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babybluebex · 7 months

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venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF ? 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, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!

There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count).

It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!”

You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one.

The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.”

The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?”

“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.”

You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention.

“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed.

“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?”

You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.”

“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation.

The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”

You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.”

“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.”

You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.”

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.”

“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.”

“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.”

“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?”

You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…”

“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?”

The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene.

“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm.

You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up.

You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out.

You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others.

You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy.

Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over.

“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?”

“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.”

“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”

“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.”

“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked.

“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”

“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?”

You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.”

“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too.

“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.”

“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?”

“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked.

“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.”

“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks.

Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him.

“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?”

Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?”

“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.”

“Probably,” Angus said simply.

You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.”

To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.”

“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic.

“No,” you told him.

“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next.

You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time.

“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.”

All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!”

You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked.

Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.”

“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.”

“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.”

“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged.

“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.”

“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.”

You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.”

The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say?

Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes.

You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that.

The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”

The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.

You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?”

“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?”

“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?”

The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said.

You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same.

Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?

“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.”

You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said.

“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?”

“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.”

You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked.

“Do I mind what?” Angus asked.

“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.”

“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.”

You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him.

“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly.

You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up.

“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief.

“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”

“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?”

“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?”

“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.”

“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”

“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?”

“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.”

“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”

“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone.

“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?”

“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”

“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.”

“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!”

“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said.

“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”

“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.”

“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?”

“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.”

That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”

Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ.

The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class.

You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him.

“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.”

As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.”

You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school.

“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.”

“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged.

“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.”

Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas.

Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office.

“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.”

“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.”

Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.”

“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”

“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?”

“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.”

You nodded silently.

“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked.

You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.”

“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.

“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”

“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.”

Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.”

Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives.

After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone.

Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book.

The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room.

Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.”

“Who?” you asked.

“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.”

“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.”

“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.”

“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”

“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?”

Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”

“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?”

“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”

“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?”

“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…”

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!”

“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said.

“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here!”

You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment.

You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open.

Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great.

But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath.

“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?”

“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap.

Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently.

“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked.

“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—”

“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.”

“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked.

“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.”

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.”

The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway.

“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?”

“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.”

“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”

“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.”

“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly.

“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.”

“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.”

“Shut up,” you huffed.

“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?”

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room.

Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline.

By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep.

That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway.

You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.”

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.”

You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.”

“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.”

“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.”

You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.”

“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”

“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night.

It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”

“Would you?” your mother asked.

“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!”

“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked.

“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy— I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end.

“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!”

“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.”

Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.”

“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”

“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.”

“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked.

“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into—

“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.”

“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?”

You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled.

Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.”

You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled.

“Guess so,” Angus echoed.

The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it.

You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours.

Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch.

Accurate, you countered.

Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?”

But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!”

“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly.

“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement.

“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop.

“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.”

You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin.

“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?”

You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.”

Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard.

You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone.

You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up.

“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?”

Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?”

“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.”

On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.”

You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus.

“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.”

If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”.

The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”

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

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riddlessecretss · 2 months

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Train ride with Mattheo Riddle:

• You CANNOT tell me he would not bombard your phone with selfies.🤣

• Your passcode being his birthday>>

• Fucking him in front of his friends because you two don’t care.

Omg the way he looks in this photo is just majestic.

“Y/nn! Hurry up, I don’t know why you brought that suitcase for this year.”

“I’ve got a dorm to myself this year which means I’ve got more storage. And I’m going to use it.”

He chuckled and helped you with pulling the case up from the platform. “Thank you baby.” You thank him with a kiss on the cheek. You start looking for your assigned seats and get the window and middle seat. Opposite you is Theodore and opposite Mattheo is Tom. You guys lost Tom and Theodore a while back while you were smoking and flirting with Mattheo.

You have a seat but sit on Mattheo’s lap so you can cuddle. You are always tense about the train since your older brother left the school and doesn’t go on the tram anymore. But messing around with Mattheo makes it better.

Theo didn’t get enough sleep last night because he had girls over, of course. He fell asleep first so you decided to take a photo.💀

You and Mattheo couldn’t stop laughing at how mad he looked even when he slept. When you got to know Theo you would learn that he’s probably the sweetest Slytherin out there. But he doesn’t like to show it.

But you were too busy still laughing at him to realise Blaise and Enzo had been editing photos of Tom and Draco. You open your phone to the gc to see these.

Tom👺- That is not funny! Just you fucking wait tonight Lorenzo Berkshire.

Enzo🌺- I take it back!!

Tom👺- Too late.

You- BAHAHA🤣

Draco🌝- I CANTT

Blaise🏋️- Draco don’t think your safe💀

Mattheo❤️- Oh shit😭 the first one is baddd buddy.

Draco🌝- My father will hear about this!

You get tired after all the messing about with Mattheo so you decide to take a nap. Which results in another photo added in the gc.

Enzo🌺- Aww

Theo🇮🇹- And they laughed at me for sleeping!

You wake up from the smell of liquor and w33d. Mattheo passes you the joint. “Thank yo-“

“Any snacks for the remaining journey?”

For three years in a row you and Mattheo buy nearly everything and throw it around the carriage to share. You and Mattheo have taken upon yourselves to be the parents of the group whether your responsible or not is not important. You all get high as you arrive to school.

Dumbledore’s greeting speech is always a bore and you have to sit through all the new first years hat sorting ceremony. Mattheo has got his hand on your thigh the entire time.

“Can you stay quiet for me doll?” You nod as he slides his hand up and reaches under your skirt. You try and keep a straight face while Mattheo’s hand is on your pussy. He starts rubbing your clothed cunt and eventually speeds up. Before you get to cum Mattheo moves his hand away. Tease. You take a drink to help you cool down. His hand starts to creep back as the boys share a few sniggers in the new years crying over their hogwarts house.

His hand gets higher than before as he sneaks a finger in and curls up to hit your g-spot. A squeal leaves your mouth as you cover your mouth, luckily no-one heard. Mattheo adds two fingers as he adds, “You can be as loud as you want tonight.” You smirk as you remember your good luck tradition to make the room more welcoming is to fuck on the first night.

You squirm under his touch and it isn’t long until you cum in his hand. He hold eye contact as he licks his fingers.

“We have got a new student joining the 12th year!” Dumbledore announces as you all turn your head. The brunette walks up to the hat and already looks like fun, you wanna be her friend.

“SLYTHERIN!”🗣️🗣️

It’s late because I fell asleep. Enjoy and i will prolly make this a series. If I re log a post go and show them some love because these peoples works are impressive! Tyy for nearly 300 likes on a post! Navaiah💝

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strvngeweather · 8 months

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It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him. “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag. “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend. You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger). “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts x black reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #smut #bts smut #bts x reader fic #jimin x black reader

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lavenderstobins · 5 months

Text

It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.

Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.

The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.

Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.

She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.

"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.

Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."

He frowns. "Robert?"

"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."

Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.

"She got family?"

"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."

"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.

When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.

—

Wayne doesn't even last the day.

He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.

She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.

He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.

Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"

The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.

"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?

"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."

She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.

"You waiting on your ma?"

To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.

"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.

"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"

A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.

"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."

Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"

His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.

The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.

The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.

Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.

Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"

She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."

"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."

This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.

"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"

He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."

She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.

Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.

He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.

Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.

Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.

#wayne adopts robin au #stranger things #wayne munson #robin buckley #eddie munson #my writing #st ficlet #st fic #this ran away from me so unbelievably badly #my wips

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

Note

I loved Worship but it got me thinking about like what if someone kept calling her mean stuff during the show and just boys reacting to their girl getting slandered tnx

Guess who got carried away? 😂 I love it guys, thank you for popping into my ask. I really love seeing your ideas!🤍✨

Sleep token x reader

For the record

It’s the usual shenanigans that get the show going. Considering that everyone was in a good mood tonight was already labeled to be a solid night. It always felt the best like this. When everyone was fully relaxed and enjoying themselves. You had lingered back with IV before the show, too lost in bickering until it was him messily making sure that your headset was on before someone thrust his guitar into his hands. A little wink. A little nudge. And it was back to the place you had grown to love. Crave deep within your soul.

It’s behind II that you sing some of your most beautiful solos. Finding your way up on his seat while his hands go up and down your thighs. Mostly trying to make sure that you don’t fall back but enough to seem that he’s more than happy to sit between your thighs while you stand above him. It’s the fleeting kisses that you keep sharing with IV tonight. One after another, every time you pass by. Till it’s almost funny when he’s right in front of you. Pretending as if it’s an unexpected bump in. It’s Vessel that you fall to your knees to and he’s more than happy to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, leaning in only to push your face to the side. Making you fake fallback as you lay your limp there for a couple of beats. Enjoying the roar of the crowd. III manages to trap you in between his guitar and you as you both swing to the beat. Your fingers trailing up and down his thighs.

