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babybluebex · 6 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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skzfairyyydreamz · 10 months ago

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hi!! Ik this isnt very cheerful for ur early request😭 but if u r doing headcannons can i request straykids w an s/o whoes insecure maybe about like acne?? 🫶

Bf!Skz when s/o is insecure about acne❣️

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Bf!Skz x gn!reader

A/n: Sorry for the wait with this one my love i’ve been a bit busy but i hope you enjoy! Feedback, replies, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! To anyone who may be struggling with acne, skin issues/disorders etc know that your beauty grows from the inside. so don’t ever let something temporary define you. You are so loved. Thank you for being here. Sending big hugs to all who need it right now. 🫂❤️ ~Fae 🧚🏽‍♀️ (M.Lists)

(dm’s requests and taglist are open!!)

Chan

Channie is Definitely the “i know you better than you know yourself” kind of Bf so he notices everything about you. Especially when you aren’t happy with yourself.

Physically not being able to sit back and watch you look at yourself in the mirror with disgust; he walks over to you and pulls you away from the mirror.

“Stop that” “stop what?” you immediately respond trying to walk past him avoiding eye contact as if your mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute with negative thoughts about yourself.

quickly pulling you into a tight embrace “C’mere you know you can’t hide from me my love” he says in a soft whisper as he began pressing kisses to your head and the side of your face. You then realize there was no escaping this conversation.

“You are so, SO beautiful and you literally have no idea.” You hug him back burying your face into his chest as your eyes start to water still refusing to look him in the eyes. “but i don’t feel beautiful channie… my skin looks so nasty right now” “it doesn’t matter honey, it’s temporary. Acne comes and goes, its natural bc you’re a human. You’re MY human and a little breakout isn’t going to change the way that i love you or the amazing person that you are. so don’t let it change the way you feel about yourself.”

After a few moments of silence Finally lifting your head up to look at him properly for the first time that morning, you see a smirking chan as he takes his thumb wiping away your tears “oh if only you could see yourself through my eyes darling… ”

Lee Know

is also SUPER quick to notice when you’re judging yourself.

i definitely see Lee know being an aggressive lover so off the rip he is not having it if his s/o is feeling ugly and unhappy with themselves.

Will definitely force you to do self love affirmations.

Standing in the mirror together as he hugs you from behind “Chin up .. now repeat after me…”

on the days you really struggle he is patient but very firm with you bc he is such a loverboy and will NOT accept ANYONE speaking down on the love of his life , not even yourself.

“Go on jagi … say it. We’re not moving until you love yourself!”

Changbin

Soft binnie ofc is very understanding and will also reassure you.

will let you rant and complain about how you feel listening carefully without interrupting.

Will definitely kiss all your breakouts and blemishes.

“Dont worry baby give it 2 weeks tops you wont even remember it was here.”

constantly reminds you how beautiful you look at random times during the day.

“Acne is temporary but my love is forever” he aggressively covers your face in kisses as you fall into a fit of giggles.

Yes .. very cheesy in his true cute binnie fashion lols

Hyunjin

will spoil you ROTTEN to the core.

the very second you complain about the smallest breakout he’s already on the phone booking you facials and skin treatments at a luxury spa.

You come home from work to see a huge gift basket on the kitchen counter overflowing with expensive skincare products. Facial cleansers, serums, toners, oils, spf’s, moisturizers, you name it, its in there.

“Jinnie .. baby what is all this??” “if my honey wants clear skin, then thats what you’ll get” “i swear i don’t deserve you” you say with teary eyes

“wait wait dont cry yet i have something else for you” “HUH??” in confusion and disbelief you watch hyunjin run off and return with a canvas. He turns it around and its a painting of you with the most beautiful flowers blooming from your face in the exact same spots you began to breakout a few days prior.

Han

Another aggressive lover.

you start pouting to him about your skin and it somehow turns into a mini lecture.

“Jagi your acne is flaring up again bc you’ve been too stressed out. how may times do i have to ask you to leave that fuck ass job and just let me take care of you!? “But ji-” “And you stress eating all this junk food isn’t helping either!”

he’s definitely holding you accountable for eating cleaner and making sure you drink enough water throughout the day

And if you fail to do so he is definitely on your ass about it! 😂

Felix

Lix is very comforting when you come to him in actual tears the day before a red carpet fashion event you two were attending together. “lix i cant go like this, look at my fucking face??” “Hun it’s really not as bad as you think, i promise.” “it is lix! i dont know how to cover this up” you began to cry again “would you feel better if i called Maya to come give you a professional full glam for tomorrow?” he reassures you hugging you tight and rubbing your back while already reaching for his phone to text his makeup artist.

But he also disciplines you about talking bad about yourself.

He has this rule where you can only make one negative comment about yourself a day. And every time you break that rule he throws one of your beloved pocket mirrors away (you had a LOT and he knew that)

“ Ew why do i-” “ EH?!? what was that!?” he glared at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gimmie me!” “But lix wait- we’re in public i need to know how my skin looks!” “idc hand it over.. you look beautiful and since you cant be nice to yourself now you’ll just have to take my word for it.” he cut you off with his hand out.

accepting your defeat you sigh loudly closing the compact mirror putting it in his hand and pouting as he got up with a smirk walking away to throw your 5th mirror this week in the trash

Seungmin

much like seungmin you are very strong and independent, you keep your “burdens” to yourself trying not to complain too much or trouble anyone with your issues. Especially if you are insecure about them.

but minnie knows when you’re struggling.

he knows you get a bit agitated when you dont feel your best and thats when you begin to distance yourself a bit more.

His love language being acts of service he would do small things for like make you natural homemade remedies like his mom used to do for him anytime your skin would flare up real bad.

after getting out of the shower still pouty from a long grumpy day, “here” he hands you a spray bottle. “ What’s this min? ”

“Aloe vera face mask” he says simply giving you a kiss on the forehead and walking away not wanting to make you feel bad for bringing up something he knows you’re insecure about.

i.n

whenever you’re breaking out jeongin does everything he possibly can to keep his lover happy.

he will definitely help you create a WHOLE NEW skincare routine.

he’s working overtime researching different products and the ingredients that would work best with your skin type.

even tho you are not happy about your acne he thoroughly enjoys your new way of spending quality time together.

“you know you don’t have to make this an US thing, right? Your skin already looks great” “how about you mind your little business and pass me the toner” you try to hold back a laugh as your sassy boyfriend stared you down through the mirror of your shared bathroom.

buying and trying a ton of new skincare products together.

rating which ones you liked best and which ones didn’t work at all for you.

he will even book you an appointment to see a dermatologist if you need to and ofc he’s gonna be going with you!

Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny

buy me a coffee?

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lennjamin-o7 · 22 days ago

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Thought it was time to return the curse upon you for once... (also inspired vaguely by the DMs from earlier so hehe)

AU where Techno is a superhero.

Not just any superhero, really. One of the best. He manages to keep the city crime free almost singlehandedly and does so without breaking a sweat. Though he does work together with another hero named Phil and the two are thick as thieves.

It's hotly debated among fangroups of civilians why Techno joined the hero ranks. Since he doesn't exactly make it subtle that he's an introvert, fame is off the list. Techno is kind of brash and awkward too, he doesn't strike people as the sort of guy who does it for something as vague as 'helping people' - he also might get a bit too excited about new villains for that to ring true. There are rumors that his family was killed by a villain and this is Techno getting revenge, but this rumor is never verified. Maybe money? Money is a pretty good motivator.

The truth is that Techno is incredibly bored.

