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lovecuprite · 4 days ago

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a/n: slow intro with a fair bit of dialogue & little plot twist at the end? + if you don't like gunplay, i promise this is not the one for you, don't read it wc: 5.7k

the rest of kinktober here + (toji art credit) + special tag @risararelywrites <3

As the night crept on, the thrill of the scare park hung thick in the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and muffled shrieks from other visitors. You walked arm-in-arm with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru, revelling in the pulse of adrenaline that shot through you whenever an actor lunged from the darkness. Together, you’d gone through nearly every haunted house in the park, each one more elaborate than the last.

But now, as you drifted toward the edge of the grounds, the lively sounds began to fade, swallowed up by the sight of a lone haunted house standing apart from the others—a grim silhouette shrouded in eerie, rolling fog.

This house looked different. It was darker, older, with an unsettling aura that seemed to thicken the air around it. Unlike the other exhibits, there were no bright lights, no cheering guides or costumed actors welcoming you in, just an open doorway that hinted at cracked wood, grimy windows, and shadows that seemed to hang around and watch.

"Why isn’t anyone going in?" you murmured, stopping to stare at the building. "Did they close it for the night?"

Shoko glanced at Suguru, exchanging a look that sent a tiny ripple of unease through you. “No, it’s open. Just not exactly popular,” she replied, her voice low.

“Not popular?” You smirked, letting the hint of a challenge seep in. “Is it really that bad?”

“Depends who you ask,” Satoru replied, his usual playful tone missing as he stared at the house. “People don’t go in alone.”

“It’s a scare park.” You scoffed, waving off his warning. “How scary could it actually be?”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare seriousness in his eyes. “This one’s different. People say there’s something… wrong with it. Nobody wants to find out for sure.”

“Wrong?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “How, exactly?”

“Some say there’s a man who hides in there,” Shoko murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They don’t know if he’s some rogue actor or just… some crazy man. But he’s armed. Supposedly, he sneaks around pretending to be part of the act.”

You looked at the house again, half-amused, half-spooked. “So you’re telling me there’s a real psycho in there hiding out? Right.”

Your friends exchanged wary glances, their usual bravado notably absent, which only deepened your curiosity. “You’re serious? This is over some urban legend?”

“It’s not a legend,” Shoko muttered, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone creeping out of the fog. “People say they’ve seen him covered in blood. They say he blends right in until it’s too late.”

“Staff avoid it too,” Satoru added, his tone unusually flat. “So if you’re thinking about going in, maybe reconsider.”

A thrill shot through you, half defiance, half intrigue. The house loomed ahead, daring you. “So you all think he’s in there tonight?”

Suguru’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “It’s not worth finding out. There are plenty of other places we can check out.”

But the challenge tugged at you, almost tauntingly. You took a step forward, drawing exasperated sighs from your friends.

"Are you actually going in there?"

"This is a hard no for me," Shoko insisted.

“Come on, we’re not kidding around,” Suguru said, his expression sombre.

You gave them a shrug and a smile. “I’ll just peek in, five minutes, that’s all.”

Shoko crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Right, nothing bad ever happens in ‘just five minutes.’”

“Remember, if he’s in there, we’re not coming to save you.” Satoru jokes as he rolls his eyes.

"Noted," you replied, dancing around him with a grin. "If anything happens, at least I'll have a story."

But as you moved toward the darkened doorway, the memories of the warnings hounded you, and crossing the threshold, a small voice whispered, maybe they're right.

Inside, the shadows clung to the walls, warping and shifting with every flicker of the dim yellowing light bulbs. The air was heavy, still, as though the house itself was holding its breath, waiting. With each cautious step, the floor remained eerily silent-no familiar creaks, no whispers from other thrill-seekers echoing from somewhere in the darkness. The quiet was suffocating.

"It's just another haunted house," you whispered, trying to break the silence. But even your voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows.

You reached the edge of a dusty, darkened room when a soft dragging sound cut through the quiet. You whirled around, your heart hammering, but the hallway behind you was empty. The moment you began to steady your breath, a low rumbling chuckle echoed through the room, crawling down your spine.

"Didn't think anyone would wander in alone," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and dripping with dark amusement. "You've got guts.”

Your breath caught as a figure began to take form: a tall, wide man whose eyes glinted in the poor light. He moved like a shadow off the wall, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he took another step forward, the faint glow illuminating a pistol in his hand, his finger lazily resting near the trigger.

You swallowed hard and forced a grin, hoping to mask your unease. "Are… are you part of the show?"

He chuckled, his eyes raking over you with dangerous curiosity. "I'm part of an experience," he told you, that taunting smile twisting. "But not the kind you paid for.”

Your heart was racing as he closed in; his eyes were razor-sharp and predatory. He didn't hurry-if anything, he drew out the fear across your features. The pistol glinted in his hand, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, like he was reading every flicker of emotion.

He moved forward with a nearly lazy step; his head fell to the side as his smile grew, watching you inch backward. "So, you thought this was just another haunted house?" he asked, the tiniest thread of dark thrill weaved in. "Guess it's too late to warn you some rumours are worth listening to.

Your back hit the wall, and his eyes lit up with a spark of satisfaction. He leaned in closer, pressing the gun against his temple as he did so, an intense gaze and a chilling gleam in his eye. "You've got that look-the one which says you're curious. Brave, maybe a little too much so." He paused, smirk deepening. "So, how brave are you feeling now?”

You clenched your jaw and wouldn't flinch. "Maybe I am not as easy to scare as you think," you muttered, though your own voice quivered ever so slightly. "Oh?" His smirk whittled just a little sharper, a flash of mirth dancing in his eyes. "Then let us see.”

He let go of your wrist, only to trail the gun’s barrel along your jawline, his eyes drinking in every flinch, every shiver. He seemed to delight in drawing out the silence, each second weighted with his slow, deliberate movements. And in that quiet, somehow, the unspoken threat felt far more sinister.

As he studied you, his gaze lingered, savouring the fear that glinted in your eyes. “I have all night to see what it takes to break you,” he murmured, his voice almost playful. “And something tells me, this is going to be fun.”

The glint in his eyes held a dark promise, and you knew, too late, that you’d wandered into a trap—the kind that left you wondering just who, exactly, was meant to be scared.

You swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze, fighting the instinct to look away. But he had you cornered, and he knew it—knew you were trapped in his snare, just like he’d intended. The glint in his eye sharpened as he watched, a spark of twisted satisfaction lighting up his face as he took in every flicker of fear.

The man’s grin stretched wider, dark and mocking, as he watched you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the gun, tracing the cold barrel down your jawline, his eyes studying every inch of your face with a predatory intensity. The silence between you pressed in, suffocating and tense, somehow worse than any threat he could have made.

“You’re trembling now,” he whispered, voice dipped in dark humour. “But it makes me wonder…” He tilted his head, a false look of innocence softening his gaze even as his smirk stayed razor-sharp. “Is it fear making you shake? Or is it something… else?”

Your breath caught, a barely perceptible hitch that he didn’t miss. His smirk grew, as though he’d stumbled on a private joke, something only he was in on. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets a thrill out of all this?” he mocked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “The type who’d never admit it, but… can’t help the way their heart races anyway.”

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you off so easily. With a nudge from the gun, he forced your chin up, his gaze locking with yours. “I see you,” he continued, inching closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “People like you walk in here alone, pretending it’s just for the thrill.” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a near murmur against your ear. “But maybe you wanted more.”

His words sent a shiver through you, mingling fear with something you didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaned back, watching your reaction, fingers brushing the side of your face in a touch that was disturbingly gentle. “Maybe that’s why you’re here,” he said, a rough laugh slipping from his lips. “I doubt someone like you would admit it, though.”

Your mind raced, and your voice caught in your throat, a knot of indignation and fear keeping you silent. He noticed, smirking like he’d already won. “Right on the mark, aren’t I?” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “It’s always the innocent ones—scare the easiest, break the fastest.”

Your heart pounded, and though you willed yourself to pull away, your body seemed frozen under his touch. He held your gaze, thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “Just say it,” he teased, leaning close again. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, tracing the beat of your pulse. “You didn’t come in here just for the scare, did you?”

The mocking smile he wore softened slightly, his voice lowering to a nearly intimate whisper. “I can feel it—the way you’re responding. The thrill, the nerves, the part of you that’s not sure if you want to run… or stay.”

You hated the way he seemed to read you, hated that he saw through the mask you wore to the part of you he’d awakened, a part tinged with something reckless and dangerous. He bent down further, enjoying how he had you at his mercy. "That's it, isn't it?" he mumbled, "It's a game-this line between predator and prey." His voice dropped to a purr. “Between fear… and whatever this is.”

You tried to steady your breath as he studied every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light but charged, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“How much would you actually enjoy being pushed?” he wondered aloud, eyes glinting. “Maybe you’d even beg for it. Maybe you’d even like not having control.”

A thrill of panic mingled with something darker, something that made your heart beat faster. He could see it, knew the effect he was having, and the satisfaction on his face only grew. “Just admit it,” he murmured, his tone insistent, his thumb grazing your jawline. “Admit how much you’re enjoying this.”

His fingertips lingered on your hip, a reassuring touch that was highly unsettling, as if he were daring you to let those words pass your lips out loud. "Come on," he seduced, the devilish glint dancing in his eyes. "I promise I won't bite… unless you're asking.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you against him. The heat of his body reminded you just how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted. His voice dropped to a near-growl. “Last chance to back out.” His lips ghosted over your earlobe. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”

His grip tightened, teeth grazing your ear, and then he pulled back, his gaze sharp as he slipped the gun into his waistband. His eyes were fixed upon yours with such intensity and something so akin to hunger; it sent the shiver down your spine. "So," he breathed, his voice low, with just a hint of challenge. "Ready to play?

Your heartbeat pounded against your rib cage, each thud a resonating drum in the silence between you. His words, his touch, the heat radiating off his body, it threatened to overwhelm you, drowning out every rational thought. You knew you should tell him to stop, should put space between you, but something kept you frozen there, curiosity mixing with the thrill of the unknown.

"I… I don't.", you stuttered, all but a whisper, while shallow breaths betrayed you, even in protest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk edging toward a full grin. “You don’t what?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “Don’t want me to stop… or don’t know if you should?”

Closer still, he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze burrowing into yours with an intensity that made your knees feel weak. “I think you want this more than you’ll admit,” he murmured. His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck. “Just say the word,” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours. “I’ll give you everything you’ve been too afraid to ask for.”

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, a playful nip that he soothed with his tongue, his voice softening to a near-coax. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed, every word a slow, dangerous promise. “Let yourself stop fighting it.”

"Okay," you whispered, just barely audible, the last shred of resistance dissolving as his lips claimed yours-hard and demanding. The kiss bruised with its possessiveness-he took your mouth with such hunger that robbed your breath, his tongue delving deep inside to consume you. His hand tangles in the strands of your hair, keeping you firmly in place, the other roaming along your body, mapping out every curve.

But the next instant, he pushed you away, and you tumbled backward, falling against a stack of old props that tumbled with you, a flicker of fear crossing your features. He saw it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he mocked, stalking toward you on lean legs with a predator's ease. "Scared off so soon?"

His eyes shone with a feral light, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. "I thought you wanted to play."

He leaned over you, grasping at your chin roughly to force you to look up at him. "Maybe you're not as brave as you thought," he sneered. "Or maybe", the tone darker, "you just need a little more incentive."

His hand had gone to his waistband, drawing out his gun. He pressed the cold metal against your lips, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that chilled you to the bone.

"Open up, sweetheart," he ordered in his voice, a thick coating of mockery. "Let's see if you're as good with that mouth as I think you are." A hand twisted in your hair yanking your head back to bare the line of your neck. "Or maybe," he mused, "I should just shut you up completely."

He traced the gun along your jaw, down your throat, stopping at the hollow at the bottom of your neck. His eyes never once strayed from yours as he watched for the effects, feeding off your growing fear. "What's it gonna be, baby? Want to play nice, or should I get rough with you?"

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee as he savoured the tension. "Tick tock," he murmured, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Time's running out, and my patience is wearing thin. Choose wisely, baby—it might just save your life."

A wicked grin spread across his face as he saw you open your mouth, lips parting just enough for the barrel of the gun to slide between them, the cold metal pressing against your tongue. "That’s it," he purred. "Good girl."

