#I think I just did the putting into post wrong but I'm not fixing it

[writerwithbrainrot]

Chapter one: Reader and the Ancient Waterworks (pt. 2)

Pt. 1 here!

warnings: None, but let me know If I need to add any :)

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    The group stood infront of an old building entrance made of stone, overgrown and almost completely taken back by nature. The air was full of excitement, and a toothy grin was on [Reader]'s face. Their ears were red due to the chill as a few from the group started to work on the heavy stone doors. "Masks on!" Thomas yelled and the group did as told. Who knew what bacteria or mold lied behind those doors and underground. And the debris would be an issue in itself. [Reader] put their mask on, and soon, the sound of stone rubbing against stone was heard, and each person turned their flashlights on and entered.

    The entrance seemed normal, empty with pillars leading to the broken ceiling, but immediately the team scurried over to the stairway down to the Waterworks underground. The walls had carvings thT were worn down and almost completely gone, with old iron torch holders still holding dusty torches, burnt down and left forgotten. [Reader] pulled out their camcorder and began to take photos, the flash on so they could obtain good photos for later use.

     The echoing footsteps heading down the stone steps and the occasional tripping person swearing could be heard as [Reader] made their desent down with the rest of the team. The flashlights made the hall and steps down to the Waterworks creepy and unsettling, but [Reader]'s heart only increased its beating for the excitement rushing through their veins. Then, the floor flattened, and the air became chilly, like they had opened a refrigerator. The many lights shot to the now open area, and [Reader]'s light hit a large mechanism of cogs and what seemed to be a giant set of rusty copper pipes.

    The carvings and ancient text on the walls and pillers confirmed it. This was the start of the Waterworks and excited whispered erupted, as [Reader] took a flash photo of the mechanism, a larger light lit up the room, and Thomas held a lantern. "Take notes and then we move. I ain't waistin my last years in one room."

      [Reader] wrote down their thoughts and observations as Serena pulled out her own lantern. Thomas spoke up again as Serena peaked over [Reader]'s shoulder "We know our teams, yes? Keep your lanterns on and do not split up. And be mindful of everything around you. We do not know if there are any traps or not."

      "Lets go!" Serena exclaimed and she rushed to the arch to a room ahead and [Reader] followed.

      The room was massive, a huge amount of space and may Waterwheels and pipes, as well as empty fireplaces, areas on the ceiling above these fire placed black and crusty from past smoke. "This is wild. . . " Serena commented as [Reader] took some photos of the pipes up close and the room, trying their best to get everything in from. "Imagine. . . this has been under our feet this whole time, and this place is even more massive then what we see."

    "This place is a labyrinth." Marco said, appearing behind the two making Serena and [Reader] shriek. He laughed and got hit across the chest by [Reader]. "Relax! The old amn said there are a lot of rooms like this, all for their own purpose. I'm staying with you, also-" he paused and pointed his light down the ledge that the stone path they stood on stopped on, showing a second floor. "I hope you don't have a fear of hights. We should find a way down." he said, going ahead. Serena groaned and followed, Reader taking another look down then across the empty space ro the other side, seeing fallen debris that were steep and covering the stone path. [Reader] then moves, and continues to write on their notebook, making a mini sketch.

      The team turned, and walked more and more, [Reader] taking more photos and Serena stopping to look at the ancient text and writing to down to Decipher later. A few more turns and a walk across a very old stone bridge across the massive gap between each wall and walkway, [Reader] paused, looking at a strange set up connected to many pipes. Serena turned from an area that was blocked due to collapsing walls, a landslide that went down into the canal below the floor below, where water would have once flowed through, to [Reader]. "[Reader]? What's up?"

   "Come take a look." They said and Marco stood behind them, Serena also taking a look. "This looks weird."

      "Maybe coals went here?" Marco suggested as [Reader] took a photo and took a quick sketch. "You know? To warm the pipes?"

     [Reader] pursed their lips "No. . . it looks like a power source once went here. See those weird areas that look like funky sockets?" they said, pointing them out. "It looks like maybe something that conducted some for of power went there once. . . but that wouldn't make since, this place was made about 600 years ago?" [Reader] pointed their Camcorder up to the ceiling, it's light hitting the dome like roof "Miracle it has collapsed with us breathing in here."      "Maybe they-" Serena started but Marco spoke up.

   "Hey! You!" he yelled, voice ringing and bouncing across the halls, his light pointed at something below. [Reader] and Selena turned and looked at what Marco was looking at "What are you doing here?! It's not safe!"

     "Is that a child?!" Serena gasped in horror. [Reader] took a good look. It was a dark figure, small and thing with what looked like a silver and black tunic, before it rushed into the darkness. Serena turned and looked shocked at the two. "But how is there a kid in here?! this place has been sealed off for centuries!"

     Marco grabbed his walkie talkie and kept the light on the dark child for as long a possible before it vanished around a corner. "Cheif! There's a kid down here! We are not alone!"

     "What?!" Thomas yelled through the walkie as other voices yelled in shock as well, asking how and why and if it really was a child.

     "It's true! A kid in black, it looks like a tunic is below us!" Serena exclaimed into the device "It ran off and- [READER] NO!" she yelled, Marco turning to watch as [Reader] slid down the mountainous debris to the canal below, jumping onto the path below the level she had just sild down from and ran the direction the child went as Serena's and Marco's crys for them to stop echos across the hall.

     Using their camcorder light, the ran down the hall down the path after the kid before [Reader] skitted to a halt hearing running footsteps down a hallway in the wall, and pointing their light down, they saw not a kid, but a young adult dashing through the hall, far off. "Hey! Stop!" they yelled, running after "Come here! It's not safe! LISTEN!"

     They didn't take note of Where they were, what paths they were taking, eyes only glued ro the figure, pushing through doors that the male closed behind him with ease before slaming into a room and panting. "Stop-" [Reader] inhaled and exhaled heavily, taking off their face mask to breath better, before looking up "I need to get out out of here-" they paused, and stood up, confused and alarmed.

      The kid, confirmed as a young adult, maybe Serena's age, was no stranger. Standing infront of a pedestal holding waht seemed to be a ball that was white with blue and tan markings and metal pins sticking out of it. On walls were copper and wooden control panels with wheels and meters on them. But that wasn't what shocked [Reader]. No. . .

     The person that they had just chased blindly, was a carbon copy of shadow link. But there was darkness surrounding it, like gas as it went and grabbed the strange object. They didn't know what made them, maybe a feeling of bravery or stupidity, but at the moment that the strange- whatever it was- move and took it, [Reader] tackled it, grabbing on and punching its jaw, and snatching the object in the air, but it lunged back, drawing a weapon as a wall of shadow in the shape of a triangle appeared, and as [Reader] jumped back, clutch the item to their chest with a gut feeling that whatever this object was, they couldn't let the shadow have it. But the feeling of ice cold hit them, and soon, as they fell through the strange wall of darkness and purple, the feeling of being ripped apart and put back together overwhelmed them.

      Before [Reader] hit the ground, their world went black.

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Yaaaay! Chapter one done! Hope you enjoyed it! More chapters coming out soon, hopefully in one peice! have a good day/night!

[born-to-lose]

Missing people and regretting shit o'clock

[5sospenguinqueen]

Post Tension | Charles Leclerc x McLaren! Reader

Summary: Back in the same country, Charles realises that the most important thing isn't winning; it's that he was wrong.

Warnings: Swearing, female reader, Verstappen! Reader. Tooth-rotting fluff.

This is the final part!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet and others

YourUserName something in the orange tells me we're not done

7,956 comments

User 1 excuse me, miss thing?!?!

User 2 not miss verstappen posting this on media day when charles and her were spotted in the background of each other's interviews

francisca.cgomes that silhoutte pic is serving 🔥

User 3 just me or does that bear have a ferrari hoodie on

User 4 he is not the love of your life. he is literally just a guy. hit him with your car

→ User 1 nah 'cause does anyone else think charles would run her off the track if she got ahead of him again

→ User 5 wtf that's his girlfriend? he wouldn't try and hurt her

→ User 6 he did push max in a puddle once

lilymhe @ alex_albon why don't you buy me this stuff

→ alex_albon because you don't support McLaren

→ YourUserName excuse me?!?! what is this betrayal

→ lilymhe @ YourUserName i can explain

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User 7 mum and dad putting those cheating rumours to rest

User 8 y/n a stronger woman than me because i would've keyed his car for implying i was sleeping with my teammate

→ User 9 actually it was arthur who implied that

→ User 10 don't drag baby leclerc into this. he was fighting in the trenches alongside us for his otp

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others

scuderiaferrari P4 and P8. A strong weekend for the tifosi 💪

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

6,459 comments

User 9 i can't decide what i want to ride more

User 10 scoring some points in azerbaijan. well done, team

charles_leclerc why are you not posting the photos of me being #1 wag

→ YourUserName because this account doesn't post papaya, liefje

→ charles_leclerc no excuse

→ lilymhe because you are not #1 wag, clearly i am the only wag for @ YourUserName

→ charles_leclerc defamation

→ YourUserName @ lilymhe you tell 'em, bby

→ alex_albon i leave you alone for two seconds and you're stealing my girlfriend again

User 11 be still my beating heart

mclaren just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and others

mclaren P3 and P5. roll on the points for team papaya (ft mclaren's #1 wag)

tagged: YourUserName

7,321 comments

mclaren we apologise for interrupting your regularly scheduled papaya posts with a splash of red but you'll never guess who this racer was looking at to make him smile like that

→ maxverstappen1 sickening

→ charles_leclerc i am honoured to be awarded such a prestigious title by team mclaren

→ landonorris does this mean i can stop pretending to like y/n now?

→ charles_ leclerc @ landonorris no

→ YourUserName @ landonorris no. you're my emotional support pookie

User 11 so proud of our papayas. they did so good this weekend

User 12 i'd let y/n hit me with her car

liked by charles_leclerc

victoriaverstappen couldn't be prouder of you! 💕

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, kellypiquet and others

maxverstappen1 a disappointing dnf but very pleased for the less-famous verstappen 🧡

8,066 comments

redbullracing still made us proud. we'll come back stronger in france

kellypiquet well done y/n. p was cheering you on

→ YourUserName tell her i'm coming over for a pizza party soon! 🥰

YourUserName i swear he loves me really, guys

→ charles_leclerc well he threatened to run me off the track if i didn't fix things so i'd say he does

→ maxverstappen1 for legal reasons, this is a joke

→ YourUserName ah, so that's why you apologised. not because of your undying love for me

landonorris feel like that should say the more talented verstappen

liked by YourUserName, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo don't let this fool you. the man was close to tears when y/n was p1 with just one lap to go

→ danielricciardo and then cried when her tire burst

→ danielricciardo and then cried when she finished p3

→ maxverstappen1 i'll sue you for defemation

→ User13 the Grid seemed to have learned a new word this week

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName ik houd van je

tagged: charles_leclerc

6,124 comments

charles_lecerlc je sais

→ YourUserName never going to let me forget that one, are you

→ charles_leclerc no

→ maxverstappen1 no

→ danielricciardo no

→ landonorris no

→ arthur_leclerc no

→ pierregasly no

→ victoriaverstappen no

→ lilymhe no

YourUserName how about everybody get off my dick

→ YourUserName my only friends here are the lovely ladies thirsting over my hot boyfriend with me

→ User 14 you tell 'em, honey

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

charles_lecerlc as the people on twitter say, i would let y/n hit me with her car

8,593 comments

maxverstappen1 my eyes 🤮

→ charles_leclerc look away! i was going to block you for this

→ maxverstappen1 block me forever

YourUserName wow, not even a tag.

