bound to happen between couples,” he continued lightly with a tender smile, as if reading the thoughts passing your mind, “as long as you love and care about each other, there’s nothing you two can’t handle. don’t worry.”

choking up a breath, you hurriedly thanked the security guard and walked past the familiar hallways leading to your boyfriend’s studio. tears were pooling dangerously in your eyes, threatening its way out as you replayed the passing advice in your head. he’s right—as long as you love and care about each, there’s—

“hey! you! stop right there!”

the loud echoing voice snapped you out of your thoughts, again halting your steps before you reached your destination. despite your racing heartbeat at the sudden loudness, you try your best to seek for the other soul around—leading your eyes to land at a female figure at the end of the hallway.

“oh,” you immediately bowed your head as soon as you noticed the identity of the staff rushed towards you—one you recognize as a part of division 2, according to an exchange she had with chan a few months prior during one of your visits. “hello, i just—”

“who are you? how do you get in here?” the sharpness in her voice made you wince; startled and confused. you’re certain she’s aware of your presence before—distinctly remembering how chan awkwardly introduced you as to her own request, understandably wary of an unfamiliar face lurking around a private section of the company.

“right,” you shook your head, ridding your mind off of the uneasiness you picked up, “sorry, you probably don’t remember. i’m chan’s girlfriend. we met a couple months ago? i remember chan introdu—”

“girlfriend?” she scoffed, not even letting you finish your sentence. the way she shut you off left a sharp sting in your heart, but even that wouldn’t compare to the way her icy gaze pierced right through you—pricking and prodding every inch of your appearance, finalized with a condescending snicker.

“another crazy fan, huh?”

you felt your heart sink at the accusation. dating chan, you knew it would come with the bad alongside the good. you understood that, and you knew better than anyone to focus on the flowers and butterflies chan made your everyday look like while paying zero attention to the odd snarky remarks here and there. though it sure has been quite some time since the last time someone accused you of being delusional, but to be completely honest with yourself, it didn’t make it hurt any less.

fingers tighten around the strap of chan’s meal bag on your hand, you try hard not to let yourself crumble as you attempted to defend yourself, “no, i’m not—”

“besides,” cutting you short, she took a step closer and shoved her fingers on your shoulder, “you need to wake up. why would chan even date someone like you?”

you know you’re not perfect. you know that despite the amount of love you have for chan, there’s no promise of a perfect future between the two of you. you know that there’s a possibility of a life where you have to live without chan, and the blame will most likely be on you—because you’re not pretty enough. you’re not talented enough. you’re not someone of a similar background. you’re not even anywhere close to being on chan’s level, and it’s all because you’re you.

“seriously, get a grip,” she hissed, digging her fingers onto the bone of your shoulder while you desperately bit your lip, trying to contain the tears threatening to fall. “you’re just some lowly, delusional fan. don’t even—”

“don’t even what, noona?”

both you and the staff immediately snapped your eyes towards the figure behind her; heavy, firm steps towards you with his jaw tense and a silent rage burning in his eyes. she immediately scrambled away from you, hiding her hands—ones nearly pushing you to an endless canyon of despair.

you’ve never seen chan that angry.

“i-i just—”

“she’s my girlfriend,” chan emphasized through gritted teeth, taking your freezing hand in his trembling one, “and you do not talk to my woman like that.”

“i was just looking out for you!” she attempted to defend herself, fear present in her eyes as she attempted to look straight into chan’s eyes. “you know how crazy these sasaengs have been these days! i just—”

“stop!”

your body involuntarily jumped at the sudden raise in his voice, eyes wide as you looked at him in surprise. his face was red—but even from your point of view, you could see he was hurt.

“no one gave you the right to talk to my people like that,” chan towered against her as he makes himself clear, "especially towards my woman. you don’t—”

“channie,”

your voice was soft, but it was enough to quiet down the anger burning inside chan. yes—his priority is to keep you safe.

shifting his attention entirely towards you, chan felt his heart drop—your eyes were red, trails of tears apparent down your cheeks. your fingers were ice cold against his burning skin, and the way he felt your body tremble broke his heart.

“baby,” chan cracked a weak smile, trying to ease the tension on you as he ran his palms against your arm, “are you okay? need me to carry you?”

you quickly shook your head, sniffles escaping past your lips as your nerves slowly calmed down. you’re just so, so tired—and all you need is chan.

“let’s head to my studio, okay?” his voice was soft, arms wrapped around your frail figure as he leads you down the empty hallway, leaving the still stunned staff behind. he’ll deal with that tomorrow; because now, your well-being mattered most to him.

as soon as you got to chan’s studio, he immediately locked the familiar green room and covered you up with a blanket—ones he kept especially for you, keeping you warm as he quietly cuddled you on the small couch. your faint sniffles turned into sobs, and as the sense of safety finally settled in your bones, you finally let yourself cry into chan’s arms.

chan simply stayed silent; warmth of his arms surrounds you whilst he lets you pour your feelings out.

he heard almost everything the staff had said to you, and he’s mad at himself for not being able to protect you from those words. he should’ve been there with you, keeping you safe from the unnecessary hate just because you’re his girlfriend. he should’ve stayed with you instead of running away. he should’ve—

“i’m sorry for lashing out on you,” you clutched onto his hoodie, voice coming out weak as you try to regulate your breathing. “i didn’t know why i was so upset. i shouldn’t have done that to you. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too, baby,” he pulled you closer into his arms, letting you nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “i shouldn’t have left you home alone, let alone for hours. i just—i could’ve handled it better. i’m sorry.”

a hum escaped your lips along with a soft shake of your head, showing your disapproval to his apology. “no, channie. i understand why you feel like you need to leave to clear your head. just… i’m worried because you didn’t answer my calls, and i know you hadn’t eaten anything today, so—”

“wait,” chan gently pulled away and looked at your flushed face, light trace of his fingers fixing the stray strands off your features, “you called? i didn’t hear my phone ring—or buzz, as a matter of fact. when did you call?”

“last was an hour ago, i think?” you leaned onto chan’s warm touch. “i don’t know. i was hurrying—ah,” eyes suddenly wide, you prodded your finger at the bag chan had set aside on his desk earlier, “i brought you some sandwich to eat. it’s not much, but you need to eat, channie.”

chan was stunned—he felt warm.

he’s used to being left alone to sort his feelings. he’s used to being treated as if his emotions were worth nothing, and he only mattered if he did something for others. chan is used to feeling invisible—but with you, he felt seen. not because of what he’s trying to prove, but because of the simple fact that he’s… him.

clearing his throat, chan immediately flashes a smile at you. “let’s eat first, yeah?” he hummed, voice noticeably lighter as he gently moved you off his lap and grabbed the little bag. “you should eat too. you spent a lot of energy crying.”

“but—”

“no buts,” he playfully glared at you, lips pursed in protest, “you came all the way here for me, it’s only fair i share my food with you.”

“after this,” finally unpacking the sandwich and handing you his other half, “we’ll order something else and some ice cream while i play you some of the songs i was working on. sounds good?”

the way your face lit up was enough of an answer for chan—your excited nods were merely a confirmation.

“alright, alright,” he chuckled, fighting off the urge to pull you back into his arms. instead, chan fished for the phone in his pocket and handed it to you. “your pick, baby.”

“yes! i’m—wait,” pressing on the power button, you blinked upon realizing how the screen remained unchanged despite your attempts. “did you forgot to charge your phone, channie?”

Chan grimaced. You could see how he’s slowly tracing his steps throughout the day—until a split second of realization flashed past his eyes. His lips turned into a little grin; one he always wears when he realizes he did something wrong.

“…did i?”

You’re out of words.

“channie!”

“hahah—i’m sorry!”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[lnfours]

false god | l.n

summary: we might just get away with it.

warnings: based off of ‘false god’ by taylor swift, brothers best friend!lando, fewtrell!reader, mutual pining, sexual themes, this stupidly hot outfit bc he always looks good in black. also this is kind of trash but i really wanted to get something out for you guys 😩

masterlist | listen | ask box

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the rain was pattering hard against the window in your room, but it was simply background noise as you played music softly from your computer. you hummed quietly to the song playing, your pencil scratching against the notepad before the soft ping let you know you had gotten a text.

lando

you still awake?

you grabbed your phone, unlocking it and typing back.

yea, why? can’t sleep?

a couple of seconds later your phone lit up again, a new message from him appearing on your lockscreen.

yea, still jet lagged.

wanna watch a movie or something? max and p went on a date and left me all alone 😩

you chuckled, typing back a response.

pretty sure that’s the point of a date 🤔

but sure, doors open

he disliked the first message, which made you chuckle before you heard footsteps echo down the hallway. your door creaked open, the brunette joining you on your bed as you closed your notebook. you pushed the things to the side, tossing him the tv remote.

“your pick this time.”

“i thought i picked last time?” he said, hand resting behind his head as the other grabbed the remote. you looked over at him now, the black shirt hugging his muscles perfectly, the black jeans showing off his thighs and the red backwards hat was about to send you into cardiac arrest.

it was a bad idea to look over at him, especially when the crush you’ve had on him had only worsened over the past day or so, just like it did every time he was here.

“mm, no,” you said, “i picked that scary movie last time, remember?”

“oh yeah, the only reason you picked it was because of that hot dude.”

you scoffed, “no!”

he sent you a smirk, “yeah, okay,”

you rolled your eyes and motioned to the tv, “just pick a movie, i’m gonna go make some popcorn. want anything?”

he twisted his lips in thought while you stood up. his eyes traveled over your figure as you put the stuff on your desk, the thin pajama shorts hugging your curves, the oversized hoodie falling down a little bit to return back to the tops of your thighs, you just looked so good to him right now. you always do, but right now especially.

he was quick to look away from your body, eyes meeting yours as you spun around, “just a water, please.”

you nodded, exiting the room and he let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. he wasn’t sure when it had happened, but every time he saw you recently, his chest got tight. he wasn’t supposed to feel this way about his best friends sister, she was off limits. especially to him.

he was lost in thought until the microwave beeping in the kitchen echoed and pulled him out of it, reminding himself that he still had to pick a movie. he scrolled through netflix, settling on one he had seen before but knew you’d like.

you handed him his water, which he thanked you for before you plopped down on the bed. you put the popcorn in the middle of you two before starting the movie.

at some point the popcorn had been moved to the floor, the two of you getting closer and closer without really realizing until his finger bumped against your pinky. you sucked in a shaky breath, waiting to see if he would move it. he did the same, looking down to see if you were going to pull away.

when you didn’t, he made the next move and wrapped his pinky around yours. you didn’t want to make it obvious that you weren’t looking at the movie, but you really wanted to glance over at him.

he did it for you, though, turning and looking at you before bringing a hand up to your jaw, turning your head to look at him. you almost folded, right then and there. your heart beating out of your chest and everything was happening so quickly.

but when you met his soft eyes, glowing in the light of the small lamp you had kept on and the light from the tv, all the nerves washed away, “lando,”

his voice was quiet as he softly pulled away, “sorry, i.. uh, i don’t know-“

you shook your head, grabbing his hand and putting it back on your cheek, “no, it’s okay.”

he nodded, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips quickly, having a mental debate with himself on wether or not he should take it a step further.

you took matters into your own hands, though. readjusting as you got closer. he watched you intently, his eyes locked on every move, the movie on the tv long forgotten about as the two of you breathed out. his green eyes were piercing right into yours. he leaned in a little closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i shouldn’t want to,” he breathed softly, “but i really want to kiss you.”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, “maybe you should.”

“it would ruin everything,”

“not if he doesn’t find out.” you were inches apart now, his hands on your hips as you hovered over him. your heart felt like it was going to bust through your rib cage and it was all you could hear as the room fell silent.

it didn’t last long as his voice broke through the tension, “fuck it.”

he nudged your nose with his, meeting your lips in a kiss that sent tingles down your spine. you kissed him back, letting his hands grip you a little tighter as his tongue licked against your bottom lip.

the kiss carried on for a while, neither one of you wanting to pull away when he rolled the both of you over so now he was the one hovering over your frame. his necklace dangled above your chest, lips moving from yours as they peppered kisses against the base of your throat.

“fuck,” he mumbled against your skin, “‘ve wanted this for so long.”

you hummed back, fingers running through the curls on the back of his neck, breathing out a soft, “me too.”

you brought one hand down his spine, gripping at the hem of his shirt as you tugged it up, revealing the soft skin of his back. he understood what you were saying with your movements, pulling the material over his head and tossing it to the floor.

once he turned back to you, it was your turn to have his hands ride up the sweatshirt you were wearing, his fingers soft against your skin. you giggled when he accidentally moved over your ribs, a smirk spreading across his face.

“you’re still ticklish there?”

you nodded, “unfortunately.”

“good to know,” he was definitely going to keep that in mind.

his lips met yours again as he kissed you sweetly, which turned hungry in a matter of a few minutes as he helped you out of the sweatshirt.

however, the sound of the front door closing made the two of you jump apart, lando pausing his movements as he froze above you.

“we’re back!”

“shit,” you mumbled, the footsteps nearing your door as the two of you separated. you pulled the first article of clothing you could find over your head.

“just hide in here till he goes away.” you mumbled, shoving lando towards the closet. he chuckled, but opened the door anyway.

“i like being your little secret,” he teased, “we should do this more often.”

you rolled your eyes, “shut up!”

you closed the door before he could speak again, flopping back on the bed before your bedroom door opened. you looked towards your brother, a soft smile on your face as he held up the container for you.

“brought you back dinner.”

“thanks, you can just put it on the desk.”

he nodded, walking into your room before eyeing you down, “you alright? your hairs a mess and you look frazzled.”

you nodded, smoothing your hair over with your palms, “‘m good, just woke up from a nap.”

he nodded, now his eyes falling to the shirt you were wearing, “is that lando’s shirt?”

you nearly choked, but looked down at the material you had thrown on. sure enough, it was the shirt lando had thrown on the floor a mere ten minutes before your brother rudely interrupted.

“huh, guess so,” you tried to play it cool, “guess it got mixed up in my laundry. just kinda grabbed it earlier.”

he nodded, sending you a look which made it look like he wasn’t totally buying what you were saying, “okay..” you licked your lips nervously, “p and i are gonna watch a movie, you can join if you want.”

you nodded, “yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“oh, is lando home?” max asked, “i had something to ask him.”

he spun on his heels, turning towards the door, but you cut him off before he could investigate himself, “nah, i think he went out.”

your brother nodded, “damn, alright. just let me know if you wanna watch the movie.”

you nodded, “i will, thanks.”

he closed the door behind him on the way out, lando soon opening the closet door quietly to leave the closet. you smirked when his eyes met yours, the two of you breaking out into quiet laughter as he joined you back on the bed.

“you div! you took my shirt instead of your hoodie?”

you laughed softly, “i’m sorry! i grabbed the first thing i could find.”

he smiled, hovering back over you, “you look better in it, anyway.”

“you know where it looks even better?” your arms were slung around his neck now.

“where?” his smile was still on his face.

“the floor,”

he laughed softly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, “mind reminding me?”

you hummed, “i guess i could show you.”

[ohimsummer]

— fluff, crushing, lovesick + coworker! geto x reader bc that’s been on my mind recently, thank u Gigi @hellkaiserinphoenix ehehe :3

You walk past Suguru Geto, paying him close to no mind in your rush to meet up with Yaga. If you had spared him a look, even a glance, you would’ve seen the way his indigo eyes were trailing you, the steady hearts floating carelessly over his head.

Satoru and Shoko call him lovesick. Hopeless. Obvious. Though that last one can’t possibly be true, or else you would’ve realized months ago that Geto was flirting with you.

It’s light touches, subtle teases, considerate gifts of your favorite snack when he returns from the vending machine. Idle chatter whenever he crosses your path, which leaves you giggling and poking fun at him about distracting you from work. Asking you if you want to hang out with him and Shoko and Satoru after the work day because you make his mouth dry and his palms sweat and his heart pound so he’s too nervous to ask you on a real date.

“Heyyy, Suguru.”

Geto looks up from his desk and you’re peering over the wall of his cubicle. The playfulness in your tone makes his heart flutter, but the teasing glint in your pretty eyes almost knocks him out.

“Sooo…” You lean over the drab, grey wall to get a better look at him. “A little birdie told me you like someone.”

“Ah.” His brow twitches, out of anxiety or out of annoyance , he can’t tell. “Was it a brown birdie or a white one?”

“Hmmm, I’m afraid I can’t answer that, Suguru.” So, Gojo, it was.

“I suppose you caught me.” Geto sways a pen between his fingers, chin propped up in the palm of his hand as the paperwork in front of him drains from memory. “What about it?”

“What about it?” You’re incredulous. “The cool Mr. Suguru Geto has a crush? Is falling for someone? Usually, it’s the other way around.”

The way you poke fun at Geto always brings a smile to his lips. He responds, “Yeah, that’s all true. I can’t help myself, really.”

Your brows raise, lips parting to form a cute little expression that Geto is determined to commit to his memory. “Ohh? She must be quite the girl to have your heart like that!”

Geto chuckles, and he says, “Oh, yes she is. I think I may even be in love with her.”

tagz: @anthoosies @kayleegomez @babytoshiii @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @b-b-b-my-b-f-f @getouolgy @akumicchi

[babiebom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if u could do the bachelors & bachelorettes reactin to / dating an s/o who has really intense nose bleeds when they're stressed. But plot twist bc this is literally the norm for the farmer bc they have crippling anxiety, especially social.

Thank u sm!!

A/N: I don’t know why I thought this was funny??? My anxiety just makes my stomach upset but a nosebleed in front of everyone like some sort of anxious demon is funny. Not the clean up tho. I’ve never had a nosebleed but I know they bleed SO MUCH. Also no problemo!!! Always glad to get requests!! I did different things (so not just stressed because I would’ve written the same thing for anyone I made crush aspects as sort of for stress too lmao) for each hopefully they’re good enough!

Tw: cursing, blood, anxiety, the nose bleeds are VERY dramatic because it’s fiction lmao. Physical fights(in Leah’s part), arguments(in almost all of them). Pierre hate Pam hate(kinda) Demetrius hate Morris hate. And Kel is gender neutral! let me know if there’s anything else to tag!

Wc: idk lmao hopefully at least 100 words for each

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian:

Just frowns

Actually helps unexpectedly

….we can never talk about this happening again if you want……

It’s not often that you get to see the towns resident emo, even after visiting Robin multiple times for various building needs. So when you wander into the house, looking for Robin so you can upgrade your coop, seeing him makes your brain malfunction.