He pushed the gun deeper, savouring the sight of you as the taste of metal filled your mouth. "Suck," he commanded, his voice thick with lust as he watched you obey, your lips stretched around the barrel, tongue swirling over the smooth surface. His hand in your hair tightened, and he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he breathed, his hips pressing forward as he ground against you. "You’re a natural at this, aren’t you? I bet you'd look even better with your lips wrapped around something else."

He watched with rapt attention as you continued, cheeks hollowing, mouth working the gun with an obedient rhythm. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, debasing yourself at his command.

Finally, he withdrew the gun, a string of saliva briefly connecting it to your lips. "Kiss it," he growled, voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

You pressed your lips against the barrel, kissing it softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze, exactly as he demanded. Seeing you so submissive, so compliant, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

"Atta girl," he murmured approvingly, his voice a soft purr of pleasure.

He pulled the gun away, resting it on the side as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking it slowly, teasingly, as you knelt before him. He smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "Put that pretty mouth to work, baby. Show me what you can do."

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head towards his cock, the musky scent of him filling your nostrils. His other hand gripped the base of his shaft, slapping the head against your lips, leaving a smear of pre-cum.

He pushed forward, forcing the head of his cock past your lips, groaning as your warm mouth enveloped him. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking gently, pushing deeper.

He groaned as your lips stretched around his thick, veiny shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. His cock was long and hard, the skin smooth and hot against your tongue. The musky, masculine taste of him filled your mouth as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you bobbed your head, your hand coming up to grip the base, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. He tasted of sweat and arousal, the flavour heady and intoxicating on your tongue.

Lewd, wet sounds filled the air as you slurped and sucked, your nose buried in his pubic hair, breathing in his scent. His balls were heavy and full, bouncing against your chin as you worked him over.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening, his hips snapping forward, fucking your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, baby.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex working overtime, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, letting him slide deeper, taking him to the hilt.

He threw his head back with a groan, his abs clenching, his thighs trembling as you swallowed around him, your throat fluttering around his sensitive flesh.

"Goddamn, you're a natural," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure.

The click of the safety being disengaged sent a jolt of fear through you, even as you continued to suck him off. The cold metal of the gun brushed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of his cock in your mouth.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through his shaft. "You like that, don't you, baby? The danger, the thrill. It gets you hot, doesn't it?" He pressed the gun to your temple, the barrel cold against your skin as he fucked your face harder, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper down your throat.

"Bet you're soaking wet right now," He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he neared his peak. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunted, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing in your mouth.

He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slick with your saliva. "Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "I'm not done with you."

He grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet, spinning you around and shoving you so you were bent over the wooden table. The rough wood scraped against your skin, the edge digging into your hips as he kicked your legs apart, exposing you to his gaze.

He flipped up your skirt, tearing your panties away with a sharp rip. His fingers dipped between your folds, teasing your entrance, circling your clit.

"Fuck, look at you," he purred, his hand coming down hard on your ass, making you yelp. "Already so wet for me. Yeah, you’re not innocent at all, are you?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he spat directly onto your pussy, the warm liquid trickling between your folds before he licked a stripe along your slit.

He dove in, his tongue delving deep into your folds, lapping at your juices. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with rapid strokes. The hand holding the gun rested against your ass as the other held one of your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry mouth.

He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He growled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. His nose rubbed your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue probing your entrance.

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your G-spot as he continued to eat you out. He added a third finger, stretching you, filling you, as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, his words muffled against your pussy. "So sweet and wet for me. I could eat this cunt all day."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds obscene in the quiet room.

His cock throbbed, rock hard and leaking pre-cum as he feasted on your pussy. The taste of you, the feel of your wetness coating his tongue, the sounds of your moans and whimpers—it all drove him wild with lust.

He fucked his fingers harder into you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit as he sucked, nibbled, licked every inch of your sopping folds.

He pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you, spread out and desperate for him.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "I could eat this pretty pussy all night long."

He trailed the gun along your inner thigh, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. "But first, I think I need to prep you a little. Get you nice and ready for me."

He teasingly ran the barrel of the gun along your folds, the cold metal sending a jolt of sensation through you. "What do you think, baby? Think you can handle this?"

You looked over your shoulder at him, stealing a glance as his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a faint nod of your head as you wanted it.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you?"

He circled your clit with the tip of the gun, the metal cool against your heated flesh. Your hips twitched, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Look at you, so desperate for it," he purred, his free hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap. "Even with a gun to your cunt, you're still begging for it."

“Tell me-” he says as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “Use those words.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips. His touch, his words, they were driving you crazy with need. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn't care how twisted it was.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please, I need it. I need you."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's more like it”

He trailed the cold metal of the gun along your slit, teasing your entrance, circling it slowly. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of his gaze on your body as he watched you squirm

He pressed the tip of the gun against your entrance, the metal cool and unyielding. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure.

He pressed the tip of the gun inside you, the cold metal sliding in teasingly slow. You gasped, your body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. He went deeper, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

"Fuck, look at you taking it," he groaned, his voice low and approving. "Such a good girl, so eager for me."

He worked the gun in and out, fucking you with it, the metal gliding along your walls, hitting spots you didn't know existed. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

He pushed the gun deeper, the metal sliding in with a slick sound, your wetness easing the way. You whimpered, your body trembling as he filled you, stretched you, claimed you in the most primal way possible.

He pulled it out slowly, the metal dragging along your folds, teasing your entrance, before pushing it back in.

He twisted the gun, the barrel rubbing against your sensitive walls, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

The wet, obscene sounds of the gun pumping in and out of your pussy filled the air, mixing with your moans and whimpers. He angled it just right, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back in your head.

He pulled the gun out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You whimpered at the loss, your body craving more.

"Patience, baby," he purred as he tossed the gun to the side. "We're just getting started."

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

He pushed inside you slowly, inch by throbbing inch, stretching you, filling you. Your pussy clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, his heat. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady as he sank deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Feels so good wrapped around my cock."

He bottomed out as his massive frame engulfed you as he leaned over your back, his balls heavy and full against you as he remained deep inside you. He stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every inch.

Then he started to move, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. He set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your pussy fluttered around him, your walls clinging to his shaft, trying to keep him inside. He grunted with each thrust, his fingers digging into your skin with a pressure that you know will leave marks.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. His other hand slid up your body, coming to rest at your throat. Not squeezing yet, just a gentle reminder of his control, his dominance.

"That's it, baby," he growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Take it. Take my cock like the good girl you are."

He fucked you harder, faster, his grip on your throat tightening just a fraction. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, sent waves of heat coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips pistoning, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Gonna fill you up with my cum. Pump you full until it's leaking out of you."

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race, your pussy clench around him. He was so close, his cock throbbing inside you, his body tensing.

His grip tightened on your throat, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse flutter beneath them. His other arm cinched around your waist, pulling you back harder, his hips slamming into you with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna come," he grunted, his voice strained and guttural.

He pounded into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you, claiming you, branding you from the inside out. His balls slapped against your clit with each brutal thrust, the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

His hand on your throat squeezed again, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head swim, your vision blur. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, pushed you closer to the edge.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he fucked you harder, deeper, his cock pounding into your pussy like a jackhammer. The added stimulation was too much, sending you careening over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and clenching, milking his cock for all it was worth. Your body shook and trembled, your moans echoing off the walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He groaned, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering as your pussy worked him over. "Fuck, yes, come for me," he growled, his fingers pinching your clit, prolonging your climax.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. His thick cum filled you, painting your walls white, marking you as his.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the table, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. For a moment, you both just lay there, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still joined, your hearts beating in sync.

He rolled his hips, his semi-hard cock still buried inside you, drawing out your pleasure. He pulled out slowly, a groan escaping him as your walls clung to him, trying to keep him inside.

He watched, transfixed, as his cum leaked out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs. The sight of you, so thoroughly used, so marked by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through him.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "So fucking beautiful, covered in my cum."

He leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your spine as you lay there, trying to catch your breath. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves and dips, the marks he'd left on your skin.

"You did so well, baby," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing. “Come on, up, lemme get a look at you.”

He helped you up, his hands steady on your hips as you wobbled on shaky legs. He turned you around to face him, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body, taking in the marks he'd left, the cum still dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his hands cupping your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "I could look at you like this all day."

He kissed you then, hard and deep, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting himself on your lips. He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a question in them.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks as he helps you redress, along with himself.

"No," you breathe, your voice hoarse and trembling. "It was... intense, but not painful."

You lean into his touch, savouring the warmth of his hands on your face, the solidness of his body against yours. Despite the darkness of what just transpired, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging.

“The gun-” you begin before he chuckles and interrupts you as he approaches the gun and picks it up, “Looks pretty real, huh? Feels it too.”

You laugh a little at that, “Yeah, it definitely felt it.”

“I’ll have to thank your friends for getting me such a good prop” He says, “And for arranging this whole place…You think they’re waiting outside?”

“God no, Shoko made it very clear yesterday that she wouldn’t wait around whilst I came in here to get fucked by my boyfriend. They’ll be long gone, we can call a cab.”

“Cab it is.” He smirks as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 7 months ago

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not according to plan | hjs (teaser)

summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his.

pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k) notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic fic post date: friday, april 26th (full fic here)

a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).

thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way. tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu

if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask 💕

You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into.

Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though.

Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.

It works.

When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks.

His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you.

In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated.

“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you.

“I feel like he hardly told me about you,” you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.

“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks.

“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out.

Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?”

“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?”

A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information.

In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)

Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.

To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting.

“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.

“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.

let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week 💕 (and what you think so far)

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jameui · 5 days ago

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THE BOY NEXT DOOR

PAIRING: ENHYPEN's Park Jongseong x M!Reader

GENRE: Smut, Fluff, Angst

WARNING: i guess some intense smutty action ✨, not proof read

SUMMARY: Park Jongseong. The name is known widely as the infamous fuckboy of the 4th floor in your apartment building. He insisted he shares a room with you for the night as he is being stalked. What's the worst that could happen?

Another night where you had your headphones on for a couple of hours now, knowing that your nextdoor neighbor was at it, again. Fucking horny boys and girls in his apartment room. In fact, it seemed to happen too frequently that you pretty much caught onto his schedule when he would start having his fun that you even had your alarm for it on just in case you forget about all of it.

Damn, Park Jongseong was one horny guy.

After that, he would throw them out of his room and leave them there almost naked, giving zero shits whether they would get fucked again on their way back home. Besides, it was just a one time thing. Practically, fuck and go. No strings attached. What a heartless guy, I must say. After taking advantage of their heart, he just leaves them as though they were just toys for him to play with.

But, of course, those were only the stories you heard. You knew Jongseong more than anyone can think.

Your eyes travelled its way up to the digital clock you owned above your closet after staring at your phone, scrolling through your feed to pass time. You saw that it was already half past six in the evening and that's usually the time when Jongseong would always finish.

You wanted to make sure first that he was actually done, pulling on one side of your headphones. When you thought it was finally quiet, you slowly took it off and sighed to yourself. "Finally."

You got off your bed to move to the mini fridge you have where you stored all your bottled water, since you loved drinking cold water rather than lukewarm. Soon, there was a knock on your door which got you feeling confused since you weren't really expecting any visitor.

You heard another knock bringing you to your front door to open the door for the person outside of your room. "Who is..." You trailed off when you saw your next door neighbor standing in front of you. "Jongseong?" You heard a loud bark from beside him, later noticing his pet dog that made you coo at how the cute creature looked like.

She was wearing a pair of sunglasses which you knew Jongseong had put on her himself while she wore a very cute shirt with the tag 'I'M THE BEST DOG' written on the back of it. You kneeled down to match the height of it and started to pet her, Charlotte, as you remembered it, wagging her tail happily.

"Y/N, can you do me a favor?" You heard the taller male speak out, you looked up at him with a smile. Jongseong looked like he was hesitating to say what he had in his mind to you, judging by the way he would stumble through his words or how he would open his mouth to say something only to shut them close and repeat.

Without looking at him you give him a soft laugh, all the while giving Charlotte the best belly rub who was now lying on her back. "Speak up, Park," you said, with Jongseong hesitating for the nth time. You paused for a moment facing up towards the other male, your head tilted over to the side a little. "I can't read minds, you know," You joked in an attempt to lessen what Jongseong is feeling.

Jongseong sighed, blushing due to his embarrassment. Your words were all that he needed, pushing him to tell you the tiny favor he would like to ask of you. "Well, you see. It's er... can I and Charlotte crash at your place for the night?" Jongseong stuttered a little, trying to compromise, thinking of the right words to make it seem less inappropriate. "It's very important and I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to do," he quickly added.