→ charles_leclerc everyone knows who you belong to, mon amour

→ YourUserName yeah, the guy who invented ice cream

→ landonorris @ charles_leclerc at least you know what to do if the racing thing doesn't work out

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Thank you for all the support shown on this series. I never expected such a response when I posted my silly little fic.

I've had so much fun making these. I have a few more ideas coming up but not loads so if you have any, please do request and I'll try my best to do them justice! <3

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Tag list: @mehrmonga @luvsforme @lemon-lav @missenclod @halleest @formula1mount @k4marina @evie-119 @letmeseeyougotowork @sleepybrokenmelle @eiaaasamantha @tinyhrry @janeholt3 @allywthsr @callsignwidow @raizelchrysanderoctavius @prudyhoo @valentinanappipage @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @delululeclerc @e-nonsense @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @butterfliesflyaroundmymind @bloodyymaryyy @kqliie @lifeless-firefly @woozarts @silverxxs-world @personwhoisther @eugene-emt-roe @anthonykatebridgerton @qualitygiantshoepsychic @entr4p3 @carpediem241108 @forevercaffeinated-lee @xyzstar @theendofthematerialgworl @geniusalpaca @chfiosr

[neat-crows]

So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.

When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia

"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug

"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug

And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!

And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.

He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....

he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions

is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-

he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............

He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.

he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him

determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval

and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.

I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.

AND THEN.... the clone.

He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.

he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.

he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.

and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.

The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.

It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.

I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.

but then, he finally goes to save her

He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...

but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.

Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.

He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing

This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.

he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).

Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.

And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.

And the doctor looks at her

With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.

Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling

[amnestria-the-elf]

So we're all just supposed to be fucking grateful that Larian gave us "new Wyll content" (evil ending for a man who is canonically incorruptible, what the fuck) and simultaneously broke him again (giving low approval greetings to a romanced PC, what the fuck).

I... I just... the simultaneous feelings of rage and utter hopelessness are overwhelming.

Listen, if you've read any of my posts you know I have a pretty clear "Don't yuck anyone's yum" policy. If you think an evil Wyll ending is interesting, fine. But here's why it falls flat for me.

First, like I said above, Wyll is canonically incorruptible. It's literally the entire basis of his character. He is a man who was coerced into making an infernal contract to save a city and had to pay a horrible price for doing so, then spent seven fucking years alone in the wilderness doing his damned best to protect the people of the Sword Coast, while all along telling his horrible, abusive patron to just fuck off already.

Now, could you argue that during the events of the game, Wyll develops a taste for evil? Sure. There are plenty of opportunities for his villain origin story to unfold. But they never do. His moral compass never wavers. Turned into a devil? He feels shame, because it's an outward sign that he was doing things for Mizora that were morally wrong, and he didn't see it before. His approval rating for the PC shoots through the roof if you save Karlach, a sure indicator of his true moral compass. His father kidnapped? Fuck that noise, we're gonna save him. Rescue Zariel's "asset"? Ugh, fine, but don't get distracted from the real reason we're here. His father gets tadpoled? Oh hells no, we're gonna take down these assholes and save the godsdamned world. His father accuses him of being an agent of a devil and is super pissy about it? "Everything I did, I did for the people of the Sword Coast."

For fuck's sake, he will leave the party if the PC gets too evil, even knowing it means he'll probably turn into a mindflayer immediately. Even if he's romancing the PC. Unwavering moral compass. So giving him an evil ending without also going back and changing everything about his character just feels like lazy writing to me.

Which brings me to the second reason all of this rubs the wrong way. Wyll deserves so much more content. More romanced greetings, more reactions to other characters' choices, a final boss battle that is actually about him, a default ending that actually makes fucking sense (I have another post cooking about the Avernus ending, so I will leave it for now.)

And please, spare me your "But Wyll was rewritten after early access" bullshit. That's Larian's problem. They chose to listen to feedback and do a late-stage rewrite. They then chose to implement it poorly and never fucking fix it. Other characters, who already have far more content than Wyll, have had even more added over the course of the seven released patches. Wyll, on the other hand, has been sitting around completely ignored until now when we get this evil ending.

Many have rightfully pointed out the inherent racism steeped in all of this. I want Larian to be better. But as Maya Angelou said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them." I already didn't have much hope about Patch 7 for Wyll, but this... honestly, this is worse than him just being ignored again.

The thing that kills me the most is that this is just going to be more fodder for the fandom to completely mischaracterize Wyll, for those who already haven't bothered to think critically about his character at all to just be like, oh, cool, Wyll is evil now. Nope. You've completely missed the point.

I'm just... so tired. I've worked very hard to put this little bubble of Wyll enthusiasts around me (hi friends I love you all!) so that I can hold on to some shred of sanity in this fandom. The world needs heroes of color. Just let Wyll be the hero in peace.

[wosoamazing]

Olympics

KCC x R

Warnings: None?

Notes: I'm not sure I really like this but yeah... It's been sitting in my drafts for a while. Someone requested more Kyra so this came about, sorry it's only short.... 753 words

You sat next to Katie, who was wearing the shirt Caitlin wore when they versed each other for their first game at the world cup, you on the other hand wore the shirt Kyra had worn when you versed each other in the semi-finals of the world cup. You’d told Kyra you couldn’t come to Paris and watch her because you had rehab, which she was upset about but she understood, however you’d worked out a plan with Arsenal which meant you could go, which was a relief considering the amount of setbacks you’d had in your rehab.

-

“I don’t think she’s noticed you’re here,” Mini laughed as you handed Koby over to her, having taken him when Clara went to the bathroom, just before the end of the match.

“Not surprising honestly,” you admitted. The girl was quite clueless to her surroundings, something she really needed to work on. Steph however had noticed you and she smiled at you before mouthing ‘I’ll get her don’t worry,’ and you nodded back.

—

“Kyra, do you know who Mini is talking to?” Steph asked the younger aussie.

“Huh, what?” she replied as she looked over, quickly doing a double take, before she was sprinting over to you.

—

She wrapped her arms around you before placing a quick kiss on your lips, only pulling away slightly so there wasn’t much room between you both.

“Hi Ky,” you said nonchalantly as she tried to catch her breath.

“You’re here?” she questioned.

“I was always coming. I just wanted to surprise you,” you watched as a smile grew on her face, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” she replied before hugging you tighter, “what about your ankle?” she murmured into your neck.

“It’s fine, Arsenal approved it, said the break might be good, I’m still doing some exercises though,” you told her, wanting the subject to be dropped, your ankle having been the vane of your existence lately, after surgery you had a cast on, which then was later swapped out for a boot, which you were meant to have gotten rid of four weeks ago, and technically you did get rid of it, however it wasn’t for the right reasons but for all the wrong ones, you’d ended up in a more supportive and taller boot.

You walked beside Charli through the streets of Marseille, Harper was beside you, holding onto your hand tightly as she skipped happily down the street. Mini, Clara, Kyra, Steph and some of the others walking behind you.

“I sit on your shoulders?” Harper asked as she tugged on your hand and you nodded before picking her up, and putting her on your shoulders.

“I tall,” Harper exclaimed as she patted your head.

“You are,” Mini chuckled, pulling out her phone, to take a photo.

“Taller than Kyra,” you exclaimed dramatically, earning a giggle from the small girl.

“You did everything you could babe, it’s not your fault that you didn’t have a striker playing and there isn’t anything you could’ve done to fix that. You played really well and you’re a good player, don’t let this result or what anyone else says make you think otherwise,” you told her before placing a kiss on her head, which was resting on your shoulder, as you waited for the plane to take off. You knew she was taking this knock-out hard and ultimately it wasn’t her fault, just some poor choices of tactics and game play.

“I know, I just, it’s hard,”

“I understand that, but to be honest, the fact you got to the olympics is amazing, I mean GB didn’t, Netherlands and Sweden didn’t” you felt her nod against your shoulder, “why don’t you get some sleep? Maybe when we get home we could order in and have a movie night, does that sound good?”

“Please,” she replied before a yawn escaped her mouth and you both settled in for the trip, both falling asleep only minutes after takeoff.

-

“Katie did you have to post that? Now all the fans will know,” you complained as you clicked on the notification she’d tagged you in a post, it being a photo of you and Kyra walking down the street ahead of everyone, holding hands as you both looked at each other softly.

“Have you not seen the TikToks? They already know,” Caitlin stated before continuing due to the blank look on both your faces “the kiss, at the game,”

“Shit,” you and Kyra both said simultaneously as you looked at each other.

[sl8yter]

Apparently - Mühl Pt2. to Get It Together

Nika realizes her mistake at the last minute and opens up only to realize she was wrong.

Nika Muhl x Fem Reader

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

“Wow twin you’re an asshole” Paiges vocalizes in a brash tone

Nika had come to her friend’s dorm seeking advice on how to proceed after the fallout of her and her girlfriend’s fallout. She had found Paige, KK, and some other teammates hanging out after hours building legos and stuffing their faces with food.

“I dont know what to do. I really do love her I just dont know how to tell her. Nahiem is just a friend she doesnt understand that. She never does.” Nika nervously states as she paces around the table in the middle of the main area as her teammates brain storm solutions for her as they lounge on the couch.

“Okay well first of all stop doing that” KK speaks up

“Doing what?”

“The way you say that she doesn’t understand seems so bashing. Like girl, of course shes gonna kick you out after you talk to her like that. So don’t act surprised” KK’s lack of goofiness acts as a reality check to Nika. Her pacing ends abruptly as she stops to look up and cover her face as an attempt to stop her tears from flowing.

“I could text her to meet up and then Nika could like surprise her with flowers and stuff” Paige says zoning back into the conversation with her faulty solution

“Flowers isnt gonna fix the fact that (yn)s been feeling ignored and how she most likely thinks you’ve been cheating on her. But we can use the first part of Paiges plan. Did you atleast try and text her before you left?” Inês states promptly looking at Nika whos cheeks were wet as she sat down on the couch in between KK and Paige.

“No I came straight here.”

“Oof not good.” Aaliyah butts in

“Why. Please dont make me cry anymore” The Croatian girl says her voice breaking softly towards the end.

“Well if I was her and I already was thinking it. I would personally think that you went to Nahiems. Thats just me though. Maybe (yn) doesn’t jump to conclusions as fast so don’t sweat it.”

“Girl boo, shes already crying about it what do you mean dont sweat it.” KK frankly puts her thoughts out as she wraps an arm around Nikas shoulder, a flimsy attempt to try and comfort the crying girl who’s heart broke a little more with KKs retort.

“I can post to my story and Nika can be in the backround looking all sad.” Paige tries to help

The group looks to Nika who had a contemplating look on her face which contrasted with the pink hue around her eyes and water marks down her cheeks. Her silence deafens the room before she shakes her head up and down.

As Paige takes and post the photo to her instagram story, Nika and the rest of her teamates come up with a plan to try and get (yn) to meet up with Nika in order for them to talk it out. It only takes 20 minutes before (yn) viewed the blondes story and it only took a second for the same blonde to text (yn) to meet up with her at the park 10 minutes away saying it was an emergency.

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

"Paige" I whisper yelled as I walked through out the empty park. Paige had only texted me a cryptic message telling me it was an emergency and to meet her at the park near the dorms.