“Oh…hey farmer.” He greets, moving past you to head further into the house. You blink for a second before returning the greeting, watching as his dark hoodie disappears behind a wall.

You try to force your breathing to slow down. There is absolutely NO reason you should be this worked up over a literal one second conversation. While you sit with your thoughts, foot steps fill your ears and the sight of Sebastian returning from wherever he went makes all of your progress regress. “So…you here waiting for my mom?”

You nod quickly, clearing your throat, “yeah…um…just need to upgrade my chicken coop.”

“Oh well, she’s not in today. She usually goes to Pierre’s store to work out with the other moms.”

You frown to yourself, how did you miss that she wouldn’t be in today? Damn now all you can think about is how you just made a fool of yourself. Lost in your thoughts, you miss that Sebastian had cleared his throat a couple times until he waves a hand in front of your face.

“If you want, I can take your order and tell her when she gets home later. That way she can get started tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Your heart flips as you perk up. Was he usually this nice? You kinda heard from Robin herself that Sebastian never really interacted with people he wasn’t already friends with.

“Yeah sure.” He shrugs and moves to go around the counter, setting his slowly cooling food down. “Okay so she usually charges 10,000g and you have to have 400 logs of wood and 150 things of stone. Sound right?”

You nod and hand over the bag of money. The second your hands touch it’s like your body decided it couldn’t handle anything else from him. Luckily he just takes the money and pretends like your nose hasn’t become a geyser as you scramble to try to keep the blood from dripping all over their furniture.

Sam:

WOAH DUDE IS THAT LIKE….NORMAL?

it’s like from a movie or something

Is overall sorta scared but at the same time thinks it’s cool

“And this is how I do a kick flip!” Sam shows you skateboard trick after trick and honestly you can’t get enough of it. It wasn’t a secret that the both of you had crushes on each other, and even now it was very obvious by how you were watching him do his tricks that you had feelings for him. Yet still you two weren’t in a relationship, just sort of friends who like each other in a romantic sort of way.

“You’re so cool!” You clap as he lands another trick.

“And you’re cute!”

“What?”

You freeze in your spot and watch in confusion as he sort of freezes midway through his next trick and crashes to the ground. His words echo in your head, making your face heat up and your heart soar. He smacks his face on the ground, sending you into a panic because now all you can think about is how he thinks you’re cute, and now how he probably has a concussion from hitting his face directly onto the concrete.

When he lifts his face off the ground, you’re kneeling next to him, trying to check on him. His forehead is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, and so is his mouth. You shriek and try to go through your backpack to see if you have anything to help him. You didn’t.

You already know where this is leading, and you let out a groan of annoyance right before your nose starts leaking just like his. His eyes widen and he lets out a loud laugh. Maybe you two can move out of the weird friendship you have after all.

Shane:

Would just stare silently

Like no comments no nothing

Doesn’t even act like it’s happening

Having a part time job at Joja Mart during the winter is one of the absolute worst ideas that you’ve had in a while. But you didn’t make a lot during your first year of farming. Stacking the products onto the shelves, your only saving Grace is the fact that you’re allowed to have earphones in. Except for the fact that Pam is now standing next to you asking loudly about where something is. Shane is stacking the shelves behind you.

“I don’t know Pam…the alcohol is probably on the wall in the back.” You frown at her. She obviously knows that you don’t know this store that well, you were a FARMER that NEVER shopped here before. She rasps out another question and it takes everything in you to not snap at her. Trying to calm yourself of course there’s gonna be something else that makes you lose your mind. That something is Morris, coming over and being the absolute WORST and in turn making Pam LOUDER and more insistent.

He’s lecturing you, Pam is agreeing with him way too loudly, the music on your headphones is now overwhelming instead of calming, and the sound of random things in the market is making you want to bite a chunk out of the loaves of bread in front of you, plastic and all. With everything building up inside of you, you already know what’s going to happen. It always happens, but instead of excusing yourself you stand there, staring Morris down as the blood begins to flow from your nostrils.

Pam yells out curses and Morris begins to stutter, but behind them Shane just stares for a second before continuing to work. When you’re finally left alone with him in the aisle as your two stressors hastily take their leave, all he does is let out a dry chuckle.

“Sam has a hell of a mess to clean up…”

Alex:

Oh DUDE your nose is like….LEAKING

Doesn’t help

Just watched and comments

“AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO TELL PEOPLE THAT MY HARVESTS ARE HIS BUT HE ONLY DOES IT IF ITS GOOD!” You rant to the brown haired boy, pacing back and forth in his room. Thankfully both Evelyn and George were out so you weren’t bothering anyone except for the man in front of you.

You huff and puff as he watches, slightly amused slightly concerned. Alex wasn’t the best person to go to when you’re upset unless it was something absolutely devastating. So being in front of him now, complains about your farming woes meant that he was only half ass taking it seriously. “You should go and speak your mind.” He says.

Turns out you should NOT take advice from Alex. Standing in Pierre’s shop, you’re staring him down angrily, anxiety creeping up your throat from you trying to will yourself to call him out on his bullshit. The older man just kind of stares at you in confusion because all you had done was shout his name angrily as you entered the shop then stand in front of him seething.

“You….you…..” you point a finger at him. This was the moment, the moment you stand up for yourself and tell Pierre how HORRIBLE he is!

But of course things don’t work how you want and your nose gushes out blood all over the counter before you can work yourself up to the point of accusations. With a gasp you run out of the shop, hoping that he would keep his mouth shut with Alex running behind you laughing. Again, NEVER let Alex talk you into anything.

Elliott:

Panics

How do I help PLS LET ME HELP

Everything probably gets messy

Fishing had never been your favorite pastime, but now trying to fix up the community center you had to. Unfortunately Willy was gone and couldn’t properly teach you even though he had gifted you an old rod of his, so the next best thing is getting your boyfriend to teach you since he does fish often. Now you stand on the docks, waiting for a fish to bite the hook.

“Keep calm, the fish can feel your fear and it makes them upset.” Elliott spoke. In all honesty you didn’t even know if that was true or not, but you take in a breath to calm down. You did not want to be here all day you had cows to pet.

The second your line begins to pull you try to pull the fish in. And you succeed until it comes time to unhook the eel you managed to catch. The eel is slimy and slippery and all around not a good thing to try to grip. A shriek leaves your lips and the eel struggles, Elliott tries to help you but is also struggling to catch hold of it. And now your nose is bleeding adding another layer to the already hellish experience.

You’re unhappy, the eel is unhappy, and Elliott is unhappy. After what seems like an hour, the stupid thing slips out of your grips and back into the ocean, washing your nose blood off of it and splashing you with saltwater. 0 out of 10 you will not be trying again.

Harvey:

Calm but concerned(after panicking for a second)

Has a doctory approach to it

But is secretly like WTF inside

Your heart thumps in your chest as you sit on the clinic bed. It’s been a while since you’ve been in Harvey’s clinic, having taken a break from the mines, and somehow this seems more shameful than having been beaten almost to death by living slime. Your hands bleed into the cloth you have pressed into it. One of the pigs knocked you over into the broken fence you were in the middle of fixing. Now you sit waiting for the good looking Doctor.

When he walks in he’s all smiles, tapping his clipboard with his pen. “While I’m sad to see that you’re injured, I’m glad to see it isn’t from those mines again.” The eye contact he makes with you makes your heart twist for a second.

He starts speaking of all the shots you need and the antibiotics you need to take, rust poisoning is quite serious you know. “Now,” he says, moving towards you, “let me see your hand.”

Your heart thumps erratically at the close proximity of him and you. You only really ever got to see him this close when you were half dead and barely conscious. His face is much too close for you to be able to do anything but focus on how pretty his eyes are, and how fluffy his mustache is, and how…

“OH MY DEAR YOBA” He yelps and jumps away from you. It takes only a second after him to realize what’s going on, and now your furiously wiping away at your nose with your hands instead of with the cloth, and he’s trying to get something on your nose to catch the blood. It’s a disaster, really. But at least you’re already in a clinic!

Penny:

Probably panics

Doesn’t know how to deal with it

Would try to help though

The warmth of the pool in the spa did nothing to ease your nerves as you waded in the shallow end of the pool. Penny had invited you to come sometime after 7 pm, and when you had arrived she was already waiting for you, kicking her feet in the pool. The thought of her asking you here made your stomach turn, did you do something wrong…? Was she inviting you here to tell you she hated you or something…? You had grown close to her over your time here and would hate it if she thought you were too much or something.

“Do you know why I invited you here?” She asks, moving closer but keeping her eyes on the water.

You shake your head, “I’m not exactly sure, no.”

She frowns and sighs at you, meeting your eyes for a fleeting second then looking elsewhere. “Really? I thought you would’ve noticed by now…” her words trail off and her eyebrows furrow.

The next few seconds are ones that you simultaneously want to remember for forever and forget. She confesses her feelings for you. Feelings that you obviously reciprocate, and the emotions in you mix and grow, rising up your throat as if you were a volcano of conflicting feelings. As soon as you open your mouth to tell her that yes, you like her too, her face morphs into one that’s horrified instead of hopeful, disgusted instead of smitten and you realize a second after she does that your nose is spouting red, dyeing the water you both were swimming in.

Penny shrieks for a solid second before trying to scramble out of the water as fast as she can. You do the same, swirling the red around the pool as both of you splash trying to exit the now crime scene looking pool. When you get out of the water, she’s holding a towel right in your face, smooshing it so hard you can barely breathe and now your nose is throbbing with slight pain. “What do we do?!” She asks moving about quickly. She’s so confused that she just keeps walking and turning as if she’s remembering and forgetting things at the same time.

You just tilt your head downward and cringe inwardly, this was not the way to get a girl to like you. “It’s fine…I’m fine,” you say voice nasally and muffled. “And I like you too by the way.”

Haley:

confused staring

wtf is happening

Actually speechless

It isn’t every day that you get to talk to a beautiful blonde. It isn’t even every day that you talk to anyone. So when she approaches you on one of your trips off of your farm you couldn’t help but feel like either everything is out to get you or that you’re up on your luck. You don’t really know for sure, it honestly depends on how things go.

“Hey farmer!” She smiles as soon as she stops in front of you, the feeling of your stomach twisting makes you want to vomit in all of your nervousness. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“Yeah?” You ask trying to keep your cool. “What is it?”

“I would totally love love LOVE you forever if you could bring me an amethyst? It’s for Emily’s birthday and I don’t really like Clint so I don’t wanna buy anything from him. I’m willing to pay 150g!”

You cough into your fist, nodding along and taken aback by how casually she’s speaking to you. Before you can accept doing her the favor, the horrified look on your face makes your words falter.

She looks absolutely horrified, and touching your hand to your face you can feel why. Your nose started dripping blood, and by dripping you mean you can now feel it running down to your chin. A flurry of curses leave your mouth as confused noises leave hers. It's not much of a surprise that this has happened, but man did you wish it wasn't in front of her.

Emily:

Surprisingly chill about it

Probably has a weird story about a nosebleed or something

Actually helps

You sit at the bar alone, upset at a horrible farming day. You tried your best, you really did, but those stupid ass crows actually ate ALL of your seedlings. Or…almost all of them but that’s basically the same thing! There is no way you’re gonna make enough to make it through winter comfortably. You told Emily exactly this, appreciative of her listening ear in the middle of her busy shift.

“You know they probably didn’t mean it…or maybe they did,” she sucks in a breath eyebrows furrowing as she thinks, “you know crows are very smart they probably know that you’re using that land to farm and stay there because of all the free food.”

“But it’s not free!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in annoyance, “I have to buy those seeds! They’re just putting me into debt!”

She hums and nods, wiping the bar next to you where a person had just left. You had only a couple months left until the snow started falling and making it virtually impossible to grow anything. The little plants you had left you had to fight the crows for. And by fight I mean you angrily swung a broom at the with the intent of scaring them (not hitting them that’s mean). Still the growing anger inside you was not easily crushed by her warm and quite frankly outlandish words. No, in fact your anger grew the more you thought about it.

You felt it coming before anything had even exited your nose, hurriedly snatching the rag from Emily’s hands. Damn now you would have to buy the bar a new one. She just blinks then nods as if your nose becoming a bloody waterfall was normal.

“You know…nose bleeds cause by stress is usually because your heart rate and blood pressure increase and it causes your blood vessels to dilate!”

You stare at her before laughing. Maybe she was helpful after all.

Abigail:

WOAH

WTF

WHAT DO WE DO?

You stand in front of Pierre in front of the shop, arms crossed as you watch his face grow redder the longer time goes on. “-IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER?” You’re not really listening to his tirade, over the whole ‘protective dad’ thing.

“Dad I’m an adult! You have no say in who I date!” Abigail yells back, face equally red. Who would’ve known that he would have a problem with the farmer he rips off constantly dating his daughter?

He yells out more reasons that the two of you shouldn’t be dating, and in turn points a finger into your chest roughly. You sputter out an offended sound, moving away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

“You shouldn’t be touching my daughter!”

“What? Dude we just started dating, you’re weird as hell!”

The arguing only gets worse from there, accusations flying around and now an audience comes with the drama. It’s almost too much for you to handle with now Caroline, Harvey, Haley, and the Milner family standing and watching the chaos. “Abby let’s just go to my place…” you try suddenly feeling the need to escape and no longer feeling the ‘fuck you dude’ attitude.

“No! He needs to understand that he can’t control my life!”

It’s like a volcano in your body and just like a volcano your nose begins to erupt. Now you’re screaming, Abigail is screaming, Pierre is screaming, the Mullners are screaming. Could this get any worse?

Turns out yeah, it can get any worse, like a family fight worse and now all of you are sitting in Harvey’s clinic. At least you aren’t the only bloody one now.

Maru:

Is surprised

Also forgets what to do

Would probably make things worse

Maru talks about robots and space the way you would talk about her: totally and completely enamored. You sit on her bed listening to her talk about her newest invention, some sort of robot that can cook and clean and basically be a free maid. You laugh and move your arm to get in a more comfortable position to watch her. Unfortunately your arm had other plans and smacked hard into her bed post. Groaning out in pain, your eyes close and begin to water from how much your elbow hurt.

Demetrius is in your face before you even realize that he was in the room. You yelp out in surprise as he starts ranting about you ruining his daughter’s future. You blink in surprise and try to retreat back into the mattress. What was happening. You can hear Maru screaming over his words but your ears feel like they’re filled with water.

“We’re just friends!” You find yourself shouting. Like damn is the man insane? It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten upset at you over Maru, but it was the first time that he was absolutely losing his mind.

“Dad stop!”

Time froze for a second as you and Demetrius stared at each other, Maru standing near him. Breathing in you can taste blood in your mouth before your nose starts bleeding, yet you can’t bring yourself to do anything but sit and catch your breath.

“Oh my god!” Both Demetrius and Maru exclaim moving around the room trying to find something to help. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at him acting concerned now.

Thankfully Maru looked cute trying to help you which at least made things a little better.

Leah:

Is also freaking out on the inside but calm on the outside

Helps you with tissues

Is understanding

Going on a date with Leah is a dream come true. There’s paint, wine, food, and you’re sitting in the prettiest meadow you’ve ever seen, well it’s pretty because Leah is there and she’s pretty and you’ve been here multiple times because it’s near her cottage but it still looks different today.

You sit, paintbrush in hand, laughing at something she’s saying. It’s fun and if she hadn’t have asked you would’ve spent the day farming like usual, this little break was needed. The day couldn’t be ruined, absolutely nothing can ruin it.

Okay, one thing can ruin it and that one thing is Kel coming and ruining everything. The argument that ensues is one of the worst that you’ve seen. Kel tries to walk up on you(translation: Kel wants to fight you), Leah stops them but in turn gets into a fight with them which causes you to actually get up and try to defend her.

You kinda block out until you can hear Kel call out “I made your nose bleed bitch!” Which again causes you to want to drown in your anger.

“My noses is bleeding because I’m stressed, stupid!” You back. It’s obvious Kel hadn’t been able to hit your nose so claiming to be able to hit you so hard your nose bleeds isn’t even possible. It’s almost childish how the two of you argue.

Leah finally gets Kel to leave and hands you a bunch of tissues as she sits you down on the now rumpled blanket. As the two of you catch your breath and calm down, you find yourself smiling at her behind the wad of tissues catching blood flowing from your nose.

At least the situation would be funny in the future.

[kithtaehyung]

seven days (m) (teaser) | jjk

POSTED HERE JULY 22ND, 2023!!  upcoming series: seven days (m)  pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader(f) genre/rating: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; roommates to lovers au  summary: you dump yet another guy that wasn’t up to your “ten day standards,” which leaves your cocky ass, very off-limits roommate to tease your single status yet again. but the teasing is always expected. what’s not expected, is the bet that you make without thinking. the bet that even though you give ten days, he wouldn’t even last seven. warnings: cursing, alcohol/vape mentions, parties, he wears glasses sometimes😔👍, chains bc it’s tradition atp lmaooo, cocky!jk, feelings🤕, big big big jk, flirty!jk, baddie!reader😌, multiple explicit scenes🫠, jk constantly in grey sweatpants and nothing else :))), full lists to be revealed each chapter! notes: …so this song called seven dropped and— notes 2: but really there was a fic that had been in the wips for a minute, and i just so happened to have a burst of energy to expand on it so here we are! making it a series to allow myself time to dedicate meaningful energy to each scene and not rush them💕 est. chapters: prologue | mon | tue | wed | thurs | fri | sat | sun | seven days est. running dates: july-september 2023 taglist: sign up here (i check every entry so read the rules!) teaser: below the cut if you want a taste 🩵

—

—

“Sure did,” Jungkook puffs before stepping away, taking all the tight space with him and letting you breathe again. “But all I’m saying is, you gotta lower your standards or—” 

“No.”

“Or,” he continues, giving you a look, “Not complain if they’re too high.” 

“Well, thank you.” With your nose grazing the sky, you point out, “I’d like to think they’re just right.” 

“What even are they anyway? All you’ve said is something about ten days.”

“That’s basically it,” you murmur, resting your arms on the island as to not have your chest in full view. “If I still like someone after ten days, I know I’d be fine dating them for real.” 

There’s silence when you finish. When you finally look, the gawk you’re getting in return almost makes you laugh. “What?”

“You mean those days are only a trial run?” 

You do break into laughter this time, burying your face in slight shyness. “And what about it!” 

“Are you serious—?” Jungkook rounds the island so that he can speak directly at your hidden features. “Has anyone even gotten past all ten with you?”