You rolled your eyes at him, then standing back up knowing just how it had come to this. "Let me guess. Another stalker?" You asked him in a teasing manner, Jongseong immediately shaking his head in denial. You raised him a brow while crossing your arms.

Jongseong was still pressed on denying it, but the look on your face made him do otherwise. He could only sigh in defeat and hang his head low whilst nodding his head looking like a dejected dog, his shoulders slumped down. You gave him a pat on top of his head, practically on top of your toes.

You opened the door for him to enter, gesturing for him to get inside. "Come on in," you welcomed the male into your place, the blonde male replying with a muttered 'thank you' and a smile. Once he's settled inside, you close the door behind you. "Just don't use my apartment room as your new strip club."

Jongseong quickly snapped his head toward you and shook his head. "I promise you none of that will happen," Jongseong reassured you, while you took something out of your dresser's drawer. He hears a soft laugh from you, the taller male realizing that you were just teasing him, making him frown.

"I know. I trust you," you told him before you threw to him a spare key that you kept with you in case you lost the one you're currently using. You popped a loli into your mouth and sucked down the flavor of the sweets. "So, how'd you get in this situation? Again?" You asked him, walking towards your bed and sat on top of it.

Jongseong contemplates, before he looks back at you and your eyes stared back at him with full anticipation. He lets out a sigh. "Well, you see. Tonight, isn't that normal night," he answered, but you didn't completely understand what he meant to which you just stayed silent for, as a signal for the male to continue. "Believe it or not, I didn't bring anyone today because I'm having a test coming up tomorrow," he continued.

"That... still doesn't explain to me why you're getting stalked," you subtly persuade the male to tell you the leading cause of the unnecessary attention, but it didn't have to take any of that since Jongseong is willing to tell you everything. I mean, EVERYTHING.

He laughs softly at how impatient you are. "Just wait and listen," he mocks you in the most polite way possible, afraid that your attitude is brushing onto him. Though you don't meet often, you're the one who practically saves him from your lousy neighbors. So, it's starting to kinda reflect onto him.

You raised your arms and let the male do the speaking. "I asked to be recommended a tutor and found out one of the guys who applied is actually one of my past side flings. The same guy I told you about. The one who endlessly obsessed over me," Jongseong pointed out and you thought for a moment before you snapped your finger and points at Jongseong, your mouth agape in shock. "Yeap, yeah, exactly. I was shocked as well that he found any of my socials. It still got me thinking how he did it." Jongseong seeped air through his teeth, cocking his head to the side.

You got up from where you're sat and patted the male's back. "I may not be able to do anything about.. this. But, you'll be safe here inside," you stated out and went to pick up your towel from the rack to take a shower. "I'll only take a couple of minutes. I better not catch you peeking, Park,"

"Oh, god. Please." Jongseong scoffs at your cocky attitude, then he hears laughter from you before the door to your bathroom is shut closed. As soon as you got hidden inside of your bathroom, Jongseong hears the light taps of Charlotte's paw on the floor approaching him. She had something in here mouth. "Charlotte, don't go snooping around someone else's stuff," Jongseong gently told his pet dog who threw the item across the floor and let out a bark.

Jongseong looks at it confused. "What's this?" The male picks it up and draws it near to him. It looked like a pendant. Only it wasn't. He noticed the small crack around it, probably an opening and ran his finger over it, before it slowly opens and a music plays.

'Dear, don't fret. You are wonderful.'

It was a small holographic message. It looked too advanced, technologically speaking. Who could have made this? It's... brilliant. It feels like a memory locked in a device to help you remember. "This is... incredible. Don't you think so, too, Charlotte?" The female dog barks in reply and pants happily with her tongue out.

After a few more minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom with a fur robe on while you dried your hair with a towel. You catch the male staring, or admiring rather, at something and had a huge smile on his face. He looked very fascinated. "Whatcha got there, Jay?" The male didn't reply and continued to stare at the item. You chuckled.

You make your way towards him and only then that Jongseong is able to acknowledge your presence. "Oh, you're done? Sorry, I sorta got distracted by this. Whatever this is," Jongseong told you, the smile still etched onto his face. "It's so amazing," Jongseong makes a comment and your face splits into a smile.

You sat on the nearest chair beside the taller male and spoke up. "My dad made it for me," you shared to the male, whose mouth turned an 'o' shape in shock, turning his head to you. "He created it so I'd never feel homesick, but it only made it worse." You let out a light laugh, head hanging a little low, unable to look at Jongseong who found sympathy in you.

"You have a really great father, Y/N," Jongseong said with a soft smile. You lift your face up to look at the other male and decided that that was enough sentiment for the day and chose to tease Jongseong, again.

"And who told you to go snooping around my room?" You smirked, making Jongseong widen his eyes and point at his pet dog, who whimpers and lay flat on the floor while she covered her face with her paws, which you found incredibly cute as though she's able to understand your language. At this point, maybe she does. "I'm just kidding," you stood up from where you are sat and moved to your closet. You are about to get changed.

On instinct, Jongseong turns on his back and puts the pendant down on your table, but there is one thing he couldn't get off his mind. "I'm sorry. Y/N, just minutes ago, did you just call me 'J'?" Jongseong scrunched his face, not able to trust his ears. He might have misheard things.

As you threw on what you could see as cute in your closet, you replied with a hum. "Yeah, sorry. I should have thought first before I spoke. Does it bother you?" Your brows furrowed. You really had the the idea that you and Jongseong are already that close to be calling each other by nicknames.

Jongseong shakes his head in reply, but guessed you couldn't see. "No, not a even a bit," he answered. "It's just new to me, but I guess I'll get used to it eventually," he continued, before he heard the closet door close and the bed creak on your weight which could have only meant that you're done. "Are you finished?" He questioned for safety measures.

"Yeah. You can turn around now," you replied. Jongseong cautiously turns around, making you raise a brow. "So, you're scared of seeing a clothed body than a nude?" You scoffed.

"No, no. It's not like that. I mean you're a very close friend. And if I were to see you naked accidentally that would mean an awkward atmosphere around us," Jongseong full on explained and hearing that the male considered you as a close friend made your heart swell in happiness.

You propped yourself down on your bed with your hands. "Point taken," you told Jongseong. "By the way, if you didn't bring anyone with you tonight, then what was the noise in your room all about?" Your curiosity got the best of you as you looked over at Jongseong who had his lips pushed into a pout and a blush on his face.

Oh, it's those kind of days.

You breathed in air through your nose and tapped your feet on the floor. "Well, Jay. I have to stop by the convenience store. Anything you want?" You stood up to take out your wallet and fix a few things where your other important items are hidden.

The taller male lit up at the mention of having to go outside. "Can I come with you?" Jongseong asked, a little too excited. Almost like a kid who wants to go only for the car ride.

You turn to him, a big smile riding on his lips, before you return to securing your things. "Uhm, are you sure? Wouldn't that be a little dangerous?" You started to make your way to the clothing rack where some of your coats are hanging. "Considering you have a stalker that's on the loose," you stated to which made Jongseong knit his brows.

"Damn those pricks," Jongseong whispered under his breathe, still loud enough for you to hear though. He tried looking for excuses, but only found the shorts you are wearing. "And how about you? You can't possibly be going out with just that," he pointed out.

You looked down and faced him with an 'are you kidding me' look. "What about it? They're loose jersey shorts. You should be more concerned about yourself. You could catch a cold with what you're wearing. A tank top and thigh length shorts." you told him yet Jongseong was already on his way out with Charlotte. "What is up with this guy?"

In the end, even when you felt skeptical with other male, you still let him sleep over for the night. When you arrived, the male kept on insisting he stayed. The poor male looked shaken up by something you can't determine, so here you are in one bed with Jongseong who is barely in anything, but a boxer after you tried to resist him from sleeping on the floor and it made falling asleep hard for you.

It ain't helping either that you used to have a big fat crush on the older male when you first arrived here in this building. Keyword: USED. After you realized he had a fuckboy tendency and it just didn't seem quite right to you.

You let out a sigh and your eyes went over to the time on your clock. '2:31 A.M', it reads and all you could do is groan silently, your eyes clenched shut at your distress.

You opened the bedside lamp to at least illuminate a small portion of the room as you rubbed your stinging eyes. You feel so tired, but your thoughts are circling around your head endlessly like your own brain is trying to torture you, but you have no choice. You brought yourself onto this and now you have to pay.

You looked over to the other side to see Jongseong sleeping so soundly. Like a baby, safe in his mother's arms. At the sight, a small smile made its way up to your lips. "At least someone's able to get some sleep," you muttered out with a scoff, before you adjusted the blanket, so it covered him comfortably. He might be cold already considering that you put the temperature down a few degrees down, yet he still had the strength to get almost completely naked.

You watched him snore lightly. He looks so peaceful. Has he always looked this good in this light? You thought to yourself, as your gentle grin stayed on your face.

You gave a sigh and moved a few hair strands that got in the way of his face, but were immediately stopped by the older male who took ahold of your wrist which made you flinch. His grip was gentle.

You quickly averted your attention to his eyes which you felt started to bore holes into your skin. His face is dimly lit by the lamp on your table, but he still looked so ethereal. "Y/N, what are you doing to me?" His sudden question made you look at him confused.

He sat up from the bed, all the while the hem of the blanket falling to his waist which gave you a just right view of his structured abdominal muscles. "I... I don't understand," you replied to him, Jongseong sighing audibly loudly.

"Ever since you arrived in this building, nothing ever went well for me," Jongseong continued, that got you taken aback as you pulled your arm away from the male whose eyes lingered onto you.

You raised him a brow, feeling literally offended at what he had just said. After you let him spend the night at your apartment, this is the thanks you get from him? "Excuse me? Be at least grateful—"

"Let me finish," Jongseong cuts you off mid-sentence with a chuckle and you folded your arms on your chest and you gave him the stage, letting him hit the microphone with whatever he had to say. "See, this will sound weird, just giving you a heads up, but I just... I can't get it up," he stated.

You scoffed at him in disbelief. "And that's supposed to be MY fault?" For your entire existence you've never had a person blame you for their erectile dysfunction and hearing this from Jongseong—the male you only considered your friend right now—is blaming you that he couldn't get an erection because of you. That's just completely fucked up.

"Yes," Jongseong replied, rather more solemn than bluntly. Your jaw dropped at his reply and your instinct was to just kick him out of your apartment, but he looked like he had a lot of things going on inside his head. Before you could even reply, Jongseong faces you with a bittersweet smile riding on his lips. "Because I like you, Y/N. I've liked you since... I don't know, before we even started talking which was like almost two years ago. And I couldn't get you out of my head. I didn't want to make you feel sexualized or in any form, sexualize your image. I can't do that to you, Y/N," he said, ending with a tone that told you he is truly genuine and truly cared about you.

You could only look at him with furrowed brows, your mouth opened, but unable to make a noise. You were shocked, to say the least. In the middle of the night, all because Jongseong had a problem with his hormones, confessed to you out of nowhere. Who wouldn't be so surprised with that sudden news?

"Jay, I... uhm," you let out, hesitant.

"It's fine, Y/N. You really don't have to say anything if you don't feel like it. Besides, hearing a reply without much of any—" he is stopped the same way, but you've put a finger on his lips to make him go quiet.

"I don't need time to think about everything, Jay," you replied, a small smile on your lips. You trailed off, trying to find out how to start, but you thought giving it to him directly would be the best way. "I like you, Park Jongseong. Less than you think, though. Look, I don't know when it actually started, but it gave me the ick that you're actually a call boy, but I thought I would have done the same for a check," you laughed lightly.

"Uh, thanks?" Jongseong let out, one brow raised upward.

You sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that, I like you, Jay. I love your personality, I love the way you care for me, your dog, your family, or the way you'd always update me about—" Jongseong gave you no chance to finish what you're saying and spare you no time to adjust as he grabbed the back of your neck and planted his lips onto yours.

You were quick to process as you melted into the kiss, your eyes shutting closed while your hands instinctively found themselves in his soft bleached locks, your fingers entangled within it. Your heads and lips perfectly sync with each other, untamed thoughts circling around your head like a broken record. They were unruly, but it somehow made your heart feel full.

It's like on a winter night and you start the fireplace to warm the room. You don't even remember any sense dawning over you as you just let yourself in to the spur of the moment as though your whole life depended on it.