But it was the odd eyes that you kept on landing on. First row. Right in front of you. Ones that made you sick to your stomach. Ones that you tried to avoid. But you kept on coming and coming back. And it’s when you come towards the edge of the stage to sing yet another part of your siren song that you hear it. “Cheep Whore”, “Band filth”, “Shared bitch”. Rolling in and in. With more and more people turning their heads towards the people screaming at the tops of their lungs.

And it’s as if the words had scorched you. You find yourself backing away. Till you hit something solid and warm. A hand coming to steady you. But you pull back just as fast. Turnning to find a pissed-looking Vess. “Keep going”, your mouth, letting yourself trail your gaze over the rest of the band. Only to find another three pissed faces. You grab Vessel’s hand, pulling him closer, “Do the rest of the show the way it was supposed to be”, you begged, “Leave it and keep going. They will follow”.

A wave of relief washes over you as he steps away. Continuing the next song. III blazing eyes are the next thing you see but you just shake your head at him. Even if the poor pick gets thrown across the stage and not in a nice way. But they stick through. Faces tight. The atmosphere off. The magic faded. The feeling was lost. You stick to the furthest part of the sage, doing your parts as if glued to it. The moment the last sounds of the cords fade, you’re turning onto your heel, diving backstage.

You feel stupid almost, that something that was going on in comments and posts for some time now had finally made you slip up. Cause you didn’t care. Not really…. right? “Y/N”, a bang sounded at the door making you flinch, “You in here?”. A part of you wants to keep quiet. Let this fade into the back too. But you hear the commotion, not enough to understand what the bickering is about, before a much louder banging ring through the quiet space. “Open the door”, IV's voice is much more strict than II’s. The agitation oozed out. “I am taking my makeup off”, your voice cracks, and your silent scream into the void within because you know that they would have heard it. “You take it off in the bus while we drink, don’t start bullshiting me now”, IV rattles the hand and you suddenly start to wonder how long it would take for him to break the door.

“Look”, II cuts in, “I get it, you want to be by yourself but we kind of got a situation going on with III”, and it’s enough to make you step closer to the door. Because you care about them and if III is flying off the handle it would be your fault. “What happened?”, you mutter, pressing your face against the door. You’re met with silence but it’s enough for you to know that they are looking at one another now, silently debating their next words.

“Jumped off stage and took off towards the pit”, and that’s enough for you to yank the door open. You just don’t get to go as far as two pairs of hands pulling you back. “Come here”, you hear IV mutter before you were met with II's embraces. The warmth of him cutting deep through you. Making your eyes sting. Yet you pushed back, trying to escape them both. “Let me go, let me talk to him”, you wheezed. “It’s taken care of”, IV cut in, “He’s backstage somewhere, you don’t need to worry”.

You looked up at them, “You tricked me, idiots”. IV reached to catch your face, “You ran off, locked yourself in a fucking bathroom. What do you expect that we baked you cookies?”. “IV”, II hissed, “What he was trying to say is that we care for you and that shit on the stage shouldn’t have happened”. You fist II shirts, trying to keep your composure, “I don’t care and don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of it”, you sighed in frustration. You needed out, or you would cry and you hadn’t yet done that in front of the boys.

“This is a mutual choice”, Vessel’s voice fills the space, “If we mess around, we mess around together. One of us having to take shit for it is bullshit”. And that’s when you see him. Rubbing his left hand’s chuckles. Your whole body drains from your body. “You punched him didn’t you?”, you mutter, already thinking of all the articles. And what for? After all the years of staying out of bad PR. Your legs move on their own accord and with a couple of steps you are wrapped up in III’s arms. “For the record, I missed”, he grunts. And that’s the thing that snaps the last bit. A strange strangled noise leaves your lips before you can clap a hand over your mouth. The look in III eyes shifts, “I would go back there, just saying”, he mutters before pulling you back into him by the back of your head.

“I need Chinese tonight”, II throws it out in the open. Making the salty stream of tears down your cheeks feel less pathetic in a way, as everyone snorts in their toes. “I call dibs for the bus bed tonight”, Vess points out and it’s as if nothing had happened. The same dynamic between you five talking is usually formed. “You’ve slept there for the last two stops”, III is quick to remind him, yet his eyes are still on you. Quietly assessing the real damage. “And before you say it, you aren’t special because you’re long and skinny”, Vess simply flips III off before the room is once again filled with laughter. You feel soft hands brushing against your chin before your head is gently nudged upwards. Meeting IV eyes within a blink. “Head up, little siren”, he muses, brushing the tears off your cheeks, “Can’t have you loosing your spark”. You nod tightly, trying to not let another wave of emotions cloud your eyes. “For the record, I would eat you out”, III shrugs, making the rest of them chorus his name with curses following right after.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token imagine #sleep token x you #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iv fanfiction #sleep token iv imagine #sleep token iv x reader #sleep token ii x reader #sleep token iii x reader #sleep token vessel x reader

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strawbxrryneptune · 1 year

Text

College BKG <3 (enemies to lovers ish)

unedited, lowkey rushed at the end cause im exhausted but at least i posted something after like a year teehee

@miggiisdumb

You walk into the lecture hall a couple minutes early, dragging your sleep deprived friend along with you.

“I genuinely don't understand why we have to get to class so early. The professor isn't even here yet."

You huff at her complaint, pulling her towards the front where you always sit.

"I just want to keep my seat.”

Before she can reply, you cut her off.

“Yes, I know, I’ve been sitting in the same place the whole semester and no one’s taken my seat, but there’s still the risk. Remember when Bakugou fucking took it last week and wouldn’t stop being smug about it?”

Slipping into the second row, she sits on your left, sighing heavily.

"Honestly, the little petty battle you have with him is getting old babe, just fuck him at this point."

You laugh, resting your head in your hands as you stare at your friend.

"Excuse me?"

She scoffs in your face, obviously too tired for your conversation.

"Listen, we all grew up together, anyone who went to UA can agree that you both have hard ons for each other, but you’re too busy arguing to see it.”

You sigh dramatically, flopping back in your seat.

“He’s an asshole-”

"An asshole you wanna fuck.”

You swipe at her, and she laughs before pushing at your arm.

“Look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t want to fuck him.”

“...Okay, he’s kind of hot-”

“So fuck-”

“-no, he’s so annoying!”

She gives you a look then sighs,

“Yes, yes he is.”

You both laugh, your mind wandering elsewhere for a bit before she taps your arm and nods her head behind you, wiggling her eyebrows. You hum, turning to see none other than Bakugo Katsuki himself. He’s walking towards your aisle, plopping down into a seat behind you and putting his bag down next to him. He’s wearing a black sweater draped over black pants, hair fluffy but still somehow spiky looking, and a smoky, almost woodsy scent wafting from him.

Bakugou meets your eyes, and the intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. He raises an eyebrow at you, lips curving up to conceal a smirk. You roll your eyes and turn back around, annoyed that he caught you staring. Your friend holds back a laugh next to you and you pointedly ignore her, willing the professor to start the lecture already.

Before you can get fully lost in thought, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and almost hit your forehead against Bakugou’s.

“Jesus, have you ever heard of personal space?”

He ignores your question and squints at the small table in front of you.

“You got an extra pencil?”

You stare at him, then look around to the other people in his row.

“Why are you asking me? There's like 5 other people in your sectio-”

“Do you have another fuckin’ pencil or not, Brat?”

You huff and shake your head no. You definitely have another pencil, but you're not giving it to his rude ass. He slides his eyes from your face to the bright pink pencil case on your table, full to the brim with pencils and highlighters.

“Alright.”

You give him another roll of your eyes and go to turn around, but he stops you by leaning over your shoulder and snatching the pencil you were currently using off of your table, retracting back and sitting in his seat. You're pissed, but you can't even bring yourself to turn around because holy shit were his arms always that muscular? And did they always have those veins running through them all the way to his big hands? And fuck when he bent over you his gold chain came out of his shirt a little and it made you think how it would look dangling over you while he fucked the breath out of you. You take a quick breath and dig through your pencil case, taking a pen out and focusing on the smart board at the front of the class. The professor finally starts talking and you welcome the distraction, taking your notebook out to start taking notes.

Once it hit the end of your class, you closed your notebook and let out a sigh, thankful to be done for the day. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and this time you just give Bakugou a side eye when he slides his face close to yours and plops the pencil back on your desk.