You pause, breath fanning the granite top beneath you and wisping around your face. When you lift your gaze above your arms, you keep it trained on the countertop instead of his curiosity, 

“No.” 

He doesn’t say a word. 

“Not since my standards changed.” 

And you think that’s the end of this conversation. Because what else is there to say? You know your expectations are impossible but you think this is a hell of a lot better than—

“I could do it.” 

“What.” A glare is shot. “Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?”

“You? No.” You shake your head. “You wouldn’t even last seven.” 

“Try me,” he challenges, and you still can’t take him seriously despite the fire in his eyes. “I’ve lasted a lot more than that as your roommate, right?” 

“But that’s—this is—this is different! Be for real, Kook.” You vacate the island and head to your room, having enough of his teasing for one morning. 

But you get stopped at the doorway, a bare chest and chains blocking your vision and sending your mind into a frenzy. When you flick your gaze to his face, he simply says, with the straightest expression,

“I am.”

--

--

--

tbc. :))

🦋 soooo how do we feel !! | wanna be tagged? 🩵

a/n: yeah idk what happened to me. one moment i was saying i wasn't gonna get bitten by the seven bug, and the next.. well. this happened lol. anyway! taglist is on a form so that i can easily keep track of who to tag. pls make sure to either tell me ur age in the survey or to have it on your blog bc i check all entries when tagging. prologue is already written and will be up soon! ++ ⇥ masterlist

[babybluebex]

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and angus pilfer from the chapel on your first night alone together at barton, and, after angus gets hurts and drags you into his lie, you're reminded of the worst moment of your life. not to worry, though; angus manages to soothe your sorrows, while simultaneously confusing the hell out of you. PART 2 OF ? (14k words) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss, drug use and drinking, graphic descriptions of injuries, a tiny little morsel of fake dating yum yum, is anyone else familiar with the spider game grumps bit? spider punch! spider kick! spider...? 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: icymi, i'm splitting this fic up into several smaller parts, just bc i'm not sure tumblr will actually let me post one big chunk of text the way i wanted to (it might exceed the character limit eesh) ((also i didn't wanna make yall wait forever for another part of this hehe)) if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, thank u for ur patience and enjoy!

The first evening of just you and Angus alone felt like an extended stint in hell. He was still cold and bitter, hardly speaking at all at dinner, and it made your skin crawl. You hated the silence, the feeling like you had done something wrong, even though you knew that you hadn’t, and, after dinner, in the television room, you sat next to Mary as Angus sat away from everyone else, trying to pretend like he was reading. You knew better than that, though; every time you chanced a look at him, his eyes weren’t following the lines on the page and he looked… Tired. Staring off into space, obviously lost in thought. 

He only spoke when Hunham mentioned something about writing a monograph, inquiring why Hunham didn’t just write a full book, and Hunham laughed at him. “I’m not sure I have a whole book in me,” Hunham chuckled, and Mary gave you a forlorn look, reading your mind. 

“You can’t even dream a whole dream, can you?” Mary mumbled, and Hunham fixed his jaw firmly but said nothing in return. 

The room at night was cold and lonely. You put on a sweater and two pairs of sweatpants before you slid into bed, looking out the window at the inky black night. Every so often, you would hear the wind howl outside and see fat snowflakes pass by the window, and eventually your eyes slipped closed, and you drifted off into an uneasy, blank sleep. 

It felt like moments later that you heard a whispering shuffle, and a sudden hiss of your name roused you. You winced at the light that streamed through the ajar door from the hallway, and you squinted to see Angus’s silhouette. “What d’ya want?” you mumbled groggily. 

“Come on,” Angus said, jerking his head towards the hallway. His hair was messy, wearing his winter coat, and your sight drifted down to his hands to see him carrying a large, silver flashlight, and— 

“Are those— Why do you have Hunham’s keys?” you groaned. 

“Just come on!” Angus huffed. 

You reached over to the little table beside your bed and snatched up your wristwatch, and you squeezed the button on the side to turn the little light on to see the time. “Fuck, Angus, it’s like four in the morning!” you groaned. “Fuck off!” 

“C’mon, you won’t regret it,” Angus told you. “Put on your coat and shoes, let’s go.” 

For some reason, you did as he told you, lacing up your sneakers and shrugging on your jacket, and you followed Angus as he led you out of the infirmary, sneaking past Hunham’s open door. You heard his snoring from inside, but you didn’t stop, catching up with Angus’s long-legged stride. He shined the flashlight down the dark hallways of the school, not speaking a word to you as he led you to the kitchen. It was pitch-black in there, even with the flashlight, but Angus moved with certainty, taking you to the big freezer towards the back of the room. You almost wanted to question him, ask exactly what the fuck he thought he was doing, but you stayed quiet as he wrenched the freezer door open. 

“Go grab a spoon,” he told you as he winced in the fluorescent lights inside the freezer. 

“What for?” you asked. 

“You remember that ice cream they gave us at the start of the semester?” Angus asked. You nodded slowly, remembering how dinner on the first day of classes had included individual scoops of vanilla ice cream; it was unusual and special, but you remembered not having eaten it and turning it over to Teddy. You followed Angus’s gaze into the freezer, and you spotted the cardboard tub of vanilla ice cream, sitting and waiting. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, but you slinked back into the kitchen and used the light of the freezer to find a single spoon, an oversized serving spoon. “Won’t we get in trouble?” you asked, passing the spoon to Angus, and he pulled the tub of ice cream into his grip and wrestled the lid off. The carton itself was frosted over, freezer-burnt to all hell, but Angus still attacked the mound of ice cream with the spoon. He scooped it into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. 

“I doubt it,” he replied. “How will they ever know? And by the time they figured out someone’s eaten out of here, they’ll never be able to trace it back to us.” 

“Woah, us?” you repeated. “What ‘us’? You’re the one going to town on that right now.” 

Angus looked at you with those almond-shaped dark eyes of his, and you scoffed at the little white splotches of ice cream on the corner of his lips. “We can change that,” Angus said, offering you the spoon. 

You shook your head. “I don’t eat ice cream,” you told him. 

“So, that’s what your fuckin’ problem is,” Angus chuckled. “You’re not judgmental or anything like that; you’re just low on joy.” 

“Fuck off,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“C’mon,” Angus said. “Blood oath or whatever… Except it’s vanilla ice cream.”

Your chest roiled. It felt like a petty thing, not to eat ice cream anymore, but you couldn’t help it. It just felt too bad. The memories were too hard, and even the experience of eating what you had been in that dreadful moment was too much. You remembered it like it was yesterday; your dad had taken you to Dairy Queen, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the fact that your sisters weren’t with you was odd. After all, you supposed with hindsight, he wasn’t their dad; just yours. He had his typical ice cream sandwich while you had a cone, and he had walked on eggshells as he explained to you what the word “draft” meant. It was hardly two years ago, you were old enough to know what it meant. You chose not to remember the rest of that night, but you stayed steadfast— you hadn’t eaten ice cream since. 

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily. 

Angus shrugged. “If you don’t kill me over the next two weeks, I won’t kill you,” he said. 

You quirked your mouth for a moment, trying to convey to him that you were considering it. “I told you, I don’t eat ice cream,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

“Is this some kinda girl thing I don’t get?” Angus asked. “Depriving yourself of dessert or whatever?” 

“I’m lactose intolerant, you dick,” you fibbed quickly. “Sorry if I don’t want an upset stomach at four in the morning.” 

“Suit yourself,” he said, going back for another bite. “It’s really mediocre.” That got a laugh out of you, and Angus smiled. 

He gave up on the ice cream soon after that, putting it back and washing off the spoon (“Getting rid of the evidence”, he said), and you dug your hands into the pocket of your coat. “Is that it?” you asked, and Angus laughed. 

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.” 

“Jesus,” you groaned, but, for some reason, you followed him out to the hall and down the corridors. It was still dark outside, and Angus fumbled with the keys and flashlight as you approached the door to the chapel. “Alright, whatever you’re planning to do in here, I’m nearly certain I don’t wanna be a part of it.” 

“You know they’ve got wine in here?” Angus asked, passing off the flashlight to you so he could find the correct key. 

“Duh,” you said. “Catholics really buzz off wine in communion.” 

“Didn’t your old church use wine?” Angus asked. He tried a key on the door, then frowned when it didn’t fit, and moved onto the next option. 

“No,” you said. “We didn’t go to church. Only when we visited my dad’s mom, which wasn’t often, but her church used Fanta Grape.” 

“What sorta church did your grandma go to?” Angus scoffed. “Church of the High Fructose Corn Syrup?” 

“It was mostly flat by the time it got to us, anyway,” you said. “Dad and I usually sat in the back, so he could slip out and smoke mid-service.” 

“Smart man,” Angus said. He tried another key, succeeding this time, and the heavy door swung open. It was dark inside the small room, a sort of storage room for the chapel, and the beam of the flashlight hit various pieces of junk scattered around, boxes or whatnot, before it landed on a small credenza pressed against the wall. There was some sort of ceremonial tapestry on the surface, a large ornate goblet on top with a dusty bottle of wine sitting next to it. “Bingo,” Angus mumbled, and he went to the lightswitch on the wall, flicking it on so he could turn off the flashlight. The overhead light crackled and buzzed as it came on, and Angus ushered you inside before shutting the door again. 

He was quick to fill the goblet partways with the wine, and he offered it to you silently. At first you hesitated— did you really feel like drinking wine with Angus?— and you quickly grabbed the goblet from his hand and took a sip. You held your face stony, not offering a reaction, and you passed it back to him. “Well?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Are there any of those Body of Christ crackers in here?” 

Angus gestured towards the heavy furniture against the wall, a sorta “Look for yourself” movement, and he went for the wine as you started through the cabinet. He gave a little shudder at the bitter sourness, then shrugged for himself and took another sip. “Not bad,” he mumbled. You quickly found the tub of little round wafers, and you worked the lid off as you sat down on the floor. You offered him one, which he shook his head at, and he took another sip of wine as he sat down next to you. He leaned up against the side of the credenza while you settled against the wall, and you put a wafer in your mouth, letting it melt a little against your tongue. “What would your body and blood be?” you asked. 

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Like, Jesus’s body are these rice paper crackers, and his blood is cheap wine,” you explained. “So what would yours be?” 

Angus furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “Well, blood is easy,” he said. “A beer.” You scoffed, and Angus quickly said, “No, no, listen, hear me out. You’ve had a beer before, right?” 

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Well then, you understand,” Angus sighed. “A nice beer on a hot day… The glass of the bottle is all cold and everything and it’s sweating a little and the weird foam label is tearing from the condensation… Isn’t that, like, a godly experience?” 

“Sure,” you giggled. “So, beer for the blood. And the body?” 

Angus screwed up his mouth as he considered it, and he finally said, “How about, like, a cheeseburger?” 

“Really?” you asked, popping another cracker in your mouth. “Why?” 

“It works good with the beer,” Angus said. He reached over to you and stole a cracker, and he chewed on it as he said, “Beer and a burger? What’s better than that? Brings you closer to God and shit like that, right?” 

“I mean…” you mumbled. “Yeah, that makes sense. So, taking communion, you do a shot of beer and… What? Take a bite of a burger?” 

“Sure,” Angus snickered. “Or a slider, like at a barbeque.” 

You laughed, and you reached out to grab at the glass of wine in Angus’s hands. He passed it to you, and you took a sip of it as Angus exchanged for another cracker. “What about you?” he asked. “What’s your body and blood?” 

“Hmm,” you murmured. Your body shuddered at the warm bitterness of the wine, and you coughed a little. “A hot coffee.” 

“Ew,” Angus sneered. “You drink coffee?”

“Not always,” you said. “Only when I need to warm up. It’s too bitter. But, like, the way your beer is relieving to you, a hot coffee is relieving to me. The same, but different, y’know?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus said. “Like, coming in from playing in the snow and your fingers are all stiff and cold or whatever… My mom always made us hot chocolate that was pretty much just heavy cream and cocoa powder and some sugar. We’d dip graham crackers in it and sit by the fire and listen to Christmas records…” He trailed off then, and you caught onto his train of thought— used to. Not this year. 

“Us?” you asked. “You got a sister or something?” 

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry” 

“What do you mean ‘sorry’?” Angus said. 

“Well, a few days ago, when everyone left,” you started in confusion. “You said your dad died.” 

The room was quiet for a beat, and Angus shifted as he sat, pulling one of his legs underneath himself. “No,” he said carefully. “No, um… Dad’s still hanging out, but he’s… He’s in the hospital. For, like, the past four years. He’s as good as dead.” 

“Shit,” you mumbled. “What happened?” 

Angus shrugged, quirking his mouth. “He got sick,” he said simply. “And Mom thought it would be better to have professionals take care of him instead of us…”

“M’sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything.” 

“You’re fine,” Angus said. “So, your dad…?”

You nodded solemnly. “His number came up,” you said softly. “He… Had something to prove, I guess, and no reason to try to get out of it. Told me he was gonna go and make me proud of him…” Your throat got thick then, and you trailed off for a moment. “January’s gonna be one year since…”  

“Jesus Christ,” Angus said under his breath. “Sorry.”

You quickly wiped at an escaped tear, trying to get rid of it before Angus could see it, and you choked down a cracker. “It’s whatever,” you said. “These things happen, y’know?” 

“Yeah, they happen,” Angus said. “But that doesn’t make them any less sad.” 

“I don’t care about sad,” you said. “Been too sad lately. All I want is to stop feeling sad.” 

Angus tilted his head at you, watching for a moment, and he started to dig into the pocket of his coat. Quietly, he extracted something, a sort-of crushed up cigarette that looked like it had fallen out of the pack and had been jostled in his pocket for months, and he held it out to you. You clocked it immediately, though— the paper too thin, the contents too packed in. You scoffed with a watery voice, twisting at a loose thread on your jacket. “Wow, you really are a Barton boy, huh?” you said. “Getting high and drinking holy wine in the chapel.” 

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not mine,” Angus said. 

“Whose is it, then?” you asked. “And how did you come to have it?” 

“Ah, well,” Angus shrugged. “Kountze the Cunt’s always had it coming for him. I steal his cigarettes, he steals my picture, I steal his last joint out of his bag before he leaves to go ski. What’s that called? Quid pro quo?” 

“That’s not really what quid pro quo is,” you laughed. “But I don’t have a lighter. And, furthermore, I don’t smoke weed. Especially not Kountze’s shit.” 

“I’ve got the lighter situation covered,” Angus said. He went back into his pocket and extracted a small matchbook, and he added, “And, yeah, you don’t smoke weed, but I’m not even sure this is weed. Knowing Kountze, it’s probably oregano or tea leaves or something. So, smoking this isn’t smoking weed, because there’s a fair chance it’s not weed.” 

You pursed your lips as you considered Angus’s offer, and you looked at the ornate goblet in your hands, still a little full. “Fine,” you decided. “But not here. We’re not gonna hotbox the chapel storage room.” 

“Aw, we’re not?” Angus whined jokingly. “I really think that’ll give us God points.” 

“Yeah, sure,” you chuckled. “Get enough of them, and you can redeem them for a free large soda at the check-out counter.” 

You helped each other drain the last of the wine out of the cup, and you pocketed a handful of crackers as you exited the room. Angus did well to lock up behind him, to make sure nothing seemed awry or unusual on the off-chance that Hunham checked the grounds, and Angus led you through the school to the main interior entrance to the chapel. It was as cold in there as it was outside, and still just as dark, and your eyes adjusted to the low light as Angus took a running leap at the raised stage, hopping up there with ease. You followed suit, though not as quickly or gracefully as Angus, and you settled on the piano bench next to him. His long, thin fingers worked to strike one of the matches on the edge of the matchbox, and he brought the flame to the joint nestled between his lips. 

You had never really noticed before (because when would you have ever noticed it before?) but Angus had a tiny scar on his upper lip, not really that raised or any different color than the rest of his lip, but it shifted as he puckered his lips around the joint. Come to think of it, Angus’s lips looked… Good? Wrapped around the joint, his lips looked plush and soft, just a hint pinker and darker than the golden-olive tones of his face. And the middle of his top lip poked out a little bit, a bit more pronounced because of his scar. Angus pulled at the joint for a moment before removing it from between his lips, and he offered it to you, and you fixed your expression from focusing on his lips to looking him in the eyes. “Well?” you asked. “Is it marijuana?”

“No,” Angus said. “Well, yes, but it’s Kountze’s ditch weed. So, technically yes, but you’d need to smoke a lot of it to get high.”

“Lemme see,” you said quickly, reaching out for the joint, and he passed it to you. You had only ever smoked once before, back when you went to Central, and you had gotten dizzy and sick, but, as you pulled a toke on this joint, you felt nothing of the sort. Sure, there was that weird herby taste in the back of your throat that made it unmistakingly weed, and you cringed as you blew out the smoke. “Oh, this is shitty,” you chuckled. “Like, super shitty. God, Teddy, where’d you buy this?” 

“He only has it to sell to eighth-graders,” Angus shrugged. “Make a quick buck to buy Playboys with.” 

“Ew,” you snickered. 

“What?” Angus said. “Not a fan of Playboy? Are you more of a Penthouse fan?” 

“No,” you said. “I mean, like, no, just… Thinking of Kountze doing that is… Just gross.” 

Angus took a drag on the joint, and he said “I guess you’ve kissed a guy before, huh?” 

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. 

“I mean, there’s not an elegant way to ask if you’ve had sex before,” Angus started quickly. “So, like, gotta build up to it, right?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking hell,” you mumbled as Angus quickly muttered out a “Sorry, forget I said anything”, and you slowly added, “No. If that answers your wildly-invasive question.”

“‘No’, you’ve never had sex before?” Angus asked. “Or ‘no’, you’ve never kissed a guy before? Or a girl? Are you gay? I don’t really care if you are, but like—”

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.” 

“Oh,” Angus said. “Not even at your old school?” 

“Not even at my old school,” you echoed mirthlessly. “Guys just never really cared about me. There was always some girl who was prettier or funnier, smarter, richer, whatever. I’m nothin’ special.” 

“Hm,” Angus grunted. 

“What about you?” you asked, taking the joint and pulling at it. 

“Oh, I get it regularly,” Angus said. “Yeah, my girlfriend’s a Playboy model. I sneak her into the dorm once a week and— Be serious, of course not.” You laughed as Angus smiled at his own joke. “I’m the same. When I wasn’t going to all-boys schools, girls just never liked me. I’ve always been a weirdo.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “I thought you’ve always gone to Barton?” you asked. 