A few minutes in and Jongseong decides to deepen the kiss, as he slides one hand under the pit of your leg, rising ever so slowly as he lifted the bottom hem of the jersey shorts you wore, a soft moan moving past your mouth, the older male swallowing the sweet sound. You feel one side of his lips curve into a smirk, satisfied with the reaction he received from you.

You were probably gonna regret this later on; being treated like one of Jongseong's clients, but you wanted his touch. You NEEDED his touch. You craved everything he can give. You yearned for his warmth. You need him, in general.

It's like he's some kind of drug that made you suddenly feel addicted with one taste and you know for a fact that you'll never be able to get out of this sensation.

Jongseong nipped at your bottom lip, asking for permission. As a reply to his request, you slowly parted your lips for access. With not much time to lose, Jongseong (gently) delved into the depths of your wet cavern, cupping your cheeks as he started to search for your tongue.

Thinking the placement was uncomfortable, the blonde male repositions himself, so he's fully facing you, all the while never breaking contact. Your tongues danced together, both in different pace, but found a way to synchronize with each other, as though harmonizing.

Whilst your tongues played with each other, your hands went down to feel his biceps, which you found attractive with all the muscles surrounding it. Your fingers smoothly glided over the protruding skin of his arms, still too high on the kiss to even focus somewhere else other than the shape of his lips. It's like they were carved to fit yours perfectly.

For a breather, Jongseong was the first to pull away, breaking the kiss as you start to already miss the intimacy. Hearing a whimper unconsciously leave your throat, Jongseong chuckles. "In a second, angel. We still have to breathe, you know," he smirks. Right now, his sight of you just raised the gauge of his sex drive higher.

As everything had started to heat things up inside the room already, you could no longer wait. You're feeling hot and the way he looked so sexy just made you want him to just take you; make him claim you as his only possession.

While Jongseong tried to find a better position, you sunk down to become face to face with his clothed crotch. This went unnoticed by the male, not until he felt a shiver run down his spine when he felt your finger om the waistband of his boxers that he looks at you, while your eyes were already clouded with lust.

"Y/N, what are you—ah," he moans at the contact of his clothed member on your open palm, teasing him before you pulled down the only item that restricted you from its full glory, his cock coming in contact with the cold air of your room. "Shit.." The male let out when he felt your tongue line the underside of his cock.

"A-ah, Y/N. I didn't—ah," Jongseong sighed at the pure pleasure you were giving him. Out of pure desperation to aatosfy the taller male, you fit the tip of his thick rod in your mouth, which earned you a hiss from the blonde as a hand found its way on top of your hair. "Shit, Y/N, ah... stop teasing," He moaned, feeling your tongue swirl around his girth, the older male pushing his head back, feeling so much bliss.

Soon enough, your chest swelled with pride as you made a spur of the moment decision to take the whole male inside your mouth, while Jongseong hitched in place, an electrifying sensation running down his back. "FUCK!" He moaned out, unconsciously pulling at your hair.

You bobbed your head up and down, only then taking the few inches you could take inside your mouth (after a realization that he was too big to take whole) and jerked him off to compensate for it. Jongseong seeped air through his mouth, peering down at you only to see that your eyes was looking up at him as he had the perfect view of your lips perfectly curled around his cock.

He got more turned on by the sight of you and could no longer hold himself back anymore, raising his hands to hold onto the back of your head and forced his whole length inside your throat, which made you gag and choke, earning a satisfied whistle from Jongseong who chuckled and caressed your beautiful face. "I can see that you were trying, Y/N, but you weren't trying hard enough." The male smirked, then went on with his plan to assault your unaccustomed throat in a fast pace, tears forming in your eyes as they rolled themselves at the back of your head over the euphoria that Jongseong brought to you by constantly hitting the back of your throat.

"Shit, fuck," Jongseong cursed through gritted teeth, the vibrations of your moan only sending a satisfying sensation to his girthy dick, you knew immediately that he was feeling good. "So, you were waiting for this to happen all this time, huh?" He questioned you, not stopping with his erratic movements.

If you hadn't lost all your senses, you wouldn't have let yourself be treated like you're a thirsty slut, but the pleasure is unbearable and at any moment you felt like your mind will finally break.

Without thinking much about it, you nodded your head in reply and the smirk on Jongseong's face only grew wider. "Me too, babe," He said and continued on violating your mouth, resorting to a more inhuman speed and laughing darkly at how easily you submitted to him, liking the idea that if he ever felt pent he could easily just run to you and you'd just let him use you, but of course he wasn't a bad guy to take advantage of you. It's just an idea. An impossibly dream, if you must.

"Damn, angel. Didn't know your mouth could do so much wonder," Jongseong groaned, you holding onto his thighs for dear life, hoping your neck wouldn't break at how strong his thrusts were.

You knew how much Jongseong is capable of being rough with anyone, he literally goes down with any sex play—it's not eavesdropping, it's overhearing—but damn, you never knew him being this rough with you would be so fucking hot. Even having to experience it firsthand.

"Maybe we can do more than just this, Y/N. Weren't for us having to rest for our class tomorrow." It was nice of the male to think of your welfare, but it already reached this far and he'll let go with just a simple blowjob? You wished he's just joking.

Jongseong's pace went unbelievably animalistic, suddenly not caring about how you were now crying due to the pleasure, finding it fun how those tears stained your cheeks like they were the perfect decoration on your face, him abusing your throat with all the strength he had left until he started to convulse and buried his dick deep inside your throat and filled your mouth up with his cum, feeding you every last drop, not spilling anything as it ran down yoir throat.

He was a panting mess as he stared down at you, finding it adorable that you were so fucked up and was made a mess of by him.

He thrusts a few more time to ride out his high, before he caressed your cheeks softly, then pulling his now flaccid cock and puts a finger below your chin to lift your face up. "Not a single drop, darling. Open your mouth," He demanded of you, you complied as you opened your mouth with you tongue rolled out.

Jongseong, feeling satisfied, bent down to your height and kissed you on the forehead. "Well done, angel," he said, then fixed himself up and helped you up to your feet with a slight chuckle. "You're already weak to your knees? We still haven't even got to that part yet, Y/N," He teased you that immediately made you blush.

"Sh-shut up, Park," You told him, your voice a little hoarse, Jongseong being the reason why.

The next morning you woke up, with your eyes still feeling heavy and the memory of what happened im the middle of the night engraved in your head.

You soon realize that the bed was empty and the space beside you where Jongseong slept has now gone cold. It dawned over you like a bucket of cold water. "I should have known. I was just one of his clients," you mumbled to yourself.

"You're not a client, Y/N," a voice started from somewhere in the room, which startled you as you got up immediately and saw Jongseong by the window reading a book, in a bath robe.

Jongseong looks at you and you did as well. You were in different clothes. Did he get you changed? "I, uhm, I thought you left," you stumbled in your words. You didn't want to sound too desperate.

"I wouldn't. I would never," he replied, before he closes the book and approached you with I want to be your partner." Jongseong looks at you with his eyes full of sincerity and truthfulness. "If you're doubting my words, I'll prove to you by my actions. I will stop these vices," he stated out with determination in his voice.

"Jay... you weren't being stalked, were you?" You asked him which took the male aback. "You just wanted to spend time with me," you concluded that made him blush a deep red color. You found it cute at how he gets very flustered easily, before you threw your hands around him for a hug. "And I would have done the same if I were you," you said as the taller male, wrapped his arms around you to keep you close to him.

#male reader #x male reader #fanfiction #bxb #idol x male reader #bottom male reader #kpop #enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader #enhypen jay x male reader #enhypen jay #enhypen park jongseong #enhypen park jongseong x male reader #jay x male reader smut #x male reader smut #male reader smut

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writingstoraes · 1 year ago

Text

the other side 🥡

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!horner!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this was actually a request but it somehow got lost in my inbox so im so sorry to whoever requested this 😭 i hope you still see this though and i hope u like it! lmk what u guys think hehehe

about: fans adore your support for ferrari, given your dad is literally their rival's team principal.

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 1,201,294 others

ynhorner had the best view at monaco 🏎️

(ps. i hope my dad isn't using his instagram right now)

christianhorner I have no words....

ynhorner see u at home 😘

redgirlz LMAOOO THIS IS SO FUNNY

maxverstappen ??? Hello

ynhorner hi, max :)

daylightcharles if years ago you told me christian horner's own daughter would be openly supporting ferrari i would have laughed in your face

hamilecs not charles liking this 😭

sainzlines QUEEN DO U PLAN ON WATCHING SOMEDAY AT FERRARI'S GARAGE 🎤🎤

ynhorner i would if i'd still be my dad's daughter afterwards

ynhorner

liked by christianhorner, landonorris, pierregasly, and 1,028,248 others

ynhorner i may scream "forza ferrari sempre" during race weekends, but i am my dad's daughter still 🫡

therealgerihalliwell There we go, Dad was waiting for you to wear that 😊

ilpredestinato she is me and i am her (i too, would support ferrari to hell and back)

lovesgasly my ferrari queen ❤️

britcedesbros LOVE THE JACKET drop the link pls 🙏

ynhorner dad brought it home after seeing me check out another ferrari cap 😆

ynhorner recently added to her instagram story!

ynhorner

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, therealgerihalliwell, and 1,019,294 others

ynhorner clearing my gallery so enjoy this race week’s dump! life's good when i'm not torn between two teams; i can bust my lungs out to "super max" and forza ferrari my way every sunday ❤️

queensland mother pls tell me that man is just an uber driver

charlierari That's literally Charles 😭 loverslane reaching we can't even see the face???

paddockgirlie MAM IS THAT CHARLES PLS SPEAK INTO THE MIC

ynhorner i think my lawyer says i'd rather not say anything 😅

maxverstappen Glad to know "Super Max" is on your playlist

ynhorner are you kidding? i play that when i drive so i can get to where i'm going faster christianhorner Your karting races are not an excuse for you to overtake whenever you want, Y/N ynhorner it's okay i'm driving a ferrari anyway :D

ynhorner

liked by therealgerihalliwell, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 1,503,994 others

ynhorner okay maybe there's another reason why i love ferrari, but it's really not my fault they signed someone so breathtaking and loveable to be their driver 🤷‍♀️

merchamilton someone check up on christian quick

sainzzzzham Y/N IS UR DAD OKAY 😭

ynhorner oh don't worry about him, i'm sure he'll be fine!

charles_leclerc Saw the sign today, apparently that's why you sent me out to buy red poster board?

ynhorner yes, gotta stick to my ferrari girl agenda

paddocklovez MY NEW PARENTS ❤️

maxverstappen Finally, growing tired of hiding Charles when he visits the garage 😐

christianhorner So you were in on this? maxverstappen For legal reasons, I will be blocking you.

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

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy, @cxcewg, @sassyheroneckgiant (lmk if anyone else wants to be part of my taglist!)

notes: tysm for reading <3

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ashrayus · 3 months ago

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PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc #jason todd fic #fic rec

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genericpuff · 3 months ago

Note

Are there any characters from LO that you actually like/don’t mind

I have a lot more appreciation for Minthe now with all the hindsight that Hades and Persephone are often way worse than she is. She still had a lot of issues on her own end that she didn't deal with well, and while I would have liked to see her actually develop properly beyond her struggles both internal and with Hades, I think the best thing we could have asked for was Minthe being written out of the story the way she was. At least then Rachel couldn't continue to use her as a punching bag (she just tagged in Leuce for that, sigh)

Helios is great, zero issue with him. This scene is a lot funnier and more relatable to read in hindsight:

like ofc Helios is gonna rat on her, he's the fucking sun who's been around for thousands of years, why would he put any more of his limited freedom on the line for macaroni art LMAO (and yes, Rachel herself confirmed that Persephone made macaroni art cards for Helios, it's like... yeah okay it's cute but Persephone and Demeter still hid a crime from Zeus, the sentimental value of the birthday cards have no bearing on that LOL)

Thanatos is also in the camp of "characters I appreciate more in hindsight and wish got better character development". Adding in the 'twist' that he was Hades' adoptive son after we just spent nearly two seasons watching Hades treat him like just a lowly employee who didn't deserve his respect was certainly... a choice. And I don't think I should have to explain why it was a very very BAD one LOL

Hephaestus is also great, I know he's an extremely minor character whose only real role was to delete the blackmail photos from Apollo's phone but, like. look at him???

amazing. precious. sweet boy. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my absent older brother issues why would you say that- (｡•́︿•̀｡) that said, there are still flaws in his design (his prosthetics especially because he's constantly wearing running blades for every occasion which I feel like Rachel only chose because they "looked cool" and were "easier to draw" but like. his poor hips and back, that's gotta be uncomfortable 😭) but even just his face on its own is ironically one of the most unique character designs across the entire cast, not for any sort of outstanding or creative reasons, you just can't possibly mistake or color swap him with anyone else LMAO and though I can't feasibly give credit to Rachel for writing a neurodivergent character - because I have no clue if that was her intention here, afaik she's never really talked about it - I can wholly relate to him being the introverted computer guy who just wants to be left alone with his work and his airpods, like that's literally just me LOL

And of course nothing Rachel could ever do would make me hate Demeter, I think it's so ironic and tone deaf that Rachel claimed she "didn't get" why Demeter was so hated by the fans and didn't "agree" with the comparisons to Mother Gothel, but like... Rachel literally wrote her that way. And while she did "resolve" it, it wasn't with any actual empathy towards Demeter's own side of things, it was just bandaids on top of bandaids and then going "yep! She's all better now! That's character development!" Out of all the characters who deserved better, she was the one who deserved the most 😔💓

#ask me anything #ama #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

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dandelions-143 · 2 months ago

Text

Do It For Me

Final Part

Parts 1 - 3 here : Chans Masterlist

All other members : Masterlist

Pairing: possessive bad boy, non idol Chan x Bratty fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Explicit sexual content, Strong language, Themes of possessiveness and control in relationships, Public sex

Word count: 2,396

A/N: This will be the last installment in Chans story. I wasn’t going to write another one but I felt like I needed a pretty happy entering without making it super fluffy because you all know that’s not my style. Currently working on a playlist for this series so stay tuned! Also if you have already read this just ignore!! Adding all saved tags to all of my works. If you wish to no longer be tagged just let me know.