Techno peaked in high school and is so incredibly gifted kid coded. (/hj)

And hero work is a great adrenaline kick, a thrilling situation to throw himself into. Especially villains who come up with wild schemes. Maybe, just maybe, it's even bordering on depression. He has to keep busy with hero work or he literally can't bother to get out of bed or motivate himself for much of anything.

Things have been better since Phil came along. Phil is, in a twist on the usual dynamic, the less experienced one when it comes to hero work (despite being so much older lol, Phil was a civilian hiding his powers before). So he's teamed with Techno to learn the ropes, and the two hit it off, and the team-up becomes permanent. Phil is the first and only person Techno considers a friend. And after befriending Phil, Techno gradually gets a few hobbies (he's cultivating a potato plant in the hero association dorm, he's reading books Phil recommends to him, he's playing chess with Phil on slow afternoons).

But Phil would still like for Techno to have more of an identity outside of his hero work. Techno brushes him off. It's almost a running joke at this point.

(Technoblade is not his real name. It's his hero name. Techno has no civilian identity, never bothered to maintain one. This is concerning to Phil).

Whenever Phil thinks he's made some progress, a new villain will pop up or something will happen and ALL of Techno's attention will go to that again. And then after it's over he'll be bummed out because Techno usually beats the villain very easily and it doesn't pose a challenge for not. What Techno truly needs is an archnemesis.

Good thing that one day, a new supervillain pops up in town.

He's cruel, and he's smart, and he's ruthless. And he's very, very strong. Strong enough to almost beat Techno into the ground one-handed during their first confrontation, though Techno manages to win just barely. It's as if this new villain knows all his moves, his weaknesses. It's exhilarating.

The new villain calls himself The Crowfather.

(Fangroups don't really debate on why Phil joined hero work. But if they did some digging, they might find out that Phil once almost died, and the only thing that kept him from dying was a hero saving him. Technoblade.

They might find out that Phil became a hero not because he cares about the status, or saving people. He just wanted to get closer to Techno. To repay him, somehow, any way he can.

Even if it means murdering a bunch of innocent people.)

Hey, Techno is smiling a lot more now that he has The Crowfather to go up against. And isn't that all that matters :)

[this was so rambly, i'm not very good at this and u can tell lol]

I've think I've kept this hostage long enough Shara Friend. It has been kept for my eyes alone long enough. Now, I freely share it.

Fuck yeah bored Super Hero Technoblade! You popped off with this. I love Sneaky Philza standing by his side and, if it makes him happy, standing against him as well. Who cares about the ants he has to squish to see Technoblade HAPPY. An easy and small price to pay for the guy who saved him.

Gosh, I love this. The DRAMA that would ensue when everything is found out. How will that go? Will Technoblade be appalled? Disgusted? Angry?

Or maybe, just a tiny bit curious about how interesting it would be to be a Villain.

Love it. Love it so much. I want to CORRUPT this version of Technoblade so so SOOO much!!!!

#lenn writes #ask and ye shall receive #other's aus #sharada-n #anarchy-and-piglins #technoblade #philza

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thydungeongal · 1 month ago

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Reading your recent posts about "DMS make it work" and like, I'm a pretty new GM, I have a home-brewed campaign I want to run for my players and attempted twice so far, this second time is working a bit better, but lately I've been noticing that genuinely, the reason why this isn't working out well is because noone wants to engage with my goddamn world, my players make up characters and I have to tell them how to fit them into my world or make up while new tribes etc to make them fit.

And when I try to U know, actually have them follow the path I've set I get really worried about "railroading" when I'm still far more open than a actual adventure module. Every time I think about like adding in some cool epic moments I would also enjoy I remember posts about "DMS who want players to play prebuilt stories should just write a book" but like ... Modules are prebuilt too?

Yeah, there's definitely a balance to be struck between, you know, players actually being willing to engage with the GM's prep and the GM prepping their games in such a way that there are meaningful ways for the players to actually interface with the game.

Like okay, a lot of the objection to GMs plotting out a story ahead of the time also applies to a lot of modern adventure modules: a lot of modern adventure modules are basically presented as a linear succession of events that need to happen for the story to progress, which just completely turns player narrative agency into an illusion. This is why whenever I talk about GM prep I stress the fact that the GM shouldn't just prep a linear succession of encounters but more like a situation or a location and then let the story be whatever happens when the players engage with that situation or location. On the player side, conversely, as part of the give and take it is important that players be willing to engage with the GM's prep without needing to be led by the nose and being proactive, engaged players.

And since you mentioned modules, I think it's important to mention that older (I'm talking late 70s and early 80s) adventure modules for RPGs rarely presented any kind of linear narrative that required a succession of events to be completed, but they were more like. A place or a situation for the characters to get stuck in. And that sort of adventure design still has value imo!

So yeah, there is a lot of nuance to this discussion, but I do need to make a point here: these past few posts have been very much about players rejecting the premise of the game itself. Part of being a good player (including GM!) is respecting the effort the other players put into the game. There can always be an ongoing discussion about what players want out of the game and how the game should progress. But outright refusing to engage with what the player actually bringing the game to the table has actively set up for you is downright hostile and an expression of a toxic player culture that treats the GM as a special type of guy who must serve the other players.

#thydungeongal answers

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heexseung · 1 year ago

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꒰ 🌧 ꒱ ┄ ❛ dark academia ；caeruleum ❜

* pairing: vampire!heeseung x afab!reader

* tags: smut, fluff, romantic, human!reader, degradation (m. receiving), praise (m. receiving), mentions of free use, handjob (m. receiving), overstimulation (m. receiving), bratty!heeseung / switchy!heeseung if you squint, cunnilingus, body worship [kinda] (f. receiving)

* summary: because you two were loud last time, rumours have been spreading around about you two, causing you to receive a lot of unwanted attention from your peers.

* word count: 10k

* a/n: hello babes !! omg i almost forgor about this- but i DIDNT SAUR ENJOY THIS REPOST <3333 tysm for all ur support i wish u the loveliest days ahead c: and if you wish to come drop by my twitch streams, you can dm me and ill gib u my link ehheeheheheh ok thanks baiii

Even on weekends, you'd typically spend all of your free time cooped up in your tiny dorm, studying. Your timetable consists of waking up, getting ready, going to classes, studying and sleeping. You don't really do anything else and you don't really go outside much either.

It's not that you're in love with learning, although you do like learning — it's just that you don't really have anything else to do. Nothing interests you and oftentimes, you'd get so bored that you just end up thinking, well, the books are right there. Might as well do some studying. At least it'll give me something to do.

You thought about going outside and seeing the world; the world that is so unknown to you and many other humans out there, the world that any human would be extremely lucky to see… yet you can't bring yourself to step outside of your dorm unless it's for classes. You wish you had more courage to do so but after your first day here, you decided that it's best to lay low and not bring any attention to yourself. After all, your existence here is already controversial enough.

Thus, you live your life like this. It's boring and repetitive… but it's not like you're doing anything to actually change it. Plus, being here is something that you've always wanted to do ever since you were a kid, so it's not all bad and despite the less than ideal treatment you've got during your time here, there's still nowhere else you'd rather be at.

Besides, the isolation, gossip and rumours don't bother you much anyway. It'll never be as bad as the first week and you're thankful that everyone here usually lets you be — that is, usually.

Lately, you've come to notice that people are gossiping about you again but you're not sure why. You can't really hear what they're saying nor can you really ask someone about it… but you doubt it's because you're human, they've already gossiped about that on your first week here.

Maybe it has something to do with your lab partner, Heeseung. After all, the gossip did start right after the day you hooked up with him. But you doubt it.