"Paige come out it's to cold for this." I yelled only slightly louder before a hand had grasped my shoulder causing me to release a yelp and break my neck to look behind me. Only to find the last face I wanted to lay my eyes upon.

"Nika what the fuck are you doing? I thought you were gonna kidnap me. Where's Paige?" I asked, scolding Nika for the scare.

"I couldn't wait until tommorrow to see you. She only texted you so I could meet up with you. Listen to me I-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there before you try to say things I've heard from you a thousand times. I'm tired of us having the same conversations over and over again. It never goes anywhere Nika. Now like I said before go and get some sleep so we can both talk about this with a clear head." I state, exasperated at her mood of just now wanting to talk about things when she had so long to do so.

"Listen to me please bebo you can break up with me, yell at me, or call me every dirty word you know just please let me talk to you. You don't even have to face me. Just hear me." Her voice breaks between most words causing her accent to slip. The begging insanely out of character from the confident girl you usually knew.

"Okay. Just tell me what it is. Tell me why you've been such a dickhead to me." I tell her as I walk to a nearby swing to sit. She quietly trails behind me until I hear the clanking of the metal on the swing adjacent to mine. I refrain from looking over to her as I can feel the intensity of her gaze on my features. If I look, I know I'll cry but I have to let her know in someway that I'm going to stand my ground this time. No matter how much it hurts the both of us.

“Im so so sorry bebo. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. When we first started dating I seen how amazing you are and how you were so happy all the time and how you always light up a room. Graduating and the draft has been driving me crazy since the start of the year. I felt so pressured to perform my best that I started doubting myself and I started to think that you were too good for me and-“ Her voice breaking as she stops for a moment to catch her breath. She stops looking at me to look at the sights in front of us, her shame showing in her body language

“That I thought I was gonna be a burden to you. Nahiem would help me. We would just go drive around and drink and do all this dumb stuff. It took the edge off and now I see how bad it was. How it lead me to start acting like you weren’t there. I use to think that my biggest fear was not achieving my dreams after I worked so hard for it, for everything. But in truth my biggest fear is achieving all my dreams and you not being there beside me. You’re so selfless that you constantly put up with me no matter how I treated you. I need to treat you better. I want to treat you better. I know I dont show it a lot but i love you more than anything, more than anyone. You believe in me bebo and I love you for it.” She finishes her voice shaky and her eyes somehow pinker than they were before.

“Of course I believe in you. Youre Nika Mühl. My girlfriend and future WNBA star. Youre so much more than you see Nika. Youre the reason I love to love.” I answer, not realizing I was crying as well until a tear drop fell from off my face.

Nika is silent as she wipes her face and quietly clears her throat before looking at me once again.

“You don’t hate me?” Her tender voice somehow making me forgive her within four words.

“I could never hate you. I love you.”

“I love you more” She says before suddenly standing from her seat and lunging at me causing us both to fall into the mulch below us. Her hands hold my waist as my arms wrap around her neck.

“Im so sorry.” Her soft voice fills my ears as the smell of her shampoo invades my brain.

“I forgive you.” Whispering back to the girl on top of me.

“Can I take you to the dorms?” She asks louder this time as she retracts to put her hands on either side of my head to hover above me.

“Only if you stay the night.”

To my response she quickly leans down to capture my lips. I can feel her slightly whimper at the contact. My hands quickly get lost in her hair as she lowers herself to lay between my legs as she continues to assault my lips slightly opening her mouth to encourage me to go farther. I can feel her heart pounding as her chest is flush against mine.

I gently push her off me as I go to sit up, suddenly remembering that it was 2 AM and we were in a public park.

“Take me home and then I’ll see if I want you to go further.” I tell Nika as shes on her knees infront of me, rubbing the sides of my thighs with her large hands.

To my statement Nika swiftly picks me up wedding style and starts jogging to my dorm building. Her antics make me laugh with mirth as I see her small smile, her eyes glancing at me as we lock eye contact for a second that I wish could have lasted forever. Her strength and her athleticism made me thank her coach as it was only helping me in forgiving her completely.

I kiss her cheek softly as she continues her jog.

“I love you so much Nika. I want you to come to me first whenever you have doubts or whenever you start thinking things like that ever again. I love you, I care for you, and I want you to be happy. You mean everything to me.”

She stops jogging for a second to put me down as she grips my waist with speed to pull me into a kiss. Far more passionate than any weve had before. My hands wrapped around her face holding her as if she were glass. Her hands explore my waist, rubbing and squeezing slightly. I caress her jaw moving one hand farther back to play with her hair at the base of her neck.

We both pull back to rest our foreheads against another, our mouths agape catching oxygen as our exhales mix. The lack of space between us was tantalizing as it was obvious both of us wanted more. The only thing stopping us,being our lung capacity and the open space.

“I dont think I can wait much longer for you” Nika admits her eyes dark with a familiar cloud of lust. The breathiness in her voice causing a feeling that Nika was all too well associated with inside my body.

“Then lets hurry up.” I say tauntingly as I knew she was gonna be the one running us both back to bed. I knew she could do it, she knew I could match her pace and run along side her, but we both knew how much hotter it would be if she did all the work and how much better it would be in bed.

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

Changed my mind, tried writing a smut for this but then I was like rereading it and ts was so toxic. Oh em gee. Like on a deep level if yall like ts great for you I just cant post something like it n be okay with myself after 😭😭🙏

REQUEST SOME THINGS YALL. DONT BE SCARY!!

[mypoisonedvine]

emmet or bearded cillian who is dads best friend but is also a mechanic or something and he fixes your car and u thought it would be free but he wants a specific form of payment IF U CATCH MY DRIFT and everything is dirty and grimmy and maybe against the side of the car or inside whatever you like

i love your writing so so much im yelling any time you post something new, have a good day <3

THIS IS SO EMMETT CODED OMFG IT'S PERFECT

length: 1.7k

warnings: SMUT (18+ only!!), unspecified age gap (but everybody is an adult), semi-public sex, oral f receiving, creampie

"Well, I think she'll live," he announced with a laugh as he stood up, wiping oil-covered hands on a rag. "Just needs a new spark plug and probably a patch on the fluid exchange."

You chewed your lip as you pretended not to be a total idiot about cars. "How much is that gonna put me out for?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that too much, honey. Your dad's a good friend, we'll just call it even."

"No, Em," you sighed, stepping closer to him-- having to walk carefully so you wouldn't trip on any toolboxes left out on the garage floor. "Come on, let me at least pay for the parts or something."

He shook his head, giving you one of those smiles that melted your heart just a bit. "You've been too good to me already, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."

You felt a little awkward, realizing he was referring to how you'd helped him after his ex-wife moved out. There wasn't much you could do, of course, but you'd tried to show your support-- first by bringing some food over, first a casserole and then allegedly 'extra' cookies, even though you were a little worried he'd be offended by the possible suggestion that he couldn't cook for himself. Then, you'd given him advice on how to keep the zinnias out front alive, since their normal caretaker was too busy running away to California with her hairdresser to water them. He seemed to appreciate that, and your heart might have skipped a beat when your hands brushed against his while you were gardening together.

(Um, it was a male hairdresser, by the way. Not that it matters a whole lot...)

Maybe you would let him give you free work on your car, if you didn't happen to know that the auto shop was struggling at the moment. Sure, you figured he'd give you a deal, because that was just who he was, but you never expected to take his time and spare parts for nothing in return. "Em, please," you frowned, leaning against the hood of your car just after he'd shut it. "Let me make it up to you-- you're working so hard for me."

As his eyes fell on you, you suddenly noticed a new darkness in them; he was looking you up and down, making you shudder slightly as he leaned closer. "Jus' tryin' to take care of you, honey," he said, a little softer, and you fought the urge to bite your lip. "Can't let you drive around town in somethin' that might break down any minute."

"Well, I can't let you eat TV dinners every night," you smiled in reply. "How about I pay you back in meals, hm? You liked the chicken casserole, right?"

"Yeah, you're a good cook," he relented, "I guess I can't turn down an offer like that, can I?"

"Good," you grinned, "then I'll bring something over tonight."

"But what if I'm hungry for somethin' else?"

You got a little shaky all of a sudden, and tried not to get your hopes up-- you were probably imagining the sultry tone to his voice...

"Somethin' a little sweeter than casserole," he added, closing the space between you and lifting your chin so you would look up at him.

"...cookies?" you wondered with a weak voice, and he laughed softly.

"Don't get me wrong," he replied, "your cookies are great. But I think you know that's not what I'm talkin' about."

You didn't know how to respond to that... you weren't even sure if you supposed to respond. Apparently, he got whatever he needed just from looking into your eyes.

"Sit on the hood, honey."

He knelt in front of you as you did what you were told; he kept his eyes locked with yours as long as he could, until he started to spread your legs slowly and his gaze had to dart down under your dress.

"Oh, sweetheart," he sighed heavily, making you struggle not to press your thighs together to satisfy your sudden desire for friction. "Look at those cute little panties-- can I take 'em off for you?"

"Y-yes, please," you nodded, and he gave you a little smile as he reached up under your dress to slowly-- so painfully slowly-- pull them down your thighs.

You opened your legs perhaps a bit too eagerly once he'd slipped the panties off around your shoes and stuffed them into his pocket-- yes, you'd noticed that-- and he bit his lip at the sight, pushing your dress up just enough to get a good view. "Baby," he growled, "you're just too perfect."

You thought maybe he'd ask again, like he had before he took off your panties-- maybe just because he knew you'd say yes. But he didn't: he just dove right in all of a sudden, making you gasp and moan as his tongue and lips explored all over you.

He devoured you with every lap, humming and moaning between those beautifully filthy, wet noises the whole ordeal created.

"P-please," you gasped, running your fingers through his long, wavy hair.

"Oh, honey," he groaned proudly, pulling back slightly to look up at you before delivering a gentle peck to your swollen clit. "You sound too cute when you're beggin'."

Going back in again, he sucked harder on your clit until your thighs instinctively clamped down on his head-- which didn't deter him at all, anyway. "E-Emmett, fuck, just like that--" you choked out, holding tighter to his hair, "oh fuck!"

Groaning encouragingly, he slid his tongue inside you and shut his eyes tight as you started to rock your hips on his face.

He found a pattern pretty quickly, holding you steady by your thighs so he could force every sensation on you; he teased your opening with his tongue, but focused mostly on your clit until you were shaking all over. You kept trying to tell him you were going to come, but it was obvious by how hard you struggled to put a sentence together. When you did come on his tongue, it was quieter than you expected-- a silent scream, which broke into a long, low moan when you were actually able to breathe again.

His tongue on your clit became too much all of a sudden, and your hand in his hair started to push him away. Thankfully, he did stop, and you started to slowly come back to reality.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up to face you again, starting to open his jeans quickly.

"Fuck, Em," you panted as you tried to catch your breath, blinking the blur out of your eyes to get a better view of his proud, tilted grin. "What'd you do that for?"

"Just needed to hear you scream, princess," he winked, reaching into his boxers. "And I figured I won't last long when I'm inside ya, anyway-- s'been a while..."

He pulled his cock out of his pants, instantly pressing the tip up to you and lining himself with your opening.

"And I like the idea of still being able to smell your pussy in my beard tomorrow," he added, just before he slid inside your waiting channel.

He grunted as he filled you, head falling back with a heavy sigh through his nose. "O-oh," you choked out, grabbing one of his shoulders to stay stable as he started to move.