“No,” Angus said. “I’ve been kicked out of a ton of schools. S’why I’m still a junior and I’m about to turn 18, I’ve been moved around so much that I ended up falling behind.”

“Why?” you asked. 

Angus shrugged. “I’m what they call a ‘troubled youth’,” he said, reciting the title like he didn’t believe it but had been told it too often. “I cheat and steal and get in fights. In fact, Stanley says if I get kicked out of Barton, I’ll be going to Fork Union.” 

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew Fork Union; you hadn’t ever been or knew anyone who went there, but its reputation preceded itself. Whoever Stanley was really had it out for Angus. “Fuck,” you hissed. “That’s… Intense.” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded in agreement. “So I gotta be on my best behavior.” 

“And smoking weed in the chapel is what you consider good behavior?” you asked. 

“Of course not,” Angus scoffed. “But it’s fun, and that’s what I care about.” 

You nodded slowly, and Angus pulled at the joint again before pressing down on one of the keys of the piano with his outstretched pinky finger, hearing a single little chime sound. He seemed to drift off then, going off in thought in silence as he absently passed you the joint. After a few moments, his eyes slid off to the side, and you followed his gaze over to see a small table set up just in front of the stage with a single picture frame on it. You knew the picture: Curtis Lamb. It was something that you and Mary could commiserate on, and you held the utmost respect for her and for the late Curtis. 

You declined the joint and got up to go sit in front of the picture. You had never chosen to sit in the front row of the chapel, always trying to be as close to the back door as possible, just like with your dad, and you had never seen that picture of Curtis that close up before. He was handsome, his uniform spotless without a wrinkle, the skin on his face smooth and shiny. He was young— 19. 

Angus slowly joined you on the pew, pressing his back against the arm and pulling his legs up to his chest, and he let out a gentle sigh as he too examined the picture of Curtis. “That’s why you like Mary so much,” Angus whispered eventually after a long and heavy bout of silence. “‘Cause you both…” 

You nodded. “You can say it,” you mumbled. “S’not the Boogeyman or anything. Saying it doesn’t make it more powerful.” 

“I know,” Angus murmured. “But thinking about it… Dying, being killed…” He shook his head, trailing off. “I used to think about it a lot. Back when Dad first got sick.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently. 

Angus hummed. “Then Dr. Gertler put me on some pills… They help a little, but sometimes I still… I dunno.” 

“Gertler?” you repeated. “That’s your psychologist or whatever it’s called?” 

“Yeah,” Angus said. “He used to be my dad’s doctor too, but then Dad went to the hospital, and they’re better for him there. Not that The Gert isn’t good, he is, just… Not what Dad needed.” 

You fell into silence then. The purples and blues of the morning began to bleed in through the chapel windows as you and Angus sat still, looking at the picture of Curtis but not seeing it. You were each lost in your own heads, and you found yourself sinking down to the thin, threadbare carpet and settling on your ass, and your head leaned back just so to touch Angus’s hip. You didn’t know him too well— you were clueless about what his favorite color was, but you knew the surface level of his worst trauma— and you wanted to comfort him, but something like holding his hand or hugging him seemed like a bridge too far. So, the slightest contact, a sort-of “I’m right here” seemed like the way to go. 

At long last, you heard the heavy creak of the chapel doors opening, and Angus turned to look. You couldn’t see from your vantage point, and the person nor Angus said anything, but you heard the groan of the old wooden pew in the very back row as someone sat down, and, based on the silence and the fact that Hunham was a staunchly non-Christian man, you could deduce that it was Curtis’s mother back there, coming in for her morning prayers. 

You all sat quietly, ruminating on your own thoughts, and finally you heard Mary’s smooth and smoky voice, not a yell but not a whisper: “You two better get back in your beds before Mr. Hunham decides to wake up.”  

You passed through the aisle towards the front doors of the chapel, and you and Mary locked eyes for a brief moment as you walked by. She gave you a small nod, then closed her eyes and went back to her prayers. 

Angus wasn’t a chatty guy to begin with, but the silence as you made your way back to the main building and the infirmary felt suffocating. It was cold as hell, somehow feeling even more biting than the 4AM chill you had felt before, and you nudged away a few slushy snowflakes as you walked up the steps to the doors. “Thanks,” you said finally. “That was, umm…” 

Angus shrugged, tugging the key ring out of his pocket carefully to keep the keys from jingling together. “Don’t mention it,” he said. “And now we know where they keep the good wine.” 

You managed a halfway-decent smile, and you dug into your jacket pocket and handed Angus a few Christ crackers. “Not a cheeseburger,” you said. “But it’s something.” 

-

You were sleepy throughout the entire day. Even though your excursion only lasted a few hours and didn’t give you any less sleep than a typical bout of insomnia did, you kept yawning throughout your library time and jog around the campus. Angus seemed to be in better shape than you were, his usual sullen self but not in any way looking tired, and you envied him. 

The day only brightened by a bit at lunch. You sat next to Angus as you quietly ate, chancing glances at him every so often, and he seemed… Normal. Drinking his Coke, looking past Mary and out the window to the snowy expanse outside. Not attempting any conversation or showing that you had shared a moment just a few hours earlier. Of course, you didn’t expect him to really do that, but the point held true that it was infuriating. When your eyes met, he could have at least smiled instead of averting his eyes like you were Medusa or something. 

The brightening came in the form of Hunham setting a large ceramic plate in front of him, covered by a napkin. “I have a surprise,” he announced. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with all of you.” 

Quickly, Hunham tugged off the napkin, and you saw a plate of cookies. Sugar, with hard, shiny frosting decorating the different shapes with vibrant Christmas colors. “Look at them,” Hunham added. “Look at the… Festive shapes. Snowflakes… Gingerbread men… A tree… Oh, a little mitten!” He picked up the pastel blue mitten and bit off the thumb, and he contemplated the taste for a moment before looking back up at you and Angus. “And they’ve got frosting!” 

Angus’s eyes slid to you, unimpressed, then back at Hunham. “May I go to the bathroom, sir?” he said flatly, already getting out of his chair as Hunham excused him, less of a request and more of a “I’m leaving, here’s my sorry excuse as for a reason why”. You watched Angus stalk out of the dining room, his hands bouncing limply at his sides, and Mary sighed, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Well, I’m trying,” Hunham mumbled half-heartedly, and Mary scoffed out a laugh. Obviously, this was a continuation of a conversation that you had not been privy to, and you kept your thoughts to yourself as you stuck a green bean in your mouth. 

The three of you sat in silence for a few moments, long enough for the tick of the second hand on your watch to bore under your skin, and Hunham looked back at the door, as if expecting Angus to come back in. “Where the hell is he…?” Hunham mumbled, and he scooted out his chair noisly. 

His shoes clicked across the polished hardwood, and you nudged a few French fries around with your fork. “You’re not eating,” Mary said as the door closed behind Hunham, and you tore your eyes up from your plate to look at her. Her cigarette clutched between her manicured nails, her dark mug of coffee in her palm, she looked every bit of a mother as she should, especially with the soft, sad look in her eyes. She wasn’t admonishing you; she was worried. 

You shrugged. 

“Do you not want this?” Mary asked. “I’m sure I can find something else back there for you.”  

“No,” you said quickly. “I-I’m fine, Mary. Just… Tired, I guess.” 

“Mm-hm,” Mary hummed. “Which has nothing to do with your little excursion with that boy earlier, right?” 

You shook your head, closing your eyes. “That wasn’t…” you started. “We were just…” But you stopped yourself before you could tell her why. Why had Angus dragged you out of bed to galavant around the school? From what you could tell, he didn’t particularly like you. “Huh. Weird.” 

Mary ashed her cigarette. “All I’ll say is, I’m not your mom. Whatever you and him get up to isn’t my business and I don’t want it to be, but… Don’t let him do too much to ya.” 

“God, Mary, we don’t…” you started softly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Mary said coldly. “I meant, don’t let that boy into your head too much. He’s a boy. And boys are, for the most part, dumb assholes. So, whatever he does, don’t let it affect you too much. After all, he’s just trying to—”

The hallway outside the dining room suddenly echoed with a cacophonous “Son of a bitch! That’s another detention!” and a sudden metallic crashing, and you nearly snapped your neck with the speed at which you turned to the door. Before you could even think not to, you got up out of your seat and made your way out the door, just in time to watch Hunham disappear down the corridor. Angus was already on the far side of the hall, the metal trash can tipped over with the lid rolling beside it, and you spotted Hunham’s pink detention pad sitting next to the payphone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened, and you trailed after Hunham and Angus at a quick walk, staying a few steps behind Hunham. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mr. Tully, but you are courting disaster!” Hunham called after Angus, and you watched Angus hook a corner, but peek back out at Hunham. 

“Without sufficient exercise, the body devours itself,” he said with a cheeky smile, and his gaze landed on you. The smile dropped from his face for just a moment before he disappeared around the corner once more, and Hunham turned to see you. He wasted little time with you, though, going back to his huffing-puffing pursuit of Angus. 

“You are careening towards suspension!” Hunham shouted, and you sped up your steps to overtake Hunham, but there was no way you could keep pace with Angus. He was standing in the middle of the doorway, waiting for Hunham to catch up, and you breathed heavily. 

“Angus!” you shouted after him, but he picked up the chase once more, allowing you to get within grabbing distance of him before he sped off. “Ang— What the fuck? You— Fork Union!” You couldn’t process your thoughts efficiently, let alone in a good enough way to express what you needed to, and you hoped that the mere mention of the military school would make Angus rethink his decision. 

But it didn’t. In fact, he seemed to pick up speed as he ran from you, and you skidded into the trophy room to watch Angus pull off a clumsy cartwheel. The fucker was enjoying himself. Your chest burned with agitation as Angus came to a stop at the open doorway, and an acid bile rose in your throat. The gym. 

Before he had fucked off to Haystack, Jason had mentioned how Senator Osgood had paid for a brand-new gym to allow his son Jordan to graduate from Barton, and that apparently Hunham was the one who had failed him and forced the gym to happen. You knew nothing of Jordan Osgood and even less about his right-wing Republican father, but you (along with everyone in Senator Osgood’s district) knew that they had money. And the money seemed to have gone a long way, a basketball court with bleach-white nets hanging from the goals, straight and even hardwood floors with the Barton lion mascot expertly painted on them, tall and high windows that let in a blinding amount of sunlight. But the gym was obviously unfinished, only half of the floor shiny and waxy with lacquer. 

You saw what Angus did, and you huffed out a breath. “Angus, please,” you said through labored breaths. “Don’t— You can’t—” 

Before you could say more, Hunham came up behind you, in a similar winded state as you. You watched Angus’s back straighten, and Hunham held out a warning finger to him. “Don’t even think about it, Mr. Tully,” he said. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you. You hear me? Wash my hands!”

Angus took half a step forward, the toe of his shoe touching the gym floor, and Hunham said, “Stop right there. You know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon!” 

Angus slowly turned to look at you and Hunham, a coy smile on his scarred lips. He gave a light, taunting shrug, then flicked his eyebrows, and said something in Latin. If you had been in a better mindset, you could have translated it in the moment, but you weren’t, and you watched Angus wink at you, then charge across the floor into the gym, towards that fucking gymnastics vault. 

You had never watched someone get seriously hurt before. You hated the idea of it— even watching a scary movie was a little too extreme. But time seemed to slow down as you watched Angus bounce off the springboard and go ass-over-head over the vault, landing with a thundering thud and a sickly sound of flesh against the thin mat. Not a snap, but definitely the sound of an injury. The air was still and stagnant for a long second, a second that felt like a lifetime, before a shrill scream cut through the air. 

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!” 

The next few minutes felt like a blur. You ran into the gym and helped Angus to his feet, holding down vomit at his limp left arm— not that it would have mattered; Angus had already taken care of that for you. You pawned him off to Hunham, then somehow, you mechanically went back to the infirmary and gathered your coat, Angus’s coat, and Hunham’s coat and keys. You felt numb, out of your body, listening to Hunham and Angus bicker back and forth the whole car ride to the nearest hospital. You were quiet, letting Angus lean into you and sniffle and cry at the pain, and you saw his eyes all red and glassy as he choked back his tears. He was scared. You grabbed his hand— the good one, not the one he had raised and trembling with the effort— and his sniffles quieted down to pathetic whimpers. 

“This is the end,” Hunham said, and you snapped back into your head in an instant. You don’t remember having gotten to the hospital, let alone maneuvering Angus inside and to the emergency room, but somehow you were there, Angus wedged between you and your teacher on the bench, his hand still clasped in yours. “They’ll inform the school, who’ll inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You are gonna get me fired. You!”

Angus sniffled. “I’m the one who might lose an arm, and all you can think about is yourself.” 

You sighed. “That’s dramatic, Angus,” you mumbled. 

“When I get my arm chopped off, will you help me carry my books to class?” Angus asked. 

“I’m not helping you with shit,” you snapped. 

Before Angus could snark back at you, a nurse came, dressed in white, and she handed a clipboard and a plastic ballpoint pen to Hunham. Her eyes glazed you, then Angus, and she said, “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.” 

Insurance. Fuck. You hadn’t even thought about that. Hunham’s face went sour and pale, and he slowly started to fill out the first box, putting A-N-G in block letters, but Angus spoke in a clipped voice. “Excuse me,” he said, and the nurse turned back to him. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?” 

The nurse sighed. You recognized that sigh; your mother did the same one with her customers at the diner. The ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’. “It’s just standard procedure,” she said. 

“I understand. But look…” Angus started. He chewed his lip at Hunham, then looked at you, then turned back to her with a breath. “We were over at Squantz Pond playing hockey… And I slipped on the ice.” 

“Angus,” Hunham said in a hushed tone. “What’re you doing?” 

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My 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.” 

“Okay, that’s your business,” the nurse said, sighing again. “But we just have certain protocols.” 

“Y-Yeah, protocols,” Hunham protested weakly, but Angus bulldozed right over him with more lies. 

“Please,” Angus said, his eyes going all glassy again. “I never get to see my dad, a-and I just wanted him to meet my girlfriend.” A hot shock ran down your skin, blazing in your cheeks, as you understood that you were the supposed girlfriend. God, you were going to strangle Angus Tully when this was all done. “It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He gave Hunham a pathetic little glance, his bottom lip wobbling, and his voice was all broken as he added, “I don’t want her dragging you to court again.” He sniffled and squeezed your hand, and you pulled his hand into your lap, stroking his soft skin with your thumb. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?” 

Angus didn’t drop your hand the entire time. He held onto you as the three of you were led to an exam room, and he shied away from the nurse (she never told you her name) as she tried to take off his sweater. He mumbled something about his shoulder, how he couldn’t move it right, and you carefully nudged in front of where he sat on the exam table, flexing your hand to get him to let go. Quietly, you tugged Angus’s maroon sweater up as far as it would go before he groaned in pain, and you swallowed thickly. “I know, Ang,” you said gently. “It’s alright, baby.” 

His eyes got all big at you as you played the role he had assigned to you, and with gentle encouragement from his beloved “girlfriend”, you managed to get the sweater off his right arm and have it slide off his left arm. Next came his robin’s-egg-blue buttoned shirt, and you sighed as you focused on the small plastic buttons, not able to look Angus in the eye. As calm as you seemed on the surface, you were screaming and cursing and spitting like a possessed woman inside. You were so angry at him, for everything— for disobeying Hunham, for getting himself hurt, for roping you into his kinda-sorta insurance fraud. If you could have slapped him across the face, you would have. But you couldn’t, so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek and a whispered “There you go” as his shirt came off. That left him in his thin white undershirt, and you balked at his pale skin, but particularly the way his shoulder stuck out grotesquely. You could tell from a glance— dislocated. “Jesus…” you whispered, and the nurse moved you aside. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes the things you see here are a little sickening. But you’ve been more than enough help; thank you, sweetie.” 

“Guess you’re not going to nursing school, huh?” Angus chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood, and you folded his sweater and shirt over your arms. 

“You know how I get with blood, Ang,” you said softly. “Nursing school was never gonna be for me.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angus hummed, as if he knew anything about you and was just being reminded of this fact. “Hey, remember back in August, at the football game against Choate, when Jason got flattened by that linebacker?” 

You had never gone to a single Barton football game, but obviously Angus had a point to why he brought this up, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you said carefully. “Umm, i-isn’t that the same day Kountze invited us to that bonfire?” 

“Yeah,” Angus nodded along with your addition. “I think you were somewhere else, bathroom or something, but Jason just got pummeled by this dude that was twice his size—”

“I was with his girlfriend when that happened,” you said. “She was hysterical.” 

“But he got up and went back to the sideline, and I went down to talk to him,” Angus said, wincing as the nurse worked his undershirt over his head. “And his mouth was all full of blood, but he was laughing ‘cause he said Jenny was gonna be doting all over him for the next week.” 

You nodded. “And she did,” you said. “That was… Kinda gross to watch, actually.” 

Angus shrugged, but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the involuntary action. “That’ll be us,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m all injured and everything, and you get to take care of me.” 

“Get to?” you repeated. “You make that sound like a privilege.” 

“I took care of you when you got your wisdom teeth taken out last year,” Angus said, and your hand went lightly to your jaw. How in the fuck did he know you didn’t have your wisdom teeth? Had he seen it? When? “Now it’s your turn.” 

“I didn’t sign up for that,” you chuckled. 

“Sure you did,” Angus said. “That was in the fine print when I asked you to go steady.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think the pain’s making you delirious,” you said. 

“We’ll get him some pain medication soon,” the nurse said. “First, we’re gonna have to X-ray your shoulder. Your dad and girlfriend are gonna be right here, we’re just going down the hall.” 

The silence in the exam room once Angus left was deafening, and Hunham stood opposite you. Every so often, he looked like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind, and he finally settled on “I can hold Mr. Tully’s things.” 

“I-I’ve got it,” you said softly. You held his clothes a little closer to your chest and chewed your lip nervously, and you mumbled, “I guess we’re lucky… It could be worse.”

“We don’t know how bad it is yet,” Hunham said, and you shrugged. 

“At least he’s not, like… Dead,” you offered. “His arm’s just a little messed up.” 

Hunham sighed but said nothing else, seemingly agreeing with you. You let yourself shift your weight as you waited, and your fingers itched in Angus’s sweater. It was soft, and still a little warm from his body, and you buried your cold hands in it. 