Speaking of your lab partner, you wonder where he's been all this time. It's been a couple of days since you last saw him, he didn't even come to class two days ago. You hope he's okay.

You don't think you'll see him today either. After all, you both only share one class together, Intermediate Alchemy, and you don't have that class today. Even so, for some reason, there's a part of you that hopes to see him today anyway, maybe because he's the only person who's actually kind to you here. Everyone else would just ignore you.

As you walk down the hallway to go back to your dorm, the faint sound of an unfamiliar melody stops you in your tracks. You do a double-take, is what you're hearing what you think you're hearing?

It is.

It's the piano.

Someone's playing the piano, and beautifully so. Such beautiful and delicate melodies played with such grace, you can't help but think to yourself, a complex piece like this must take days to learn how to play. Who's playing it? And what piece is this?

Thus, you follow the faint sound of the grand piano, hoping to find the talented person playing it. Besides, you're in no rush anyway.

After a few seconds of walking, you find yourself standing in front of a closed classroom door. The sound of the piano is still a bit hard to hear properly but you don't want to open the door and disturb the person playing so you press your ear against the door, trying to listen to the piano piece as discretely as you can.

Thank God the hallway is empty or else there'd be more weird rumours about me, you can't help but think to yourself while silently chuckling.

But all too quickly, like less than a minute or so, the melodies stop playing. You wait for a few seconds to see if they'd continue but instead, you hear the faint sound of footsteps coming closer to you. You barely have enough time to detach yourself from the door and look unsuspicious before the door suddenly opens and an annoyed looking Heeseung peeks out.

However, his expression quickly changes to a surprised one as he sees you standing there like a deer caught in headlights. Now with his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised, he opens the door a bit more as he looks at you. A moment of silence passes by until you awkwardly clear your throat to break the silence.

"Um, hi," you say to him, hoping that he's not annoyed at you for listening in on him.

"Ah… hi…" he shyly says. His left hand scratches the back of his head as his eyes move away from you, but only for a moment. "Sorry, I, uh… I thought you were... one of those people."

His tone is sharp and annoyed and he rolls his eyes as he says the last two words but then he looks at you again and gives you a smile that reaches his eyes.

You reply, "No, no. I'm sorry I… kinda listened in on you."

"Kinda?" He asks with a teasing tone, his smirk is evident.

You laugh in response. It's short but the lightheartedness of the laugh still manages to dissipate the awkwardness between you two. Heeseung leans against the door frame with a smile and softly says, "It's okay."

And then he pauses. It feels as if some words are meant to be spoken here, right at this moment, but there's only silence as he stares at you. A couple of seconds later, he continues, "Um… do you wanna come in?"

Hell yeah. You've never seen this room and you're curious.

It seems that your facial expressions tell him your answer loud and clear. He gives you a bigger smile, the kind of smile that one can't stop from appearing even if they tried, and takes your hand in his to pull you into the room with him. His hand feels slightly warmer than yours and something that surprises you is the fact that his hand feels like it fits you more than your own. It makes you feel strange... knowing that even your own hands, hands that were created to fit perfectly into each other…

All your life, you've always thought that there's no way someone else's hands would ever fit into yours as perfectly as yours do but as his hand holds yours, guiding you to take a seat in front of the grand piano, you think to yourself, maybe I was wrong.

Brushing your weird thoughts away, you pull your hand away from his and look around the room. It's a bit dark in here because the curtains are closed but you can still make out what's inside the medium shaped room; some bookcases at the wall, a whiteboard at the front, some musical instruments at the left side and this grand piano at the right. Other than that, it's pretty empty which makes it appear more spacious than it actually is.

After putting your sling bag down on the floor beside you, Heeseung, now sitting next to you, starts playing a different tune than before and you watch as his pretty hands gracefully move from one key to another, you listen to the unfamiliar yet beautiful piece of composition.

Soon, the music grows in pace and intensity, you can feel the composer's passion as it goes on. Then it slows down to a soft and romantic pace, somehow reminding you of the beauty of nature despite being in a dark room with none, and then a moment later, it grows again until it eventually comes to a really slow and soft tune that reminds you of the gentleness of a mother bird singing to its nestlings. As you listen to him play, you feel like you're being kept at the edge of your seat, following the music as if you're a leaf in a stream of water. It's exhilarating, really. You didn't know music could do such a thing.

By the time he finishes playing, you're in awe of his talent in playing the piano, fully knowing that playing such beautiful composition takes a lot of time and effort. Before you could compliment him, he's already speaking, "Do you like it? It's called Dreams of Love by Franz Liszt."

"Yeah," you say, a bit breathlessly, just now realising that you've been holding your breath. "Wow, you're so talented."

His laugh is soft in your ears. "Thank you."

Turning to him, you look him in the eyes and say, "I didn't know you could play piano so beautifully."

Your words make him blush a bit; a soft shade of pink dusts his ears and cheeks — it reminds you a bit of the intimate moment you shared with him a couple of days before. As he murmurs a shy thank you, it becomes a bit awkward between you two again. Heeseung starts fiddling with his fingers and he opens his mouth as if to speak but he closes it back after a second or two.

Eventually, he does speak but his voice is devoid of all lightheartedness from before and his face shows a sorrowful expression. "Look," he sighs and turns to look at you. "I should apologise for the… uh… well, the last time, um, you know." He then gives a frustrated groan, burying his face in his hands at his failed attempt to communicate his thoughts to you. "I'm sorry, I- We… we shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

You can only stare at him in disbelief. "What?" You say, your tone sounding a bit too harsh for both of your likings.

Truthfully, his words hurt you, more much than you'd like to admit. In a way, you kind of gave him a part of you, you showed him your vulnerability and you let him touch you in ways you'd never let strangers or even regular friends do... and now he tells you he regrets it. It hurts and you feel a bit embarrassed. You enjoyed your time with him but unfortunately, you guess he doesn't feel the same.

Suddenly, Heeseung realises that what he just said is probably the worst thing he could ever say to you. He quickly tries to take it back, "Wait- nonono, I meant-"

But you're already standing up to leave, not really wanting to hear whatever else he has to say. As you move, he gets up with you, his tone starting to sound desperate as he calls out to you. "No wait, please, please don't leave. I don't think you understand me."

And to think that I thought we could actually be friends.

You might sound a bit dramatic but you can't help what you feel. Now your relationship with him feels weird and awkward. You just want to quickly leave.

Right as you're in front of the door, he grabs your arm as a last attempt to stop you. Calling your name again, he pleads with you, "Please listen to me, it's not what you think. I-"

With wide eyes, his breath hitches as he stops himself from continuing, a bit mortified at what he almost blurt out. You only give him a confused look with an eyebrow raised. After a moment of just staring at each other in silence, he finally breathes out a worried sigh and surprisingly rests his head on your shoulder while intertwining his hand with yours. But what's more surprising is the fact that you don't have the heart to push him away.

What a weird person, you think. First he tells me he regrets having sex with me and now he does this.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess when I'm with you," he murmurs, his face heating up at the confession.

As much as your heart beats faster at his words, you can't help but ask yourself, why? You're just a human. Heeseung can't possibly like you, could he? He has many other suitors that would be more than elated to be with him. Maybe he means that you just make him nervous — you wouldn't be surprised if you do since you make many people here nervous by just breathing.

Just as you're about to say something, you hear footsteps coming near you both, along with the sound of people talking... surprisingly about you. Although you're not new to people gossiping and spreading rumours about you, it does pique your curiosity; you've always wondered what people say about you behind your back.