You sank into Chan's plush leather sofa, your hands resting on your thighs and your bare feet crossed at the ankle. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you gazed across the room. Chan sat just a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on you like a predator eyeing its prey.

It had been a couple of days since Chan had whisked you away from the bar to his family home. Initially, you resisted his every move. You ignored or scoffed at his gentle touches and sweet gestures of affection. The only thing you welcomed was the rough sex.

Gradually, however, you began to warm up to his tender side—a side that seemingly only you got to witness. You stopped flinching when he pulled you close for an embrace. You started reciprocating his quick, spontaneous kisses.

You no longer mocked his affectionate gestures when he offered to cook for you, give you a foot rub, or simply lay with you to read or watch a movie. Slowly, you began to anticipate these moments, and before you realized it, you were opening up to him in ways you'd never done with anyone before.

"Come on, it's just a date. We've been hooking up on and off for years. Let me take you out," Chan said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he looked at you. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, even as the prospect of a proper date with Chan made your pulse quicken. You didn't usually like feeling this way—you'd convinced yourself you weren't built for romance or relationships—but Chan was steadily dismantling the walls you'd built.

After much hesitation, you finally answered, "Fine, I'll go on one date with you, but you have to let me go back to Hyunjin's place to get ready properly. I'm tired of being cooped up in this mansion. I'm not your prisoner, Chan." His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching slightly. You could see the internal struggle playing out across his features. Finally, he exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing. "Alright," he conceded, "but I'm picking you up at 8, and if you're not ready or you try to slip away... I'll find you, and you won't leave my sight ever again."

Chan's possessiveness was overwhelming at this point, and it pained you to lack your own independence. Yet, you had no intentions of leaving him—you just didn't want him to know that. You nodded simply and stood up. "I should probably get going then. I need time to get ready." Chan licked his full lips and rose as well. "I'll have a car take you over."

Two hours later, you were gazing into Hyunjin's bathroom mirror, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. Your deep blue dress hugged your curves perfectly, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The neckline plunged just low enough to be alluring without being too revealing. You applied a final swipe of deep red lipstick, the color complementing the dress beautifully. As you stepped back to admire your reflection, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness for your date with Chan.

As soon as those feelings began to rise, you shook your head, pushing them away. "What the fuck... get ahold of yourself, Y/n." Just as you were walking out of Hyunjin's bedroom, his front door opened and in stepped a very tired-looking Hyunjin. "Wow, you actually do come home," you said as his eyes met yours. A soft smile spread over his lips. "I'm only here to grab some things. I'm going back to my other place."

You walked over to him, knowing how sad and lonely your best friend had been feeling since his breakup with his ex. Even though you agreed he had been a very bad boyfriend, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. He was close to your heart, and you didn't like seeing him suffer. You embraced him in a gentle hug. "Are you okay?" you asked as you squeezed him a little, then pulled back to peer up at him.

Hyunjin gave you a weak smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. "I'm... managing," he replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the weight of his emotions in those two simple words. Before you could respond, the sound of a car horn outside caught your attention, reminding you of your impending date with Chan.

You nodded, "You know I'm still your best friend and I'm here for you. Even if you just want to complain, I'll listen." Hyunjin was the only one who got to see your softer side. "Yeah, I know, Y/n." Hyunjin glanced out of his big bay windows, seeing Chan emerge from his car and begin walking up the sidewalk. "Are you and Chan finally expressing your love for one another?" he asked, surprised as he finally took in your dressed-up appearance.

You sighed heavily and shrugged, "I'm just indulging him." Hyunjin laughed softly and shook his head at you. "You know... we all see it. You love the guy, and it's clear he's obsessed and in love with you. He has been for years." You started to turn away to grab your small handbag. "Hyunjin..." you began, not wanting to hear this.

"Y/n, take it from me, who took advantage of someone that loved me unconditionally... you don't want to give that up." He looked down, trying to hold back the tears stinging his eyes. "Once you damage that and they give up on you... there's no going back. Nothing's ever the same." There was a soft knock on the door. "Let the guy love you... you deserve that."

You swallowed hard, letting his words sink in as you turned to face the door. Your heart raced, a mix of anticipation and nervousness coursing through you. Hyunjin's words echoed in your mind, challenging your carefully constructed walls. As you reached for the doorknob, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the evening ahead.

When you swung open the door, Chan stood there in all black. His suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. His dark hair was styled neatly, and his eyes sparkled with anticipation as they took in your appearance. A soft smile played on his lips as he extended his hand towards you, his voice low and warm as he said, "You look absolutely stunning, Y/n. Are you ready?" His question seemed to hold more than just the simple meaning.

You took a glance back at Hyunjin, who nodded encouragingly at you. You gave him a soft smile and turned back to Chan. "Yeah, I think I am." You took his hand and walked out of the apartment with him. As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Chan's hand warm in yours, you felt a flutter of nervousness in your chest. The city lights twinkled around you, casting a soft glow on the sidewalk. Chan led you towards his car, a sleek black vehicle that matched his attire perfectly, and you couldn't help but wonder what the night had in store for you both.

The restaurant Chan chose was an elegant Korean establishment with a modern twist. Soft lighting and minimalist decor created an intimate atmosphere, perfect for your first official date. As you and Chan were led to your table, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbled up inside you. The aroma of sizzling bulgogi and freshly steamed rice filled the air, making your mouth water.

You couldn't help but notice the place was completely empty, save for the staff. As you settled into your seat, you glanced at Chan, looking more than handsome in the dim lighting. "What did you do? Rent out the place?" you joked. Chan's lips curved into a mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling. "Maybe I did," he replied, his voice low and playful. A flutter in your chest surprised you at the thought of him going to such lengths for your date. You realized this evening might be more special than you'd initially anticipated.

The waiter arrived with Korean wine and asked if you were ready for your first course. You raised an eyebrow at Chan. "So you've had this all planned out?" Chan simply nodded to the waiter, who disappeared to fetch your meals, leaving your question unanswered.

As you sipped your wine, curiosity and appreciation for Chan's efforts washed over you. The intimate setting and carefully planned menu spoke of a thoughtfulness you weren't quite used to. You found yourself softening, your usual defenses lowering as you gazed at Chan across the table. His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to truly let him in.

Chan leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his dark eyes intense. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice low and earnest. "Y/n, I know you've been guarding your heart for so long. But I want you to know that I'm here, ready to love you completely. I've been waiting for years, hoping you'd let me in. I'm not asking for everything all at once, but I want you to give us a real chance. Let me show you how much you mean to me, how much I care." You leaned forward, parting your lips to speak, but Chan cut you off, "And please don't turn this into me acting like a pussy because I'm weak for loving you."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his words, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth spread through your chest. Chan's vulnerability, his willingness to lay his heart bare before you, was both touching and terrifying. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the safety of your carefully constructed walls and the allure of the love Chan was offering. As you gazed into his eyes, you realized that maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a leap of faith.

When you didn't say anything right away, Chan continued, his face hardening slightly as the possessive man you knew pushed through. "And regardless of whether you want to be here or be with me... you're still mine. You always have been. You can't escape me. I don't need you to love me, but... I do need you with me."

A mix of emotions washed over you at Chan's words—a blend of frustration at his possessiveness, but also a strange comfort in his unwavering devotion. You took a deep breath, trying to sort through the conflicting feelings. Part of you wanted to push back against his claim, assert your independence, but another part recognized the truth in his words—there was an undeniable connection between you two that had persisted for years.

You leaned back in your chair as the food arrived. Waiting for the waiter to leave, you began eating before answering Chan. You couldn't help but test his patience. While you enjoyed riling him up, you were also growing fond of his sweet, vulnerable side. "Y/n..." he said under his breath, a warning for you to respond.

You took another bite, savoring the flavors as you considered your words. Finally, you met Chan's intense gaze, your voice soft but firm. "Chan, I can't deny our connection. But love... it's complicated. I'm not promising anything, but I'm here, aren't I? Let's see where this goes."

Your nonchalant response caused Chan's steely glare to falter. He seemed taken aback, having endured years of your rejection. Your words made him question if he'd been wasting his time waiting for and chasing you. Chan's expression softened, a mix of surprise and hope flickering across his features. He reached across the table, his fingers gently brushing yours. "That's all I'm asking for, Y/n," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "A chance to show you what we could be."

As the evening progressed, you found yourself relaxing more, genuinely enjoying Chan's company. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by shared laughter and lingering glances. For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to imagine a future where you weren't constantly pushing Chan away. As dessert arrived—a decadent chocolate creation that made your eyes light up—you realized that maybe, just maybe, giving Chan a chance wouldn't be so bad after all.

As the night wore on, you noticed a heat in Chan's eyes as he watched you eat your dessert. "What are you thinking about?" you asked when you caught him staring at your lips as they moved around the spoon. A sly smirk painted his plump lips. "I'm imagining how that red lipstick would look smeared around my cock."

You felt a sudden heat rise to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through your body. Chan's boldness never failed to catch you off guard, even after all this time. You leaned forward, your voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Maybe you'll get to find out later."

Chan shook his head. "There's no later... I want to see it now." Your eyes glanced around the room and then over to the now-quiet kitchen. "You mean here? Where people can see?" Chan's eyes darkened with desire, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "That's exactly what I mean," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "The thrill of getting caught only adds to the excitement, don't you think?"

You licked the remaining chocolate from your lips as Chan motioned for you to come closer. "Come here... I want you on your knees." Even though Chan had been confessing his love, the man knew what he wanted and always took it. You were his, and you would do as you were told... for the most part.

A thrill of excitement coursed through you at Chan's commanding tone. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat, the silk of your dress rustling softly as you moved around the table. Your heart raced as you approached Chan, fully aware of the risk of being caught but unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. As you sank to your knees before him, your eyes locked with his, silently acknowledging the power he held over you in that moment.

You could feel wetness nearly pooling in your panties as his warm hand caressed your cheek and slid over your jaw. His thumb swiped gently across your lips, smearing your deep red lipstick slightly. "So fucking beautiful," he breathed. Chan's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his fingers trailing along your jawline. You shivered under his touch, anticipation building within you. Without a word, his hands moved to his belt, the soft clink of metal echoing in the quiet restaurant.

You had watched Chan do this many times, but after allowing him to tear down the walls you'd had up for years, it was as if you were seeing him with new eyes. The heat in the pit of your stomach intensified as you watched him slowly unzip his pants. Anticipation built with each passing second, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for him to reveal himself. You marveled at how different this felt—the same act, but with a new depth of emotion behind it.

Chan spread his thighs wider, the visible bulge in his pants drawing your gaze. You moved closer, your hands sliding up his muscular thighs. "Pull it out," he mumbled. You hesitated, hearing slight movement in the kitchen. "Eyes on me. I'm the only one here with you." He lifted your chin with a finger planted beneath your jaw.