"God, baby," he purred, "I was right-- fuck, I won't last. Sorry, but I've been waitin' too damn long..."

You wanted to tell him that you didn't care-- that you actually thought it was insanely sexy how affected he was by all this-- but when you opened your mouth, you could only moan desperately. Your previous orgasm had left your insides all sticky and sensitive, every thrust overwhelming you with tension and friction. And thank god for how wet it had made you, too, or you might have had more trouble fitting his generous girth inside you...

"Knew you'd be so good for me," he grunted, "such a good girl-- wanted you for so long, honey."

You whimpered behind a bitten lip, blinking up at him expectantly. "How long?"

He smirked a little, before leaning in to kiss your neck playfully-- teasing your pulse with the very tip of his tongue. "I shouldn't say," he mumbled.

"Please," you gasped, "god, Em-- I gotta know..."

"Before the divorce," was all he'd say, but that was enough to make you quiver inside-- you'd always wondered, hoped, that he shared your interest, but you had spent most of your time pretending you didn't have a crush on him since he was closer to your dad's age and, you know, married. At the time. "She used to get mad at me when she caught me lookin' at you," he admitted with a low chuckle that made chills run up your spine in delight. "She was jealous of how fuckin' pretty you are... how sweet you are... how good you are..."

"Emmett," you whimpered, clinging to him tighter, "Em, please, I'm so close--"

"Fuck, baby, g'na come again?" he taunted with a grin, one of his hands tightening its grip on your waist. "Go ahead, honey, give my cock a nice li'l squeeze, huh?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," you gasped. "Fuck!"

"Not too loud, sweetheart," he warned, "got another mechanic in the other garage-- don't want him hearin' you... don't want anyone hearin' those pretty sounds but me, okay, princess?"

But he found a much more reliable way to shut you up: he kissed you, hard and desperate, and you moaned against his lips as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your whimpers of his name were almost unintelligible as he kissed you, but he clearly understood them: he fucked you harder, faster, deeper, grunting promises to come inside you and leave you dripping with his come for the rest of the night. You encouraged him as best you could while being totally speechless-- and with a whine, you came around him just before he filled you with a gruff purr of his own.

Sighing, he dropped his head onto your shoulder, running his fingers down your back through your dress to make you shiver in his arms one more time. "Beautiful," he praised under his breath, kissing softly beside your ear. "So beautiful, honey..."

You smiled softly, wrapping your arms around him in a lazy embrace. "You're the one that's too good to me, Em," you whispered. "When did you figure out I had a crush on you?"

"Sometime after you brought me the casserole, but before you came on my face."

[babybluebex]

venus pt.2 | angus tully x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just come on!” Angus huffed. 

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

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

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

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

“What for?” you asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What sorta blood oath?” you asked warily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, man,” he said. “I got more.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

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

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

“Of course,” you replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Angus said. “My, um… My dad.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Right. Sorry” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew,” you snickered. 

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

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

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

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. 

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

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

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

“Shut up,” you huffed. “Both.” 

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

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

“Hm,” Angus grunted. 

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

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

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

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

“Why?” you asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, yeah?” you asked gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck! Mr. Hunham!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My mom told him not to take me, but I made him,” Angus continued, and Hunham looked past Angus to you, seeing if you had any idea what stunt Angus was pulling now. You were just as lost as him, though, and you watched Angus with a curious enrapturement as he spun his yarn. “My folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank God,” he said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s okay,” you said soothingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?” Angus asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you will not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And a Coke,” he added reluctantly. 

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

“Sure, sweetie,” Miss Crane said softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What was that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The what?” Pinball Wizard sneered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Except for Curtis Lamb,” Angus mumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” Angus grunted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “No big,” you said. 

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

“Like what?” you asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angus told you to keep it. Were you like those girls who wore their boyfriend’s jackets now? The girls at Central wore their boyfriends’ varsity jackets when it got cold, the ones with their names across the backs, showing everyone who they were dating. You had never really cared too much about the varsity jackets, but, then again, there had never really been anyone that you would have considered even trying to wear their jacket. First, you’d have to figure out if Angus was even your boyfriend before you started to get all giddy about having one. 

Was that what he wanted to ask, but held off for tomorrow? Did he want to ask you to be his girlfriend? It was exciting, but you understood why he had chickened out of asking you then and there. You would be his first girlfriend, and that was intimidating. Maybe he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, and just wanted to be able to hug you and kiss you whenever he wanted. 

Your mind began to race. Angus wanted to kiss you, but what else did he want? Did he want to have sex? Did he even care about that? Had he even thought that far out yet? Certainly, he had. He was a boy after all— boys’ brains are made up of 50% sex and 50% violence. Maybe you were just overthinking it. It was entirely possible that Angus didn’t even want to be your boyfriend, and just got caught up in the moment and kissed you. 

Your head hurt from being too analytical, and you slipped into bed and pulled the blankets to your chest. Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, you and Angus could talk about everything you wanted. Maybe, you thought with a sleepy smile. Your Christmas present would be a boyfriend. 

[lasciviouspoison]

story time: how ignored my bf and then had the best sex ever!!

omg another kinktober post?? i’m on a roll!! lol, but i wrote this so long ago and never published it, please don’t hate me :( tw: chubby!reader x eren, black!reader x eren, hate!fucking, bratty!reader, mean!dom eren, overall, eren’s a meanie and u like it!

eren had never been that good of a listener. in fact, he took pride in his ability to tune out any and everyone. 

it was something you desperately tried to rid him of. 

of course he would listen to you when you needed him, always being a supportive and attentive boyfriend. but, there were times when you could feel him drifting away from the conversation. although it wasn’t always intentional, it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

and you’d tried everything to break this habit, yet, nothing worked. however, you figured that since nothing else worked on eren, giving him a taste of his own medicine might kickstart some change.

so, you made the executive decision that if he would not listen to you, then you would simply not listen to him. 

after having a long day of classes, eren finally was able to come home to you. despite being frustrated, he just wanted to see his pretty little girlfriend and rant a bit about his day. nothing too complex, right?

wrong. 

“I don’t see why I'm always involved in these fucking group projects. it always ends up with me doing the work and everyone expecting their name to be put down. I'm so over this shit yn, you have no fucking idea”. eren explained while cooking dinner. it was something he would do to relieve stress, a useful habit if you will. 

“mhm” was all you muttered from the couch. sure, you knew you were being a bitch, but you didn't care. eren had just done something similar to you last week, so it was well within your right to break even. 

“are you even listening to me?” eren peaked his head out from around the kitchen wall only to find you staring at the book that sat atop the lavender blanket strewn across your legs. 

“yeah, sure am.” 

eren walked over to you and squatted down, capturing your jaw in his hand and forcing eye contact, “well, what did I say?” 

eren really was an intimidating man. while his green eyes bore into your own, you couldn’t help but think about how big he was. both in stature and presence, your boyfriend really wasn’t someone to fuck around with. and as each part of eren was strong and foreboding, so was your will.

you shook your head out of his grasp and returned to your book, “i’m not entirely sure, something about a project. I honestly don’t care that much.” you knew were being harsh, but you needed him to feel it. 

eren’s head cocked to the right, and you could feel his confusion, “did I do something?”

you looked up from your book once more, fixing your glasses, “no ren, you did nothing”.

he squinted his eyes, “okay …. so why are you acting like that?”

“like what?”

he stood to his full height and placed his hands on his hips, “like you don’t care about what I'm saying.”

you closed the book, lifted the blanket from your legs and stood up, “because I don't”.

you began walking to the bedroom, knowing that eren was hot on your heels. you had to speed walk to prevent him from catching your arm. 

after finally making it into the room, you didn’t realize that you had given eren the perfect opportunity to cage you in and make you speak.

“fuck you mean you don’t care? what I do to you?” the bass in his voice was causing reverberations to go through your chest but you held your ground. you were tired of him not listening to you and if it caused an argument to break him out of it, then so be it 

“you don’t listen to me, so why the fuck do I gotta listen to you?! that shit aint fair to me and I'm tired of being fair to you”. 

suddenly, eren stiffened and your heart dropped. while tension hung heavily in the air, he was looking you up and down, almost like he was sizing you up. you could tell he was staring at your tits through the sheer material of your tank top, but you made no effort to hide. if anything, you felt like puffing your chest out more to show that you weren’t fucking around. 

“so you decided to act like a fuckin brat because I don't listen sometimes, is that it? you’ve suddenly decided that you don’t care about me or the things I say anymore, is that right?” he was nothing but an arms length from you, yet eren made no move to touch you.

“eren I never said I don’t care about you-”

eren put both of his hands to your face, squishing your chubby cheeks together, “nah, nah, don’t try to back down now. you wanna act like you don’t care about me, then I'll act like I don't care about you.” he was talking to you like a child with his voice slightly over a whisper. it scared you more than him yelling. 

“what does that mean?” your eyes were a little teary, so eren knew he had to wrap this up before you started to get the wrong idea.

“it means I'm gonna fuck you like I don't care about you, just for now. and then, when we’re done, we can talk about my lack of listening. okay?” his eyes were dark and his nose was brushing yours. you weren’t sure whether to be turned on or angry. 

before you knew it, he pushed your body onto the bed and removed his shirt. hurriedly, he pulled down your sleeping shorts and pulled up your tank top. 

“eren can you slow down-“ was all you could get out before he drug your body to the farthest edges of the mattress, causing your butt to hang off the bed. he threw your legs over his shoulders and gripped your ankles tightly.

he was looking down at you in a way you’d never seen before. it was almost like he was looking through you, like you weren’t a person, but an object to take his frustration out on.

“not even g’nna get to kiss u. see what happens when you’re a brat?” he swatted his hand down to the side of your right thigh, causing you to hiss.

you opened your mouth to talk but eren simply filled it with his fingers. you gagged a couple times from the pressure, but he was unfazed. he simply collected the spit from your mouth and slathered it over your pussy, making you wetter than you already were.

he dropped to his knees and drug his nose over your panties. you started to reach down towards his hair, but before you could fully grasp him, he pushed you away and bit your thigh.