“Thanks.”

“Dunno why you’re acting nice like you didn’t steal from me but you’re welcome.”

His face comes into view, and even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can see his eyes drilling holes into the side of your face.

“Don’t give me shit as if you didn’t lie to me.”

You scoff and fully turn, almost nose to nose with him.

“Why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re such a dick?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes darken in a way that makes your stomach turn.

“You wanna repeat that?”

You don't want to repeat it, actually, but you’re not about to back down and pissing him off is too fun, so you get closer.

“I said, why would I want to give you a pencil when you’re. a. dick.”

He gives you a sadistic smile and closes the already small distance between you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“If you want dick so bad I can give it to you, you don't gotta call me one Sweetheart.”

Your face heats up and your eyes dart around the room, relief flooding your chest when you realize everyone cleared out of the lecture hall except for some girl who was closing her laptop and shoving her things into her bag.

You turn back to him and step back, grabbing your notebook and pencil case and putting it into your bag.

“Please, I’d get more satisfaction from a metal pipe than your dick. You can’t handle this.”

He grabs your wrist, and when you turn back around he’s in your face again, this time staring at your lips with dark eyes.

“You wanna bet?”

You look around again, watching that last girl walk out the door. Fuck it, if the dick is bad or you embarass yourself you still have time to drop the class.

With that in mind, you shake your wrist free from his grip and lean in to kiss him, sighing softly when he kisses back because his lips are so soft. He brings a strong hand to your jaw and tilts your head, kissing you deeper. You make out for a bit before you start to become aware of the awkward position you’re both in, straining to kiss each other over the seats of the hall. He seems to have the same thought, and he brings his hands down to your waist before pausing and pulling away.

“Can I touch you?”

You think it's a bit silly for him to ask you at this point, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Yes.”

You say it breathily, and he gives you a crooked smile before grabbing your waist and whispering, “Jump” against your mouth. You do as he says and he effortlessly lifts you up over the seats and into his arms, hands moving to cup your ass. He continues to kiss you and you start to feel yourself getting hot, moving your hips against his stomach to alleviate some of the tension. He squeezes your ass and moves to sit down, placing you on the ground before turning you around and making you sit on his lap with your back to him. He leans forward to kiss your neck while bringing a veiny hand up to lightly choke you, not applying that much pressure but still making your head spin.

“Grind on me.”

“Ask nicely, Bakugou.”

He chuckles and gives you a sharp bite on the side of your neck, making your hips jolt against him.

“There you go, good girl.”

You want to tell him off, but you can feel his dick through his pants and you want to feel more. Biting your lip, you grind against him slowly, picking up the pace gradually and forcing moans out of the both of you.

“Fuck, Bakugou take your pants off i wanna feel you.”

“Ask nicely, brat.”

You huff and turn to try and undo his pants, but he stops you.

“I said, ask nicely. You're not gettin’ shit actin all prissy.”

“...fine. Please take off your pants so I can sit on your cock, Bakugou.”

He hums and gives you another murmur of “good girl” before tapping your hips to get you up again, shimmying his pants to his knees and taking his dick out. He reaches over and takes your bottoms and panties off, rubbing your hips before reaching around and starting to rub soft circles into your clit, causing you to let out a small moan. He pulls you closer and continues to pleasure you, teasing you and pulling at your clit occasionally while slipping his hand into your shirt and tweaking a nipple. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, and you start to move your hips along with his hand. He groans against you as he feels you getting slick, taking his hand away quickly to slide your wetness along his dick. He uses one hand to pump himself while sliding one, two, three thick fingers into you, curving them and pumping rhythmically. He whispers in your ear about how soft you are, how beautiful and wet and perfect your pussy is, and you just can’t stop gushing on his fingers. You start to feel your orgasm coming up, and you stop his fingers.

”Fuck me, Bakugou, please.”

He moans at the desperate tone of your voice, bringing you further back and sliding his cock along your pussy, rubbing the tip against your clit and making your legs shake. You whine and reach back, wrapping your hand around his and guiding him inside you, gasping at the stretch. He takes it slow, and once you give him a whimper and a nod he starts to thrust into you, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. He fucks you good, and you start to feel your legs shake and your vision blur as he hits that spot over and over and over again until you feel him consume you and you’re cumming just like that, back arched and eyes shut, moaning loud. He moans along with you, slamming his hips into you through the squeezing of your pussy. He slows down his thrusts to give you time to calm down, and you lean back and moan in his ear, squeezing him some more. He groans and pulls you off of him, cumming onto your ass.

You both take a moment to calm down, getting dressed in slightly awkward silence as you both grab your shit. You check your phone quickly and hold back a laugh when you see a text from your friend telling you she left in hopes of you getting dicked down. Little did she fucking know.

#neptunewrites🪐#bakugo smut #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #neptunetalks🪐

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daydreamtofiction · 1 month

Text

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 19: Spirit

Contents | Prev Part | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) A year and a half has passed and Ellis has moved on, but the universe never seems to let her forget her past.

Word Count: 8.3K (It's another hefty one lol oops)

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, smut incl: penetrative sex, 'quickie', rough, no aftercare. Readers must be 18+

The world never stops turning, no matter how unfair it may seem. We crash our cars yet the radio still plays, traffic lights keep changing as we sit in the wreck, red then amber then green, and back again. Daffodils bloom as dreams wilt away, and the sky still glitters with fireworks at the end of the worst year of someone's life. We are passengers on a train with no stops, and the options are limited; embrace the journey or get dragged along behind it.

Eighteen months had passed since you'd let the light back in. A year and a half of laughter and growth, of new friends and milestones. Granted, you still couldn't drive. Still had terrible posture and a knack for saying the wrong things. But those that loved you didn't care, and you were finding it easier to love yourself because of that.

You were four hours from home, sitting in the passenger seat of Rav's car as he drove you through the most quaint, scenic town you'd ever seen. It was like an illustration; thatched roofs and Tudor cladding, ivy on brick and winding cobblestone lanes. There was a milkman driving a float in front of you, an old lady setting up tables outside a café as a policeman strolled down the street, smiling and waving at passers by.

You turned to Rav. "Did you ever watch Midsomer Murders?"

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, smirking like he knew what you were about to say.

"This place is just too idillic," you said. "Feels like Jessica Fletcher's somewhere investigating a suspicious death."

"That was Murder She Wrote."

"Oh. Well, still..."

He laughed, craning his head to see around the milk float in front. "Fucking hell, first the tractor, now this."

"It looks like he's going that way."

"Woohoo!" he cheered, speeding up as the float turned the corner.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Lewis Hamilton, slow down."

"Oh, I'm sorry, for a second there it sounded like you were criticising my driving. You, Ellis Weiss, the woman whose name alone strikes fear into the hearts of driving instructors everywhere."

You hit him on the arm.

He laughed, before squinting to read the road sign ahead. "I'm not seeing any directions for this place yet, are you?"

"No. And I still don't have any signal so I can't Google Maps it. Why don't you pull over and we can ask someone for directions?"

He gave a reluctant hum and kept driving.

"Rav, just pull over and ask."

"Hang on a second, let me see-"

"Why are men so opposed to getting directions?"

"I'm not opposed, I just-"

You reached a dead end. He rolled to a stop as you glared at him.

"Y'know what, it's fine," he said facetiously. "Who needs marriage anyway? This isn't the 1920's, we're a progressive society."

You laughed. "May I remind you, you were the one who proposed."

He pressed his mouth into a straight line, jokingly rolling his eyes before turning the car around and driving back the way you came.

You drove a little while longer, finally spotting a spire in the distance; the tall, stone point peeking over a row of houses.

"Is that the one?" asked Rav.

"I think it is."

He got closer, turning onto the street where a large church stood proudly at the bottom. Perfectly kept grass bordered the beautiful stone building, winding paths and an elaborate sign near the entrance.

"St Joseph's," Rav read. "Yeah, this is it. Thank fuck for that."

He pulled into the carpark and you felt a strange wave of discomfort ripple through your stomach. It didn't seem to matter how many churches you visited, how much time passed; the memories were like a scar, healed but never fully gone.

You climbed out into the cool, spring breeze, drying your sweaty palms on your trousers.

"Here we go, church number three," said Rav. "Third time's a charm, right?"

"Well this isn't falling apart like the last one, so we're off to a good start," you replied.

You walked together down a long path, climbing the steps and pushing through the doors into the foyer. It smelled musky, smoky; frankincense and myrrh, wood and incense, rose and beeswax. There was a man pinning signs to a noticeboard, his back to you as he whistled happily to himself.