On the first week, you heard people saying that you came from a rich family that had relations with the university's administrative staff or that a supernatural family adopted you or that you're not really human. Those were only the light rumours. Sometimes, when walking to class, you'd hear people say that you're working undercover for the human government, that you're only here to destroy the supernatural space and that everyone should be wary of you.

It makes you a bit sad, to be honest, because those words couldn't be further from the truth. However, you don't particularly blame them; humans haven't exactly been nice to the supernaturals, so you try to not take offence.

This time, however, the rumours are something else and it seems to involve not just you but someone else too.

"There's no way that happened," someone irritatedly says. If you could see them right now, there's no doubt in your mind that they'd be rolling their eyes.

"I'm just saying what everyone else is saying," another person says, their tone more nonchalant than the other’s.

"God, I swear, rumours are so dumb, like Heeseung and Y/N fucking in the dorms, really?" Your eyes go wide at the revelation, is that what everyone's talking about? But how did they know? And why is it a huge deal if I get laid? It doesn't make sense to you.

The same person continues, their voice growing louder as they walk closer to where you're standing, "This sounds as ridiculous as the time when everyone was saying that Jake fucked 100 people."

"Ah, but this one could actually be true," the other person thoughtfully says.

"What? Don't tell me you actually believe-"

"There are people who said they heard them," they say as a matter-of-factly, their voice now growing fainter as they pass by you but you can still hear the change of tone in their voice, now sounding more intrigued, "They say she edged him a couple of times and he wouldn't stop begging her to fuck him." Chuckling, they continue, "Must be a fun time."

Heeseung buries his head deeper into your shoulder as they say that, his hair tickles your neck a bit but you don't mind. Plus, you're more focused on their conversation, so much that you almost don't feel his hand tightening his hold on yours.

At the same time, you hear the former laugh and say, "You're so fucking weird."

Their conversation doesn't stop there but that's all you're able to hear, they're too far for you now. However, you're pretty sure Heeseung can still hear them — after all, his hearing is better than yours could ever be. But now that you know what everyone's talking about, you understand why he said what he said. He's surely not fond of the gossip about you two. You feel a bit sorry about it and despite knowing that it's not really your fault that people gossip about you, it doesn't really make you feel better.

A while later, Heeseung finally speaks again but he still doesn't move away from you and his voice sounds grim, a contrast to his usual demeanour, at least from what you've seen. "Sorry. It's my fault. I should've been more careful."

You try to look at him, a bit confused at what he's saying but he's hiding his face from you so you instead simply ask him, "Huh?"

He takes a deep breath as if trying to gather his confidence. Then, he pulls away from you and you're now able to see his face clearly. Ah, so that's why he was hiding.

With an obvious blushing face, he says, "It's not that I regret it, of course not, it's just that I think we should've done it elsewhere because obviously, people could hear and it was so stupid of me for not thinking about that." He gives out a frustrated sigh and continues, his voice soft and sad, "I guess I got carried away... I'm sorry."

Another moment of awkward silence as you try to make sense of what's going on. When you finally do, you can't help but question him, your voice almost as soft as his, "Why are you apologising?"

Giving you a surprised look, he pauses for a moment as he contemplates his answer. "D-doesn't the gossip bother you?"

He looks so sad that you just can't help but tenderly hold his face, making him look at you as you reassure him, "Heeseung, people always talk about me. It's nothing new. If anything, I should apologise since you got dragged into it."

Quickly objecting, he blurts out, "No, it's my fault! If I would've been more careful- if I haven't been thinking with my dick instead of my brain, this wouldn't have happened and you wouldn't have hated me and everything would've been fine and-"

You've never seen him look so distraught before. Seeing him being so uncharacteristically talkative worries you because despite knowing little of him, you do know one thing; he's not the type to word vomit, he always thinks things through before he speaks his mind and when he speaks, his words are fully thought-out. He may stutter here and there but they'd still seem thought-out and planned. Now, seeing him not able to do so and just desperately speaking, trying to convince you that he's at fault... it just doesn't sit right with you. How long had this issue been on his mind? And to what extent does he blame himself?

"Heeseung, calm down."

But he doesn't. He seems to be fully inside his mind, blurting out words as much as he can as if he's blurting out days' worth of worries. You're not sure what to do to calm him down but in a state of panic and with your hands already on his face, you pull him close and kiss him, hoping that the shock would be enough to stop him from overthinking.

Fortunately, it works. He gives a soft muffled sound as your lips touch his and then everything gets quiet. Still, he doesn't kiss you back, most likely too shocked at your actions. The kiss itself isn't long, you don't let it nor need it to be — you pull back a few seconds later. Looking into his almost teary eyes, you apologise for the sudden kiss, "Sorry, I didn't know-"

You're pretty sure he wasn't listening to you because now the tables have turned; now, he's kissing you and the kiss he gives you is way different than your attempt to get him to calm down — it's intense, messy, desperate and so intoxicating that you almost forgot to kiss him back.

When you do kiss him back, his actions only become more desperate. His hands constantly move; first from his sides to your shoulder, then to hold your face, then to your arm as he pushes you against the door, then to your waist, almost as if he's trying to make sure that you're really here. His lips never stop moving to press open-mouthed kisses to yours and as he does so, a small part of you can't help but feel like he's offering every part of him to you through the kiss, stealing your breath away in the process.

Eventually, you both pull away, needing to breathe. For a while, you both stare into each other's eyes. Heeseung rests his forehead against yours, his lips a bit swollen as he pants and his breath feels hot against your lips.

After a moment of intense silence, he speaks, his voice sounding a bit hoarse and it's as if he's talking to himself rather than to you. "You don't hate me."

You reply, "Of course not. How could I?" Gently caressing his cheek with your thumb, you whisper, "You're the only person here who's been kind to me."

Something in his eyes changes — you're unable to pinpoint exactly what it is but you don't ask either. He gulps, still breathing heavily, still looking into your eyes and then asks you with a soft wavering voice, "Why did you kiss me?"

It isn't his question that catches you by surprise but the look in his eyes that make him seem like he's expecting or hoping for a certain answer. If you were to look away, you could answer him honestly; "it was to help calm you down" but you can't look away, not when he's staring at you so intensely, not when he looks like he's begging you to say something specific as he waits for your answer. Your breath hitches as you think, unsure of what to say to him.

But it seems that you were silent for way too long. Breaking eye contact with you to look at the ground, Heeseung takes a step back and his hand rubs the back of his neck for a short moment.

"Did you only kiss me to shut me up?" He chuckles after he says that but the slight bitterness in his voice is evident.

"I'm sorry, I panicked. I was trying to calm you down," you eventually say.

He simply stares at you as if you just said the most absurd thing ever; eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. After realising that you're actually serious, he grabs your hand and slowly brings it to rest on his chest, giving you the chance to pull your hand away at any moment if you wish. "Can you feel it?" He softly asks.

You know what he's talking about — his heartbeat right underneath your fingertips... but you can't feel it nor hear it. Thus, you replace your hand with your ear, resting your head on his chest as you try to at least hear his heartbeat.

Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.

It's faint but you can hear it... and it's beating quite fast for a vampire. You've heard that vampires have a slower heart rate than everyone else's and right now, you'd say his heart is beating pretty fast, just slightly above an average human's. You can feel his breathing too, it's a bit laboured.

When you pull away to look back up at him, you're greeted by a blushing Heeseung who asks you with a small smile, "Get it?"

Is he trying to say that you make him nervous?