“stupid fucking girl wants to try and ignore me. i’ll give you something to ignore. ion wanna hear shit from that mouth, understand?” you can feel his warm breath fan your pussy and it’s making you dizzy.

he slaps your pussy and you whimper, “i asked you a question little girl, answer it.”

you shake your head yes, not wanting to anger him any further by speaking. he barely acknowledges you and rips your panties off. you wanted, so badly, to moan at his aggressiveness, but you opted to keep silent.

meanwhile, eren was eating your pussy like a man starved. while he claimed to wanna fuck you like he didn’t care about you, he couldn’t help but to lick on the all spots that made you whine. he knew your pussy better than you did, and he was determined to show you.

he pulled his head back, shiny from your slick, and pushed his middle and ring finger into your weeping hole. “ya think ion listen? think i don’ care? you think id know how to make this cunt cry if i didn’t?”

you could barely see eren due to the tears blurring your vision. you wanted to scream out his name and apologize, but you held your tongue and continued to writhe in pleasure on the bed.

eren could feel your pussy clench and gush on his hand, so much so that a little puddle began to form in his palm. he laughed at the sight and ducked his head back down to lick at your clit. he knew just how much you loved to see his head between your legs, so he wanted to put on a show for you. he made a point to look you dead in your eyes while his tongue glided over your puffy clit, watching you bite down on your pretty lips to prevent any noise from spilling out. he watched you grip those pretty titties he loved as your head pushed further into the pillows. if he wasn’t so hell bent on punishing you, eren knew that he’d be fisting his cock at the sight.

he could feel you hold your thighs back from clenching around his head and he chuckled into your pussy, the vibrations causing your back to arch off the bed. he took the hand that wasn’t inside you and pushed your body back down, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to run away from him.

just before you reached your orgasm, eren pulled his mouth and hand away, slapping your pussy a few times before standing up again.

without talking, eren gathered up some of your essence and slathered it along his dick. little groans and moans were making their way out of his mouth and you stared up at him starry eyed. he looked so pretty standing over you. pretty pouty lips open slightly, eyes sitting slow with his long lashes fanning his face. even the small and slightly out of place hairs on his head were perfect in this moment. before you knew it, you began to whine and rub your thighs together. if he was gonna fuck you like this, you at least wanted him to be quick about it.

he opened his fully eyes and sneered, “thought i told ya to keep quiet? and you say i don’t listen”.

his tongue ran over his teeth and he bent down to your face. without a word and nothing more than a stare, he slid his dick between your pussy. hitting your clit with every move he made.

finally, you reached your breaking point, “oh eren please. i’m sorry! i swear i’m sorry, i wont do it ever again just please fuck me!” the desperation in your voice was hurting him. he knew that you were showing him how you felt and it’s why he’s been trying to work on his listening habits. but, his internal growth isn’t all too important at the moment.

instead of responding to your pleas, eren covered your mouth with his hand and brought his face closer to yours. “keep talkin and i’ll shove your panties in your mouth. take this dick and shut up”, was all he said before he gripped his dick, tapped it on your clit a few more times, and slipped it in with a pop.

with a muffled “fuck” leaving your mouth and a slight groan from his, eren’s head lulled into your neck. finally, he started fucking you with a furry you’ve never felt before. granted, eren is great in bed. he’s rough sometimes, gentle on others, and is willing to try anything once. but for some reason, his lack of respect for you has turned your body and brain into nothing but mush.

“ah fuck princess, you’re squeezin’ too tight” he said before gripping your hips with both hands, removing the one placed on top of your mouth.

even though he told you to hush, you knew eren couldn’t stay mad for much longer. “can you, fuck - ugh, eren can you please look at me?”

he took his head out from the crook of your neck and hovered over you, all the while never slowing down his thrusts. with him still giving you this look of carelessness, he gripped your face hard and let out a severely stern “open”.

you opened your mouth and he spit into it, softly groaning after feeling you immediately clench around him. you swallowed and stuck your tongue back out just how he likes it, and you swore you saw a bit of a smile flash over his face.

“‘m gonna cum rennie. can i please?” you said as your eyes rolled back. you never had to tell eren when you were gonna cum, he always knew. the slight shake in your legs and the slight twitch of your eye were tell tale signs of a quickly approaching orgasm.

still keeping with his angry facade, he gave a quick “do what you want”. not before coating his thumb with spit and rubbing quick circles on your clit. just how you like it of course.

“oh fuck ren…i’mcummingi’mcummin- ah!” he kept going despite your pleas and the feeling of your cum splashing onto his stomach. his all time goal was making his woman feel good and if overstimulating, see borderline killing, her was the case, then he’d do it.

after feeling your body calm down, eren pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach. “stick your ass in the air”.

still coming down from your orgasm, your movements were a bit delayed. moving too slow for eren’s liking, he picked your hips up and propped you up on your knees himself, quickly fucking back into you.

it didn’t take long before his strokes got sloppy. you felt him grip your hair and pull. as your head flung backwards, very hard, if i may add, you could feel eren’s cum shoot deep into you, slowly filling you to the brim.

after a few seconds of heavy breathing and slow grinding, eren pulled out of you, gave your pussy a kiss, and left. he returned shortly after with a rag and began to wipe you clean.

as your body fell to the side, you were able to face eren once more. no longer were his eyes empty, but they were full of care and concern.

“do you need anything? water or a snack? i was more rough on you than usual so i wanna make sure you don’t feel funny”. his eyes were so expressive, voice so soft, and his hands were so warm. it’s crazy to think that this soft and sweet boy was just fucking into you with no remorse not even five minutes ago.

you shook your head, “no, i’m alright”. the sudden raspiness of your voice caught the both of you by surprise, causing your hand to immediately grab at your throat.

eren picked you up and sat you upright. he ran his hands over your neck, checking your lymph nodes and general neck area. “your throat feels fine, it’s probably just really dry from not talking. i’m gonna grab you some water, don’t move!” he said before running off. ‘typical nursing student’, you thought to yourself, trying not to laugh.

when he returned, he held the bottle to your lips, refusing to allow you to move a muscle.

after taking down some water, eren soon began, “listen. i know i’m not the best listener. i’ve been trying to get better, but i know it still upsets you and i’m sorry. i’m not mad at you for acting that way, it just shows me that, that’s how it feels. i’m gonna get better, i swear i am. so please don’t be upset with me anymore”. his green eyes were so sad looking, it was like looking at a puppy.

you ran a hand over his cheek and smiled, “promise im not upset baby. thank you for telling me you’ll try harder. i can’t wait to see it”. he tucked some of your hair behind your ear before pulling you into a deep kiss.

soon, the two of you fell back into your peaceful afternoon routine. after your shared shower, eren went back to the kitchen and started back with dinner. thankfully he was cognitive enough to shut the stove off before hand. finally, you returned to your spot on the couch, book in hand and a newly positive attitude.

[hwanchaesong]

━⁠☞🍽️ Second Course: He treats you so well, and you're naive enough to believe that only you have the key to his tasty heart. Or his pants. 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Traitor

wc: 1.0k

genre & warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of sex, cursing, crying, there's another girl, lovers to exes, pure heartbreak :D , Yeji of ITZY special appearance etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

ps. i've already reposted this but it still won't appear under the tags that i've put so ig i'll just let it be lmao. imma just post it the way it is bc i'm tired of trying and thinking on what to do to make it work.

At the tender age of 13, you took note of everything that was written in an article that you accidentally opened and read on a fishy website entitled, 'Signs that your partner is falling out of love.'

You thought it would help you avoid conflict with a future partner, it would help you evade an impending heartbreak, but nothing can prepare you for the real world, it seems.

Your boyfriend, Park Seonghwa, was the definition of a picture perfect man.

He's kind, respectful and loving. He had all the love languages.

He never shunned away from skinship, and most of the time, he's the one who's initiating it. Giving you hugs and kisses even in public without any ounce of shame.

Even when he's busy, he still gives you the time of his day. Often, he would choose to lose sleep if it means that he'll be able to talk and see you after a long, tiring day at work.

He's also the type to buy 'just because' gifts. Randomly walking around a park then he'll see this cute bunny keychain, buying it immediately so he can give it to you because the bunny reminds him of you.

Fixing collars, tying shoelaces, cooking you food— he does it all, and naturally too. The way he pampers you like a mother hen is the sweetest thing you have ever seen in a man.

The most important thing though? It's his ability to listen and soothe all your worries away. He tells you that if you're overthinking, you can simply say it to him and he'll gladly give you all the assurance that you need.

So, what went wrong? Where did it go wrong? Is there something wrong with you?

The situation at hand made you question yourself, then again, are you really the problem here?

"The least you can give me is a reasonable explanation!" you yelled, gripping Seonghwa's arm that was holding his suitcase, attempting to stop him from leaving you without any form of closure.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" he snapped, raising his usual soft voice at you, something that he has never done before.

"A reason! Explanation, anything! Why are you suddenly breaking up with me?!" you blinked rapidly, the itchiness in your throat makes it harder for you to breathe, and the sinking feeling of dread in your stomach is urging you to vomit.

This is so fucking messed up.

Just last night, Seonghwa was fine. He even made love to you in your shared bed, whispering how good you are for him.

Last week, he brought you flowers. Last last week, he took you to a nice restaurant for dinner. Last month, he took you to Maldives for a summer getaway.

Nothing changed and everything felt the same, thus, the current happenings don't make sense.

You come home from work and the next thing you know, your significant other of how many years are mumbling nonsense of going separate ways. That you two are better off without the other.

You just don't fucking understand what the hell went wrong.

"I don't love you anymore."

You never knew that a mere sentence that is composed of five words is more than enough to break your heart, your world.

He doesn't love you anymore?

"Since when?" you weakly muttered, wanting answers that will probably hurt you more.

"For the last few months."

You winced, there were no signs of him not loving you. He must be lying, his shaky chocolate orbs say otherwise.

"Okay." you speak, no more energy to fight for him, to fight for a battle that is not worth the blood, sweat, and tears.

Just like that, you watched him walk away. Out of your home, out of your life, and you were left alone. Crying your heart out, gripping your chest as it physically hurts as well, the pain searing through you.

Two weeks later.

Your friend, Yeji, was making a ruckus, she was basically shoving her phone in your face.

"Y/N, look! Isn't this your ex?"

You peeked at the device, and your heart dropped along with your mood.

What the fuck?

That is your only reaction at the photo posted on Seonghwa's instagram because it hasn't been a month, and here he is, with a girl that he's being lovey-dovey with.

A girl.. a familiar one.

"That fucker." you uttered menacingly, your fists tightly clenched on your lap as your friends worriedly glanced at you.

Isn't that the one you asked him about? The fucking girl that was lingering around him all the damn time like a wretched fly. He told she's nothing but a co-worker.

Sure. Kissing your co-worker on the cheeksin a field of maple trees is very professional, isn't it?

You are not sure what to feel. He broke up with you so he could date that girl, it seems.

Should you be thankful? Or should you curse him until he dies?

Either way, now that you're thinking about it, maybe he really didn't fall out of love with you, just that he found someone that he loves more. There was no proof, but there was evidence of his upcoming betrayal.

The way he was always on his phone, and maybe, all the things he had done for you before were nothing but distractions so you wouldn't notice what he was doing behind your back.

A lady's gut never lies, yet you choose to ignore it, and this is what you get.

You laughed yet the tears dripping down your cheeks is the complete opposite of your actions.

Not once did you hear him apologize during the argument about the break-up, and my god, did you hate him so much for entering your life like a storm and leaving such a mess behind.

Park Seonghwa is no cheater, but he is a raging traitor.

Then again, no one is at fault here but you, as you should've seen this coming. You should've been alert, using your rationality instead of your useless heart, and now you're paying the price for his treason.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

[missredherring]

Wrong Until You Make It Right

Joel Miller x Plus Size!F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k.

Summary: After a long day when his kitchen sink starts leaking, there's only one person he thinks to call. You make a house call and Joel gets a wake up call.

Contents: no outbreak!AU. No kids!AU. Co-workers to lovers. Power imbalance (contractor/subcontractor). Reader is nicknamed "Patches."

A/N: This is a Secret Santa gift for the lovely @covetyou!!!

I hope you like this, Lo. All of your prompts were great and I had a hard time passing up Dieter giggling about butt plugs, but I couldn't resist Joel pining over his pretty subcontractor plumber.

I was going to try and wait to post this closer to Christmas but I'm so impatient to give it to you!!

I know nothing about plumbing except for what Google told me. Not beta'd; all mistakes are my own. Divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel’s feet are wet. Why are his feet wet? 