"Excuse me," said Rav. "Are you the priest?"

The man turned. "Hm? Oh no, I'm just a volunteer."

"Oh sorry. We were hoping we might be able to talk to the priest about possibly having a wedding here. I don't know if you might be able to... Erm..."

"Ah, well I think he's in his office. I'll go and grab him for you." He smiled kindly. "You can come in and have a look around if you like? I'll only be a minute."

"That's great, thank you."

The man hurried away, disappearing through a nearby door that led to a long corridor. You walked with Rav, tentatively stepping into the chapel and looking around at the bright, vast space.

He turned to you with an excited grin. "This is nice, isn't it."

"It is," you said, looking up at the windows, the artwork on the walls.

"Look." He walked down the aisle, pointing to the pews either side of him as he went. "Flowers here, right?"

You nodded, watching as he jogged the rest of the way to stand at the altar.

He held his hands out, gesturing to the space around him. "Yeah, this is nice. I can picture myself standing here. What do you think? Is the aisle long enough? Quick, Ellis, go there and walk down, see if you can picture it."

You laughed and waved your hand at him, wandering over to a display of flowers instead, touching the petals gently to see if they were real and leaning forward to smell them.

"Hi there, sorry to keep you," a voice echoed through the chapel.

It sent a chill down your spine; the deep, rich tone seeping straight into your bones. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes widening in shock as the priest walked right past you, the sight of him leaving you frozen, staring at him as he met Rav in the middle of the aisle and reached for a handshake.

There was a moment where you thought you were imagining it. The tall frame, dark curls and pale skin nothing more than a ghost, a mirage, a sign you needed to get some sleep. Then he introduced himself, I'm Father Benedict, and you knew he was real.

"Rav, nice to meet you." He gestured over to you. "And this is Ellis."

He turned to look at you; his smile lines melting, lips parting in a stunned silence that seemed to last an eternity. But it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before he cleared his throat, forcing a smile and making his way over to you.

"H-hi..." he said breathlessly, reaching out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

You glanced down at his trembling fingers, conceding after a moment with a weak handshake.

Rav began to talk, but his voice was nothing more than a muffled buzz in your ears. Your eyes glazed over, losing focus as Father Benedict walked back over to him.

"Yeah, I apologise for showing up like this," Rav said. "I know it's a shot in the dark that you'll have an opening at such short notice. But the church we were supposed to be having the wedding at burned down." He laughed in disbelief. "Like literally burned down to the ground. Talk about a bad omen."

Father Benedict chuckled. But the sound was shallow, half-hearted, his eyes flitting over to you every few moments.

"Yeah I can- I can have a look. What's er, what's the date you're after?" he asked. "I'll check my... erm... my... calendar- book- diary. Diary, that's the word."

"June..." Rav hesitated, looking over at you.

"Seventh," you said.

"Seventh, right."

You rolled your eyes.

"Okay," Father Benedict nodded. "Okay, let me just go and erm... Have a- Let me check."

He walked out of the chapel, and it felt like you'd been holding your breath the entire time. You blew out a soft, shaking exhale as Rav walked over to you.

"He's alright, isn't he," he said. "Better than the priest this morning who kept staring at your tits."

"What? No, I liked him. Made me feel wanted."

"Fuck off," he laughed, immediately covering his mouth in regret.

You gave a weak smile.

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem a bit... I don't know."

"No I'm... It's just... I think I might be getting a cold or something. Bit headache-y."

He gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Father Benedict returned, his eyes focusing immediately on Rav's hand on your shoulder. He fell silent for a moment before snapping out of it, shaking his head and looking down at the diary in his hands.

"S-sorry, could you just remind me of the date you wanted again?"

Rav nodded. "It's June..."

"Seventh," you said again.

"Okay, right, er..." Father Benedict cleared his throat, flicking through the pages. "So I do already have a wedding on the seventh. But Friday the sixth is open, or if you really want a Saturday, the following week is a possibility; the fourteenth?"

Rav looked at you, then down at the ground as he thought about it. "Yeah, no either of those should work. We know the owners of the venue so we should be able to swap the dates around. Could I... Can we get back to you?"

"Yes, yes no problem." He closed the diary. "I er, I have somewhere to be, shortly, but if you want to come back tomorrow morning, we could sit and go through everything. Usually we'd need six months notice but, with the... fire and what not, I'm sure we can work something out; squeeze in your preparation, Saturday day, talk about costs and everything."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thank you." Rav looked at you, as though seeking approval.

You gave another weak smile.

"No problem," Father Benedict replied, glancing at you again.

You began walking towards the exit, and you couldn't quite believe that was it; a quick conversation, a handshake, a 'nice to meet you' as though you were nothing but strangers. You weren't sure what the alternative would have been; a hug, tears, a blazing row? Perhaps it was best to leave it like this, to run without another word, just like he'd done to you.

But all of a sudden, there was a rush of white noise above you, growing louder until it was deafening. You looked up at the ceiling in confusion, then over to the windows as rain began to stream down the glass.

"Oh my god," you muttered.

"You can't say that in a church," said Rav.

You groaned. "We parked so far away."

"Tell you what, you wait here and I'll go and get the car. I'll drive it right up to the door."

"What? No it's fine. It's just rain-"

"Don't be stupid. Wait there, I'll be two seconds."

He ran off before you could protest any further. You huffed and crossed your arms, hovering in the archway between the chapel and the foyer. You could hear Father Benedict moving around behind you, but you refused to turn around, as though not looking at him meant he wasn't actually there.

You felt like a stroppy child, balled up, head turned, teeth clenched. When he first left, you'd have done anything to see him again, to hear his voice, smell his aftershave. But there was something painful about finally knowing where he'd been; knowing that for eighteen months he'd been just four hours away, starting anew like you were just an old VHS he could tape right over.

"Ellis...?" he said softly, tentatively.

You exhaled through your nose and turned slowly, looking up at him with a heavy brow and glassy eyes.

"Hi," he breathed, like he didn't know what else to say.

"Hi," you replied bluntly, turning away again.

He paused for a while, but you could hear him getting closer, feet shuffling tentatively across the floor. "H... How are you?"

You turned back and glared up at him in disbelief.

He sighed, dropping his head. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't," you interrupted. "Just don't."

He seemed reluctant to give in, standing there staring down at you, anxiously biting his lip as he deliberated with himself. But finally, he yielded, turning in defeat and beginning to walk away.

You watched him leave, your breath quickening, lungs bubbling with anger and confusion, sadness and grief.

"You just... Left," you blurted out.

He stopped, turning back to look at you. "I know."

"No word, no explanation. You just..." You struggled to find the words, eyes darting around the chapel as they welled with tears, before finally giving up. "Why?" you whispered.

He took a long pause, head stooped. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, forcing himself to look back up at you. "Because I was falling in love with you," he said simply, his voice nothing more than a breath.

You stared at him, the blue of his eyes so vibrant against the red in his waterline.

"And..." he continued, taking a step towards you. "I know without a doubt that if I'd stayed, I would have just continued to fall more in love with you. And I would have loved you... more than... anything. More than..." He gestured to the church around you before shaking his head, his lip quivering. "I couldn't. I just- I couldn't..."

"I wouldn't have ever asked you to."

"I know that. But it wouldn't have stopped it from happening."

You pressed your mouth into a straight line, sniffing sharply and steadying your voice. "I was falling in love with you too."

He nodded, like he already knew.

You swallowed the urge to cry, taking a deep breath and shrugging. "Well there you go. What can you do."

He dropped his head, closing his eyes like your words hurt.

You turned away, leaning against the frame of the archway as you waited for the beep of a car horn.

"You're going to make a beautiful bride, Ellis," he said solemnly.

Your stomach tightened. Then you looked at him again. "I'm not the bride."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Bridesmaid," you said, pointing to yourself.

"Oh..." he whispered.

"Rav's fiancé had a dress fitting so she couldn't make it. Asked me to come with him instead because she didn't trust him to find a new church on his own."

He exhaled a shaking breath, the corner of his mouth twitching with a relieved smile. "So you're- So you're not... Seeing anyone?"

You shook your head. "No one's been worthy of me yet..."

He gave a subtle smile, but your face remained stony.

There was a loud beep and you turned to see Rav's car waiting near the door. You glanced back over your shoulder. "Good to see you, Father."

You rushed outside without waiting for a reply. The rain was warm, falling so hard it hurt as it pelted your skin. You tried to keep your breaths even as you hurried towards the car, a painful lump lodged in your throat.

"Ellis! Ellis, hold on!"

You stopped at the passenger door, turning to see Father Benedict running down the church steps after you. He halted at the bottom, chest heaving, eyes wide.

You stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"I..." he stammered. "I felt the urge to chase you but I didn't actually think through what I'd say once I got here..."

You blinked at him.

"D-do... Do you- could we maybe talk? I've got some work this afternoon but-" He pointed to a pub across the road. "We could get a drink, maybe? This evening? If you're not busy...?"

You looked at the pub, then back to him.

"I know I don't deserve it," he said, wiping the rain out of his eyes. "But if you could give me... an hour of your time..."

You sighed and shook your head. "Yeah," you finally said. "Yeah, okay."

He let out a relieved sigh, nodding with a slight smile. "Okay. Okay, erm... I can be over there for eight?"

"Okay."

You pulled the handle and got into the car, slicking your wet hair back with your hands.

"What was that about?" asked Rav.

"Oh, nothing, he erm... he just needed me to remind him of the dates again."

He began to drive and you sat in silence, shocked, shivering. The church grew smaller in the wing mirror until you could no longer see it all, the rain easing, a double rainbow emerging in the sky above you.

Rav glanced over at you. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, staring out of the window, the quaint town looking entirely different to you now.

The Poplar and Dove. Why did pubs always have such odd names? What did trees and birds have to do with beer, fruit machines and sticky carpets?

You stood under the awning of the pub, wringing your hands nervously as you waited for 8pm to come. You'd gotten there earlier than you'd meant to, and though you could have just gone inside, you couldn't bring yourself to seem eager.

You wished you'd packed nicer clothes than the t-shirt, long denim skirt and trainers you were wearing. But as a man stumbled out onto the street in oil-covered overalls and work boots, you almost felt overdressed.

It was 8:01 when you finally drew in a deep, anxious breath and went inside, the smell of beer hitting you like a boozy cloud as you pushed through the doors. It was quieter than you'd expected; a low hum of conversation as a television played quietly above the bar, an old song drifting from a jukebox in the corner. You slipped through a group of men, their hands and faces smattered with motor oil like the one you'd seen outside.

You tried to not make it obvious you were looking around, standing at the bar as you scanned the room quickly. What if he didn't come? What if he'd changed his mind at the last minute and stood you up? You'd have no one to blame but yourself; already dreading telling your sister you'd agreed to this at all.

"Ellis!"

You turned to see him in the corner, pointing to a drink on the table in front of him and waving you over. You couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief, pushing through another group of people to get to him.

"Rum and Coke," he said as you sat down opposite him. "I hope that's still...?"

"Yeah, yes. That's great. Thanks." You hooked your bag onto the back of the chair and took a sip - the rum was spiced, your favourite kind.

He was even more beautiful than you remembered, and it annoyed you greatly. His casual shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he clasped his long fingers together in front of him. His curls were fluffy, falling slightly over his brow and framing his eyes.

Those eyes. God. You took an extra sip of your drink.

"Thank you for showing up," he said.

You gave a halfhearted smile.

"I know I don't deserve it..."

There was a lull; an awkward pause as you both shifted in your seats. There'd never been an uncomfortable silence between you before. Even in the moments no one spoke, it was always pleasant, content.

"So, what's it like around here?" you asked.

His eyes rounded for a moment, like he was taken aback, not expecting you to make small talk. You weren't expecting yourself to make small talk either.

"It's, er, It's- Nice," he said. "The parish is a lot bigger, so more work. But the town itself is... It's quiet."

You nodded.

"Why did your friends choose it for their wedding?" he asked.

"Camilla - the bride - grew up here."

"No way," he laughed softly. "How did you meet her?"

"Through a work thing. And Rav's my downstairs neighbour. I introduced them."

"Ah, so you're basically Cupid."

"I expect they'll be naming their first born Ellis," you said, unable to resist a smile.

You'd planned to walk into that pub with fire in your belly, venom on your tongue. You'd gone over the things you wanted to say in the shower, practiced arguing with him in the mirror as you got ready. Yet there was something about him, like a sedative, that made it impossible to do anything but talk.

"So Camilla's a photographer?" he asked between sips of his drink. "Editor?"

"Oh, erm, no. I don't work at the studio anymore," you replied. "I'm a freelance book cover designer now; met her at a publishing thing."

He smiled proudly. "You always wanted to do that."

"I did."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks." you said shyly, bringing the glass to your lips.

"Is that a tattoo?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." You lifted the sleeve of your t-shirt to reveal a small, fine ink design on the inside of your upper arm.

He leaned forward slightly, squinting to look at it more closely.

"Why?" you asked. "Is it like... A cardinal sin or something?"

"No, I just couldn't see what it was." He laughed and relaxed back into his seat. "I like it."

"Thanks. I've got another one as well, but if I tried to show you that we'd probably get kicked out."

There was a subtle glint in his eye, making you realise what you'd said.

"I didn't mean for that to sound so..." You shook your head. "Sorry."

He chuckled quietly. "There's a guy in my congregation; biggest, buffest guy you've ever seen. Bald head, covered, and I mean covered in tattoos. And when I tell you he is the sweetest, gentlest most devoutly catholic man I've ever met, it's incredible."

"I bet he gives really good hugs."

"Oh absolutely."

You clinked your nails against the side of your glass, filling another awkward silence, letting the last of the nervous energy out through your fingertips.

"How's your sister?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, she's good," you replied. "She actually just had another baby."

"She did? Oh that's wonderful."

"Mhm, a few months ago. Another girl."

"What's her name?"

You glared at him, pressing your lips together reluctantly.

"Oh come on, it can't possibly be more out there than Soleil," he laughed.

"Eulalie."

"You-lay-what?"

You giggled. "Eulalie. It's French as well, apparently."

"Well, they certainly love a unique name, don't they."

"I know. I'm going to have to call my kid Keith or something, just to restore the balance."

"Ah, little baby Keith."

You lifted your glass, speaking before taking another sip. "What's the worst name you've ever baptised?"

"I'm sure we've had this exact conversation before."

"I don't think so."

"We have. The woman with the twins?"

You shook your head, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to think back.

"I definitely told you. Don't you remember? We were lying in bed one night and..." he faltered suddenly, losing his train of thought and pressing his fingers to his mouth to disguise it.

You wondered if the memory of you in his bed was too painful, or perhaps it was just embarrassing, an uncomfortable reminder of how close you once were.

"Were they called something like Paco and Rabanne?" you asked.

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing again. "Dolce and Gabbana."

"That's it. Yes, I do remember. Those poor children."

He smiled before shifting in his seat, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and pulling out his wallet and keys. He placed the keys on the table and opened the wallet, sifting for money.

"Are you still driving the old car?" you asked, gesturing to the keys.

"Nope." He grinned. "And this new bad boy I've got has - get this - a working passenger door and air-con that actually blows cold air."

You gave a sarcastic, impressed whistle. "Living the dream."

"I know. It's funny, when I bought it my first thought was 'Ellis would love this'."

"Why?"

"Because it's an automatic so you wouldn't be able to stall it."

You rolled your eyes. "Well actually, I have my license now, and I drive a Lamborghini, so..."

"Really?"

"Obviously not."

"Fuck sake." He burst into laughter. "Do you want another drink?"

You looked down at your rum and coke, surprised to see how much you'd already drank. You promised yourself you'd only stay for one. Yet there you were, nodding and watching him walk up to the bar to buy you another.

It was hard to connect him to the man who'd left you broken and confused eighteen months ago. Hard to accept that as he laughed at your jokes and asked about your family, there was a part of him that was capable of such carelessness and cruelty.

"Here you go," he said, placing a new drink in front of you.

You looked down at it for a moment, then up to him. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

His face softened, the smile he'd sat down with falling away.

"Come on, you knew I was going to ask at some point." You shrugged.

He remained quiet, rubbing his mouth in deliberation. "I..." He inhaled through his nose, letting it out again slowly. "I didn't decide to leave until that last night. I know that doesn't make it any better, but I swear to you it wasn't some big, thought-out departure I'd planned ages in advance. I just... I got scared."

"Scared of what?"

He paused. "There was a moment that night when we were sitting together; I told you there was nowhere else I'd rather be than with you. And suddenly it dawned on me; Fuck, I am falling in love with this woman. I've made a vow of clerical celibacy, a vow to devote myself to the church and to God and to put that before anything else in my life. Yet here I am, wanting to be nowhere else but with her..."

You stayed quiet, watching him fidget with his hands as he spoke.

"I knew then that I couldn't stay." He lowered his voice. "So I did the terribly selfish thing of giving myself one last night with you. I made love to you, I kissed you before I left the next morning, and I suppose in a way I convinced myself that that was the goodbye."