Angus returned soon after, and the air was prickly with silence until a doctor walked in. Dressed in a white lab coat, he carried a thin piece of plastic, and he smiled thinly at Hunham before he threw the plastic sheet onto the lightbox on the wall and flipped it on. There, as clear as day, was an X-ray of Angus’s fucked-up shoulder, the ball-and-socket joint clearly not ball-and-socket anymore. “The good news is nothing’s broken,” the doctor told you, and Hunham audibly sighed. 

“Thank God,” he said. 

“But you did dislocate your shoulder pretty badly,” the doctor added, eyeing Angus down. “That was quite a tumble you took, kid. What happened?” 

You saw Angus look at the nurse out of the corner of his eye, and, knowing that he had to stay with the fib he told, you chimed in quickly. “We were playing hockey,” you said. “Or, rather, Angus was playing hockey, and me and… His dad were watching. The ice was slippery, and Ang just… I don’t know, one second he was up, the next he was down.” 

“Was trying to impress you,” Angus mumbled, and you lovingly brushed down his messy curls. 

“I know,” you said. “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I take it you’re the girlfriend, then,” the doctor said.

“It would seem that way,” you said lightheartedly, but you gave a secret, harsh tug to the bottom of Angus’s hair as retribution. He winced and sucked in a tight breath, and the doctor nodded a bit. 

“What’s that mean?” Angus asked. “Like, I know what dislocating is, but what does that mean for me?” 

“That means your arm has popped out of the socket,” the doctor said. He moved away from the X-ray and went to join the nurse at the side of Angus’s exam bed, and they wordlessly began to move him onto his back. “And we just have to pop it back in.” 

“Is it gonna hurt?” Angus asked, and you watched panic fill his eyes as the nurse’s hand brushed the skin of his upper arm, and he winced in pain. 

“Not if you relax,” the doctor told him. He turned around to the small counter behind him, where the nurse had laid a bundled-up bedsheet, and he started to shake it out and loop it around Angus’s torso as he added, “The key is to relax. Deep breaths.”

You watched the doctor and the nurse expertly wind the bedsheet around Angus, and you furrowed your eyebrows at it. “What’re you doing?” you asked. 

“We are making a sort-of slipknot,” the doctor told you. “We’re going to pop his arm back in, and then he’ll be right as rain, with only a little discomfort afterwards, but the Percodan we’ll give him will take care of all of that.” 

Angus said your name, his voice a little shaky, and, even though you had never heard him talk like that before, you knew that he was scared. You stepped forward just a touch, close but not too close, but, as the medical professionals began to gently pull his arm back, readying it, Angus’s free hand shot out like lightning and gripped your fingers. His eyes were squeezed shut, holding his breath, his neck and ears red, and you looked at the doctor for a moment before you said, “Ang, baby, it’ll be okay. Just one second where it hurts really bad, then it’ll be over. Can you do it for one second?” 

“...Think I’m gonna puke again…” Angus mumbled. 

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly. 

“Don’t wanna puke on you,” Angus added, and you frowned. 

“I’ll just throw everything in the washer when we get back,” you said with a shrug. The doctor made eye contact with you from behind Angus, and he flicked his eyebrows at you in a way that told you to keep talking. Distract Angus, so he can’t see it coming. “How about, when we get back, we can watch TV?” you started, trying to find anything to blabber about for long enough. “I think a new episode of Bonanza comes on tonight. But, God, I missed the last few weeks, I have no idea what’s going on anymore. Is Hoss still courting that fancy lady? I thought maybe that was done, but I heard something about it on the radio the other day, so who knows—”

At that moment, the doctor and the nurse yanked the bedsheet in opposite directions, and Angus writhed and wormed as he let out a guttural gurgle and hiss, then a pathetic yelping scream as his shoulder went back right with a wet pop that made your neck hair stand on end. You heard Hunham behind you give a scoff of “Jesus!”, and then the ordeal was over. 

Angus moved his left arm slowly as the doctor rattled about the medication he was prescribing, something where Angus couldn’t drive while on it or drink alcohol or mix with other medication, and you nodded along as you listened. Angus worked himself into his undershirt and threw his buttoned shirt on, and you took over doing up his buttons. He frowned at the sight of his sweater, though, and you knew that lifting his arm to get it into the sleeve was maybe asking too much, so you held onto it as they fixed a sling around his neck and looped his left arm in it. 

“Take care, young man,” the doctor said. “And keep her around. Hard to find someone who cares about people like that nowadays.” 

The first significant thing Hunham said since arriving at the hospital was spoken as the three of you approached the pharmacy counter, prescription in hand. “Barton men don’t do that.”��

“Do what?” Angus asked. 

“Barton men don’t lie,” Hunham clarified. 

“Yeah, well,” Angus sighed. “I had momentum.” 

Hunham passed the paper prescription across the counter to the pharmacist, and he mumbled, “Hello, we have this, uh…” 

The pharmacist looked over his glasses at the paper, then up to Angus, then Hunham, and finally you. “Percodan, huh? Gimme a few minutes.” 

He went off in search of the requested medication, and Hunham paused for a moment before adding, “You too, Miss, you’re included in this.” 

“What, was I supposed to refute all of that?” you asked. “We were already committing insurance fraud, might as well play along as best we can.” 

“And you said that if Woodrup finds out, you’re screwed,” Angus interjected. “So now he won’t find out.” 

“What happens if your parents inquire?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face darkened for a moment as he scoffed flatly.

“Never gonna happen,” he said. “Trust me.” 

Hunham looked obviously confused at the certainty of Angus’s words, but nevertheless said “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?” 

“Oui, monsieur,” Angus said, screwing up his face mockingly. Then, a coy smile crossed his lips, and he said, “Now you owe me.” 

“Owe you?” Hunham repeated, glaring at Angus. “Oh no, do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.” 

“All I’m looking for is a little thank you that I did something nice for you,” Angus said. “That’s all.” After a moment, he flashed Hunham a cheeky smile. 

You swallowed thickly. “You look real stupid with your hand dangling out of the sling like that,” you said quickly. You don’t know what possessed you to say that, and Angus scoffed.

“God, you’re mean,” Angus said. “What happened to the little kisses and the ‘baby’s and shit?” 

“You think I enjoyed doing that?” you asked. “Fuck, Angus, grow up. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You didn’t wait for a reply before you turned heel and made your way to the nearby bathroom, adorned with a silver plaque with a little stick woman on it, leaving the boys in a confused dust behind you. 

Lucky for you, it was a single stall situation, a big room able to accommodate a wheelchair or walker, and, once inside, you quickly flipped the lock on the door and sighed. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot— in honesty, you did enjoy all of that. Something about it felt almost cathartic, pretending to have a healthy and loving relationship with someone, like you were acting out your greatest fantasy. Whether or not Angus was a part of that fantasy or just a placeholder until David Cassidy paid Barton a visit, you weren’t sure, but your heart ached and cried. You didn’t want to pretend— you wanted the real thing. And the fact that you’d never get the real thing, at least not anytime soon, made your eyes burn with tears. Just more evidence to the fact that your life was doomed from the start— nobody wanted you, plain and simple. 

You slammed at the tap, turning it on to run cold water over your hands, and you pressed your hands to your burning cheeks, trying to calm down. You took a deep breath, then another, and you shucked off your jacket and tugged Angus’s red sweater over your head. It smelled like him, clean but also a little sharp from the sheer boyishness of it all, and you slid your jacket back on.

By the time you left the bathroom, Angus had worked himself partially into his coat, a small paper baggie in hand that rattled with pills against the glass bottle. “We’re getting dinner,” Hunham told you, his tone indicating to you that he and Angus had had a battle while you were absent and he was the loser. His eyes swept your frame, obviously catching Angus’s sweater on your body, but he said nothing about that.“There’s a small place in town.” 

“I-I didn’t bring my pocketbook,” you started to protest, but Angus dug into the pocket of his corduroy pants and produced his own wallet. 

“I’ve got it,” he said simply, and gave you the same smile he had given Hunham. 

The chosen dinner spot, a small pub called the Winning Ticket, was surprisingly bustling with activity. Music played from the bar portion of the place, competing against Nixon on the television and the dinging of pinball machines, and the air felt warm but not thick, the way some restaurants could feel. You slid into the booth first, then Angus settled himself next to you, nudging your arm with his slinged elbow (he had shifted his arm backwards after your comment about his hand, so now only his fingers spilled over the edge), and Hunham sat across from you.

“I think I’ll start with a beer,” Angus said, and Hunham scoffed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully,” Hunham told him. 

“We’ve had a hard day,” Angus continued. “We deserve to loosen up a little.” 

“You’ve had ten milligrams of Percodan,” Hunham said. “You’re plenty loose already.” 

He was right. Angus had swallowed down two of the pills in the backseat of Hunham’s Nova on the drive over, and already he was acting differently, just a little lighter and less reserved. It wasn’t a dramatic change, and you might not have noticed it, but Percodan Angus almost reminded you of Holy Wine and Joint Angus. 

“They’ve got Miller High Life!” Angus said, looking down at the laminated menu that lay waiting on the table. “‘The Champagne of Beers’!” 

“Oh, yeah?” you asked. “You and what identification, Mr. Seventeen Years Old?” 

“Hey, if you could have a beer, you would,” Angus told you.

“Oh, I can,” you told him. “If the bartender’s a guy, I just gotta flutter my eyelashes at him, and I’ll get whatever I want.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you became very aware of your teacher’s presence across the table from you, and you cleared your throat. “O-Or so I’ve heard.” 

Before anything else could be said, a waitress approached, and your face lit up. Dyed ginger hair, fun earrings, a soft face and kind eyes. 

“Miss Crane!” Hunham beat you to the punch, and your Secretarial Studies teacher glowed. “As I live and breathe! What are you doing here?” 

“Hi, guys!” Miss Crane laughed. “And our sweet Barton girl, how’re you, darling? Uh, yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.” 

Hunham took a moment to respond, still smiling at Miss Crane, and he stammered out, “Oh, this is Mr. Tully—”

“Oh, sure, I know you,” Miss Crane said, and Angus gave her a smile.

“Angus Tully,” he introduced himself. “We met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

Miss Crane gave you an amused smile, and you shared a laugh. “I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part,” she said. 

“And, of course, Miss Y/N,” Hunham added. 

“It’s good to see you,” Miss Crane cooed. “I was worried I wasn’t going to see you before you moved back to Boston. Barton sure is gonna miss you.” 

“Oh, I’m…” you started. The real story was far too long and messy to get into right at that moment, so you swallowed down the truth in exchange for a grin. “I’m glad to see you too.” 

“Yes, well,” Hunham started. “He’ll have a cheeseburger.” 

“And a Miller High Life, please,” Angus butted in as Miss Crane began to write the order down, and Hunham grunted. 

“No, you will not.” 

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane? Quality-wise, I mean,” Angus asked, and you groaned. 

“Christ, give it up,” you said. “He’s on pain meds, Miss Crane, don’t—” 

“Well, like they say,” Miss Crane started with a scrunch of her nose. “It’s the champagne of beers.” 

“And she’s a professional!” Angus said, looking at Hunham as he gestured to her, and Hunham rolled his eyes, unamused. 

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane started, and Angus sighed. 

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly. 

“Umm, same for me,” you told her. “But, umm, if you can have them do no pickles, please?” 

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly. 

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham told her. 

“Three cheeseburgers,” Miss Crane recited. “Hold the pickles on one—”

“And a Jim Beam,” Hunham added, and Angus gaped in awe, the audacity of Hunham to say no to a beer but yes to a drink for himself washing over him. “On the rocks. Please.” 

Miss Crane smiled and left the table, and you watched as Hunham watched her leave. You looked over at Angus with a smile of disbelief, and Angus grinned— Did Hunham have game after all? 

“Ouch,” Angus laughed, shaking his hand like he had gotten burned. “You two have chemistry.” 

“That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham grumbled. 

“No shit, Mr. H,” you giggled. “That was something. Who knew you were such a Casanova?” 

“I don’t know, seeing her like this,” Angus started. “I think she’s pretty attractive.” 

You snorted so loud with a laugh that you almost missed Hunham saying “Listen, you hormonal vulgarians” as he leaned into the table. “That woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculations.” 

Angus looked at you with a smile, and you tamped down more laughter. “May I at least go to the bathroom?” he asked. “Sir?” 

“You mean the payphone?” Hunham asked, and Angus’s face fell stony. You watched the staredown, seeing who would break first, and eventually Hunham bested Angus, because the younger peeled away from the tufted booth seat, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” you groaned, and you got up just as Miss Crane was coming back, her tray ladened with your drinks and Mr. Hunham’s Jim Beam. You tailed Angus towards the bathrooms, but paused at the corner of the bar, watching him disappear into the mens’ room. You stayed behind, looking around at the televisions mounted on the walls, and your mouth went sour at footage of the war being shown on the news. You looked away before you could even properly read the headline, and your fingers nervously went to fiddle with your necklace. 

The bartender gave you a look from down the way, expecting an order out of you, and you shook your head. He (of course it was a male bartender) tilted his head with a smile, a sorta “You know you wanna” look, and you pushed a small laugh out of your nose. Driving, you mouthed simply, making a little steering-wheel motion with your hands, and he nodded and smiled, then turned back to his marginal work. 

The door to the mens’ room swung open, and you watched Angus slink out. He didn’t look at you, or back in the direction of the table— he looked around the bar, and found his focus being pulled in by one of the pinball machines. You watched him approach and dig in his pocket for a moment, and he watched the guy play his game as he set his dime down on the edge of the machine. 

You foolishly almost thought that the night would pass without any more incident. You’d eat your dinner, get back to Barton, and go in your room and ignore everyone and everything until the sun crested the snow in a few hours. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. If you were back home, your mom would let you and Rachel and Anna open one present from underneath the tree, which was always a pair of pajamas that somehow coordinated with everyone else’s but never matched, then you’d fall asleep on the couch while your mom listened to her favorite Nat King Cole Christmas record. Well, that’s what had happened every year up until now. Up until Richard and his daughter (you still didn’t know her name). You wondered what their traditions were. You wondered how they were changing the fabric of your family. You wondered if your mom had bothered to keep up the picture of your dad that hung in the hallway, or if it had come down when Rich moved in. 

Yet, incident came. Over the din of the bar, you heard Angus’s whiny little voice say “‘Cause I don’t wanna shoot the other fuckin’ machine.” You looked over at him, and recognized his body language, tall and looming, as the guy playing pinball stepped back with a huff. 

“Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo,” he said to Angus, and you started forward as he called, “Kenny! You’re up!”

“Bullshit,” Angus said as you came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I put my dime down, so I’m up next.” 

“Angus, let it go,” you told him firmly, but a voice stopped either of you from splitting the scene.

“What was that?” 

You turned to look at who spoke, presumably Kenny, he of the next round of pinball, and your heart sank. Young— older than you, but still young as hell— wearing a heavy jacke with jeans and a chain dogtag, and your throat closed up. A hook at the end of his right hand. There was no mistaking where he lost it, and a flash of fear and dread washed over you. It was too much— first the news, now this. You felt sick. 

“Ang, c’mon, let’s just go,” you mumbled, but Angus was too busy staring down the hook that swung at Kenny’s side. 

“Hey, sport,” Kenny said, his voice low. “My eyes are up here.” 

“Look at this kid,” the pinball wizard chortled. “Spoiled little fuckin’ Barton boy. And his bitch too, huh?” 

“Yeah, he’s a fancy little prick, isn’t he?” Kenny said, and he looked at you. “Why the long face, honey? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“I-It’s fine,” Angus stammered, and his arm snaked around to you, pushing you back just a touch behind him. Something in your chest tightened, thinking that Angus thought he needed to protect you, but there was also a warmth— Angus was protecting you.“You can take my dime.” 

“Take it?” Kenny repeated. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?” 

“N-No,” Angus breathed. “What I meant is we can play together.” He lightly jostled his left arm in the sling, and he added, “You can be my left arm.” 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Kenny asked, taking a step forward, nearly nose to nose with Angus, and you felt Angus freeze up. 

“Hey,” the pinball wizard started. “You. Prom Queen over here. You gonna let your little boyfriend talk like that?”

Your eyes darted from him to Kenny, then to Angus, then back to Pinball Wizard. You stammered for a moment, trying to find anything to say, and the only thing that came out of your mouth was “I-I—” 

“No wonder he’s got a big mouth,” Kenny chuckled. “She doesn’t have one at all.” 

You felt dizzy, and you tugged on Angus’s sleeve to leave as you examined Kenny for anything you recognized— a patch on his jacket, a logo on his t-shirt, anything would suffice to ground you. Finally, you saw it: a little appliqué of a purple ribbon with a heart at the end, looking just like the real thing that, last you knew of it, was stashed in the back of your mom’s closet. “My dad’s got one of those…” you mumbled. You couldn’t even think about self-preservation anymore; you were fixated on it now, saying everything you could about it to anchor you in your head and not the stratosphere. “...Got it during Green River…” 

“Oh, yeah?” Kenny asked. “And why hasn’t he knocked some fuckin’ respect into your boy here?” 

Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton. “He-He didn’t…” you started, and stared at Angus. “He’s an asshole… Socially inept or whatever. Didn’t mean anything by it.” 

You couldn’t add in anything more before Angus was peeling away from you, hot-stepping it back to the table, and Pinball Wizard and Kenny made chase as you took up the rear. “Angus!” you shouted, and Hunham and Miss Crane both looked in your direction as Angus walked up to the table. 

“Mr. Hunham, can we go, please?” Angus asked urgently. 

“Why?” Hunham asked, looking back at the two men and you. 

“I’ve just been called a fancy little prick,” Angus said as Kenny called after him. “We should go,” Angus added, and you passed Pinball Wizard and Kenny to get to the booth, once again taking up your assigned place behind Angus. 

“Why’d you run off?” Kenny asked with a fake smile. “We were just talking to you. Don’t they teach you manners at that school?” Kenny closed in on Angus, and he brought his hook up to his chest, poking Angus in the sternum with it, and Miss Crane jumped as Hunham jostled in his seat. 

“No, no, no, Kenneth!” Miss Crane pleaded. “Leave him alone, they just came in for some food!”

Kenny seethed at Angus, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You could tell that mayhem was a moment away, but then Hunham began to speak.

“Kenneth! Is that right?” he started, holding up his hands placatingly. “I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you, it’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentleman something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.” 

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered. 

“The dodo, it’s an extinct bird,” Angus grumbled, and Kenny put force behind his hook again, causing Miss Crane to butt in once more. 