He blinks his eyes back into focus from where he’d been staring blankly at the dishes and looks down at the floor. There’s a small puddle at his feet which explains the deeply unpleasant sensation of wet socks, but not why or where it came from. He opens the cabinet under the sink and a few more trickles of water rush out to settle around his feet too.

He sighs, and for one sweet second he considers going out to his truck, getting the sledgehammer, and just smashing through the whole damn kitchen. But then he thinks of the work and money it’d take to fix everything after his temper tantrum and sighs again. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and looks under the sink. There’s the usual pipes and nothing is obviously broken, but there is a puddle at the bottom of the cabinet to match the one on the floor. He hears another drop of water fall as he closes the door. 

His head hangs between his shoulders and he squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment. His phone is in his hand and ringing before he really knows what he’s doing. Your name is on the screen and his gut is mixed between the flutter of anticipation to hear your voice, and the sick twist of ‘oh shit.’ He shouldn’t be calling you this late after an even later day, but he has a plumbing issue, and you’re the one he always calls for plumbing issues. Ok, not always, but for the past year and a half you’ve been his plumber of choice. 

Your tiny voice is yelling at him by the time he makes up his mind to not hang up on you.

“Did he butt dial me or something? Man…” You’re talking to yourself and it sounds like you’re moving your phone away now so it’s his turn to call out your name.

“Patches, uh, hey. I meant to call you.” He says quickly. He grabs a kitchen towel and throws it on the floor, soaking up as much of the water as he can, moving it around with his already wet foot.

“What’s up?”

“I have a problem at the house. Kitchen sink is leaking.” 

“I just checked the kitchen pipes yesterday. Did something–”

“No, not at the site. At my house. There’s water all over the floor and–” He can feel the need to explain himself mix with the nerves in his gut and it’s an effort to stop the words. “Could you come over and take a look at it please? I know it’s after hours. I can call someone else.”

“Don’t worry about it, Miller. I’m leaving the site now, so I’ll see you in a bit.” You say and end the call. 

He’s left looking at his phone’s clock and rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly aware of his sore back and arms and the weight of tiredness behind his eyes. Joel takes the gamble and finishes the remaining dishes in the sink. He can give you the curtesy of a cleaned up workspace at least. When he’s done he goes under the sink again and turns off the water valve. 

Another hanging kitchen towel catches his eye as he straightens up and he tells himself that he might as well dry and put away the dishes while he waits for you to get here. Right after he changes his socks.

Headlights flash through the front windows and his phone chimes with a text. He checks it even though he knows it’s from you, and a moment later you’re knocking at the door. 

Joel saw you just this morning, passing you in the site’s upstairs bathroom as he left to meet up with the materials supplier. He already has the urge to give you a wide berth, to leave the room you haven’t even entered yet. As he opens the door he knows, deep down, that being alone with you is a bad idea.

You’re standing on his doorstep, still in your preferred work uniform of a t-shirt branded with your plumbing company’s logo and a worn pair of overalls. Sturdy boots are on your feet and you’ve got a tool bag in one hand as you shove your phone in a pocket with the other.

All of a sudden he regrets everything. Calling you was a mistake. You shouldn’t be here, all round and soft and looking like you’ve walked out of every dirty dream he’s had since he was a teenager just learning what to do with a stiff dick only steps away from his bedroom, his couch, his kitchen counter. Hell, he’d happily deal with his back and knees aching tomorrow if you let him fuck you on the stairs right behind him, or up against the door after he closes it.

You raise your eyebrows at him when he doesn’t say anything and just stares at you. “You said you’ve got some busted pipes? You’re gonna have to let me in if you want me to look at them, Joel.”

He nods and moves out of the way. His hand is fidgeting at his side, but he's happy to let it go, relieved that it hasn't done something dumb like reach out for you instead. “Thanks for coming over so late. I appreciate it.”

“You know, there’s a porno that starts out like this,” You say as you pass him, a teasing grin on those lips he does his best not to think about. “The genders are usually flipped –which is just a ridiculous waste of potential– but don’t worry, all I have in here are my work tools. I left my other tool bag at home.”

You laugh and it’s all he can do to force some kind of sound out of his mouth that he hopes to God sounds like a laugh instead of a groan at the thought of you watching porn. 

“I promise I can pay, no need for a trade of services.”

You click your tongue and give him a look over your shoulder. “Shame.”

Joel finally closes the door behind you, pointing the way to the kitchen. It’s the only other room on this floor with the lights on, so you find it easily and Joel follows you, watching the shift of your hips as you walk. He’d always thought the overalls looked good on you, hugging the lines of your belly and ass and making him want to pop the buttons at your hips to see how far down your shirt went today. He's seen it ride up your sides, revealing skin and rolls that his fingers itch to touch. 

They’re covered in stains and patches, just like every pair you own, but he recognizes this pair and that patch on the back of your leg. It was one of the first jobs you'd worked together and he was still keeping an eye on you, getting the feel of how you worked and how well you fit into an established crew all trying to get the job done on schedule. 

The denim had gotten caught just at the back of your knee on a nail that had been sticking out while you checked a pipe fitting. You didn’t care much, just glad the skin underneath hadn’t been caught as well. The next time he saw those overalls there was a patch over where the hole had been, the stitches neat and straight in a way Joel knew his mother would’ve admired.

He glances away from that same patch and the others that have since joined it when you set down your tool bag on the counter. 

“You said the sink was leaking?” You ask him with a curious tone. It was the same one you used when triaging plumbing issues. There's what the client thinks the problem is and what actual problem is, you'd told him when he'd asked about the obvious ‘customer service’ persona you used. He was good enough dealing with customers, but you had a way with them that made him wonder just how much patience with stupidity you had. He hopes it’s a lot because he’s feeling really stupid right now, as you give him another look.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s been in a hundred different kitchens, bathrooms, and houses with you, but somehow you being in his own home, in his own kitchen feels different. He likes to savor a pot of hot coffee at that table when his schedule allows for it. That counter is where he dumps his stuff from the day and shakes off his responsibilities as head contractor for a few hours before he has to do it all again. 

Now you’re here in the middle of it, and all his brain can do is wonder how you’d fit in those scenarios. Would you join him at the table, watching the sun come over the trees while you both wait for the coffee to cool down? Would you want something to eat first, needing something in your stomach instead of having caffeine first thing in the morning? Would you lean against him as you tug your boots off and take a moment to rest there, pressing your face into his shoulder tenderly before making a face and moving away to tell him he stinks? 

Joel’s done his damnedest to keep things professional with you, despite the attraction he feels, but now those lines are blurring. There's a familiar curl of desire starting in his gut and he knows he can't let his thoughts wander much more or he'll just make it worse. When he'd changed into sweatpants after getting home, he certainly hadn't thought he'd need the camouflage jeans could provide. He swallows and falls back into the safe zone of work.

“Yea. I was washin’ up and water was coming straight outta the cabinet underneath.” 

You hum and pull out a small flashlight from your bag. Clicking it on, you open both cabinet doors and go down on your knees. After a second you roll back onto your bottom to sit on the floor. He watches as the extra fabric of your overalls stretches over your thighs and the denim creases and pushes into you, and when you readjust to get more comfortable he can’t stop the thought of taking you down to the floor himself. The way you’d laugh at him as he’d wrestle with your clothing, trying to get his hands on any part of your warm skin he could until you took pity on him and helped, lifting your hips up into his as you move them out of the way for him. 

You’re up to your shoulders in the cabinet by the time he blinks the fantasy away and he catches the tail end of what you’re saying. 

“-- you aren’t trying to fix this yourself. Most guys think they can do it.” You say, your voice muffled and echoing at the same time somehow. 

He scoffs. He’d been hired to clean up the aftermath of underqualified “Mr. Fix-it’s” plenty when he was starting out and building up a client base to branch out into contracting. 

“I know enough to shut the water off and call someone who knows what they’re doing. I don’t mess with plumbing or electric, you know that.”

“Right,” There’s a pause before you speak again. “I’m surprised you called me actually, Joel.”

His brows pull together in a frown you can’t see. “Why’s that?”

“I get the impression that you don’t like me much. You’re always scowling at me.”

“I scowl at everyone.” He says, but you’re not wrong. He often finds himself scowling when he catches sight of you on the job. It’s not because of anything you’re doing, it’s because he has to remind himself to stop ogling you while you’re both at work.  

Instead of saying anything else you motion to the faucet. “I can’t tell much right now. There’s no giant holes or disconnected pipes. Turn on the water and let’s see what’s going on.”

He nods and after stepping around you he flips the faucet handle all the way back. 

It happens all at once. The only warning they get is gurgling and the interrupted flow from the spout before something breaks and it’s no longer a drip but a full spray of water coming from where it shouldn’t.

The handle is slammed back down and he’s standing there with his hands held up and a driving need to do something to fix the mess. You’re still leaning into the cabinet, taking a final look at things before he hears the squeak of the water valve being turned off again and you emerge.

You’re soaked. It’d splashed some onto his pants, but you’d gotten a direct hit. Your hair, your face, and down your chest: it’s all wet, dripping onto his floor. 

“Shit, Patches,” He’s all out of kitchen towels. “Hang on.”

You’re where he left you when he comes back, towel in hand. He can see how tired you are in the tight lines around your mouth, the dark circles under your eyes, and the way you’re slouching over your lap. He hands you the towel and you nod in thanks.

It’s a brisk rub down that leaves your hair even more of a mess and the way you hold the towel to your chest in an attempt to draw out some of the water that’s seeped into the denim makes him regret giving up the towel. He holds a hand out to you and helps haul you up to your feet, both of you grunting with the effort. 

“Well,” you start. “From what I saw it’s an easy fix. Just needs some new fittings and fresh tape. I know I’ve got the tape on me, but I’m not sure about the fittings. I can definitely take care of it tomorrow though.”

He nods and is trying to think of something else to say, to keep you longer, when you do it for him.

“Could you get something from my truck for me, Joel? I’ve got a bag of clothes, behind the driver’s seat.” 

“'Course.” He says and you pull out your keys from one of the numerous pockets in your overalls. He wouldn't have minded having to find them himself. Your truck is somehow neat and dirty at the same time and the bag you mentioned is easy enough to find. 

He’s jostling the duffel bag, shuffling the handles in his hand, back and forth as he comes in when he’s stopped in his tracks. You’ve unhooked your overalls and taken off your shirt. The denim is bunched at your waist, held up by your round belly and leaving your chest bare except for your bra. Joel doesn’t know what he’d do if you’d taken that off too, even though it must be wet.

There are red marks on your ribcage and indents on your shoulders where the elastic has pressed into you throughout the day and he wants to soothe them, rub his thumbs and fingers over the marks on your sides as he kisses your shoulders. 

You’re leaning so casually on his counter like it’s something you do all the time. Like you’re just waiting for him to come back. He knows you’re doing just that, but the domesticity of the scene you make is too strong deny and to keep blaming it all on the strong physical attraction he has for you. The thought is clear in his mind and it breaks through all the bullshit he’s been telling himself for the past year in a half: this is what he wants. To come home with you after a long day and spend the rest of the night relaxing together. 

His heart trips over itself and he understands that this is it. He can’t avoid it anymore.

“Here.” He says and you jump a little at his voice. He hands over the bag and doesn’t speak again until you pulled a shirt on. “I like you plenty and that’s the problem.” 

You're in your underwear in front of him with one leg in your own pair of sweatpants. You're bent over, your breasts swinging a little with your movement. There is no shy turning away, just a grateful shucking of wet clothing and he’s only looking at your face and eyes now. 