Shaking your head no at him, you're still a bit confused as to what he's trying to convey. At your response, he sighs, runs his hand through his hair and then whispers to you, "How am I supposed to calm down when you're kissing me?"

That's when the realisation hits you. "Oh..." you whisper, now getting it.

"Yeah..." he whispers back then lightly chuckles. Placing his hand on the door behind you a moment later, he leans into you and continues in a low voice, "You wanna know how you can calm me down?"

That low voice makes you feel weird things, you just can't resist entertaining him when he speaks like that. "What?" You ask, your voice also low.

"You can hug me." Raising an eyebrow at him, you hum for him to continue, a bit surprised at the answer. "I like hugs," he continues with a boyish smile.

"You want a hug?"

With the same smile, he softly says, "Yeah."

"If you say please, I'll give you one."

He wastes no time. "Please," he says with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

How could you say no to him when he looks so cute? So you hug him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head on his shoulder. He immediately hugs you back, his grip on you a bit tight but you don't mind, not when he feels so warm and comforting.

After a long moment of just hugging each other, you can't help but playfully ask, "Are you calm now?"

"I don't know," he starts. "Maybe you can check my pulse to find out?"

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he says that. You're not sure what he's hoping to get out of it — maybe he just wants your hands on his neck... or maybe he just likes to tease you. Whatever it is, you can't help but roll your eyes.

Suddenly, a fun idea pops up inside your head and you nonchalantly reply, "Okay."

Grabbing his face with both of your hands, you pull his head back to look at his neck. As your hands move to make him look up, your eyes take in every millimetre of his neck, specifically the spaces underneath his jawline, trying to find a pulse. Fortunately, it doesn't take you a long time.

"W-wait wait wait wait-" He gasps as your tongue probes at his pulse, his hands now moving to grip your shoulders. You only did it to tease him — you like it when he's flustered, but surprisingly, you can actually feel his pulse underneath your tongue. Intrigued, you pause your actions to count his heart rate, as weird and funny as that sounds.

You're not really surprised when you feel it beating rapidly. After a few seconds, he gives out a shaky exhale and says, "Is this a normal thing humans do?"

You chuckle at his words and then quickly bite down on the spot. He gives out a choked moan in response and further tightens his grip on your shoulder. "Aw, is baby flustered?" You tease him, unable to help yourself.

He can only whine your name as your tongue starts swirling around the same spot.

"You're so responsive... I love it," you whisper to him, your voice making him shiver. "And to think, I'm only playing with your neck. Is it that sensitive?"

As you start sucking on the small bit of skin in between your teeth, his jaw moves in an attempt to answer you but you don't hear his voice at all — he doesn't speak, not even when you're done giving him a hickey, not even when you're done giving him three. Pulling back, you take a moment to admire the small bruises on his neck but as time goes by and nothing changes, you begin to realise something.

"Why aren't they disappearing?" You comment, a bit alarmed.

However, Heeseung doesn't seem that concerned. He shrugs it off and replies with half-lidded eyes, "Ah, it's fine, it'll go away eventually."

"Is that normal?" You ask, still a bit hesitant.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry."

Deciding to take his word for it, you continue leaving hickeys on his neck. He hums in approval, his breathing hot and heavy and you eventually lose count of how many you actually gave him. When you pull back to look at his neck again, it's already half-covered with small bruises; all of them still bright red.

Just the sight of it makes something inside you snap and you can't help but ask him, "You don't mind me touching you right, Hee baby?"

With his head a bit dizzy, Heeseung struggles a bit to speak, "N-no, you can... you can touch me all you want."

"I can touch you anywhere?" You smirk, already knowing what you're going to do to him.

"Anywhere you want," he softly replies.

At his words, your hands waste no time moving to his torso, touching every part of it from his shoulders, then to his collarbones, then to his chest. His breath hitches when your hands move across his nipples but you don't stop to play with them — you continue moving your hands down to his abdomen. As you do so, you ask him, "I can touch you here?"

"Mhmm." His eyes automatically close as he says that, wanting to focus on your hands touching his body.

Seeing him relaxed and full of anticipation at the same time only spurs you on and so, you move one of your hands to squeeze his ass. He gasps and jumps in response, not expecting that to happen.

"What about here?" Your teasing tone only seems to make him melt.

"Y-yeah," he breathlessly says as he rests his head on your shoulder, his hands now gripping your waist.

Further teasing him, you slowly move your hand from his ass to grip his dick through his pants. "Even here?" You ask him with a raised eyebrow.

He can't stop himself from moaning and pushing back into your hand at the contact. But before he could reply, you're already talking while feeling him up, "Wow, you're already kinda hard. Does this turn you on, hm? Being groped like a whore?"

Giving out another moan, he starts grinding into your hand as if to show you how turned on he is. He doesn't say anything but you can practically guess what he's thinking right inside his head; feel it, feel how hard you make me. You push your hand against his dick harder and he hisses in response. "You like that? Being my whore? Letting me play with your dick however I want, whenever I want?"

"Yes," he moans. "Just use me."

"Now, now. Where are your manners?" You ask as your other hand starts playing with his left nipple through his shirt.

At first, he stays quiet for a while, not wanting to answer you but as your fingers pinch his nipple, he jumps and squeaks out, "Please!"

"Please what?" You can feel his dick getting harder through his pants and just to tease him further, you play with his tip, pressing and swirling your thumb against it over and over again.

With a groan, he relents surprisingly quickly, "Please use me how-however you want. I really need your hands on me, please."

"I'm already touching you though?"

"No..." He trails off with a hiss. "Can I please take off my pants?"

As you feign thinking, he hurriedly continues, "Please, I need to feel your hands on my dick, please? I'll do whatever you want, I'm your whore. Just please touch me, it feels really good. I need it so much. Please."

"Needy today, huh?" It's a bit surprising, honestly, you were expecting him to give more of a fight based on the last time you hooked up, but nevertheless, he's still cute. Plus, it makes your job easier.

In response, he just hums, simply agreeing with whatever you're saying without a second thought. Satisfied with his pleas and answers, you tell him that he can take his pants off and he quickly does so, his movements hurried and sloppy, desperate to get it off as quick as he can. Once his pants are discarded on the floor like a metre away, you pull him into you by gripping his hips and then you pin him to the door right behind you.

Immediately, he leans against it and his hands go to grip your waist again but you quickly grab his wrists and pin them right beside his head. Leaning closer to his ear, you sternly tell him, "Keep your hands there, got it?"

He gulps and nods at your authoritative tone. You then take a good look at his dick since you didn't really get to last time — you notice that it's lanky, average girth, with a slight curve to the left and circumcised. It's also hard but that's already obvious. In a way, it suits him and you think it's pretty, just like him.

When you look back up at him, you can't help but smile at the shy expression he gives you. Whispering into his ear, you say, "You have such a pretty dick... but do you know how to use it?"

Biting his lip, he slowly shakes his head no. As your right hand go to unbutton his shirt, you continue, unable to mask the excitement in your voice, "Well that doesn't matter. I can always teach you how." You let your fingers brush along his shaft, your touch barely there as you continue, "And when you do learn, I might let you fuck me one day." The response he gives you is cute; he quickly nods his head and pleads with you. "Would you like that?"

"Yes," he gasps, trying his best to not buck his hips. "Please."

"Alright, baby." Finally deciding to give him what he wants and put him out of his misery, you spit on your hand and start stroking his dick. Your spit makes your hand move easily and after a few moments of stroking, he gives out a loud moan, throwing his head back when you suddenly squeeze his dick — hard.

"You want people to hear us again?" You teasingly comment.