“What he’s saying is he wants to buy you guys a beer!” She exclaimed, hoping that her explanation would ease the situation as quickly as possible. 

Kenny stared Angus down, then looked at you, cowering and scared. Maybe he took pity on you, the poor little Purple Heart’s daughter, or maybe he realized that what you had said about Angus’s social ineptitude was right, because he finally stepped back, lowering his hook. “Yeah, okay,” he nodded. 

“Same here,” Pinball Wizard said. “I’ll have a Miller.” 

It’s almost like he couldn’t help himself: “Champagne of beers!” Angus chuckled, and your arm shot out, smacking him across the stomach. You glared at him, and the smile fell off of his face.

You couldn’t even enjoy your food. Not that you were worried about Kenny or Pinball Wizard coming back for round two, but you couldn’t keep your mind off of your dad. Seeing everything had affected you for some reason, and you kept your mouth shut the whole time as you ruminated on it; the images of the newscast swirled in your head, and your least favorite but most common nightmare stayed in your mind— the Army claimed they couldn’t locate enough of your father’s remains to even send back a body, and you could only see remnants of your father in some field. Mostly, you saw his tattoo, big on his chest, the same one he had had since you were a baby, needled in as an homage to you— your father always called you his miracle, and he had a starburst right over his heart. You could only envision the starburst, charred and detached, laying in the grass somewhere in Vietnam, never to return home to you.

 You saw Hunham looking at you every so often, maybe checking if you were alright, but nobody said anything until you were gone and out the door. The energy had turned prickly and stiff, and even Angus’s voice cutting through was enough to make you jump.

“Why’d you buy those guys beer?” Angus asked. “They’re assholes.” 

“That’s one way to look at it,” Hunham grumbled, digging in his pocket for his car keys. “Here— catch.” He tossed his keys over to Angus, and his right hand raised and caught them deftly, almost reflexively. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off?” He paused to give Angus a moment to respond, despite it being obvious that there was no answer, and he continued, “No, Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam! They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled. 

“Except for Curtis Lamb!” Hunham exclaimed. It wasn’t hard to figure out the implication, and Angus swallowed thickly at you. 

“Were you ever in the military?” He asked Hunham, obviously looking to somehow change the subject.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Hunham began, pointing at his eye, then tugging at his door handle, consequently mumbling something about “I have to get in over there”.

“They made me an air raid warden,” Hunham continued, breezing by you and Angus to slide into the passenger side door of the Nova, and both you and Angus wrinkled your noses at the sour smell that followed Hunham. “Gave me a whistle and everything… Helmet, arm band…” Hunham slid into the car, scooting over to his seat, and Angus sorta shook his head. 

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?” Angus asked, leaning down to peer at Hunham through the open car door. You settled into the backseat, slightly thankful that you wouldn’t have to share space with Angus again (not that you minded on the ride up here), and Hunham grunted out an affirmative. “You smell.”

“Angus,” you frowned admonishingly. You were struck by the sheer and blatant rudeness, and you saw Hunham’s face fall sadly in the rearview mirror.

“Like fish,” Angus continued, getting in his own seat and shutting the car door. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but you never would have outright said anything like that. “And it’s really noticeable towards the end of the day; I can even smell it on your coat… Mind if I crack the window?”

Hunham sighed as Angus worked to turn the window crank, and Hunham said, “Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

“Trimethylaminuria,” Hunham repeated himself. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell…” He paused for a moment to uncomfortably wipe his nose, and he added, “And, uh, yes, more towards the end of the day.” 

“Wow…” Angus said. “Your whole life?” Hunham nodded, and Angus perked up for just a moment. “No wonder you’re afraid of women!” 

“I am not…!” Hunham began, shaking his head. “Afraid of women!” 

“Sorry,” Angus mumbled as Hunham continued with an under-the-breath, “Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Angus added. “Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience.” 

“Ah,” Hunham began. “And who is Dr. Gertler?” 

Angus looked back at you silently for just a moment, the tiniest acknowledgement of the fact that you were privy to this information, and he snapped at Hunham, “My shrink.”

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good, swift kick in the ass?” Hunham asked, and you couldn’t help the scoffing giggle that left your mouth. 

“Okay, all right,” Angus chuckled mirthlessly. “Now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.” 

“Something negative about you?” Hunham asked in fake-shock. 

“Sure,” Angus shrugged. “Just one thing.” 

Hunham rolled his eyes. “Just one?” He paused for a moment, thinking about his answer, and he turned to look at you. “Anything to add, Miss?” 

You kept your mouth shut and shook your head quickly. “Nothing nice, anyway,” you said softly.

“I concur,” Hunham said, and he cranked up the Nova.

The rest of the ride back to Barton was quiet, listening to the wind whistling through the open window as nothing was said, and words were only finally exchanged as you and Angus parted at the doorway to your separate infirmary rooms. Hunham’s room was off down an adjacent hallway, and you had already heard the door shut by the time you spoke. 

“Oh,” you started, tugging at the bottom of the maroon sweater. “Here, sorry, I forgot—” 

“S’fine,” Angus said. “Don’t worry about it.” 

You nodded slowly. “I’ll run it through the wash and get it back to you,” you said, and Angus shook his head. 

“Keep it,” he said. “Looks better on you than it does on me.” 

“O-Oh,” you stuttered. “I mean, i-it looks pretty, um, expensive, are you sure you don’t—” 

“I’m sure,” Angus nodded. He looked down at his feet for a moment, and he softly added, “Thanks for taking care of me today.” 

You shrugged. “No big,” you said. 

“Big to me,” Angus mumbled. “I’ve never had a girl— or anyone, really— um… Make me feel like that.”

“Like what?” you asked. 

“Cared for,” Angus said. “Cared about. I was, umm, so nervous in there that I thought I was gonna shit and die. But you… You were so gentle, and so nice, it really helped me.” 

“S’what I’m here for,” you said. “See you tomorrow, Ang.” 

“Wait!” Angus said quickly as you put your hand on the doorknob to your room. “Can I, umm… Can I give you a hug?” 

You wrinkled your eyebrows in confusion but nodded all the same, and you stepped closer to him. His good arm wrapped around your middle, a little slow and stiff, like he had never even touched a girl before, let alone hugged one, and your arms went around his neck, holding him tight. He took a deep breath and settled his cheek against your temple, letting himself enjoy it, and your heartbeat picked up. 

You weren’t sure why, but you had a sneaky feeling that Angus had motives behind the embrace. Was he going to try to kiss you? A kiss was just a kiss, it didn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things, but it would be your first kiss ever. Did you want Angus to be that for you? For the rest of your life, your first kiss would be with Angus Tully, some kid you went to boarding school with who was an asshole ninety-eight percent of the time and a genuine sweetheart the other two percent. Was two percent nice and caring enough, though? 

“Ang,” you whispered, stepping just a touch away from him to see his face. The lights in the hallway were half-turned off, only every other fluorescent bulb lit, and it left you and Angus in a slightly darker alcove of the hallway, and the dim light made shadows play on Angus’s thin face. His eyes looked half-lidded, like he was sleepy, but you could feel his heartbeat and heavy pulse— he was wide awake. “How’d you get that scar?” you asked softly, letting your fingers go to his lips and lightly trace his scarred and puffy upper lip. 

“Got beat up a few years ago,” Angus told you. “Busted my lip.”

“Ang,” you sighed in a hushed tone. “You’ve gotta stop giving people reasons to beat your ass.” 

Angus chuckled. “I can’t really help it…” he said, and trailed off for a moment, then added, “B-Babe.” 

“Are you nervous?” you whispered. “There’s no reason to be.”

“V’just…” Angus started. “I’ve never…” 

“Me neither,” you reminded him. “But I want it to be you.” 

Silently, Angus shifted forwards, pressing his body fully against yours again, his arm going tight around your waist, and he helped you rise up on your toes to fully reach him. Then, before you could even think about what you were doing, you leaned into him and, your eyes slipping closed, touched your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, and his fingers itched in the back of your shirt. You really had no idea what you were doing, but it felt right, and you tilted your head a bit as Angus put force behind his kiss and held you even tighter. 

You felt lightheaded as you slowly pulled out of the kiss, touching your forehead against Angus’s and sighing. A smile slowly slipped across your lips, and a laugh escaped while your fingers tangled in the curls at the very bottom of his neck. “Um, thanks,” you whispered. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day… Since this morning, y’know…” Angus admitted. “I just, um, didn’t wanna do it in front of Hunham.” 

“I understand,” you told him. “Thanks, Ang.” 

“Are you okay, by the way?” Angus asked. “You got really… I don’t know. Upset. Back with those guys.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Y-Yeah, just, um… That guy was in Nam, and after the stress of the rest of the day, kinda just seeing that and remembering was…” 

“Fuck,” Angus sighed. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve stood up for you.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not your job,” you told him. 

“Well, yeah, it’s not,” Angus started. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t stop it.” 

You bit your bottom lip as you thought, and you mumbled, “Sure. Alright. Umm, I’ll see you in the morning, Ang.” 

“One more for the road?” Angus asked, and you rolled your eyes at his little cocky smile. 

“I’m not even ten feet away from you for the rest of the night,” you chuckled. “Some road there.” 

“But there’s a wall,” Angus whined softly. “I’m also trying to act cool here, and ask for another kiss without asking—”

You leaned up and gave him one more kiss, quicker and less emotional than the first time, but Angus still locked eyes with you and badly contained a smile when you parted, just like before. “I’m trying to not, umm…” he started, looking back down at your feet. “Not get ahead of myself here, but um… No, we can-we can talk about that tomorrow.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, but Angus shook his head. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “We’ll... Tomorrow. Get some sleep, okay?” 

Even though you were confused by his trepidation, you agreed anyway. “You too,” you told him. “If your shoulder starts to hurt, just… Let me know. I’ll see if I can help.” 

“Sure,” Angus nodded. He hesitated to step away into his own room for a moment, and he leaned in and kissed your forehead before scurrying away, like he was afraid of the consequences. 

You went into your own room and closed the door, taking a deep breath. You had kissed Angus. You weren’t sure if you were more excited about it being Angus or just the kiss itself happening, but you felt giddy and you bit your cheek as you smiled. Carefully, you went about undressing from the day, slipping into pajama pants and doubling up on socks, and your fingers brushed down the front of the sweater. It was soft, wool, and the stitching on the cuffs and around the bottom and neck proved it to be more expensive than anything you could ever dream of. 

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one. 

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted. 

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you. 

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend. 

[astropookie]

chiron observations ❤️‍🩹

TW: it’s chiron, you k what’s coming.

natal south node 9H opposition solar chiron 3H in retrograde: lesson i was meant to live, in this case about communication. later on that year, I communicated the situation -I needed help- but throughout that time I was struggling to process the information. south node 9H represents the knowledge i acquired and the lesson i had to experienced to let others know about that knowledge. retrograde shows difficulties on expressing themselves, scared of being judged, delays, etc.

solar moon conjunct natal chiron: wounds who were deeply hidden in the past, that you didn’t remember, are now in front of your eyes and you cannot stop but observe directly. injustices with your mom, resentfulness and emotions you could not hide anymore are now part of your daily routine. it’s like someone hits you with a rock and you can’t stop bleeding/crying.

syrinx (3360) aspecting chiron: it’s giving fear of rejection, literally, that’s your trauma. asteroid syrinx represents your attitude towards rejection and high expectations towards you. I have it in opposition, through my whole life I have been what others wanted me to be. I, even as a child, controlled my respiration to not disturbed others. a period of time I suffered bc I believed with all my soul I shouldn’t live bc of the high expectations, rejection, I wasn’t able to fit in the box, I tried to. it’s been a whole process, to acknowledge -of course- I don’t want and don’t have to be what others want me to be to be happy. I share this to show how you can use what you’ve struggled with and turn it into something you can master, take advantage of it for your own good: the power of chiron.

solar chiron trine natal venus: you’re experiencing what venus represents -relationships, every kind, etc.-, what you craved for a long time, but chiron it’s not gonna bring it up pretty. you’re learning through these experiences. depends on the aspect the intensity and type. in this case, it’s happening -what your natal venus craves- but you’ll learn to confront the situation -bc of the trine aspect that kinda shows the intensity chiron has-. and it’s not going to be as you wished at first… for example, my bestie went on her first date -she’s a hopeless romantic but won’t show it- but she didn’t like the guy and then she told him and that guy dated her friend, she was shocked and obviously affected but then she stood up. for a long time she struggled to make friends, in this period of time finally she got their gurls, but at the begging there were difficulties she turned out to handle really well.

chiron 6H in mars return chart could mean difficulties on your health, keeping up with a sport? routine, have a routine, you could find yourself stressed out about it. you’re starting to analyze more things.

the degree of your chiron in sr chart can tell about your attitude in front of that situation, house would indicate what type of situation you’re dealing with.

example

⤥ solar chiron 11H 17° (leo degree): after my birthday -after solar return starts- i had a “fight” with a “friend” of the group I was part of, and besides that, I was starting to not feeling it with the friend group. it was a journey of a domino effect were I opened my eyes and saw they weren’t sparkling anymore -for me-. so i decided to distance myself, to start a journey of “standing by myself”. I started to do shit by myself, focusing that energy -used on others- on me. it’s giving developed leo energy.

the aspects chiron has represents how you deal with trauma, in any type of chart.

example

⤥ trine natal lilith 7H 18° (virgo degree): continuing with the chiron mentioned before, I struggled with my friendship so I “rebelled” to the situation I wasn’t comfortable with and started to be more independent -some characteristics lilith (mean) represents-. nowadays and never I think, it has been seen as good to do what you want to do without masks. in this case, I left the group and opened my eyes about the girl I “fought”, since the beginning she had some envy attitudes towards me I couldn’t decipher. 7H also represents enemies. virgo degree it’s at it finest when I stopped and analyzed the whole situation, being picky.

i don’t want to misinform or alarm the ones who are reading this, pls don’t take this seriously, it’s an observation I made based on others experiences, this post is not a must do book.

having a lot of chiron aspects in sr it’s giving you’re gonna experience something really traumatic. I’ve seen the solar return charts of family who lost their son/brother, between the year they’ve lost him and the other year, there’s more than 4 aspects. I believe it’s bc of the trauma effect. HOWEVER, pls remember the warning I made earlier.

9H chiron opposition saturn: I have a friend who was born in another country but she stays in another but she has to come back to her natal country to maintain her nationality. she told me his older brother had to be the “dad” bc her parents go back and ford to that another country for work, this means she lacks of a stable father figure, someone who’ll be strict with her, someone who she can support herself, and authority. could be loners.

urania (30) aspecting chiron: urania represents astrology/astronomy/cosmology. in greek mythology, urania was one of the nine muses, the goddess of the topics mentioned before and of universal love and holy spirit. when’s aspecting chiron, that represents how we can grow from our suffer, how we transform that pain and traumatic event that impacted our lives. it appears this connection. astrology is used as a way of healing, of knowing themselves. introspection. feel seen and being even shocked by how accurate astrology can be and how it makes you feel understood. I LOVE YOU SO FCKING MUCH ASTROLOGY THANKYOU BC OF YOU IM ALIVE HDHKWBFND. I have that aspect 🧍‍♀️-this was on my drafts on a post called “astrology helped to heal”, should I post it?

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗ */ᐠ - ˕ -マ✩ (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)∗ ࣪

♡ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

♡ English is not my first language.

♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[scekrex]

I’ve had this idea for a while and I like your writing so I figured Id ask you! If you don’t like it, please feel free to ignore!! Can we get Lucifer’s reaction to sinner!Adam being with someone who seems to genuinely love and care for him. I always kinda saw Lilith and Eve as people who wasn’t into the idea of being with Adam in a serious manner (Lilith a lot more than Eve) which is why they turned to Lucifer.

I just find the idea of Lucifer seeing someone genuinely care for Adam more than any of Adam’s past lovers really fun. Like, would he be low-key jealous? Would he be happy for Adam (as much as he definitely would not admit it)

I also would find it funny of what Lucifer would think to Adam dating a guy. The first man, progenitor of humanity, Mr. everyone came from these nuts himself, discovering he’s bi waaaay too late into his after-life, and after he becomes a SINNER no less! I can’t help but chuckle about it

Have a nice rest of your day!! ❤️❤️

Okay so this turned into some Adam x male!reader n Lucifer being jealous over reader. Basically one-sided adamsapple. Hope you enjoy, xoxo/p

Part 2

Maybe you can call me Eve, standing here under the forbidden tree

pairing: one-sided adamsapple/Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

It was a little weird, that the devil had to admit, it was a little weird to see Adam so happy, so relaxed, so lovingly. Ever since the former angel had arrived in hell after Alastor's little demon girl friend had ended him he had been even worse than before. He had constantly insulted the residents of the hotel, whenever there had been the possibility to pick a fight with Charlie, Adam had done exactly that.

And it made Lucifer feel strange.

Adam was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him - chest to chest - his guitar was gently placed on your back as he played for you. Has Adam ever played for anyone but himself? Lucifer certainly didn't think so. Sure, he had played concerts in heaven, but he had mainly played for himself, for his own entertainment, so that people listened to him had just been a nice bonus. But actively played for someone? No.

And your curious, loving eyes were watching his every move, an adoring smile was on your lips and Lucifer's heart felt heavy at the view. The thought was small but it bloomed in him, the thought that this could have been him, that he could be the one laying on Adam's chest while the first man played for Lucifer instead of a random sinner. It wasn't fair, but Lucifer had already known that. Life - or afterlife - never played fair. Never.

“Dad?” Charlie's soft voice made him tear his eyes from the scene, her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. “Are you-” she interrupted herself as soon as she spotted you and Adam and a small sigh escaped her.

Adam played the last chord and then proudly looked down on you, a cocky smile on his lips as you placed a small kiss on his stubbled chin. One of your hands moved to ruffle through his hair and Lucifer suddenly remembered Eden, back when it had been just Adam. Just him and Adam. Those times were long gone though, and the devil knew it, he knew that what they had back then would never return, especially now that Adam had you.

He was thankful that Adam had finally found someone, that he wasn't feeling as miserable anymore and that he actually seemed to try and redeem himself. And yet Lucifer couldn't bring himself to be happy for the first man, not when the person laying on his chest was you instead of him.