You swallowed. "If I hadn't randomly turned up here today, you'd have let me live the rest of my life not knowing any of that..."

"I know. And trust me, Ellis, not a day has gone by where I haven't hated myself for it. But the way I would have loved you.... I have no doubt it would've eclipsed everything." He tilted his head to catch your gaze with his own. "I had to get away."

You wrapped your hands around the glass in front of you, straightening your spine and clearing your throat. His words were like whiskey; his confession a painful burn, the truth a soothing warmth. Your only fault had been that you were loved, and you couldn't help but wonder how much easier it would have been to know that; perhaps you wouldn't have spent so long sitting alone in the dark.

"Do you not think I deserved to know that?" you asked.

"Of course. But would it have made it any easier?"

"Well... I'm not sure there's any easy of way of hearing someone say they'd rather be celibate than with you."

He shook his head, chewing his lip to hold back a smirk. "That's not fair."

"I have a year and a half of pent up anger inside me. Let me make jokes."

"Fair enough."

You scanned his face, finishing off your first drink before moving swiftly to the second. "Are you happy with the decision you made?"

He opened his mouth to speak when a sudden, roaring cheer erupted through the pub. You looked over your shoulder, watching the group of men celebrating a goal on TV. They bounced around, throwing their arms around each other as lager splashed over the rims of their glasses.

When you turned back to Father Benedict, he was smiling at them, laughing softly as he watched their roistering from across the room. But there was something melancholic about his expression; no lines in his cheeks, no crinkle between his brows or at the corners of his eyes.

He returned his attention to you, realising you'd been watching him. "Not as happy as that," he said.

You exhaled a laugh.

"Ellis, I... I can't tell you how many times I've thought about what I'd say to you if I ever saw you again. The truth of the matter is, I don't know. I don't know if I'm dedicating my life to a God that doesn't exist. I don't know if any of it's real, I have no proof. But I really fucking hope it is. And what I do know is that I chose to become a priest because it allows me to help people, and inspire and encourage and share that hope with them, every single day." He paused. "I just never predicted I'd meet you."

You picked up your glass, swirling the ice around, making the liquid bubble and fizz. Then you sighed, meeting his gaze again. "I get it," you said. "I do, I get it. One of us would always have had to give up a part of themselves to be with the other. Either you would've had to leave clergy, or I'd have had to concede to being someone's secret lover for the rest of my life. And let's face it, neither of us would've expected that of the other."

He looked sad, brows curved upwards over glistening eyes.

"Right person, wrong... everything else." You shrugged. "Our paths just crossed too late."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes never leaving you.

"I just hope you know that the collar you wear isn't what makes you a good person," you said. "You gave me hope when I really needed it. And that had nothing to do with God or church or sermons... It was you."

He smiled, before dropping his head and clearing his throat. "You're being far more gracious to me than I deserve."

"I know."

The TV above the bar was muted, the jukebox switched off. A strong smell of lemon disinfectant drifted through the air as a barmaid pushed around a mop bucket, another collecting glasses and wiping down surfaces. There was no one left, the lights raised to full brightness, chairs stacked on tables around you like the battlement walls of a castle.

You'd talked through the end of the football match, through the noise of drunken punters and the bell for last orders. You'd talked as the crowds dwindled away, as the sky turned black beyond the windows and your glasses emptied to dregs of melted ice.

It was like no time had passed since he left. You'd never understood that expression before; how could absence not change things? How could a river erode with time and water still flow the same way? But you got it now. With every joke he laughed at, every facial expression he understood and insignificant detail he remembered, it was clear your bond had never severed. It had just been frozen, lying in wait until something came to thaw it out.

He was covering his face as you spoke, shoulders shaking as he laughed into his hands.

"It's true!" you said. "They called the police and everything."

"They did not call the police!" His laugh grew heartier, tears forming in his eyes.

"They did! I had to sit and explain to two uniformed officers that I hadn't meant to walk out of the shop with the coat on."

"Why were you even wearing it?"

"I tried it on as a joke because it was so fucking ugly. Then Soleil decided to turn into Usain bloody Bolt and run outside at full speed into the busy street."

A tear spilled onto his cheek. He wiped it away, still chuckling to himself.

"I told Mara she was nuts for trusting me with her child," you said.

"Maybe next time try a soft play centre or a park, y'know, instead of a high end clothing shop."

"Well you just have all the answers, don't you."

He smiled, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Just giving you some advice so you don't go losing Keith in a Selfridges one day."

You laughed. "Keith will be kept on one of those baby leashes until he's eighteen."

You could feel a hair on the side of your nose, rubbing your finger over it a few times. He began speaking, but you couldn't concentrate, the itch on your skin too distracting. You tried to wipe it away again.

"Because then I went-" He stopped. "What's the matter?"

"There's something on my face, it's driving me mad."

He sat forward, gesturing for you to lean over the table to him. You did as he instructed, watching as he brought his face close to yours, examining the side of your nose for a moment before seeming to lose focus, his eyes softening as they trailed slowly from your eyes to your lips then back again.

"Father," you said. "I'm going to say something you used to say to me all the time."

"What's that?"

"You need to stop looking at me like that..."

He dropped his head and breathed out a laugh. "I apologise," he said, gently pressing the tip of his finger to the side of your nose, holding it up to show you a small black wisp. "Eyelash."

"Thanks," you replied, sitting back down.

"You know you can just call me Ben, by the way," he said.

"I know, but, I don't-" You shrugged shyly. "I only ever really called you that when we were..."

"Ah."

"Yeah..."

"Excuse me, guys," said one of the barmaids as she approached your table. "We're going to be locking up in a few minutes."

Father Benedict glanced around the deserted pub, the wet floors and stacked chairs. "Oh, god, sorry. We didn't even realise-"

"It's okay," she replied kindly. "You looked like you were having a nice time, we didn't want to disturb you."

"Thank you, we'll get out of your way."

You stood up, grabbing your bag and hooking it over your shoulder as Father Benedict lifted his chair onto the table, making his way around to yours and doing the same. The women behind the bar smiled appreciatively as one of them unlocked the door to let you out. You almost felt embarrassed that you'd let yourself get so carried away, talking so far past closing time, your conversation the only sound inside the empty pub.

You stepped out into the dark, chilly night, light rain falling in a mist that glittered under the streetlights. You crossed your arms over your chest to hide your nipples, suddenly very aware of how thin your t-shirt was. The street was quiet, the church nothing but a dark, imposing silhouette on the other side of the road.

"Where are you staying?" asked Father Benedict. "I only had a couple of drinks so I can drive you wherever you need to go."

"Oh, no, don't worry. My Airbnb's not far from here so I'm just going to walk."

He furrowed his brow. "They have Airbnbs around here?"

You laughed. "Yeah, it's just a little cottage, nothing fancy."

"Well I'll walk you."

"Are you sure? You really don't have to."

"Of course I'm sure, come on."

You walked most of the way in silence, your impending separation like a thick cloud in the air between you. Were you to simply say goodbye? No hard feelings? See you in June for the wedding?

The cobbled roads glistened like oil in the gentle rain, the houses quiet, as though the entire town had gone to sleep. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes straight ahead. When the road was on your left, he would walk on your left, and when it was on the right, he would move again, always keeping you on the inside despite there not being a single car.

You pointed to a row of small terraced cottages at the bottom of a steep lane. "That's me down there."

"Which one?"

"Hanging baskets, right at the end."

"Wow, you weren't joking when you said it was small."

You exhaled a short laugh. "It's all I need. Only staying two nights."

When you arrived at the cottage, you stopped at the gate, placing a hand on it and turning to look up at him.

"Well this was... weird," you said.

"Very," he replied. "But also really great."

"Yeah." You paused. "Thank you for the drinks, and for walking me home."

He smiled, but the expression quickly grew forlorn as he stared down at you. You kept your hand on the gate as you waited for him to speak, a part of you willing yourself to just go inside, while another needed to know what he was thinking.

"What?" you asked. "Do I have another eyelash on my face?"

He shook his head with a quiet laugh. "I've missed you," he said, his voice almost a whisper.

You sighed. "You can't say that."

"Why?"

"Because it's not fair. You've known where to find me... This whole time, you've known exactly where..." Your voice trailed off.

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. "I told you why I couldn't come back-"

"And I said I understand. I do. But you made a choice. So you... You don't get to tell me you've missed me." You remained gentle, calm. "You can't act like something's been keeping us apart when the thing keeping us apart is you."

"The thing keeping us apart is my vow."

"And so go and live by your vow, Father. Go and live your pious, solitary life. I am truly sorry I ever jeopardised that for you."