He nods and replies, "Yes... wanna... let them know... how... good you make me... feel."

"How dirty." You can't stop your smile of fondness from appearing or the chuckle that comes right after.

"I'm... your whore... remember?" Despite being paired with gasps and moans, his remark still manages to come out playful.

"Go ahead then, baby." He whimpers as your hand starts stimulating his tip. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good. Your voice is too pretty for you to be quiet anyway."

Your right hand finally finishes unbuttoning his shirt. Without wasting any second, you touch his bare skin, running your hand all over his torso. His body's response intrigues you; everywhere your fingers go, his skin beneath you twitches and you're just using your hands. Imagine using your mouth — luckily, you don't need to imagine since he's right there.

The sound of his moan is so loud this time that it almost echoes across the room if it weren't for the room having many carpets. And to think that all you did was lick his chest. Granted, you did pinch his nipple while tightly squeezing his balls as you do so but who cares? He's so fun to play with, you just want to keep him like this for hours... but unfortunately, you're pretty sure that class is about to start soon, which means many people walking through the hallways.

Thus, you pick up the pace, trying to get him to quickly reach his high. Your left hand quickly moves up and down his shaft, your right hand goes to fondle his balls and your mouth starts sucking on one of his nipples — you doubt he's going to last long since his body is so sensitive. And based on his constant moaning and twitching, you can tell that you're right.

As you continue, he suddenly speaks, "I... I can't get our first time out of my head. I-it's like- it's like you're... haunting me." He moans when you lightly bite down on his nipple, his hips accidentally bucking into your hand. "Every time I close my eyes... I remember it again... I see it vividly... and I... I want to do it again with you... Did you... put a love spell on me... or something?"

As he continues to talk, a small uneasy feeling makes itself known to you — the kind of feeling that makes you feel as if something is wrong. It makes you furrow your eyebrows in suspicion as to what it could possibly be... but as you look at the man in front of you, you quickly understand. Just one look at him and you can tell that he's not in his right state of mind and you're pretty sure that he's just blurting out whatever's coming to his mind at this time. You can't shake away the thought that whatever he's saying right now is too private. You don't believe you should hear this, at least, not right now.

Worrying that he might end up regretting whatever he's saying, you tell him, "Heeseung, I don't want to hear anything else come out of your mouth except those pretty sounds you make, okay?"

And just to be safe, you insert two of your fingers into his mouth. As your fingers press against his tongue, he hums in response, closing his mouth and then he starts sucking on them. His tongue swirls around your fingers as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your hand goes to abuse his tip, your thumb swirling the precum around and pressing down on it again and again while your other hand continues to keep his mouth busy. His body shakes at your actions and suddenly, he quickly pulls your hand away from his mouth to say something.

"I'm gonna cum, what if-"

"You can cum, Hee baby. Go on, cum for me. You can do that for me, right?" Your voice sounds so sweet that he just wants to do whatever you say.

"But it- it's gonna get messy..." he whines and trails off. Despite his worries, his hips start bucking uncontrollably into your hand, trying to catch his high anyway — he doesn't want to stop but a small part of his conscious brain still worries about how he'll clean up his mess.

"Don't worry, baby. We can clean it up," you reassure him. "Go on, be a good boy and cum for me. And keep your hands back up."

"Okay- I..." He puts his hands back up and sucks in a deep breath as he feels himself reaching his high. That conscious part of him from earlier disappears and now, he's almost chanting, "Thank you. Thank you thank you thank-"

The moment you start harshly sucking on his neck again, he's gone; with a loud and long moan, his hips thrust into your hand and streams of cum messily come out of him, getting all over your hand, onto your pants and even onto the floor. His body is shuddering and his eyes are rolled to the back of his head as your hand starts milking him for all he's got.

You coo at him, "Good boy, baby. Such a good boy for me."

"Please-" He squeaks, head thrown back against the door. You don't stop touching him though, not even when his streaks of cum stop coming out, not even when he starts uncontrollably trembling at every touch of your hand. One of your hands continues to quickly stroke his dick while the other fondles his balls, alternating from left and right. As you squeeze them, he gasps and whimpers your name.

"You're being such a good boy, baby... just taking whatever I give you." You start licking his chest, from his navel to his nipple. Heeseung shuts his eyes tight as his body continues to tremble against his will, his hands now in fists beside his head. As you play with his nipple, sucking on it and swirling your tongue around it, his back arches and he can't stop himself from thrusting in and out of your hand.

"You can cum for me one more time, right?"

He groans in response, nodding. "A-a... any... thiiing... f-for... y-you."

Letting go of his nipple to whisper in his ear, you say, "Right, you did say that you're my whore."

"Y-yes, yes, yes." He gasps.

So you continue touching and stimulating him until he cums again. Throughout it, he doesn't speak at all, only making pretty noises while his body trembles. It doesn't take long before he cums again. This time, it comes as a surprise — he didn't tell you that he's close. Perhaps he, himself didn't know that he was or maybe he wasn't paying attention, too busy being lost in his own bliss. Either way, based on his reaction, it seems that he's also surprised; he cums with a scream, his voice echoes throughout the room, his eyes tightly closed, and his hips stop moving but he's still trembling all over as another shot of his cum comes out of him.

So gorgeous.

You slow down your movements, not wanting to push him too much, until you eventually stop. Heeseung pants in front of you, looking helpless and blissed out.

"See, I knew you had it in you." As you slowly coax him back to reality, you slowly become aware of how uncomfortably wet your panties are. But you push that aside for now.

It takes him a moment to come back to reality and when he does, he still feels a bit dizzy. His hands go to grip your shoulder and waist for support and you hug him to soothe and comfort him, rubbing your hand on his back — the hand that's cleaner than the other. A moment later, he breathes out a soft thank you, feeling a bit spent.

"I'll... clean everything up," he breathlessly says while hugging you. You pat his head while his arms wrap themselves tightly around you.

"That's okay, baby. I have tissues in my bag. We'll clean it up together, yeah?"

He doesn't answer you and instead, asks for a kiss. Of course, you give it to him. How could you ever say no to this man? The kiss is unsurprisingly hot, heavy and messy, your tongues intertwine together just like your breaths. He moans into it and then pulls back to kiss your neck.

"Your turn?" He whispers into your neck, his breath hot against it. You close your eyes as he starts kissing and licking your neck, his tongue hot and wet swirling on a certain spot. You grab his shoulder as he continues, and then, a moment later, you feel his sharp fangs graze against your neck but before you could make sense of what's happening, he quickly pulls away, stopping himself.

"Sorry, can I-" He gives out a shaky breath. "I wanna... make you cum." He whispers out the last part. It was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it.

"You wanna make me cum?" You whisper back, your eyes still closed, now fully aware of the tension in between your legs.

"Yeah." His hands tenderly touch your body as he says that, going down from your shoulder to your breast and finally coming to rest on your waist.

"Sure."

He kisses you again but compared to your last few kisses, this one's short. Pulling away from you, he says, "We should- uh... change positions? Would it be easier for you?"

"Ah, yeah, okay." Despite your voice sounding nonchalant, your pussy throbs at the anticipation of finally getting the attention it craves. After you both change positions, with you now leaning against the wall and him in front of you, his hands go to unbutton your shirt and unhook your bra as he kisses you.

Gripping his hair, you pull him away from you — which earns you a moan. "Go fast, I think it's almost time for class."

"There's still tons of time," he reassures you. "Barely anyone has class in this building anyway. Don't worry."