The fact that Adam was dating a guy didn't make it easier to deal with though. If you were a girl it would be different for Lucifer, that way he could trick his brain into believing that Adam was straight, that he had no chance anyway. But you weren't a girl and Adam wasn't straight. The possibility had been there, the possibility had been right in his damn hands back in Eden. The bond he and Adam had back then had been special, it had been a connection Lucifer had never felt again in that way. Yet Adam had always denied being queer once his soul arrived in heaven. The image of him kissing your forehead so softly however shed new light on it, Adam didn't deny being bi anymore, he had grown comfortable with it actually. The credit for that went to Angel Dust.

Why you? Why not him? That's a thought that constantly occupied Lucifer's mind. What did you have that he hadn't? The devil didn't know.

Charlie's hand squeezed his shoulder apologetic, she knew. Of course she knew, Lucifer had told her himself after all. He had told her about Eden, back when Adam had been the sweetest creation of God's, right after ducks, that was. A thing Adam had named. Adam had named most of the things, if Lucifer was being honest with himself, it had been his job after all. But when Adam had named ducks, Lucifer had been there, he had been with Adam when the first man had spotted a duck for the first time.

Oh how bittersweet that tasted now.

You looked over, spotting the devil and his daughter as you happily waved them over, Adam simply rolled his eyes in annoyance but remained quiet.

Lucifer tensed up, Charlie however led him over to the two of you.

Oh fuck him.

[whore-4-drewstarkey]

Lips of An Angel- Drew Starkey x Fem!Reader

summary: based on the song Lips Of An Angel by Hinder. (take a listen! i recommend it!!) Y/N drunkenly calls up her ex boyfriend drew, to confess her love she still has for him and all her regrets from their past relationship.

warnings: odessa…., alcohol consumption, emotional cheating (if you even call it that), angst, a tad of fluff if you squint, slight mentions of physical/mental/emotional abuse (not from drew), lmk if i forgot anything bc i’m sure i did lol.

a/n: for starters…. i’ve been waiting to write this one and i was gonna do it for rafe first but it just felt more right to do drew lol. also please don’t come at me for the way i put odessa in this. (personal opinion: i don’t think they’re really a thing irl but whatever). for the sake of this fic i had to put her in it to work as she’s the only prominent female in his life besides his sisters so bare with me please. (personally not a fan of her for my own reasons and things i’ve read) hope you all enjoy this one!

revised and edited by the one and only @slut4drudy ilyyyyy

as drew had just put the last of the champagne glasses into the sink from his and odessa’s small get together with friends, he could hear his phone ringing that all too familiar ringtone… the ringtone he had set for only her. he thought to himself… how strange it’d be for her to call him at such an absurd hour after not talking to one another in two years.

him and Y/N had began to date their senior year of college at western carolina university, and just like every college couple, they eventually broke it off a few years later. it had been a mutual agreement when he got cast on netflix’s show, outer banks, as she didn’t want to hold him back any longer from achieving all the goals she knew he would. the two however kept in contact regularly until none at all just two years ago when she’d started dating her now boyfriend maverick. and from what Y/N seen drew had also moved on… to his costar odessa.

“hey, uh drew your phone is ringing. do you want me to get it?” odessa asked drew as he finished washing the champagne flutes, drying his hands hurriedly with the towel next to the sink.

“uh, nah, um i’ll go answer it. it might be my mom. you know her and not being able to sleep and missing her kids. i’m just gonna go in the reading room and take the call. i’ll be back out in twenty. sound good?” he asked warily.

“yeah yeah take your time. tell her i said hi for me” she smiled as his towering figure walked past her frame and into the living room, picking his phone up. his large thumb moved nimbly against his phones screen to answer the call from Y/N as he entered the reading room, plopping on the couch.

“h-honey, why you callin me so late? it’s kinda hard to talk right now” he stuttered out her pet name he hadn’t called her in years. all he received in return were her soft sobs from the other line. those little soft sobs shattered his heart. the last time he’d heard them was because of him. because he had spoke the idea of maybe they should break up. because he didn’t know if he could do the long distance relationship, and Y/N had just agreed. no hesitation because she wanted whatever would make him happy. and if that meant breaking up with her and breaking her heart, then so be it. she wanted what was best for him because she loved him.

“honey, why are you crying? is everything okay?” drew whispered out through the phone to his broken ex in an uneasy tone, as his jaw clenched. he hated the idea of her being sad. he always had.

“w-why are you whispering?” she sighed as more tears streamed down her face.

drew bit his lip, exhaling a huff of hot air he hadn’t known he was holding before speaking, “i gotta whisper because i can’t be too loud.”

“why? i-im sorry. i shouldn’t have called. this was so fucking stupid” Y/N slurred out into her end of the phone, catching drew’s attention.

“oh, well, my girls in the next room” he spoke as he paused to let her speak.

“like i-i said… this was st-stupid of me” she slurred out again before continuing, “you’re moved on. i get it”

“honey, Y/N, it’s not like that. i swear. s-shes not even my girlfriend” he tried to elaborate before she cut him off.

“then why’d you call her your girl?”she challenged.

“baby, you’re drunk. i can tell by the way you’re slurring your words. what’s wrong? why’d you call?” drew tried to deflect the question and ask the more important questions; why she’d called and why she’d been crying.

“answer my questions first please” she hiccuped through her phone and into his ear.

“we haven’t put a label on it. in all seriousness i don’t even know what i want. i don’t even think she knows what she wants. it’s more of a friends with benefits kind of deal” he sighed out as his left index finger and thumb pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed once more, contemplating to speak what he’d been thinking for awhile now. “but honey, if i’m being serious, sometimes i wish she was you”

“i wish i was her too” Y/N whimpered out as she took a gulp of the vodka from the bottle she’d been coddling in her arms, sitting on the bathroom floor, hiding from maverick.

“i guess we never really moved on… did we?” he chuckled out, causing Y/N to smile at the sweet sound of his chuckle. it was bliss to her ears. she’d missed that sound so much in the last two years.

“now answer my question honey, what’s wrong? why’re you calling so later? isn’t it like after 1am there back home in charlotte. right?” he asked Y/N in a concerned tone, face scrunching up in worry as well, though she couldn’t see it.

“u-um. drew it doesn’t matter. forget i called you. okay?” Y/N tried to deflect his concerning questions he’d been shooting her way since the call had started.

“Y/N, honey. i’m not hanging up until you tell me what’s got you so bent out of shape that you’re drunk off your ass, drunk calling me at 1 am your time all while sobbing. i just won’t” he huffed out, losing his patience in the girl on the other line.

“joseph” she began to slur, sternly, “i said it doesn’t matter. go back to your girl or whatever the fuck she is to you” she hiccuped yet again.

“fuck, i cant believe i’m about to say this right now, but it’s really good to hear your voice sayin’ my name. it sounds so sweet” drew smiled to himself as he softly giggled. maybe it was from the champagne he’d had earlier or maybe it was the blissfulness from just hearing Y/N oh so sweet voice saying his name again.

“i love you” Y/N slurred out once more as she started to cry again. “i’ve never stopped” she continued. “i thought i could and would move on but i cant and it hurts me that we aren’t a thing anymore” she continued to weep.

“honey don’t say that. please” he frowned as his heart cracked yet again over his ex girlfriend and her words. more like over her admittance of missing him so much still even after all these years.

“why not, drew? it’s the truth” she sniffled as she wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of his old college sweatshirt she’d still kept after all these year even after their breakup. she picked the bottle of vodka back up and took another swig of it.

“those words…. fuck. they’re coming from the lips of an angel baby. and hearing those words, it’s makes me so fucking weak. because as much as i want to be with you… i cant” he sighed as a single tear streamed down his stubbled cheek, not even bothering to wipe it away. he soon continued, “i never want to say goodbye, honey. and it’s so fucking hard to admit that. but, girl, you make it hard to be faithful with the lips of an angel” he dryly chuckled as the memories of their kisses ran through his brain. it still felt so real. the longing to be near her was still there. and the butterflies. and the desire to make her happy. and the want to make her feel safe and loved.

“drew, you’re the one who just said you guys aren’t even a thing so why would you even say that?” Y/N croaked out as she wiped more of her tears away.

“it’s complicated honey. i feel obligated to be faithful even if her and i aren’t really officially a thing. now please for the love of god, baby, why are you crying? what’s wrong? what happened?” drew exerted his concern as his eyebrows scrunched together in worry.

“i- uh, drew you cant do anything about it, so it doesn’t matter” she whimpered in a whisper, reaching for the bathroom door knob to make sure it was in fact locked. she squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she heard mavericks yells from their kitchen.

“you know, it’s funny that you called me tonight, Y/N/N, because we had some friends over and the whole time i was just thinking of you and how you’ve been. i haven’t heard from you in two years, hunny” drew whispered, his voice strained from the way his heart clenched in pain at the lack of communication between the two when they had both promised to keep in contact.

“maybe that’s why i dream of you. you know what they say, if you dream of someone that means they’re thinking of you. do you dream of me too?” she spoke shakily, as her jaw began to quiver, biting back yet another sob.

“what about maverick? and yes i’ve dreamt of you too, love. i do often” he confessed as he thought back to his dream he had of her from the other night. the two of them had gone on a picnic in the mountains back in their home state of north carolina, enjoying the scenery and all it had to offer, that was until he was awoken by odessa’s loud alarm blaring throughout his bedroom. drew’s lips parted once more as he spoke again, “and does he know you’re talking to me? will it start a fight?”

“th-that’s why i-i uh called. he… uh he got mad again and s-started to throw some things around the kitchen. h-he said some things which isn’t out of the ordinary with him” her frail voice cracked as she finally admitted to him why she had called him so late in the first place. tears once again started pouring out of her once bright eyes which have now been filled with void. “he drinks… a lot. and when he does… he gets kinda aggressive. he will do things to me and say horrible things as well. i-i called you tonight because i’m drunk and i miss you and i know you’d never do this shit to me and because you listen. so well. you always have” she began to cry again for what felt like the twelfth time that night.

“honey, what are you talking about? has he hit you? do you have a place to go?” drew shot up at the mention of mavericks behavior coming from Y/N. he was on high alert and wanted nothing more than to protect her at that instant.

“i shouldn’t have even called. does odessa even know you’re on the phone with me? i don’t want her to get mad at you. i shouldn’t have even called” Y/N stumbled over her words due to the excessive amounts of alcohol she’d been drinking and maybe even a mix of anxiety.

“no, i don’t think she has a clue. i told her it was probably my mom, but, i knew it was you. i still have your number saved to my phone… with your ringtone too. couldn’t get myself to delete it, even after all these years” he confessed as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair. he bit his lip in frustration before speaking sternly this time around, “Y/N, honey, tell me…. has he fucking hit you?”

“y-yes. but he didn’t mean to” she tried to excuse her boyfriends actions, though deep down she knew it was a lie. “and yeah if i have to i can go to my brothers but i don’t need anyone’s fucking help or pity” she blurted a little loud.

“fuck, Y/N” he sighed as fresh tears broke his waterline of his azul eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

“it’s okay, drew, i promise. i’m not your problem anymore. i haven’t been for four years now.” she expressed as she drank the last bit of the vodka that was left in the bottle.

“Y/N can you do one thing for m-“ drew was cut off by a soft knock on the reading rooms door, notifying him that someone ,odessa, was on the other side.

“hey, uh you almost done? it’s getting late and i wanna go to bed” she complained to drew as he’d pulled his phone away from his attentive ears.

“u-uh yeah. let me tell my mom goodnight real quick” he stuttered nervously, worried she’d been ease dropping on part of the private conversation he’d been having on the phone with Y/N. and with that odessa nodded her head as she left the room, shutting the door as she went.

“what is it that you want me to promise you?” Y/N sniffled.

“call me if it gets bad again. i’ll fly out there immediately”

“i promise.”

“i never wanna say goodbye” he admitted to her after her promise.

“i don’t either, but you have to” she spoke flatly as she’d just heard Odessa moments before. she opened her mouth, speaking one last line, “i love you drew”

“i-i love you too honey” drew spoke the words he’d been bottling up since the day the two broke up, as fresh tears streamed down his stubbled cheeks. during the moment he spoke those words all he could hear were mavericks yells and bangs onto the bathroom door through his phone, before the call ended all together.

taglist: @slut4drudy @runningfrom2am @maybankslover

[lexisecretaccx]

High School Sweethearts pt.3 -Chris Sturniolo

PT1, PT2, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT9, PT10, (rest of the parts on my Masterlist)

(Fem reader x Chris sturniolo, slight angst, Tw: Evan💀, not sure what else.)

A/n: thought I’d TW Evan bc he’s an asshole😂, you will know that even more as the story progresses:( also sorry if my parts are pretty short, let me know if y’all would be happy with longer parts! But 2 parts in a day is wilding lol.

“What.. why?” I laugh awkwardly and envy crosses over his face. “It doesn’t matter y/n.” He turns down a corridor and I follow. “I don’t understand why you’re being like this?” I say timidly, I don’t know what I had done to make him act like this, we literally became friends yesterday.

He stops in his tracks to face me. I smile softly but it slips when I notice the angry glare in his eyes, “don’t act like you weren’t all over my brother in there!” He spoke with a bitterness in his voice, my face shifts to that of shock due to the accusation, “What? I went to study and he was in there so I sat with him,” Chris scoffs and leans against the wall, “I wanted to know if he was okay after falling over, is that a crime now?” I snap.

The problem with me is when I get angry I cry or get upset. Or if I’m getting shouted at, it’s due to past experiences. “Okay then,” he pushes himself off the wall and looks down at me “so his arm being around you is just in a nice way, you two laughing is you ‘checking up on him’ is it?” He hisses and leans down to my level.

“He was pointing at my page because he told me the answer and we were laughing because it was the wrong answer,” I speak in a brittle voice, “I don’t know why I have to explain myself to you we aren’t dating.” I take a deep breath in to try and keep myself from crying, “I don’t like him like that chris.” I whisper as my eyes well with tears before walking away.

“Wait..” he sighs and I turn around, a single tear falling from my eye. “I’m sorry.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “it’s just, I can’t help but get angry because my ex girlfriend cheated on me and,” he walks over to me “I know we aren’t dating but..” Footsteps echoed from behind us and we both turn to see Nick, Nate, Evan and the other boy who I don’t know.

My stomach drops as I lock eyes with Evan. “No fucking way.” He spoke before trying to walk closer to me, I step back and he stops in his tracks, “still as frigid as usual I take it.” He laughs and looks around for his friend’s reactions but they don’t do anything, instead they are focused on me and Chris.

“What’s going on here?” Nate motions between me and Chris, “wait you dated my boy Evan right?” Nate asks, his attention fully on me as I nod softly. “Step back.” Chris mutters to Evan, who was getting a bit too close. Evan raises his palms and he smirks at me.

“You tryna get with Evans girl?” The other boy who I don’t know the name of spoke. “No we’re just friends.” Chris fake smiles before it falters, “then why the fuck does she look sad?” Evan spoke in a concerned tone, which of course wasn’t real.

“Can you not get into other people’s business.. for once?” I say, Evan tilts his head to me and opens his mouth slightly as his eyes narrow, he goes to say something before.. “Leave it.” Nick spoke in a tough voice to Evan and Evan just scoffs and walks away.

I can’t help but feel a sense of victory even though I didn’t say much. The other boy follows Evan so it’s just me, Chris, Nick and Nate. “So.. what’s going on here.” Nate repeats himself. “She was studying in the library and I went in there and saw her and now we’re out here, that’s all.” Chris looks back at me and smiles before returning his gaze to the boys.

“Sure whatever, where’s Matt?” Nick asks, looking at me this time. “I saw him in the library so probably still in there.” I shrug. “Okay, nice to meet you.” Nick smiles at me and walks to the library. “We have like half hour till school starts, we should go back outside.” Nate speaks to Chris, completely ignoring my presence.

“I’d rather not, you can go meet Evan again I think I’m gonna help y/n.” Chris replied “help her with what?” Nate looks to me and back at Chris. “It’s a personal thing for her.” Chris lies. “Sure okay.” Nate rolls his eyes before heading down the hallway the same way Evan went.

“I’m sorry about them, and Evan.” Chris turns to me and runs his hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry for earlier and overreacting, and making you cry and speaking to you in that way. I know we aren’t dating but I shouldn’t have reacted like that, even if you and Matt were..” I interrupted him by placing a finger over his lips, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek softly.

“Woah.” He looks at me for a moment before saying, “so there’s definitely nothing going on with you and Matt then or?” I roll my eyes and laugh. “No of course not.” He lets out a sigh of relief, “what about us?” He asks hopefully, “we barely know eachother Chris,” I move a strand of hair out of my face “maybe take me on a date or something and see what happens.” I smirk up at him.

His eyes widen and he smiles back, “really?” He whispers as a group of people walk past. I nod and look at the clock. “I’m gonna head to my next class but I’ll see you somewhere.”

“Maybe in detention again.” Chris teased. I roll my eyes and laugh before I walk away, and I feel Chris’ eyes following me. I turn down a less crowded corridor.

“Hey..” I hear someone speak from next to me, I flinch and turn to my side as my face turns cold.

A/n: Bro Chris is a drama queen. I don’t know if this is any good but thanku to the people supporting this series! That’s the only reason I’m continuing with this🫶 also Chris is a cutie patootie, he’s been thru some breakups y’all don’t hate him😭

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @cind2224 @annelouise321 (I’m so sorry both of y’all idk why it won’t let me tag u☹️) @sturniolosmind

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

[thedivineladyinwhite]

𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓪𝓶

Summary: You’re just a rebound or plan B to them. Or all in all, you’re nothing to them, they just need you just because. characters:(individual) Diluc, Zhongli, Ayato x Fem! Reader Warning: pregnant reader, angst, not proofread, grammar mistakes.

there are spoiler lines in the last part of each one of them, make sure to remember those lines, they maybe important authors note: MOMMAS HOME WOO!! yeah, I redid my work yippie, I changed Childe bc I don’t rlly like him lol :3..WHO MISSED ME >:DD

Diluc 

you were so dumb. blinded by how your first love finally acknowledged your hard work and asked you out, after 7 years of you trying so hard to make him fall in love with you. However that wasn’t the case at all. He never loved you, he never felt anything towards you, you were only a rebound, his plan b if Jean would ever reject him, he loved Jean, saw a future with her, but in the end she rejected him. He was devastated, but then he remembered you, you were waiting for him. You were nothing like Jean, but you’ll do. You were just just his best friend who knew so much about him, he wouldn’t hurt to try right?...oh dear how wrong he was.