“You’re damn good at your job and I’ve been trying to be professional around you,” He pauses and rocks his jaw. Then he says your name, not the nickname he gave you or your surname or anything else. Just your name. “I like you a lot, as more than a coworker and these feelings haven’t gone anywhere in the time I’ve known you. If you’re not interested, this won’t change anything at work,” He promises. “But I’d like to see if there’s something there, with you. If you want to.”

He shuts his mouth with a click and almost winces as what he said comes back to him. If Tommy heard about this, he’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he might not have the smoothest lines out there, but he said what he needs to.

You pull your arms into your shirt and there’s movement under it before you’re pulling the wet bra out from an arm hole and tossing it on the pile of clothes. The sigh you let out is gusty and full of relief. 

“Thank fuck it’s not just me. You’re one stubborn man, Joel Miller, but I’m glad we’re finally talking about it.” You reach out to him and smile when he takes your hand. It looks small in his, and he can feel the calluses on your palm catch on the calluses on his fingers. “I’d really like that.”

It’s Joel’s turn to sigh in relief and he squeezes your hand. “I was gonna order a pizza. D’you want to stay for dinner?” 

You narrow your eyes at him and take your hand back to poke him in the gut. “Feeding me won’t get you out of paying for work, you know.”

Joel shakes his head and gets his phone out. “Not even if it’s from Ty’s Place?”

Your lips purse in consideration and it’s with a giddy feeling that Joel realizes that he doesn’t have to push down his urges anymore. He gives into it and leans down to kiss your pretty mouth.

It takes a second for you to reply. “...maybe if you get breadsticks too.”

He chuckles and kisses you again.

[vivwritesfics]

Fake It Till You Make It

Chapter Seven - The Party Princess... Buys A Car?

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

1.1K

Series Masterlist

The Party Princess... Buys A Car?

The Party Princess is back in Monaco, but it appears as though she has cleaned up her act. The Monaco Press has tried to keep up with her movements, but, truthfully, there hasn't been much to keep up with.

It appears as though she and Formula One driver Charles Leclerc have cleaned each other up for the better.

We are all aware of the princess's history with cars. It was assumed by many in Monaco that the royal family had put her on a ban after she'd crashed her 1963 Volkswagen Beetle.

That's why it came as a shock to us to see the Princess out, shopping for a new car. She was documented visiting Mercedes and Audi dealerships, but didn't appear to be having any luck.

The Princess took to social media to post about the purchase of a new car. It was no surprise that she went for another classic, a 1976 Lancia Scorpion, another movie car to add to her collection.

Charles Leclerc has not yet been seen acknowledging the Princess's new car. We wonder how long it will be until he finally gets her her first Ferrari.

"Cha, I did a thing."

It was a race weekend, one she couldn't attend. But she was still watching from the television in the apartment that she'd started to clean (and she was making progress, too. From the moment they'd gotten back from their little holiday, she began cleaning her apartment. Started with this dishes in the sink and made her way around the room).

"What did you do?" He asked, voice amused.

She practically squealed as she answered. "I bought a Lancia!"

There was a moment where Charles didn't answer, and the smile dropped from her face. "Charles," she said. "Answer me, I beg."

A breathy sort of laugh left his lips. "Chérie," he muttered, voice quiet, kind, and caring. "They rot."

"Shut up," she mumbled. He didn't know that she was currently sat in her Lancia, in the garage beneath her apartment building. "I can pay for someone to look after her for me." She leaned forward against the steering wheel, unable to stop herself from smiling. "I've given her a name.

"What's she called?" Asked Charles.

"Giselle?"

He repeated the name back to her. "Why Giselle?"

She leaned back in her seat. "It's from a movie," she answered and climbed out. "I can't wait for you to meet her."

Charles had to go not long after that. He asked for pictures of Giselle, ones he promised to look at after the race. She stayed sitting in her lovely new car for just a few moments longer, taking a moment to bask in her new purchase. This one she'd take care of, just like she'd tried to do with the rest of her cars. But, this time, she'd do it.

She started her up. Giselle rumbled to life and she drove her out of parking garage.

It wasn't unusual to see odd and extravagant cars around Monaco. But Giselle was something else. She drove around the streets, sunglasses covering her eyes. Cameras were on her, but, for the first time, she didn't much care.

She drove Giselle to the palace. It was a right job getting let in, her car not yet on the list. When she drove up the drive, a member of staff pulled open for door. She tossed him the keys. "Take good care of her," she said and ran up the steps.

It was easy to find Henri, hidden away in his office with his head in his hands. "Hen," she said and sat in the empty seat opposite him. "I think I did it, I think I finally cleaned up my act."

"Great," Henri said with little enthusiasm.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket, pulled up a picture of Giselle and placed it in front of her brother. "She's gorgeous, isn't she?" She began. "Charles says she rots, but I'm gonna take care of her."

Henri released a sigh. "Where the hell did you disappear to last week?" He asked suddenly. "Do you know who has to deal with everything when you disappear? Me! I have to do it. I have so many better things I could be doing with my time!"

"Jeez, Hen. I just got away for a little while. It's not that big a deal," she mumbled and checked her nails. "Besides, it not like you need me for anything."

And, suddenly, Henri was crying. His face was hidden in his hands, but his sobs were undeniable. "Fucking hell, Henri. I was with Charles. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Shut up," he spat between sobs. "You're a spoilt child and you haven't got a clue what's going on."

It was nothing Henri hadn't said to her before, but he'd never said it with such emotion before.

"You have no idea what the real world is like. Our family is already sick of dealing with you, so they dumped you on me. And, guess what, kid? I'm sick of you too!"

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Clearing her throat she stood up. "I know, Henri. I know you're sick of me, you didn't need to tell me."

She stood and strode out of his office. Henri didn't call her back, didn't make any attempt to apologise. Fine, she didn't need her brother. Climbing into Giselle she held her phone to her ear. "C'mon," she mumbled, beginning her drive back to her apartment.

When had Charles become the person she tried to seek comfort from?

She didn't know that Charles had a bad race, didn't know that he was in no mood. He picked up the phone though, if only to tell her just that.

"Charlie," she began, but she didn't get a chance to say much else.

"I can't talk right now," he said quickly, voice low.

But she didn't much care, she needed him. "Charles, please."

But he couldn't hear the sadness in her voice, not past his own anger and annoyance. "Why are you being so needy?" He spat. "I can't fucking talk right now."

She ended the call and threw her phone onto the passenger seat. Pulling over, she buried her face in her hands and cried. Tears ran down her cheeks and she sobbed until her chest hurt.

This day couldn't get any worse, she decided as she drove back to her apartment. She didn't want to speak to anybody. Not Henri, not Charles, not her friends. Nobody.

The news of her father's sickness broke that afternoon.

lol i thought we'd be wrapping up with this story but i guess not lmao also, giselle for reference below

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[slocumjoe]

danse's romance route has some potholes

so, this post woke me from my slumber, have a ramble

This has always been a weird point for me, but I never got around to really figuring out what it was exactly until just now. I think all of the romantic candidates have out-of-place flirting, at least here and there, but Danse consistently has dialogue options to flirt with him at exactly the wrong fuckin time. The odd thing about Danse is that, most of the time, the normal Good/Yes answer is more romantic or sincerely affectionate than the flirt.

So, the Flirts.

The only Flirt that works is when he talks about his fear of losing people, and Sole says, "I care too much about you to do that to you." It's the first Flirt, and he responds by saying you've given him "something to think about." I've gone on about how Danse has never truly felt cared for. Sole's voice acting also sells this Flirt by being somewhat timid, unsure of saying this, but wanting him to know.

Danse's talks go Kreig > Cutler > Haylen > Help Im A Robot. The first time you can flirt with him is in the Cutler chat, where the "I care about you" line comes up. It's not out of left field from the conversation. It's affectionate, it doesn't overstep, but it pushes the line and makes Danse consider "oh shit, there's a lil something something going on here."

The "Would you hold me?" line is much less subtle.

Danse talks about how he doubts himself after Cambridge and Sole's reference to him hugging Haylen makes it seem like they've just been waiting for him to shut up to use that line on him. It's out of place, it circles back to a topic we've moved on from, and it's so overt it sucker-punches everyone involved, including the player. It's blunt.

The other options of "I'm here whenever you need me" or "I'm glad you feel better" are less flirtatious, but they imply more direct concern and care for Danse. Both lines are about Danse, and Sole being there for him. The actual Flirt is what Danse can do for Sole. This is such a weird nitpick, I know, but it comes off not as romantic, but more like Sole is trying to hook up with him. That would work with someone like Hancock, or maybe Piper, but Danse's romance involves more subtlety and slow-burn elements. It's too forward.

So, in his final talk...

It's literally "Kitten I'll be honest, Daddy's about to kill himself" "haha no don't kill yourself you're soooo sexy"

It comes right after he's having a lot of emotions about his reason for living. This is not the time to put the responsibility of a relationship on someone. Again, this is a flaw of the 4 Affinity Talks system. If you're just going for a platonic relationship with Danse, his talks work great, but his character arc is unfinished anyway. They have to shoehorn romance in there, and it doesn't have the room to develop naturally. It's why Sole has to explicitly say "Would you hold me ;>".

The strangest part is that his neutral/Friendly dialogue options are more affectionate and relationship-building. Again, the other options in the Haylen talk comfort Danse and reassure him.

Honestly, I think the best option, for all romancable companions, is within arms reach. You know how, if you don't romance someone, they'll bring up their last talk again and give you a barn door of an opening to broach the subject of a relationship again? Just. Do that/ It's literally what I did when I romanced Danse; don't romance him as soon as possible. Let it marinate.

The second chance to romance him goes the exact same way, eyebrows to space and all. It just takes place after Danse confesses how close he feels to you and trusts you and not RIGHT AFTER BLIND BETRAYAL.

It's easy to fix the pacing just by not going for the smooch ASAP, but the flirting is awkward. It's worth noting that the line before the Haylen flirt "It's comforting to know that I can speak to you as more than just your commanding officer" has it's own Flirting tag on it. Danse flirts with Sole here, canonically.

A cheap and easy rewrite is Sole echoing the sentiment with something like, "It's comforting to know that you're more than my commanding officer." This leaves room for interpretation. What else is Danse? Sole has an idea, but leaves Danse to wonder about it. It also confirms to Danse "yes, we have a personal bond and this isn't just a work thing."

I think the core of Danse's romance is this dude realizing that he's loved and cared for, truly. Cait has a similar arc, but hers has different complications and contexts than Danse. Danse needs a slow-burn romance full of soft moments and instances of Sole reminding him of his own humanity, even long before the synth thing.

It's worth noting that the "i care too much about you" line is still kinda overshadowed by the "But I wanna be a mutant" joke. That joke makes him laugh, he jokes back without missing a beat, and it's a cute little bonding moment between him and Sole. Romance isn't just overt flirting, it's the little things that make you think the other person is special. How many people do you think can make Danse laugh? Especially about becoming a Super Mutant, right after being told about Cutler? Danse thinks Sole is funny. He thinks it's a cute little joke. He's charmed.

Then Sole sucker-punches him with an explicit ask of physical contact and emotional exploration and the moment is lost. For the Halyen talk, you could have an option where Sole asks, teasingly, if this is going on the report, and Danse laughs and contemplates what Maxson would think. Maybe he even comments about how rumors spread on the Prydwen, implying that he knows there is something between you two for people to gossip about. This would later tie in to The Reveal, where Maxson says the same thing.