Your eyes rose to meet his glare, filled not only with desire but with a softness you could only discern as love.

Your heart raced as you reached forward, your fingers gently brushing against the fabric of his pants before carefully freeing his hardened length. The sight of him, fully aroused and waiting for you, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You licked your lips unconsciously, your gaze flickering between his intense eyes and his throbbing cock, ready to pleasure him in this thrilling, semi-public setting.

With a soft exhale, you leaned forward, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth. The taste of him, familiar yet somehow new, filled your senses as you began to move. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the feeling of him against your tongue, before opening again to meet his intense gaze.

Chan's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you worked your mouth along his length. The low groan that escaped his lips sent a shiver down your spine, encouraging you to take him deeper. You could feel his thighs tensing beneath your hands, a clear sign of his growing pleasure.

As you continued your ministrations, you could feel Chan's control slipping. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips beginning to buck slightly against your mouth. The thrill of pleasuring him in such a public place only added to your own arousal, your core aching with need. You redoubled your efforts, determined to bring him to the edge of ecstasy.

Chan's breathing grew ragged, his muscles tensing as he approached his climax. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully. Just as you felt his cock tightening and twitching between your parted lips, he pulled you up. His chest heaved as he glanced down at his cock, covered in your saliva. Your lipstick smeared all around the base of his shaft.

"Not yet," he said gruffly as he stood, bringing you to your feet with him. "I want to feel you wrapped so tight around me."

Chan's hands roamed your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. He spun you around, pressing you against the table as his lips found your neck. You gasped, feeling the hard length of him against your backside, your body trembling with anticipation. The thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal, making you ache for more.

His hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing your panty-clad ass. He yanked them down, letting them fall to your ankles. Chan gripped your ass in his hands. "You drive me insane," he growled.

You moaned softly as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your behind, your body responding eagerly to his touch. The cool air of the restaurant against your exposed skin sent a shiver down your spine, heightening your arousal. Chan's breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "I've waited so long for this moment, to have you fully surrender to me."

And you were fully surrendering. In that moment, he could have all of you—your body, your mind, your heart. You realized how much you wanted this, wanted him, wanted his love. Chan spun you around, pulling you over to push you against the wall.

His strong hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him as his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire for you evident in every touch. As he pressed you against the wall, his hips grinding against yours, you knew that this moment would change everything between you and Chan forever.

Chan's hands roamed your body, his touch both possessive and tender. You arched into him, your body responding to his every caress. As his lips found yours again, you surrendered completely to the passion between you. "Please... fuck me, Chan," you could barely speak as you tugged at his shirt, pulling it up to slide your hands against his heated skin, feeling the muscles in his back move beneath his smooth skin.

Chan's eyes locked with yours, dark with desire and something deeper—a vulnerability you'd never seen before. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your core, the thin fabric of your dress the only barrier between you. "I'm going to make you mine," he growled, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

With a swift motion, Chan aligned himself with your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his length. You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he slowly pushed inside, stretching and filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that made you cry out softly. Chan stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "You feel so perfect, so tight around me."

As he began to move, you clung to him, your bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The risk of being caught only heightened your pleasure, every thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, your nails digging into Chan's back as he drove deeper, his pace increasing with each passing moment.

The combination of pleasure and the thrill of potentially being caught was intoxicating. Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the heat between you building to an unbearable intensity. You could feel yourself approaching the edge, your muscles tensing as Chan's thrusts became more urgent, driving you both towards an explosive climax.

As the tension built to a fever pitch, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of ecstasy. Chan's movements became more frantic, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with renewed vigor. The world around you faded away, leaving only the sensation of your bodies intertwined and the impending release that threatened to consume you both.

Just as you were about to cum, you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his head up away from your neck. You wanted to watch him cum inside you, to see just how good you made him feel. Chan's eyes locked with yours, his pupils dilated with desire as he neared his climax. You watched in awe as his face contorted with pleasure, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. The intensity of his gaze, filled with raw passion and vulnerability, pushed you over the edge, and you felt your own orgasm crash over you in waves of ecstasy.

Chan held you close as you both came down from your shared high, your bodies still trembling with aftershocks. As your breathing steadied, he gently lowered you to your feet, his hands caressing your sides tenderly. You looked up at him, seeing a mix of satisfaction and adoration in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"You don't have to say it back, but I love you." His Australian accent was even thicker as he came down from his high. You felt your heart racing, the words echoing in your mind. The intensity of the moment, the vulnerability in Chan's eyes, and the raw emotion in his voice overwhelmed you. Before you could second-guess yourself, you heard your own voice, barely above a whisper, "I love you too, Chan." The words felt right, natural, as if they had been waiting to be spoken all along.

Just as Chan's mouth fell open slightly at the words you had always refused to say to anyone, a crash of dishes came from behind him. You both looked over to see the waiter standing there with wide eyes and a mess of broken dishes on the floor.

Chan's face flushed a deep red, a mix of embarrassment and lingering desire evident in his expression. You couldn't help but stifle a giggle, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. With a sheepish grin, Chan quickly adjusted his clothing and turned to address the stunned waiter, his voice a mix of authority and amusement as he said, "I believe we're ready for the check now."

Taglist:

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frankcastleautism · 17 days ago

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okay. venom 3 spoilers kinda? just me talking about my feelings n stuff.

i don’t think anyone truly expected actual monster fucking during venom. let’s b real. it was a joke because everyone knows it’s a PG-13 marvel-adjacent movie. i made an alien sex joke because i like joking about monsterfucking. i wasn’t seriously expecting that in a pg-13 movie. no one was.

also. like. people are allowed to feel disappointed by this movie. it wasn’t as good as the other two venom movies which gave us a LOT more, hence the high expectations. venom and eddie’s interactions felt rushed and hollower than they did in the previous movies. the dialogue was awkward and felt cheaply edited in. the pacing of the movie left a lot to be desired. the random cutaways to characters that didn’t really mean all that much and that stuff about the scientist with her dead brother (that kinda really didn’t matter that much in the end) made the movie kinda fall flat on it’s cinematic face. no, i wasn’t expecting groundbreaking cinema or the next godfather from a marvel adjacent movie about a spiderman villain, but i was expecting more than i was given.

also, they did talk a big game with the whole marriage motif thing (aka the literal tag line they used for the movie, the way the trailer was laid out) and it kinda didn’t go anywhere. their relationship felt more romantic (and deeper in general, if people don’t want to see them as romantic or don’t think the movies should have portrayed them in such a way) in let there be carnage, which didn’t play them up to be more romantic (in a sense), when advertising for the movie. i wouldn’t use the word “queer bating” per say, but i would use the word “disappointing lack of actual interaction between eddie n venom that have any emotion meaning / added more to their relationship like they had in the other movies.”

idk. i did enjoy the movie for what it was. it was funny and related to my #1 top interest in the world . i just wish we got MORE in a way. go read the comics. they’re so married.

#venom symbiote #venom the last dance #venom spoilers #venom #symbrock #venom movie #venom comic #marvel #sony #eddie brock #the last dance #venom 3

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babybluebex · 5 months ago

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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.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 year ago

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Chapter 5 - Put it into Speed Drive

Longer chapter this time! The next update probably won't be until Tuesday, and or Wednesday night and then Thursday.

For planning, after 2023 is up, I will not be keeping up with the actual schedule for the races. The chapters will still come in chronological order, but it won't be week by week. This will be the start of the parallel universe.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment! And now enjoy the show :)

You were practically buzzing after the suit fitting. It was just one step closer to getting you in the car. Which would happen very soon. Sunday to be exact. Tomorrow. There were just so many words to describe how soon it was.

You went from no open doors in F1 to a door that was blown to bits and then shredded, leaving a giant hole for you to just walk through. However, your daydreams of blowing doors up were interrupted by the growl of you stomach. You walked through the door of the fitting room and found Vito right where you left him.

Such a good manager.

He was talking to someone though, and you really didn’t want to interrupt. But, your stomach was about to commence in the whale mating call song and you really didn’t want anyone to hear that. Your eyes glanced around before they landed on Mitch, who seemed to just be typing on her tablet.

You quickly walk over and tap her on the shoulder. “Mitch, uh, where would I be able to find some food?”

She looked up from her tablet with a smile. Dang, did she just smile at everything?

“I can take you to get some food if you’d like me to?” she responded. You quickly nodded your head. Taking the lead, Mitch started to walk over to the other side of the sim room. How many rooms were connected to this place? You wondered as she opened a door.

“This room is one of the more private areas, which in return, gets its own side of the building. From here you’re able to reach just about any other place.” Now that was creepy, could she read your mind?

Your face must have been in a contemplative look as she let out a small laugh. The walk was short as the two of you entered an all-while room. A small cooking bar was to the left while tables and chairs littered the rest of the floor. Your mouth was wide open.

You told Mitch, “Dams is not this nice.” A pout came from you.

“Well, now you don’t have to be jealous. You know that you work here now,” she reminded you as she took a tray and began to walk down the bar. You followed her doing and picked up your own tray. Looking up, you gazed over the menu, trying to find something that looked like it would fit in your diet.

“By the way, everything here is supposed to go hand in hand with a driver’s diet. So pick anything you’d like,” a voice said from behind the counter. A woman with a hairnet smiled as you finally decided on a club sandwich with some chips (the crunchy kind – not French fries). Once you got your food, you walked over to the table next to the window where Mitch was already sitting.

You quickly remember that you practically left Vito, so you shot him a quick text letting him know where you were. In typical fashion, she just sent a thumbs up emoji. What a dad.

The two of you ate in silence for a bit, before Mitch spoke up.

“So kid, tell me a little bit about yourself.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

You quickly swallowed. “Uh, I’m 20 years old. I’m from a lot of places, didn’t really stay in one place for long. The longest I stayed anywhere was Texas for 5 years (a.n. shameless plug). I’m pretty introverted and don’t normally talk to others first. I have a little apartment in Nice, but now I think I should look for one close to here. I am an only child. And Danny DeVito is my spirit animal.”

Mitch almost spit out her drink as her shoulders began to shake. That also got you laughing. “What about you?” you questioned back. You were beginning to feel sad because your sandwich was almost gone.

“Well, I am 35. I have been at Red Bull for two years now. I was an engineer before this and worked on the car. I don’t have any kids.”

You interrupted her, “Well now you do.” You pointed at yourself before taking a giant slurp of your drink.

She rolled her eyes before continuing, “I’ve lived in London my whole life. I have a degree in engineering as well. And my favorite season is fall.”

Small talk continued as you finished your lunch, or almost dinner. As you looked out the window, you saw that the sun was about to begin to set. You hadn’t realized how long everything had taken. A yawn escaped your lips as you and Mitch made your way back to the simulator room. There Vito was waiting for you, looking ready to go. Saying goodbye with a hug, you told Mitch that you’d see her bright and early for the test drive.

Not wanting to get left behind, you found yourself sticking to Vito as he guided the two of you back down the poster hallway. At least now you were familiar with the turns and twists. Like the past few days, a car was waiting for you outside. Vito slipped into the driver’s seat while you went around and climbed into the passenger side.

You immediately connected your phone to sound system. You snickered as you chose the song.

Vito groaned when he heard the opening notes. You could only laugh as the beat started to pick up.

“Ah-ah Barbie you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind. Jump into the driver seat and put it into speed drive,” you sang, directed at Vito. To hear the base a bit more, you turned the volume up. However, when it came to the next verse, and you were about to start yelling, your phone began to ring.

Arthur’s contact photo, one of you at his birthday, popped up. You immediately answered the face time and yelled.

“Dude, you threw off my groove!” His laughs could be heard throughout the car as his face got into the camera range.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out later tonight? Since I’m here for testing.” You froze and looked at Vito with wide eyes. You quickly pointed your phone towards the roof of the car.

You mouthed, “What do I do?” You were scared. What were you supposed to say? Oh hey Arthur, I actually signed a multi-year contract with Red Bull two days ago. Sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner? You definitely could not do that.

Yet, a slight jut of Vito’s head told you that you could tell him the truth. You inhaled sharply.

“I’m actually not in Paris at the moment.” Arthur paused. . You only hoped that he wouldn’t be mad at you.

“You’re not? I thought you were going to be sim testing.”

“I thought so to. And then I might have gotten a text from…” you muttered the last bit.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He put a hand to his ear.

You huffed before you shouted, clearly overwhelmed. “I got a text from Christian Horner and I’m driving with Red Bull for 2024!” Your shallowed breaths filled the air. Vito’s hand was placed on your knee for comfort.