“I hate you! after all this time, you thought me of as a second choice a rebound!?”,your voice was loud enough to be heard from outside the manor. Diluc standing there, in such a pathetic state, not knowing what to do. ‘How did you find out?’ he thought. “You’re shocked on how I found out, am I right?”, you glared at him, your gaze full of hatred and sorrow. “I saw your journal. You left it at our bed table last night, I wanted to give it back to you when you returned, I was being nosey, I admit. Good thing I was being nosey or I would live a lie my entire life.”, your voice hoarse from all the crying and shouting.

“I...I’m sorry, forgive me..”, Diluc’s voice all quiet, his lips quivering in fear, not knowing what to do.  “You’re not forgiven. I’ll be leaving tonight” The last time he saw you was when you were leaving for Liyue.

‘So..what now?’

Zhongli

You should’ve never have confessed, what an idiot you are. You knew your resemblance with Guizhong, you knew how many people complemented you because of your looks and how you act like Guizhong. You didn’t let it get past you though, you thought it was nice being resembled to a god, a dead god to that. Maybe that’s why Zhongli returned your feelings. the way you smile, talk, act, you resembled her. Zhongli isn’t the type to get mad but when you do something out of character, he gets slightly irritated, your supposed to be like her...but are you really her?

“ If you truly loved her, why didn’t you die along with her, then?”, all you could see was red, your words stung him, and you were enjoying everything bit.

“I am truly sorry, my love. It was a mistake, I promise to do better in the future!” His voice shaking, afraid to lose you, afraid to lose her.

“There is no future between us”, your eyes all dull, no emotion showing, oh how you enjoyed seeing the retired archon breaking down, right in front of you. Begging for you to forgive him.

“I’m not doing the same mistake, ever again.”

And you were no longer seen again.

‘Live for me, please! I can’t afford to lose you!’

Ayato

Being in an arranged marriage with Ayato wasn’t easy, he was always busy with work, thats what he said after spending the whole entire day hanging out with Lumine. He knew he could never be with Lumine because of this darn arranged marriage, he stayed cold and mean to you and uses the excuse of him being busy with work. He thought you wouldn't find out. But luck was not on his side this time.

“ You’re really bad at hiding, Ayato.” your voice cold, you could freeze anyone with your aura by now, but he stood his guard and defended himself “She’s just a friend! why can’t you understand that!”, his eyes full of hatred.

“But do you think friends kiss? do you think friends hang out and go on fancy dates, friends do say ‘I love you ‘ to each other.” His eyes widen in shock, so you saw, huh.

“...” he had nothing to say anymore, he was speechless

“I’ll send you the divorce papers tomorrow, I knew you’d never be good at parenting due to all the so called ‘business’ you have” You looked over your shoulder one last time, seeing his horrified face.

‘Is the child..mine..?’

[sugurusluts]

Zuko x mercenary!reader -part one

Do people still read Zuko x reader fics?

Mostly for my own amusement bc Zukos adorable- longer than my usual stuff! ♡︎

Warnings: none

————————————————————————

They had followed our little gang around the world, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d track Aang here, but they didn’t seem in any mood to strike.

I couldn’t help but feel defensive of the kingdom, even if the two were doing nothing but serving tea. I worked as a mercenary for whatever town seemed to need assistance. Despite not knowing any form of bending, I had connections, and that made me an asset.

Having worked around this place more times than I could count, I knew almost everyone. Most of everyone around town were good people, the type to invite you over for dinner just for giving them a hand in the fields.

Knowing someone like Zuko was around them made me uneasy, that was until Iroh approached me.

“Ah, a mercenary! What mercenary wouldn’t want to help a poor frail old man?” He whined dramatically, from behind me.

“Iroh” my hand tightened on my sword, I assumed there was an unspoken rule that neither group would bother eachother if they truly wanted to live in peace. Maybe I misread this dynamic?

“Good to see you too Y/N, you can losen your grip, im not here to fight you. I couldn’t care less about the Avatar, you know that”

I tilted my head in confusion, what else would he be here for? I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was now a hard working humble business man.

“Would you mind talking to me for just a minute, I’ll make it worth your while” he grinned, holding out a few gold coins he scrounged out of his pockets.

I caved from curiosity, following him as he walked me through a crowd, far away from his new little shop, leading me to a small alley.

“So..why did we have to go to an alleyway for this? Are you gonna mug me?”

“No such thing, I actually have a job for you”

I scoffed, the fuck made him think I’d want to take work from him? I turned on my heel, disappointed at the lack of information he gave me.

“Zuko’s lonely!”

I stopped in my tracks, turning back to Iroh, dumbfounded.

“Zuko’s lonely?”

“Painfully so, you know how hard it is to watch my nephew be such an introvert at his age?”

I rolled my eyes, “what does any of this have to do with me exactly?”

“Well, you could possibly help the poor boy out, couldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you to ask him on a date”

“…”

“…”

Jesus fucking Christ he can’t be serious right now.

“You want me to ask the guy who’s tried to kill my friend more times than I can count on a date?”

“Precisely!”

“…Iroh, I’m not a prostitute, I’m not asking Zuko out for cash. He wouldn’t even agree to it either, he’d recognize me.”

The man sighed, pulling out a fabric bag filled to the brim with gold coins. God Zuko was a lost cause.

“Lay on the charm, and maybe he will!”

He dropped the bag in my hand, holy shit was it heavy..

“…fine”

I never thought I’d end up asking Zuko, the fire lords son out on a date, but here we are.

I sauntered into the tea shop, greeting locals as I made my way to where Zuko was pouring.

Carefully filling the cup, he didn’t notice as I leaned against the counter he was behind. I rested my chin in my hands, looking him up and down.

It has been quite a while since I saw him last, longer hair suited him.

When he finally noticed me, he took a double take, stumbling while trying to hold the cup steady.

“…Y/N..?” He asked almost timidly, as if he didn’t want to believe I was standing infront of him.

“Hey, you remember my name, aren’t you sweet?”

He went quiet, still staring at me as if he was seeing a ghost. He pushed past me, going to deliver tea to a table. What a good little worker.

He returned to where I was standing, starting to wash dishes, ignoring my presence.

“What’s your name?”

“..what?”

“Your name, you’re not still going by Zuko here are you?”

He flinched as I used his real name, his eyes flicking between mine and his dishes.

“..Lee. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite prince?”

He stiffened at the praise. “…are you planning on fighting me?”

“No, the opposite actually”

He furrowed his eyebrows in a surprisingly cute fashion.

“Going from Avatar hunter to waiter must be a real boring change of pace for you, huh?”

He didn’t answer, still washing dishes.

“How about you let me make it more interesting for you?”

“..what?”

“I’m asking you out Lee”

He didn’t say anything to that. He simply blinked comedically, his eyes wide.

I gave him time, I wasn’t going to rush him. Iroh did not have the same curtsy.

“Ah welcome to our Shop miss, what tea do you fancy?”

“..I’m not the biggest fan of tea, I’m here because I fancy something else”

Zukos face turned an impossible shade of red, I thought steam may come out of ears if I kept this up.

“Oh? And what are you referring to?” Iroh couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Your nephew of course”

“Oh! Well a night out couldn’t hurt, right Lee?”

He whipped his head back and forth between his uncle and I in disbelief.

“Uncle, you know who this is don’t you?!”

Iroh studied me up and down.

“A humble mercenary looking for a date?”

“You’re exactly right” I smiled knowingly at Iroh, despite him technically being my enemy this exchange was a little fun.

“I don’t see why not Lee! Aren’t they cute?” Iroh gestured to me as if this was completely normal.

“Yeah Lee, aren’t I cute?” *i lean over the counter, invading his personal space.

Poor thing was absolutely floored as he whipped his head between me and Iroh trying to figure out if he was the weird one for being suspicious.

“If this is some sort of ploy to-“ he glares me, but it’s hard to take him seriously with such a red face.

“-I’ll pay for dinner, alright? All you have to do is have fun and look pretty. How about I come back at 7?” I didn’t know I had this much game until now. Why wasn’t I using this power for good before?

“The Shop will be closed by then, no reason to decline” Iroh looks up at his flustered nephew. How long would it take for the poor boy to crack?

“..fine..if you’re not here by exactly seven, I’m not going”

What a brat.. this was going to be an interesting date.

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry your pretty little head. I have business to attend to, I’ll be seeing you Lee” I wink at him, amused at how..affection starved he seemed.

He spun back around, his back facing me, but I could see the blush on his face starting to reach his neck..

Iroh was going to owe me much more than a bag of coins for this.

[madaqueue]

Dripping in Gold | Chapter 3

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, fluff, smut. kissing, brief fingering (f receiving), car sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: the way i've given up proofreading this lmao lemme know if y'all find any errors bc i'm simply not looking for em anymore! anyways eat up :)

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

What the hell did I get myself into?

The question repeats in your mind while the cool air in Gojo’s car blasts against your skin, still hot from earlier, as his hand returns to its natural place along your thigh.

After your little encounter, he promised to take you to one of his favorite places for lunch. He also promised to wash your soiled panties for you as he shoved them into his pocket with a smirk, citing how “gentlemanly” he is.

The events of less than an hour prior replay in your mind as you remember how his touch felt, how his lips pressed against yours, how badly you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you then and there. But instead, he just picked up all the dresses you had tried on and marched them out of the changing room to the front of the store, setting them down and paying without a second thought. “Oh, and we’ll take the yellow one she’s wearing, too,” he chirps to the attendant as she rings up an amount you can’t even fathom.

You get pulled out of your thoughts as the car stops, your door opening suddenly as Gojo once again holds his hand out to you. He has brought you to an adorable restaurant you’ve never even seen before, with yellow flowers lining the walkways and windowsills of the old building, perfectly complementing the new outfit you have on.

Once again, the date is actually really lovely. He orders you both champagne and tells you to get whatever else you want from the menu, and conversation flows naturally between you two, almost like old friends. Wanting to learn more about him, you direct the discussion to his past, probing to understand more about his background. While he often acts like an open book, you find that there are three things he will absolutely not talk about: his family, his home, or his money. Whenever one of these topics comes up he maneuvers the conversation elsewhere, often deflecting back to you.

That said, holy shit does this man love to talk - you bet that if you put him in an empty room he’d speak just to hear his own voice. He seems to know something about everything, and he wants to make sure you know it, too.

“Do you ever shut up?” you tease after his fourth time interjecting a random, unwarranted piece of information into a story you were telling him.

“Hmm,” he thinks, bringing a hand up to ruffle through his hair. “Nope, I don’t think so,” a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

While the time you spend with him is nice, his inability to be forthcoming does put you slightly on edge. You can’t help but find yourself wondering, in a tiny corner of the back of your mind, what’s the catch? Why is someone who seems so perfect possibly interested in you?

You push the feelings of unease down as you continue your meal. Eventually you look up and see his eyes locked on yours, taking in your every move. The cerulean pierces through you like a cold wind, and you can’t quite place the feeling it sends through you until you feel his fingertips brush against your knee from under the table.

Desire.

“You know,” you say, a grin slowly forming on your face, “I love this dress, but I almost feel like it’s getting a bit uncomfortable.”

“Oh yeah?” he tilts his head, knowingly playing into your little game. “Well, that’s a shame.” He sighs dramatically. “I guess you could take it off, if you really need to.”

“Mhm,” you hum, “I might need your help with that, though.”

Leaning forward slightly, his words come out airy, “Anything for you, princess.”

He stands up and holds his hand out again, your fingers intertwining with his as his free hand pulls out his wallet and drops a few hundred dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover your meal. Leading you back to his car, you feel your heart start to race in anticipation.

Pulling open the back door, you hop in first and get comfortable against the seat before he joins you inside. You hadn’t noticed how spacious the back of his car is but you’re grateful that it at least won’t be uncomfortable; you expected him to take you back to his place or yours, but this will do just fine for now, as your need for him was increasing with every second he wasn’t inside you.

Immediately upon closing the door his lips crash into yours, soft and warm against the lingering cool air inside the vehicle. As you sit in his lap his arms reach around your body to undo the zipper of your dress before sliding it over your head, tossing it somewhere into the depths of the car.

Since your panties were already stuffed into his pocket and you hadn’t worn a bra, you were now fully bare in front of him. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing his eyes to slowly cover every inch of your body, taking you in as a smile curls at the corners of his lips.

Gojo lays down with his back against the seats so you can straddle him, legs around his waist as you start to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt. With your eyes closed and hands shaking slightly in excitement, you take longer than the man would like as he sighs against your lips and simply rips his shirt open, muttering “I’ll buy a new one,” as it slides off his shoulders.

Your eyes open for a moment to take in his body beneath you - his firm chest, abs surrounded by a v-line that dipped below the waist of his pants, practically begging you to trace along it with your fingers. As you do, you hear Gojo’s breath hitch momentarily at your touch.

“Aw, are you nervous?” you tease against him as your fingertips brush along his waistband, slowly fumbling against the buckle of his belt.

He smirks at you through the kiss. “Just impatient.”

Before you can quip back, he has undone his belt and zipper, allowing you to pull his black slacks down to his ankles, sitting up slightly to let him kick them off. Your hands find the top of his black boxers before his hands wrap around your wrists.

Pulling his mouth away from yours for a moment, his eyes open to meet your gaze. “Are you sure?” he asks through a breathy sigh.

You nod eagerly, starting to lean back down before a hand reaches up to stop you.

“Say it,” he commands, voice suddenly low and raspy.

“I want to fuck you, Satoru,” the words barely leaving your mouth before your lips crash back into his, a new greediness between both of you as your tongues glide against each other’s.

Your attention turns back to undressing him as you pull his boxers down, revealing his fully erect cock. The tip flushed, needy, drawing your hands to it as you use your thumb to drag the leaking precum around his tip before sliding your hand loosely down his length. Satoru sighs into your open mouth at the feeling, reaching his own hand down between your legs.

As soon as he touches you, you feel electricity shoot through your body, his fingers barely brushing against your clit. Maybe you were still horny from earlier, maybe you just needed him that badly, but something in you couldn’t wait any longer.

Your hips move so you’re hovering above him, using your hand around his base to align him with your entrance. His tip slowly enters you, the feeling already threatening to send you over the edge as you envelop him in your warmth.

He moans your name softly as you drop your hips to take all of him inside of you. His cock stretches at your walls, the mix of pleasure and pain better than anything you’ve felt before. You fit him perfectly as he fills up every last inch of you, your wetness allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

“Wanted you so bad,” he murmurs against your lips as you grind your hips in circles up and down his length, “needed you.” One of his hands grips at your waist while the other snakes behind you to grab the thick flesh of your ass.

You continue your movements, using one hand on his chest to stabilize yourself, his cock pressing into every last part of you. “S’good, you feel s’good,” he babbles, a never-ending stream of consciousness leaving his mouth as your body moves against his.

Damn, he really can’t shut up, can he? you think to yourself with a grin.

You don’t mind though, the silky lightness of his voice only adding to your pleasure. As you feel yourself approaching your release, your pussy clenches around him, eliciting another moan from the man underneath you.

His grip tightens on your waist as he suddenly begins thrusting his hips up into you, adding to the pace. You open your eyes slightly as he reaches even deeper into you, glancing down to see the veins in his arms as his fingers dig into your skin.

“F-fuck, I’m close,” he whines, desperation dripping from his voice as he continues pumping into you.

“Me too, ‘Toru,” the words leaving your throat in a hoarse whisper.

You don’t even process the nickname, something simply spoken out of ease as sounds struggled to escape your lips through moans of pleasure, but it sends butterflies through Satoru’s body as he is suddenly pushed into his climax. You follow almost immediately, your body racked with pleasure as your legs shake and cunt flutters around his cock as he finishes inside of you.

The humidity of the car finally hits you as you try to slow your breathing, realizing both you and Satoru are covered in a thin layer of sweat as you peel yourself off of him to sit up.

“Wow,” he pants, reaching a hand up to brush white hair off of his slightly damp forehead, “that was amazing.”

“I know,” you reply slyly, leaning down to place a peck against his lips.

He chuckles, “So cocky already? And here I thought we could have a sweet post-fuck cuddle or something.”

You can’t stop yourself from giggling. “Oh yeah, in the comfort of the back seat of your car?”

“Aw, are you saying you don’t like my car?” he fakes a pout. “Guess you can just walk home then.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing. “You and I both know damn well I’m not walking home, and we aren’t going anywhere until you find my dress.”

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he smirks, sitting up and wrapping his arms tightly around you, placing a wet kiss on your cheek as you laugh and squirm in his lap.

–

For a while, things with Satoru are easy. You find yourself slipping into a rhythm with him: he calls you, he takes you out somewhere, you fuck, and he pays you. It feels nice to finally be able to afford to live again and not stress about your job hunt, and you start to genuinely enjoy the time you spend with him, looking forward to your weekly dates.

Between the times you see him, you also find yourselves communicating more often. He starts sending you pictures of himself trying on clothes in that all-too-familiar dressing room, asking for your opinions on what he should get so he can match you whenever you go out somewhere. You start video calling each other too, getting to see that stupid grin on his face whenever you pick up. Usually you just talk about your days or what shows you're watching, but you slowly start bringing him more into your life, telling him about your family and whatever gossip you hear about from your friends. A few times you’ve even invited him to come out with your group, but he always declines with a vague excuse. A part of you wants more, to have him in your life fully, but you also know that it would bring with it the complicated explanation of how you met and how your relationship first started.

You also begin to notice that you never hook up in your apartment or his - it’s always in restaurant bathrooms, his car, or the few times he’s gotten you a hotel room to stay with him overnight. You don’t particularly mind, since your apartment is still not the cleanest, although it’s certainly gotten better with your newfound free time, but it does seem odd to you. Whenever you try to bring it up, he just shrugs or brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “It’s too personal,” he always reasons, and you decide that you either have to drop it and accept how things are or push it and risk losing him.

Around six months after your first date, something changes. He drops you off at home after an amazing dinner at a new steakhouse and even better sex, this time in the private lounge of the restaurant. Inside your apartment you shower and head straight to bed. When you awake the next morning, you see two notifications on your phone: one from your bank informing you of a deposit of $6,000, and one from Gojo.

Gojo: Sorry about not paying you right away last night, I must have been a little distracted after our dinner and dessert 🥰 (the dessert was us having sex). I sent you a bit extra as compensation for any emotional damages I may have caused <3

You roll your eyes, a smile involuntarily forming on your lips as you read his message. Suddenly, it hits you: you didn’t even notice that he didn’t pay you. For months, that had been the routine, the expectation you both had set and agreed to. But last night, you didn’t notice. And maybe, you didn’t care?

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