Trying to reassure you, he gives you a smile and goes back to tenderly kissing your neck. It seems that there's a clash of wants — you just want to cum while he probably just wants to take his time with you. You're about to protest but his hands and mouth on your body make you change your mind, at least for now. With his hands kneading your breasts and his mouth slowly moving from your neck to your breasts, you give out a defeated sigh.

"Fine."

With a triumphant smile, he mumbles a thank you into your skin. His mouth is now sucking your left breast, his tongue swirling around your areola and the nub, making your pussy wetter by the second. The urge to touch your pussy grows as he continues his actions. One of his hands plays with your right breast while the other goes to unbutton your pants.

All of a sudden, he lightly bites down on your breast and you jump in response, unable to stop your moan from coming out. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He moans too but his moan comes out muffled against your breast. After a while, your hand grips his hair and he hisses as you move his mouth to your other breast. "Keep going baby, you're doing so good. Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

The praise only spurs him on, his movements now getting bolder. Wasting no time, he begins to kiss it and then lick it, until finally, he takes it into his mouth, harshly sucking on the mound. You hiss and arch your back in response. With your pants now on the ground, your legs start to feel cold but your core is still hot and wet, demanding attention.

Eventually, he finally moves on, leaving your breasts to kiss down to your navel. Every kiss he leaves you is tender yet hot against your skin, just like his hands on your body. Once he reaches your navel, he kneels down and as you let him put one of your legs over his shoulder, his face is now very close to your crotch. Even so, he still doesn't give your pussy any attention yet. Instead, he starts at your inner thighs, specifically the one on his shoulder, slowly licking up closer and closer to your heat as his hands continuously move up and down your thighs. He stops where your thigh meets your groin and starts taking a small bit of your skin into his mouth to suck and bite on it.

You let him leave a hickey there — it's not like you can't hide it anyway. After he's done, he pulls away to admire his mark on you with a small satisfied smile but just as you thought he'd finally start eating you out, he starts the same thing over again, except this time, on your other thigh. You groan, beginning to get frustrated.

He seems to find it amusing, given by the fact that you can feel him softly chuckling into your thigh as he kisses it. "Heeseung." Your stern yet breathless voice only makes him smirk.

"Hmm?"

"You're being a brat," you hiss at him.

Pulling away from your thigh, he looks up at you with a defiant smirk and coyly says, "I'm only taking my time."

But as he moves to continue his actions, your authoritative voice makes him pause and shiver. "Heeseung, I will literally slap you." You're in no mood to take things slow, you just want to cum. That's all you want — to finally release all this built-up tension in your pussy.

"Kinky," he mumbles with a pout. It's not because he doesn't like being slapped — it's actually something he's willing to try especially during sex as long as you like it, but he's just pouting because he didn't get to-

Giving a frustrated sigh, you say to him, "You can leave a hickey there after I cum, damn it."

His face lights up as you say that and his hand grips your thigh. "Promise?"

"Yes!" You hiss. "Now be a good boy and make me cum."

Wasting no time, he hums and nods at your command, moving his mouth to your clothed pussy. He buries his nose and mouth in your heat, you can't stop a moan from escaping at the contact. His mouth starts kissing you, over and over again as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Fuck," you mutter, your hands gripping his hair tighter as he starts licking a long strip. It's relieving honestly — your pussy finally getting the attention it so craves... but it's not enough. You want his mouth on you, without anything else in the way. Thus, you tell him to take it off and he hums, acknowledging your command... but after a while, your panties are still on and he hasn't made a move to remove it, he just keeps on slowly eating you out with a smirk. When you finally realise that he's doing this deliberately, you snap.

"Heeseung!" Your voice is louder than you expected. "Take them off, for fuck's sake." Then, as if your mouth is on auto-pilot, you continue, "Do you want me to fucking slap you, huh? Is that what you want? You want me to fucking snap, don't you? Want me to pin you down and fuck you till your brain doesn't work anymore?"

At your words, Heeseung feels a bit intimidated but he can't help but also feel turned on at the same time. He moans into you and as he pulls away to pull down your panties, you continue, "Finally starting to take me seriously, huh? You're such a fucking brat, I swear to God, Heeseung. You just want to get punished, don't you?"

"God, you're so wet," he moans into you when he finally buries his face into your pussy again, without your panties this time.

Finally feeling his mouth on your heat, you moan in relief, pushing his head closer to your pussy while leaning against the door. His tongue starts licking up all your juices while his nose continuously bumps against your clit. Then, he starts sucking it, causing you to arch your back. "Fuck. That's right baby, keep going," you say, your tone now way calmer than before.

He hums into you as he continues to eat you out just the way you like, swirling and pressing his tongue against your pussy, sucking it, slurping up all of your juices. Your free hand now goes to play with your breast, massaging it while stimulating your nipple at the same time. His cums smears on your breasts as you do so but you couldn't care less about being clean right now.

When he inserts his tongue into your core, you loudly moan, your hand squeezing your breast tightly. And as he continues, sliding his tongue in and out of you, your pussy starts tightening around it and you gasp, "Fuck, I'm getting close. Don't you dare stop, you little brat, you hear me? I know you're thinking about it."

Gripping his hair tightly, you grind his face into your pussy, using him like a toy as you keep up a steady rhythm. He doesn't mind, of course he doesn't. He did say that you can use him however you want. And to help you reach your high, his hand moves to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles.

Here it comes, the release you've been seeking; there's that familiar knot in your stomach and with the help of his mouth and hand, you finally reach your climax with a moan, cumming all over his face as you bask in your release. Heeseung continues eating you out throughout it, taking in all of your juices in his mouth, not letting a single drop escape. His movements grow slower as time goes by until he eventually stops and pulls away, only to leave that hickey he so wanted on your thigh.

By the time he's done, you've gained your consciousness back. Still breathing heavily, you caress his head and softly say, "Thanks."

He licks your thigh one last time and then gets up to kiss you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug while doing so. You let him, not really bothered by the taste of you in his mouth. But the kiss doesn't last long since you're still breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," you say after pulling away from him.

"It's okay," he says, resting his forehead against yours, his breathing also still heavy. Your hands move to cup his face and with a swipe of your thumb, you collect your cum on his face and feed it back to him. His lips part when your thumb touches them, and he obediently sucks it without protest.

"Good boy," you praise.

You pull your thumb away from his mouth. As his arms unwrap themselves from you, you lean against the door and give out a heavy sigh. Looking back at him, you say, "We should clean ourselves up and get dressed."

With a nod, he agrees, going to get the tissues from your bag that was by the piano. When he comes back with it, you both clean up the mess you both made; first, you both clean yourselves — although Heeseung prefers to clean you more with his mouth than with the tissues, then, you clean the floor and the door that still had streaks of his cum on them, and finally, you clean your clothes.

It's when he buttons up his shirt, you notice something strange.

"The hickeys are still there," you mention, now alarmed again.

Heeseung also gets alarmed, quickly taking out his phone to see himself but then chuckles a second later when he sees how he looks through the screen. "Damn, I looked fucked up," he mumbles.

His hand grazes the still bright red bruises on his neck and his eyebrows furrow at them when he doesn't see them healing. He turns to you and asks, "Did you drink something?"

"What?" You question as your hands are buttoning your shirt.

"Did you drink a potion or something today?" He asks, still looking at himself through the screen, his eyes looking slightly dark.

You pause your actions as you try to remember.

Potion...

Oh!

You remember now. It was during Tuesday's alchemy class where Heeseung unfortunately wasn't there. You remember that your lecturer taught the class about a new potion. Apparently, it's a consumption potion which means it only works if you consume it and he so kindly let you drink some of it after he finished explaining its properties. The colour of it was a very rich shade of blue and it smelled like the ocean... but the taste was... unpleasant, to say the least.