[doritochoi]

Forbidden Desire | C.S

pairing: choi san xfem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: unprotected sex, sex in your boss's office, san really likes to fuck you.

word count: 2.3k

A/n : I feel so happy that I finished this story. It's been a while since I last posted, but I'm back. I hope you liked it! Don't forget to leave a comment. Love you guys ❤❤

banner from @cafekitsune

Again a normal day when you had to go to work. It was a really beautiful day, you could see couples holding hands on the street, wondering what was wrong with you, or if someone loves you. After that incident 2 years ago, when your ex-boyfriend cheated on you with your best friend, you don't trust anyone anymore. You swore you'd never fall in love again, until Choi San appeared in your life.

Choi San known as the millionaire from South Korea who maintains many companies, was the dream of many girls. All the girls you saw in the company were obsessed with him and did their best to talk to him. Unfortunately, you also liked him, even more than you think, but you surely thought that he would never look at you. Even if you were his secretary, you still couldn't do anything. Your feelings were growing more and more making you feel sad all the time. Today you were in the elevator, you were looking in the mirror, arranging yourself a little, then you heard a sound, knowing that you reached the floor where you should be. By chance, you saw that your boss's door was a little open, so you stopped to see what was happening. And there was Nancy, that flirty girl who is always in his office trying to get his attention. You ignored that, and went to your office, placing your laptop on the table. While you were working, you were surprised when it was San who entered your office. Usually when he enters your office, he calls you to get ready for important meetings or he needs help with a project, but today was the first day of the week and you were a little shocked to see him in your office. It was definitely something important. You weren't even paying attention to what he was saying. You were just looking at how he was dressed. That white shirt was a little transparent showing a small part of his abs. His pants fit perfectly, and his thighs looked so soft that you wanted to put your hand on them at that moment. Of course he saw how you were looking at him but he didnt said anything. "Did you understand?" , his voice scared you a little, waking you up to reality. Being his secretary, he expected more from you and all you could do was just stare at him. "Miss Y/n?" , the way he pronounced your name made you melt and it wasn't just that, the hands, the fingers, all the parts of his body. You thought what he could do to you with those long fingers. You didn't care about that you weren't paying attention to what he was explaining. Your mind was only full of dirty thoughts and dreams that you would like to fulfill in reality. "I would like to know why you aren't paying attention to me, miss. " , his body leans on your desk and his eyes making eye contact with you waiting for an answer. "I-i was just thinking about something..", he fixed his tie, looking insanely good, then getting ready to answer you. "Something like what?"

The tension was already too high, if he continued leaning on that desk like that you could make a wrong step and you certainly didn't want that to happen, so you stood up, heading for the door. But something unexpected happens. While you were rushing as fast as possible to get out of the same room with San, he grabs your hand and pinned you to the wall, looking into your eyes. He slowly approaches your face, his lips getting extremely close. Thinking he wanted to kiss you, you quickly closed your eyes, but all he did was move closer to your ear, feeling how his full lips touch your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Im sorry, i didn't want to scare you, i just wanted to say that this night were having a date with Park's Company". There is no way that he did all of that just to say this to you, right? Or maybe it was just in your mind. The thing is that he wanted to do this. He had been planning this for a long time, he just didn't know when, and the right moment was right now. There is no business meeting. Yes, Mr. Park will come, but he will find the right moment to tell him to leave so that you two will be alone. It was too obvious that you liked him, he saw how you were arranging yourself, how you were trying to get his attention, but he was waiting for you to make the first move, but you didn't really succeed. "I want you to get ready at 9 pm, and I will come in front of your apartment to take you". You couldn't speak, in fact how could you speak when this wonderful man was standing in front of you.

Time passed very quickly. You put on the most beautiful dress you had in your dresser. A mini black dress that fit perfectly on your body. While you were looking in the mirror and putting a cute accessory in your hair, a sound could be heard from outside. It was none other than San. The fact that you were looking out the window, how he was sitting in the car. One hand on the steering wheel, waiting for you, while looking at the watch on his left hand, turns your legs into jelly. You gulped and looked at how he was dressed. The same white shirt, only 3 buttons were undone, exposing his neck. The leather pants that looked so good on him, his thighs... You were already staring at him too much, so you took your bags and left. Outside, when you walked out the door, he was there waiting for you. He got out of the car approaching you. Now it really looks too good. You could see how his muscles tensed through that shirt. How much you wanted to rip that shirt off, but of course you cant do that. While you were dreaming of all the scenarios that can cross your mind, San gets extremely close to you. His perfume brings you back to reality knowing that he is here, and you are just thinking about the things he could do to you. "Hi", just a simple hi and you couldn't even speak. "Let's go hm?", he waited for your answer a couple of seconds, because you were too stunned to speak. "Uhm.. y-yes", he opens the door for you, and you try to cover your dress a little because it was quite short. When he got into the car, he noticed that you were struggling to put on your seat belt, so he bent down a little, making eye contact, trying to put it on. After that, he realized what you were wearing. Looking at you from top to bottom, licking his lips. "You look so beautiful tonight, Y/n", You didn't say anything, you just blushed and smiled looking at him.

The car ride was quiet, but after one hour in traffic, you arrived at a restaurant. You got out of the car and you already noticed that the restaurant was not an ordinary one like all the others. It was an extremely expensive one, where you couldn't even afford to eat there, but yeah Choi San was rich. He startled you by putting his hand on your shoulder. You quickly turned around and lost your balance making San grab your waist, looking into your eyes. " Oop- are you okay?" ,you nodded and he helped you . "Shall we go?", he took your hand giving you goosebumps. "Yes", you shyly responded and went inside the restaurant. There he was, Mr Park sitting in front of us. He was extremely gorgeous, but not your type. You bet that every girl were trying to get his attention. " Woah i didnt know you will bring this beautiful girl here". San was angry, he didn't know he would act like this, he was trying to hold back from saying something, but apparently Mr. Park wanted to flirt with you. " So whats your name, pretty girl?" ,after he said that, his hand landed on your leg making you flinch, buy you decided to play too. Making San jealous can't go wrong, right?

One hour passed and the meeting already led to something else. You forgot that San was next to you, looking jealous at the two of you. It was almost 11pm and you already started getting ready to leave. San was looking at you, at the movements you were making. How you bent down to adjust your shoes a little seeing your cleavage, but still he didn't find the right moment to do the things he wanted to do. The time has already passed and he had to take you home. Apparently, Mr. Park tricked him. He drove you home, and when you got to bed you thought about what happened today. You can even focus on that power point project he gave you, all of this because of him. You needed him and for sure he needed you too.

The next day you woke up with a headache. Last night you had a dream. You couldn't get out of your mind the position your boss fucked you on his office desk. The way his hands covered your boobs, from time to time leaning down and kissing each one. He was driving you crazy. Not in the dream, but in real life too. You put on your favorite shirt and your mini skirt, underneath you had black panties, just the way you thought he liked them, and a pair of sexy tights. You applied a little make-up, took your bag and left for the company. When you got out of the elevator, you wondered if San had some free time to talk to him, because he always had meeting and he is very busy. You saw Jongho passing by and you went towards him. "Hello Jongho, is Mr Choi in his office?", he answered seeing that you had some files in your hand, thinking that you have to show them to him. "Yes, he just came", "Okay, thanks!".

There you were, in front of his office. You could smell his perfume and he itsn't not even near you. Before opening the door, you undid 2 buttons on your shirt to warm the atmosphere a little. You knocked and opened the door. Just as you expected, Mr Choi was wearing your favorite suit, his hair was neatly arranged looking at the laptop screen, but your presence makes him change his gaze towards you. He looked at you from top to bottom, carefully analyzing the skirt you were wearing. He knew he was something off. " What brings you here, miss Y/n?", the way he pronounced your name made your legs like jelly. "I wanted to talk about the project you gave me..", he looked at you for one more time and motioned for you to come and sit on the chair next to him. "Hm.. let's see what we have here....wait where is that file?, one file was missing and he tries to search it everywhere. Then you saw the file on the floor " Found it!", you said bending under the desk and showing San what is hidden in your cleavage. "Here.", you passed him the file. "What are you doing?" ,he frowned getting up from the chair, you quickly got up too, looking at him with confusion. But actually your plan was going like you wanted. "Nothing", he raises an eyebrow, trying to hide his interest but failing. "What's with the new look?, he smirks. " You are really coming out of your shell lately, aren't you?, he winks at you. "Huh what do you mean?", he grins, moving closer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "I mean, i love it, you look so confident and sexy, it drives me crazy.", he whispered in your ear, planting soft kisses down your neck."Tell me love, what is on your mind", his hot breath sending shivers down your spine." You, only you...". San leans down and starts kissing and sucking your neck, leaving love bites. "San...", you moaned putting your tiny hands on his waist, then your hands went lower to his belt, but he stops you smirking at you. "Nah, not now, im not done with you.", he puts his hands between your legs, discovering the black panties that you picked for him, then sits you on the desk, exploring every part of your body with his hands. "I love it when you surprise me, princess". You couldn't do anything, San was fingering you so bad that you wanted to come on his fingers. He sits you up and looks at you. "Bend over", you immediately obey and bend over the desk feeling hands wrap around your hips, pulling you closer to him. He starts to move slowly at first but quickly loses control, unable to hold back his desire for you. He kisses you passionately as he thrusts into you deep and fast, driving both of you closer to the edge. With each thrust, your moans became louder and he can feel himself losing control. He moves his hand to your clit, circling it with his wet fingers to add you pleasure. San couldn't hold back any longer and with a final thrust, he releases himself with a loud moan, watching you moan as well, both of you panting and holding onto each other tightly. He looks down at you with a loving expression and brushes a strand of hair away from your face." I love you so much...", you smiled at him feeling tired. Concern fills San's eyes as he cups your face and kisses your forehead gently. "Aww, my poor baby, you must be exhausted." he wraps his arms around you and try to clean you up .He puts you on the sofa lying down next to you. "Rest now, love. I'll be right here beside you, and no one will disturb us."

[uncommonsunlight]

Final thoughts on this before I put Watcher firmly in my rear-view mirror

They are bad at business. The other content creators that came for them in videos showed that they should not be struggling. They're doing something wrong with their money but rather than fix it or get help with that they tried to make it our problem and that sucks.

That's not something they should crash and burn for but nothing they said convinced me they heard those concerns or think they were wrong initially. They are reacting to a worse response than they anticipated, they are not genuinely feeling bad.

Their quiet likes or reblogs of their equally out of touch friends supportive posts really got under my skin. This is what they really think, they are not genuinely sorry.

They obviously hired PR and listened but why didn't they do that before this launch? They still have a lot of ego to overcome and I don't know if they will be able to do that.

Finally they got to this point because they didn't want to do the work necessary of growing a media company in normal mode. Like Self-promo, hiring people who are capable of doing many tasks and then branching out when they have sustained growth, and putting out lower cost but entertaining content. So they tried to grow it on easy mode and fucked up so spectacularly that now they'll have to do it on hard mode. Even if I was still invested in the personalities (I'm not) I'm also not particularly interested in watching new content I know they're just pretending they like to do.

I'm tired. I woke up not caring whether they did reply or not and I'm not picking the sub back up. There's a real popular saying on tumblr: When someone shows you who they are believe them. I choose to believe them. Maybe I'll look in from time to time. But for now, goodbye Watcher.