“Well, duh. I knew that dummy?”

“Hello?” you could only get out. Who told him?

“You do know that even though my brother may not seem to be friends with Max, they actually are. And Max likes to talk, so he told my brother and my brother told me.” Your eyes must have been bulging.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you sighed, “I didn’t know if I could.”

Arthur responded, “It’s quite alright. It was fun making you panic for a moment.”

“You’re an ass. First you interrupt my wonderful concert that Vito was enjoying…”

“I was not,” Vito leaned towards the phone.

“As I was saying, men the woman is speaking, and then you decide to make me almost spiral into a panic attack. Not nice TurTur.” You wiggled your finger at the screen.

He smiled, “I’m actually here in London as well. Thought you might want some company. And Vito invited me to see you drive tomorrow. I’m waiting in your room.” He showed you a room that was almost identical to the one you had at the hotel. You squealed at the thought of seeing him.

It was a good thing that the car had pulled up to the hotel, because you seat belt flew off in record time. You barely were able to get a quick thank you to the workers before you got to the elevator. You’re sure you pressed the buttons too many times, but the damn thing wouldn’t open any quicker.

The moment the doors open, you bolted inside, but came into contact with a body, that knocked the two of you over. You said a quick apology before darting to the side and getting in the elevator. You barely saw a neon hoodie and some brown curls before the doors closed.

Pressing hard down on your floor button, you willed the elevator to move quicker. After what felt like forever, the box dinged. You dashed down the carpeted hallway as you took your key card out of your pocket.

Although you barely swiped it, the lock beeped and let you into the room.

Arthur was not expecting you to all but tackle him as you dive bombed into his arms. The forced knocked the both of you off the bed. The pile of limbs and bodies that you and your best friend were ended up in a pile on the floor. You could not stop laughing as you held him tighter.

You needed him, especially after these past stressful days. Remembering what he did earlier, you pulled back and started to hit him. His hands raised up and tried to defend against your much smaller hands.

“You” -hit- “are” -smack- “an” -whack- “ass Arthur Leclerc.”

“Ouch woman, you hurt me,” he feigns as he puts a hand on his heart. Your attacks died down as you hauled yourself off the floor. You held out a hand, he took it, and you lifted him as well. But the moment he was upright, you pushed him over on the bed. His giggles left his mouth. Instead of getting up like you thought he would, he snuggled more into your bed.

You might as well join him. Hiking your leg up, you rolled him over some before slotting yourself in the space next to him. He let out a noise of complaint, even though he basically opened you with opened arms.

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been very stressful,” your words were muffled as you put your head on his chest.

He let out a scoff, “Sure. You’ve been playing around in the top of the line simulator.”

Whack.

“Would you stop that?” he questioned as he dug his fingers into your sides. Laughter soon tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them.

“Arthur, stop it!” You tried to force his hands away. But because of your smaller build, he was able to continue the attacks.

A knock at the door saved your life. You all but rolled off the bed, out of Arthur’s arms, and walked to the door. However, you flipped Arthur off before your hand reached the knob. On the other side of the door, Vito stood with his phone in his hand. He looked up once the door was all the way opened.

“Hi Vito. What’s up?” you asked with head cocked to the side.

“You two up for some karaoke?” He looked over your shoulder at Arthur, who was still sprawled on the bed.

“I’m down for it. Hey Arthur!” you yelled, Vito wincing at the volume.

Arthur’s head popped up. “Yeah?”

“Karaoke?”

He smirked. “Hell yeah.”

A couple of hours later, you found yourself with Arthur in a karaoke room. Vito had been blacked out for a while on the couch.

“COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HOME, TO A PLACE, WHERE I BELONG!” Arthur sang into the very cheap looking microphone.

You continued, sounding as equally bad, “WEST VIRGINA, MOUTAIN MOMMA, COUNTRY ROAD, TAKE ME HoOOoooOOOmE!”

The song ended and you and Arthur took a mock bow.

Arthur chanted, “Next song, next song, next song.” Yeah, he was definitely gone.

“Since you ruined this earlier, I’m picking this one.” You clicked on a button. The familiar beats from earlier that day filled the small room. Arthur groaned from beside you. “Nuh-uh. This is your faut, and now you have to pay the price.”

Half-heartedly, Arthur began to sing, “She my best friend in the whole world.” He pointed at you while singing the lyrics. You placed your hands on your chest and mocked a sincere look. He only shoved your head away and continued.

You decided that standing on the table was a good place to sing the chorus, “AH AH BARBIE YOU’RE SO FINE, YOU’RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND”

Arthur finally got into it, “JUMP INTO THE DRIVERS SEAT AND PUT IT INTO SPEED DRive…” the music was suddenly shut off.

An angry looking worker walked in and told you to get off the table and to leave for the night. You sheepishly got down, walked over to Vito with Arthur, woke him up, and you three were on your way.

The two of you looked like kids who had to be taken home after getting in trouble with the principal at the school. However, that wouldn’t stop the snickers and giggles that soon filled the whole car, Vito included.

You were glad that it wasn’t too late. The next morning would be terrible if you didn’t have a good night’s sleep.

Arthur made sure to get what time everyone was leaving before retiring to his room for the night. You made sure to post some things on your Instagram story before heading to bed.

You were surprised you had gotten some sleep, because when you woke up, you couldn’t stop shaking. Not know if it was from excitement or nervousness, you got ready quickly. There was a fruit bowl in your room. For breakfast, you indulged in a banana and an orange. Vito probably arranged for a bigger breakfast to be served at the practice track.

You met up with Arthur and Vito in the lobby. You nudged him as you walked passed.

“You ready?” he asked as he followed you to the car that was waiting under the walkway.

“As I’ll every be.” There was a slight hitch in your tone that told Arthur everything he needed to know.

After the two of you climbed into the back seats, and Vito in the passenger seat, Arthur put his arm around you. Just the feeling of his company helped to ease the anxiety that was bubbling inside you. It seemed to grow with each corner that got you closer and closer to the track.

There would be quite a few people there today, more than you would like. But each person was necessary. The track was farther and out of the city.

You knew that Mitch would have your suit and helmet ready for you once you got there. You would be debrief on the track and how the car should behave. You would be doing a mock race, but it would still be shorter than most races – about 50 laps or so.

Your goal that you had gone over with Mitch would be to set one of the fastest test laps. Your time to beat was 1 minute and 19.721 seconds. You thumbs-upped the message and said that you’d try your best.

The car slowed down as it approached the entrance. And before you knew it, you were in your suit and balaclava as Mitch talked with you once more before you started getting in the car. It was one of the newer cars, the RB 17.

You saw Christian approach and you checked over a few more things.

“You like the car?” he asked, nodding his head over to the machine behind him.

“I love it. Can’t wait to see how she drives. Was she driven for any races?” You were curious and wanted to know.

He smirked. “That is Max’s championship car.” Your hands froze, holding your zipper. You looked up at Christian, eyes wide. You gulped.

“Aha, very funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His face was deadpanned.

“Well, I will try to be careful with it.” He only laughed and put a hand on your shoulder.

“You just drive the car like you normally do. The sim showed me everything I need to know.” With that, he walked closer to the wall and put a on a set of headphone.

“No pressure Y/n,” you told yourself. Breathing in and out, you put your helmet on. Arthur decided to walk up and clip the two straps for you, something he often did before your races. You both did your little handshake before he patted you shoulder. He was also given some headphones, along with Vito. They were all counting on you.

You stepped closer to the car. Lifting your leg, you swung it over, then the other. You shimmied down into the car and connected the things that needed to be connected. The men around you started to lower the car and take off the different machinery. You would start the track on medium tires. You were told that after the first half, you could switch to the softs if you think you needed to.

The final parts of the car were put on and you were handed the steering wheel. You carefully placed the connect parts together as you felt the car turned on. You could feel it almost breathing. It was alive.

You were able to taxi the car out onto the mock grid.

“Alright Y/n, radio check,” Mitch’s voice came on through your helmet.

“If I can have a walk up song for Vegas, I heard a rumor that that was coming back, and if I get introduced, can it be Life is a Highway? Please?”

“Radio is working,” Mitch responded.

“Please Mitch?” you prodded. You heard a sigh as you smiled.

“We can discuss later. I will ask Christian.” You did a small pump of your hands before getting back into the zone. From where you were, you had a good view of the lights.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Speed. I am speed.

Red. Red. Red.

Green.

Your feet hit the pedals and off you went for the “warming up” lap. The track had a good mix of straights and turns to warm up the tires.

The first few laps after went smoothly. But, you knew it wasn’t time for your flying lap. To keep it fair, the past drivers only had one lap to set a time.

You pressed the button for the radio, “There seems to be some unbalance on Turn 5. I don’t know if it’s the track or the car.” Your voice sounded rattly.

“Checking,” Mitch responded back at the “pit lane.”

Christian piped up from her right, “Max has said that before about that exact turn. It’s uncanny.”

“Ok kid, it seems like it might be an issue with the track. Try to avoid it by slowing down to go wide, but accelerate going out of the apex.”

“Roger,” you responded. On the next lap, you did exactly that. And you were pleased to see that it actually worked.

“Balance of the car is good.”

“Thank you Y/n.”

“Can I come in for softs? I want to try the flying lap.”

“Ok, box for softs.”

You pulled your car into the pit lane. It wasn’t the fastest pit stop you’ve had, but it really didn’t matter. You did a few laps on the softs. Although you knew the track would eat them up, you also knew that you did your best laps on slightly used softs.

Christian spoke up again, “She knows that softs run out quickly. She should have done the flying lap on the first one.”

Now, Arthur talked first, “She does all of her best laps on slightly used softs. It’s how she’s won so many races. Because Y/n knows her tires better than anyone.” Christian hummed as he watched your dot go around the animated track.

The radio beeped as a message came from your car, “I’m gonna go for it. Starting the flying lap.”

Mitch responded, “Copy.” The team waited with baited breath and you seemed to glide around the turns.

You were truly one with whatever car you drove.

The clocked seemed to tick in slow motion as you finally came to the last straight. Once you passed the line, you slowed down just a bit.

“Ok Mitch, how did I do?” you asked.

She breathed before responding, “One minute, nineteen point 7 seconds. Congratulations kid, you have broken our current record. Your cheers could be heard over the radio. They mixed with the team’s own cheering as well. You were just .021 seconds faster than whoever held the previous record. And you did it in a two, almost, three year old car.

“Who used to hold the position?”

This time, Christian’s voice came on over the radio, “It was Max, kid.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, before realizing that Christian was on the radio.

“Christian, can my walk up song for Vegas be Life is a Highway. Please.” You waited for his answer.

“Sure kid.”

“Yes! Best day ever! Can I got another lap? I want to put this baby into speed drive. Vito! Arthur!”

“On it kid.”

“Got it Y/n!”

You guessed one of them held their phones to the radio. This time you would hear the entire song. You knew it. You shimmied back down into the seat and floored the throttle.

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #alex albon x reader

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scoonsalicious · 7 months ago

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Unwanted: Chapter 20, Uninhibited - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, drug use, dirty dancing, questionable choices.

Word Count: 3.1k

Previously On...: You're still throwing up :(

A/N: BRING ON THE BAD DECISIONS!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

"How do I look?" you asked Wanda and Nat as you came out of your bathroom in your outfit for the party. When Tony had told you your party was going to be 90s themed, you'd been over the moon, since the last time you had a birthday party was probably actually in the 90s. Yes, you'd all gone out for drinks and dancing when you turned 21, and then for a fancy dinner when you turned 30, but it was the first time you'd actually given in to Tony's pleading to let him throw you an actual party, and he was pulling out all the stops, so you wanted to make sure you looked your best. And if looking your best happened to stick it to a certain super soldier, well, that was just a bonus.

"Oh my God," said Nat at the same time Wanda whispered "Holy shit." You were wearing a black leather mini skirt with thigh-high boots and a navy and silver handkerchief top that barely covered your tits. You'd curled your long hair into loose, beachy waves and Nat had done your makeup.

"You look like a fucking seductress," Nat nodded in appreciation.

"Barnes is not going to know what hit him," Wanda concurred.

"If Barnes knows what's good for him," you replied, putting in a pair of large silver hoop earrings and checking out how they looked in the mirror, "he won't even show up tonight. Besides, I only have two goals for the evening: Celebrating my birthday with my best friends and; Getting over one man by getting under another one."