He scoffed slightly. "There's no need to be sarcastic."

"Wh-? I'm not. I'm really not." You pulled the gate shut again, turning to face him fully. "But surely you understand how much it hurts to know you see loving me and worshipping God as some kind of contradiction?"

"I see loving you as the most easy thing I could've ever done." His voice was harsh yet quiet, frustration laced in a whisper. "But choosing to leave the clergy, to break the promises I made when I was ordained; that would've been the consequence of it."

"And I've already told you I wouldn't have expected you to do that. I understand your decision-"

"But you don't, Ellis. Not if you can stand there and tell me I don't get to say I miss you."

You slowed your breathing, calming yourself before looking up at him. "If you truly missed me, it wouldn't have taken me randomly turning up here today for you to realise it."

"I didn't have to realise it, because it's never not been the case." He took a step closer, speaking with more passion, intensity in his eyes. "Not a single day has gone by where I haven't thought of you. Where I haven't questioned if I made the right decision. You asked me earlier if I was happy with the choice I made, and the truth is... I don't know. Because my resolve has wavered so much more over the past eighteen months than it ever did before I left."

"And what changes now that I know that?" you replied. "Nothing. You're still going to go back to that church and I'm still going to go home on Friday. Alone."

"I don't- I don't know, I just... When I saw you there today in my church, there were ten or so minutes where I really, honestly thought you were marrying someone else," he shook his head. "And I wasn't happy for you, Ellis. I was... devastated."

"And when you realised I was actually single, how did you feel then?"

He blinked a few times, brows coming together, forming a crinkle at the bridge of his nose. "I felt..."

"You felt...?"

"Ellis you know that's not fair to ask-"

"But everything you've said to me in the last five minutes is fair?"

You were getting angry now. The rage you'd planned to unload on him in the pub bubbling in the base of your chest. He ran away from you. Tore you apart and left you strewn across the rectory flowerbed in pieces. Now you'd finally bloomed again, and here he was, plucking at your petals.

"Do you know what, I don't want to do this anymore," you said as you opened the gate and stepped through. "I knew meeting you tonight was a bad idea."

"Because I told you I've missed you?" he called out behind you.

You stopped and spun around. "Because everything you're saying is for your own benefit, not mine! To- to- to make yourself feel better, to unload how you feel onto me even though you know it doesn't change your decision."

"So what would you prefer I do, Ellis? Not say anything? Walk you home and leave without another word?"

"I'd prefer you to just fuck off," you snapped, taking in a sharp breath, stunned by your own words.

"You want me to fuck off..." he replied in dry disbelief, taking a few steps down the path towards you.

"Yes. Fuck off. Go away." Your voice quivered. You waved your hand at him dismissively and walked to the front door. "Just... Let me forget about you."

You fished through your bag with shaking hands, finding the key and struggling to push it into the lock. His eyes were on you, you could feel them, like a hand around the back of your neck. You unlocked the door and pushed it open before looking over your shoulder at him.

"There's a reason you haven't walked away yet," you said, stepping into the cottage and turning around, placing your hand on the door and preparing to close it. "You want permission. You want to hear me ask you to choose me. But that's never going to happen. I have too much respect for myself to ever do that."

You took a step back and swung the door shut, but there was a hard thump as it hit something on the other side, stopping it from fully closing. You pulled it back to see him standing there, palm planted against it, foot halfway over the threshold. His chest was heaving, nostrils flaring with heavy breaths.

You stared up at him, unable to resist giving an insolent shrug, a brattish shake of your head. It seemed to annoy him even more, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth.

"Wh-"

He interrupted you with a sudden kiss, his hand gripping the back of your head as his lips pressed firmly against yours. You lost yourself for a moment, swept away in the passion of the unexpected rush. Your mouth began to move in time with his, hot breath and sweeping tongues, but then you stopped, placing your hands on his chest and gently pushing him away.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to quell the anger rising up your throat, before glaring at him through your lashes. His face was still close, lips parted, eyes glassy. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn't; any sense of logic you possessed clouded by impulse.

You gave in, letting your body take over, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a fevered, forceful kiss. He curled his fingers into your hair, holding it in fistfuls as you stumbled back into the cottage. You slammed the front door, grabbing him by the shirt as you moved in a mess of teeth and tongues, fingernails and clumsy missteps through the small, open living space.

Your backside made contact with a dining table first. He gripped your hips and lifted you onto it as you continued to kiss with unwavering ferocity. You began pulling at your skirt, working impatiently to drag the heavy, stiff material up your legs as he used one hand to unbutton his trousers, the other helping to push the skirt over your thighs. His breaths were heavy, laboured, pouring into your open mouth as he freed himself from his underwear, like he'd been aching, desperate for release.

You reached down and slid your fingers into your underwear, the thin cotton so wet it gave little resistance as you moved it to one side, parting your legs wider to let him stand between them. His lips broke away from yours, just long enough to spit into his hand, coating the head of his cock before sweeping you back into another kiss.

He slid the tip along the seam of your pussy, using his hand to guide it inside you. You gasped at the stretch, the dull burn and intense pressure. You'd only slept with a couple of people since he'd been gone; a one night stand, and a short-lived fling that fizzled out after a few dates. Neither of them matched up to him. Not in size, nor skill. So much so that you'd almost convinced yourself he wasn't as good as you remembered.

You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he sank his full length into you, the walls of your pussy moulding to the shape of him, softening, lubricating to welcome the intrusion. His throat rumbled with a groan, a hum falling from his lips as he kissed you, fucking you with a hard, steady rhythm. You whimpered into his mouth, sliding your hands down to grip his backside, encouraging him to thrust harder, deeper. He planted a palm on the table beside you to steady himself, pressing his chest against yours as he moved with more force, each snap of his hips sending a jolt through your core, making the table rock and creak beneath you.

Your mind was blank, clouded and hazy as your body welled with pleasure; a tingling in your clit and a deep, intense pulsing in your core. You were going to be swollen after this, bruised, sensitive. But you didn't care; there was an anger inside you that you had to extinguish, and with each slam of his body against yours, you were getting closer to putting it out.

Your body began to tense and tighten, each slide of his cock met with a growing resistance, making him breathe quickly as he worked harder to maintain his thrusts. Your thighs came together, squeezing his hips as waves of electricity began to thrash in your pelvis. He growled and grabbed your legs, forcing them apart again, and you let out a heavy moan as he sank deeper, hitting the spots that sent you floating on the precipice between pleasure and pain.

Your back arched, and with another brush of his cock, you fell apart. He hid his face in the crook of your neck as he buried himself completely, giving in to his own orgasm as you came around him. You were shaking, your bottom lip chattering like you'd been caught in a blizzard. Every time he shifted or twitched, the echoes of your climax would ring through you, making you shudder, goosebumps pricking your arms.

The room was suddenly so quiet in the clarity, only the rushing of your breaths and the pulse pounding in your ears filling the silence. He lifted his head and carefully pulled out of you, your centre immediately feeling tender and raw in his absence. You glanced up at him, but he couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye, and you suddenly felt nauseous.

You slid off the edge of the table onto your feet, readjusting your underwear and pulling your skirt back down. He stayed beside you, buttoning his trousers as he kept his head down, staring at the table and pensively biting his lip. You looked at him again, and when he finally looked back, you knew; the same remorseful expression you'd seen so many times before. A face full of regret, shame, disappointment in his own lack of restraint. You sighed and shook your head, walking off into the next room, trying to ignore your shaking legs and the lump in your throat.

You stood in the small sitting room, looking out the window into the dark back garden. You felt a tear fall down your cheek, the droplet tickling your skin as it clung to the edge of your jaw. Your lip wobbled, but you bit it to keep it still, sniffing sharply.

"Ellis...?" His voice was so soft and gentle, his footsteps light as he entered the room behind you.

"Just go, Ben," you replied weakly, too numb to even try to turn around.

He paused at the sound of his name on your lips. Then he took another few tentative steps towards you.

"Please, just..." You sighed. "You... broke me. Not just when you left, but every time you treated me like a mistake."

"You're not a mistake. You were never a mistake."

"Was that a mistake?" You turned around, nodding towards the other room.

He hesitated.

"Exactly," you said. "Getting over you was the hardest thing I have ever done. And all it took was one day for me to end up right back where I started."

"It wasn't a mistake," he whispered. "I just... I suppose I wish I'd been more... forbearing. Made it mean something, y'know. I don't regret what just happened. I regret the way it happened."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to cry. But another single tear betrayed you.

"Please don't cry," he said softly. "I can't- I never wanted to-" He sighed, walking over and wrapping his arms around you.