His voice rings across your mind, "So what it does is that it drastically slows down someone's regeneration ability, not yours but anyone you touch. Use with caution, alright. Don't be killing anyone. That's against the law."

"Oh... yeah, yeah I did. During alchemy class yesterday," you say, continuing to get dressed.

"Was it blue?" He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues buttoning his shirt.

"Yeah."

"Ah... no wonder."

You expect him to continue speaking but instead, he keeps quiet and simply tries to smooth out the wrinkles on his shirt. Eventually, you ask him a question that's on your mind, hoping that he's not annoyed or angry at you for leaving too many obvious hickeys on his neck. "But what are you gonna do?"

Please don't be angry at me.

"Oh, for these?" He shows you his neck, tapping the bruises on it. Then, with a smirk, he continues, "I'll keep them. Thanks."

"Are you sure?" You stare at him, surprised at his response.

Nodding, he reassures you, "Yeah, It's no problem. It'll go away eventually."

For the second time today, you decide to take his word for it. However, you can't help but wonder how long the potion's effect will last — maybe a couple of days? Hopefully not.

When you both finally finish making yourselves look presentable again, the comfortable silence you both share suddenly turns tense and awkward. You're unsure why but the reason makes itself known to you as you make your way to grab your bag.

Heeseung calls out your name. He sounds a bit nervous as he softly asks you, "What are we?"

Grabbing your bag, you think about it for a couple of seconds. "Hm, I guess... friends with benefits?"

"Oh..." He slowly nods, looking down at the floor.

"Unless you don't want that. This can be a one-time thing if you want."

"Nono, I-" He quickly says. "I just..." Taking a deep breath, he brings his head up to make eye contact with you and continues, his voice soft and a bit unsure, "I want something more..."

You look at him as soon as you hear that; he stands there, still near the door, with his posture straight and his face serious as he looks at you. "What?" You can't help but say.

Gathering all his courage, he nods to himself and continues, "I want to date you."

Surprise is the only word that describes how you feel right now. Never in a million years would you ever think that someone here actually likes you, much less want to date you. You've never even thought about dating a supernatural before either. And although you do like Heeseung... you're still unsure if you like him more than just a friend or not. Unsure of how to reply to his sudden confession, you end up just staring at him.

At your lack of response, his cheeks begin to turn pink again and says in a shaky voice, "If that's... a bit too much then it's alright." He gives you a reassuring smile, hoping that you don't feel pressured to reciprocate his feelings. "I don't mind just being friends with you."

"Heeseung, I'm sorry, I'm not too sure," you begin. "I mean, you're the only person who's been kind to me here. I'm not sure if I like you that way... and I wouldn't want you to fall in love with me, only for me to realise later that I never really liked you more than a friend in the first place."

Silence fills the air again as he takes in your words.

"Would you... give me a chance, at least?" He finally says. "Like at least let me take you on a date? Please?" As he looks at you with such cute and innocent eyes, you find yourself smiling at him. "I can show you the world if you want..." and ever so softly, he says his next sentence, "If you promise to show me yours."

His voice sounds melodious as he says that — you could hear the genuineness and hopefulness in his voice. And as you both stand there, just staring at each other, you begin to think to yourself; why not?

"Where would you take me?"

His face immediately lights up as you say that and you can't help but laugh at his cuteness.

"Anywhere you want," he replies with a bright smile, the kind of smile that could make the whole world stop and stare.

"Okay," you softly say, walking closer to him and giving him your hand.

For the first time in your life, you find yourself feeling excited about leaving your dorm, you find yourself anticipating to explore the world that you were so hesitant to get to know. It's as if your worries about laying low suddenly don't exist. And even though you're not really dating, you still can't stop the wide smile on your face as he meets you halfway, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together.

"Thank you," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

"Thank you," you reply.

"For what?" He looks at you with a smile, slightly confused at your words.

Many things — for being kind to you, for being your friend, for not judging you just because you're human, and honestly, many more. But what comes out of your mouth is a simple, "Not every human has the honour of having a potential vampire boyfriend."

His laugh is bright and rich, music to your ears. His eyes crinkle as he laughs and his smile is wide. Just the sight of him laughing wholeheartedly makes your heart feel full. When he finishes laughing, his demeanour changes a bit to a playful one, leaning closer to whisper in your ear with that low voice and that signature boyish smile, "I can be much more than a vampire boyfriend."

"I have no doubt about it," you say to him as you try to calm down your beating heart.

Grabbing your bag from you with his other hand, he says, "Let me walk you to your dorm."

"Okay."

As you both reach the door, you take a look back and scan the room, just to make sure that everything's as it should be. You look back at him when you're done; he has his hand on the door as he asks you, "Ready?"

Nodding at him, you let him open the door and walk you to your dorm, your hands entwine together the whole walk.

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #supernatural au #college au #enhypen hyung line #vampire #dom!reader #sub!enhypen #sub!idol #vampire!heeseung #heeseung smut #enha smut #heeseung hard hours #kpop smut

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honeyawa · 7 months ago

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you think it’s entirely your mama’s fault you turned out like this. weak-kneed for pretty things and people.

you also think that it was rin’s fault (and the books you read) that you have a thing for the ‘best friend’s older brother’ trope. those two absouletly don’t go together, especially after you came across his older brother on insta reels. jaw dropped, mouth panting, and chest heaving, the adrenaline rush that manifests when you see someone pretty was very present.

just what postion were their parents fucking in??

not only do you have an attractive boy bestfriend, you also have his older brother to thirst after and have a chance (very slim one, but still a chance nonetheless) to become his potentially very-funny girlfriend!

(so you did whatever any girl would’ve done if they had a chance with their celebrity crush, and shot him a dm. (after pacing around your room thinking about what to say)

‘heyyy, i js learnt about u n saw that u are rin itoshi’s brother n since hes my bestfriend i thought that i should get to know you!!’

you thought that the message was okay, but apparently it wasn’t because you got left on delivered for a week. each time you checked you phone, you flinched when anybody got closer to you, not wanting to get bullied for the rest of your life because you got rejected by being left on delivered.

however, on one fateful day during class, you got a notification from the soccer player that he was typing! excited, you went on your phone secretly and went on your chats to find the typing symbol. suddenly, it stops and you get a notice that said “you can’t message this person”. confused and hurt by the possibility of getting blocked, you went back on his account to see no recent photos and posts. you noticed that you weren’t following him, so you clicked on the ‘follow’ button, just for it to go back to ‘follow’ after 5 seconds.

you’ve been blocked?!

#⠀ ─ ⠀ ೃᰰ࿔. ⠀ ブルーロック ⠀ + ⠀ [ h͟o͟n͟e͟y͟a͟w͟a͟ ]#dont ask me what this is.#i dont know either.#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader

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needyfem · 3 months ago

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about me ❤︎

——————————————————————————————

ₒ.:*☆♡ age

ₒ.:*☆♡ sub lesbian, femme4all

i love video games (hsr, genshin, idv, sims, bayonetta), gl/yuri, books, cats, lesbians!! & my friends :3

ₒ.:*☆♡ dms are always open ❤︎

ₒ.:*☆♡ my stupid ass made this my side blog but if u still wanna be mutuals u can dm me☺️

:(- men, no age on blog, -18, raceplay

——————————————————————————————

#wlw #wlw nsft #wlw community #sapphic #about me #girls who like girls #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #lesbian

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coryndoll · 2 months ago

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lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

prev next

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

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