"Amen to that!" Nat cheered, raising a glass of pre-game champagne Tony had delivered to your suite. "Tonight, you flirt with anything that has a penis." Catching Wanda's pointed expression, she added "Anything that has a penis that is not already committed to another vagina." Wanda smiled appreciatively.

"Please, Natty" you said, grabbing your own glass of champagne and toasting with her, "tonight, I'm flirting with anything that has a pulse."

"That's my girl!" Nat wrapped an arm around you and squeezed. You would have fun tonight, Bucky Barnes be damned.

You could hear the thumping of the bass long before you reached the doors of the banquet hall. The party was already in full swing. Before you entered, though, Nat grabbed onto your elbow and palmed something into your hand.

"Happy Birthday, Pocket," she said with a wink, before letting you go and allowing you to open your palm. Nestled inside was a small, white pill.

"Nat!" hissed Wanda as loudly as she could to be heard over the bass, "did you just hand Pocket drugs?!"

"Relax, Wanda," Nat said, rubbing the other girl's arm. Turning to you, she added "It's just some molly. Take it if Barnes shows up and you need to manufacture yourself a bit more fun, that's all." And she threw you a wink. "Just don't tell Mom and Dad."

"Thanks, Natty, but, if anything," you said with a smile, putting the little pill in your pocket in case you needed it later, "Tony'll be pissed you didn't bring enough for the whole class." You hoped you weren't going to need it, but it was rather comforting having it on hand. You hadn't done MDMA in years, and the idea of taking it again was thrilling.

"Fine," said Wanda, and you could both tell she wasn't thrilled with your actions. "Let's just go inside and have a good time, okay?" The three of you linked arms and made your way through the doors to the banquet hall.

It had been positively transformed. Usually, it was the place where Tony held his fancy dinners for visiting heads of state who wanted a look at what the Avengers did all day, tonight it had become a rave out of a fairy tale. There were bubble machines sending cascades of multi-colored bubbles through the air, everyone dancing with glow-sticks, and a DJ booth hung suspended from the ceiling. Tony had brought in what you suspected were real trees and had decked them out with twinkling fairy lights; there was even a fountain in the middle of the dance floor. It was something straight out of your dreams.

The room was crawling with hundreds of people. Most of them you vaguely recognized as people who worked in various positions in the Tower, some old colleagues from Stark Industries, and friends from outside of work, but scattered throughout were the members of your family. You spotted Clint and Laura dancing together in a corner of the dance floor while Nirvana's About a Girl blared, Sam flirting with three different women at the same time, and Thor over by the bar with Steve, a bottle of Asgardian liquor being passed around between them. Maria Hill was sitting in a lounge chair talking with Helen Cho and Vision. You were pleased to see neither Bucky nor Jade in your initial sweep of the room. With any luck, they wouldn’t have the balls to show their faces.

"This is incredible," you murmured, though you were sure neither of your friends heard you over the roar of the music. No one had noticed you'd arrived just yet, so you took the moment of anonymity to just soak it all in. Tony and Pepper had done all of this for you. You couldn't think about it for too long, or you would start to cry right there. They weren't connected to you by blood, but they loved you better than your real family ever had, and you were struck with an overwhelming surge of gratitude and appreciation for them both.

"Oh no!" Nat shouted over to Wanda. "She's getting misty-eyed! We need to get her a drink, STAT!"

You laughed as your two best friends dragged you to the bar. As you entered the throng, people began converging on you, wishing you a Happy Birthday and giving you more hugs than you'd probably ever received in your entire life. It was impossible to not feel the absolute love that came from everyone around you. You nearly toppled over when Wanda pointed out the giant table of presents that sat, waiting for you, in the far corner of the room. Never in your entire life had you felt so appreciated, and coming on the heels of how Bucky had discarded you, you felt your heart soar with love for all of these amazing people.

At the bar, you caught the attention of Thor and Steve, the latter doing a double take at the sight of you. Thor immediately enveloped you in a bear hug, his massive arms dwarfing your body as he picked you up.

"Happy Birthday, my Lady Pocket," he bellowed, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on your cheek. "I would offer you some of my Asgardian mead in celebration, but I fear it would be far too potent for your tiny human body to handle. I would not want to be responsible for your death on this day we celebrate your life."

"Thanks, Thor," you said as he finally put you back down, "I'm fine with good old Earth alcohol tonight."

The bartender handed you a frozen drink without your asking. "It's tonight's signature cocktail," he responded to your confused expression. "The Plum Pocket." Your face soured. The Plum Pocket was a drink you'd invented for Bucky months and months ago. Half of a plum because he loved the taste of them so much, strawberries, (because you loved them), raspberry liquor, lemon syrup, vodka, and a bit of sugar blended with ice into an almost smoothie-like consistency, with some lemon zest for garnish. How would Tony even know about them?

No, you were not going to think about Bucky Barnes tonight. You were going to enjoy your drink, dance, and get your flirt on. In that order. There was no room on tonight's agenda for wallowing in self pity over someone who didn't give a shit about you enough to keep his dick in his pants.

You took a sip. It was damned delicious.

"Hey," a soft voice spoke to you over your shoulder. You turned and looked up into Steve's face. His eyes were slightly glassy.

"Enjoying that Asgardian mead, Cap?" you asked with a teasing grin.

He smiled, a flush creeping up his cheeks at being called out. "Happy Birthday, Pocket. I um... I wanted to tell you, you look really pretty tonight."

The compliment took you aback. You didn't think Steve had ever complimented you on your looks before. He must be far more drunk than you first thought. "Thanks, Steve," you responded with a smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured.

Before you could say anything else to him, there was a drop in the music, and a spotlight lit up Tony Stark in the DJ booth, dressed in his full Iron Man glory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and the handful of people who accidentally wandered in from the fury convention," Tony began, his amplified voice carrying over the crowd, "welcome to the party of the century! I want to thank all of you for coming here tonight to celebrate someone very special to me, to all of us. She's like the kid sister I never wanted, in that now that I've got her, I couldn't get rid of her even if I tried." The crowd laughed and you hid your face in your hands. "Fortunately, I like having her around too much. She's got a brilliant mind, she's funny as hell, and she's the beating heart of this team. Without her, the Avengers would just be a group of coworkers, and not a family. And let's be honest, she's one of the few people who's willing to tolerate me on a daily basis." Somehow, his eyes were able to find yours in the crowd and he gave you a classic Tony wink; you blew him a kiss back. "So, everyone, please raise a glass to (Y/N) (Y/L/N), or as we like to call her, our own little Pocket! Pocket, Happy Birthday, kiddo! We love you! So, everyone, grab a drink, don't hold back on the dance floor, because, let's face it, I spent a fortune on hiring the best DJ in New York City, and let's make some bad decisions! Except for you, Parker. Jesus is watching."

Through the crowd you could just make out Peter's soft voice saying "Aw, come on Mr. Stark," and you broke into laughter. God, you loved these people.

"Let's go," said Nat, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you to the middle of the dance floor, "it's time to dance!"

The beats were dirty and your body responded to them like a siren's call, your hips moving subconsciously to the rhythm. Dancing was one of your favorite ways to lose yourself, and so you did, melting into the sound, letting your body take you wherever it needed to go. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively knew it was Natasha behind you.

"Bruce not coming out to the floor?" you whisper-shouted into her ear as she moved her body against yours.

"No, he's being a dullard," Nat responded with a sigh.

"Give him time," you told her knowingly. "Once he's been watching you move your ass out here long enough, he'll cave just so he can get his hands on you. He always does."

"I know," she said, grinding her chest against your back, "but I do love giving him a show."

You laughed and continued dancing with your friend. You knew Bruce would come to her eventually. The poor man couldn't stay away, no matter how hard he'd tried in the beginning.

Slowly, the members of your little family found their way to you on the dance floor, and you were all dancing together in a group. Even Bruce had gotten over himself and had finally joined Natasha, who was now running her hands along his chest.

You had to admit, you were having the time of your life.

But then you saw them.

Bucky stood at the bar, Jade not far away. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but his eyes were boring a hole straight through you, and he looked amazing. He was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and the shirt you had gotten him last Christmas, the one that matched the color of his eyes. He'd cut his hair again, just the length you liked it-- the perfect length for pulling while he had his face buried between your-- No. You were NOT going to think about that.

Wanda had moved away from where she'd been dancing with Vision and came over to you, following the line of your eyes. "He has a lot of fucking nerve showing up here with her," she spat. "Do you want me to kick them out of here for you, love?"

You turned and wrapped your arms around her, smiling at her fierce protectiveness of you. "As much as I would love to see it, Wan, it's okay. I think I just want to pretend he doesn't exist and keep dancing. The last thing I need is them ruining my party by bringing more drama into my life."

Wanda put a hand on your elbow and shrugged, then leaned in to whisper "Suit yourself, but my offer still stands if you change your mind," before heading back over to Vision. You sighed, disappointed that the sight of him had dulled your excitement for the evening. But then you remembered Nat's gift.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the tiny pill. You considered your options for half a second before tossing it into your mouth and swallowing it. You were not going to let Bucky Fucking Barnes ruin your birthday.

A couple of hours later, after an enormous cake had been brought out, everyone singing to you and you blowing out your candles, you were feeling positively euphoric. Everything felt amazing. You were so in love with every single person in the room, you could cry. Your limbs were buzzing, as if the music was vibrating through them and your entire body was being poured full of liquid joy. You were connected to everyone. They were all a part of you, and you were a part of them.

You moved to the music, your hands caressing up and down your body, the sensation of touch almost overpowering in its intensity. You practically moaned when Natasha leaned over and whispered in your ear:

"Don't look now, but Steve's been staring at you for the last twenty minutes." You glanced over and noticed the super soldier standing at the bar next to Bucky, but in the clarity of the MDMA, Steve was all you could see. He was watching you intently, his eyes locked on the movement of your hips. You watched him lick his lips as your hands brushed across your chest, sending a wave of shivering pleasure through your body.

You didn't know why, but suddenly, it seemed like a really, really good idea to have Steve come dance with you, so you caught his eye and beckoned him over with a curl of your finger.

You laughed when you saw his eyes grow wide with surprise. He pointed at himself, as if he couldn't believe you were beckoning to him. You nodded and, chugging the rest of his drink before leaving the empty glass on the bar, he made his way to you.

"Hi," he said over the sound of the music when he was standing in front of you. God, he was so much taller than you were. Like a giant. Sublime's Badfish began to play.

"Hi," you hummed, the feelings of ecstasy pulsating through you. "Do you want to dance with me?" You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Very much," he said, so softly that you wouldn't have been able to make it out if you hadn't read his lips. "But I don't really know how to dance to this music."

"I can teach you," you smiled up at him. Turning around, you put your back to his chest. Grabbing his left arm, you wrapped it across your bare stomach, splaying his fingers across your scorching skin. You put his right hand on your hip and let out a soft moan when he squeezed your flesh.

"Just move with me," you whispered, knowing that his enhanced hearing would catch your words through all the extra noise. Your entire body was pressed against his now, and the feeling of his hard muscles against you was sensational. You never wanted him to stop touching you. You slowly started grinding your hips against him, laughing a little when you heard him gasp. He began sliding his hand across your stomach, once or twice brushing the underside of your breasts with his thumb. Each touch was like a wave of light pulsating through you and you craved it. You could feel the length of his semi-hard erection pressing into your back, and somewhere in the far recesses of your mind, the idea of it surprised and concerned you, but in your current state, all you could do was feel. And you felt so. god. damned. good.

You leaned your head back against his chest, reaching back to grab a hold of his bicep and exposing the curve of your neck, and when he reached down and began planting small butterfly kisses where your neck met your shoulder, you thought you were going to come undone right there.

"You're so beautiful, Pocket," he whispered before taking your earlobe between his teeth and nibbling on it. Everything he did, everywhere your bodies connected, felt like pure magic.

You noticed the looks that you were getting from Nat, Wanda, and the others, but you didn't register them. The only thing that mattered right now was how good you felt, how good Steve was making you feel.

You weren't sure how much time went by. The songs changed, your tempo fluctuated, the people around you came and went, but the contact remained the same.

Finally, you turned yourself around in his arms, pressing your chest to his. He looked down at you, the blue of his eyes a mere ring around the black of his pupils.

"Stevie," you whispered, your voice husky, "will you take me back to my room?"

His lips curled up in a wicked grin and for the briefest of moments, you saw Bucky in your mind's eye, but you quickly shook the image away. Steve took you by the hand and, without another word, led you away from the party to the solitude of your bedroom.

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