You resisted at first, but you quickly yielded, letting your head fall on his chest, your arms tucked in the space between your bodies. He cradled you in his large embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"I love you, Ellis."

You closed your eyes, his words stinging as much they soothed.

"Right person, wrong everything else," he said.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara @dude-where-s-my-tardis @run-clever-boy @j3mj3rrica

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

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estapa-edwards · 6 months

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THAT WAY -- ETHAN EDWARDS x fem! READER

paring : ethan edwards x fem! reader

word count: 2078

requested? yes; Can you do a request for Ethan Edwards in which he meets the reader in a class which makes them friends and then everyone thinks they are together and they’re secretly both liking each other as more than friends as well?

warnings: use of y/n

As I stepped into the sports management classroom for the first time, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The room was filled with eager students, all chatting and getting settled in their seats. I found an empty chair near the back and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

The professor, a tall man with glasses, began introducing himself and outlining the course syllabus. I listened intently, taking notes and trying to absorb as much information as possible. As the class progressed, I couldn't help but notice a guy sitting a few rows ahead of me. He had a confident demeanor and seemed to be engaged in the discussion, raising thoughtful questions and participating actively.

After the class ended, I gathered my belongings and made my way towards the exit. As I was walking out, I accidentally bumped into the same guy I had noticed earlier - Ethan Edwards.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, feeling embarrassed.

Ethan looked up and smiled, "No worries! It's a crowded class, and it's easy to bump into someone."

I smiled back, relieved by his friendly response. "I'm new here," I admitted. "Trying to find my way around and get to know people."

Ethan extended his hand, "I'm Ethan. It's nice to meet you."

"I'm y/n," I replied, shaking his hand.

"I'm running late to hockey practice, but it was nice talking to you, y/n," Ethan said, checking his watch.

"Yeah, you too, Ethan," I replied, smiling as I began to walk away.

"Wait," Ethan called out, causing me to turn back and face him. "Can I get your number?" He had a genuine smile on his face, which made my heart skip a beat.

"Of course," I said, feeling a rush of excitement.

A few months had passed since that conversation with Ethan, and I had since landed an internship as the media girl for the Umich socials. This new role brought Ethan and me even closer, as I got to spend more time with him and the hockey team, covering their practices and games. We studied together almost everyday.

I was sitting at a table in the library, textbooks and notes spread out in front of me as I focused on my studies. Ethan was sitting across from me, also engrossed in his own work.

"Hey, y/n," Ethan said, glancing up from his book. "Do you understand this chapter? I'm having a hard time with it."

I looked up and smiled at him. "Yeah, it's a bit confusing, but I think I've got the hang of it. Want me to help you out?"

Ethan nodded gratefully, pushing his book towards me. "That would be great, thanks."

As Ethan and I delved into the study material, I noticed Mark and Rutger walking past our table, their eyes lingering on us as they exchanged amused glances.

Mark leaned in towards Rutger, whispering something that made Rutger chuckle, both of them clearly finding something funny about Ethan and me studying together.

Trying to ignore their teasing, I focused on explaining the chapter to Ethan. "So, basically, the key concept here is..."

Before I could finish my explanation, Mark and Rutger stopped at our table, their grins widening as they decided to join in on the fun.

"Wow, look at you two, hitting the books together. How romantic," Mark commented, feigning a swoon as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

Rutger nodded in agreement, smirking at Ethan and me. "Yes, it's a true love story for the ages. Study partners today, soulmates tomorrow," he added, laughing.

Ethan rolled his eyes at their playful teasing but couldn't hide his smile. "Come on, guys, we're just trying to get some work done," he said, trying to steer the conversation back to our studies.

I chuckled at Ethan's response, feeling a bit flustered by Mark and Rutgers jokes but also amused by their playful antics. "Ignore them, Ethan. Let's get back to the chapter," I said, trying to regain our focus. Mark and Rutger laugh and start walking away

Ethan rolled his eyes and called out after them, "How many times do we have to tell you we aren't dating?"

I felt a twinge of annoyance at Ethan's response, though I wasn't sure why. His casual dismissal of the situation and the assumption behind Mark and Rutgers teasing seemed to strike a nerve. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling.

"Ethan, maybe they wouldn't tease us so much if you didn't play into it," I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

Ethan looked taken aback by my comment, his playful demeanor fading as he realized he might have upset me. "Sorry, y/n..."

I cut him off, "Let's just get back to studying, Ethan," I said, my tone a bit firmer than before.

Later that night, I found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The events of the day replayed in my mind, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan. The way he smiled, the sound of his voice, and the ease with which we spent time together had been on my mind constantly. 'Does he even think of me that way?' I wondered, my mind thinking back to the time he held my hand a little longer than necessary or when he would touch my thigh when we sat next to each other.

Sitting side by side on Ethan's couch, we were engrossed in watching a movie together. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the TV casting a warm ambiance. As the film's tension built, Ethan's hand rested close to mine on the cushion between us.

Suddenly, during a particularly intense scene, I felt Ethan's hand shift slightly, his fingers grazing my thigh. The touch was subtle but deliberate, sending a jolt of excitement through me. My heart raced as I glanced over at him, wondering if he had meant to make such a bold move. Ethan's eyes met mine briefly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, before returning his attention to the movie.

I jolted up and said, "Oh god, I think I like Ethan."

After their practice one day, it was time to ask the 'Monday Question'. I set up the camera, adjusting the angle and checking the lighting, and waited patiently until the players started coming up the stairs. Rutger was the first one up.

"Alright Rut, who on the team would you not let date your daughter?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

Rutger chuckled, glancing towards Ethan who was waiting his turn to be interviewed. "I would have to say Ethan, since you guys are dating," he laughed, sending a playful wink towards Ethan as he walked away.

Ethan and I both rolled our eyes at Rutgers' comment. "Rutger, we aren't dating, come back and give an actual answer," I called out.

Rutger laughed, turning back towards the camera. "Alright, alright, I'd probably say Mark. He's a bit of a wild card and I wouldn't want my hypothetical daughter getting caught up in his antics."

"Good choice," I replied, nodding in agreement.

Luca was next in line for his interview. As he approached, he grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the opportunity to continue the teasing.

"Alright, Ethan, I've got to ask," Luca began, looking directly into the camera. "Are you and y/n actually dating, or is it all just a rumor?"

I glanced at Ethan, curious to see how he would respond to the direct question. Ethan looked at me, his eyes softening with sincerity before turning back to the camera.

"We are just friends, that's all we'll ever be," Ethan replied, his voice steady but his eyes briefly meeting mine. I felt my heart ping, a mixture of disappointment and understanding washing over me.

The atmosphere among the players shifted slightly, sensing the underlying tension between Ethan and me.

"Alright, thanks Ethan," I said

Ethan nodded, offering me a small, reassuring smile as he stepped away from the camera. "Anytime," he said softly, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary before he turned to join the rest of his teammates. I finished the rest of the video, but couldn't help thinking about what Ethan said.

Ethan's POV:

A wave of guilt washed over me. Mark and Rutgers teasing had planted a seed of doubt in my mind, and my attempts to downplay our relationship had been misleading. The truth was, I genuinely liked y/n, more than I had initially realized.

Ethan and y/n sat on the floor of his room, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and laptops. They had been studying for hours, the soft hum of background music filling the room. The atmosphere was comfortable, and both were engrossed in their work.

Ethan glanced over at y/n, watching her as she focused intently on her laptop screen, her brows furrowed in concentration. He was struck by how effortlessly beautiful she looked, even in this simple setting.

He found himself captivated by the way her eyes would occasionally light up with understanding or how she would bite her lip when deep in thought. The way she laughed at his silly jokes or how she would playfully roll her eyes at his occasional teasing comments made his heart flutter.

As they took a short break, Ethan decided to play one of his favorite songs. The soft melody filled the room, adding a touch of romance to the atmosphere.

Ethan turned to y/n, their eyes meeting. In that moment, a wave of realization washed over him. He wasn't just enjoying her company as a friend; he was falling for her. Her laughter, her smile, her intelligence – everything about her was drawing him in, making him want to know more about her, to be with her.

Later that evening, Ethan found me as I was packing up my equipment. "Hey, y/n," he said, his voice gentle. "I hope I didn't make things awkward earlier. I just thought it would be best to clarify things for the team."

I looked up at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. "It's okay, Ethan," I replied, forcing a smile. "I understand."

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, y/n, it's not that I don't have feelings for you..."

"Ethan, it's okay. We don't have to discuss this," I said, my tone coming out ruder than I intended. I turned my body away from him.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking again. "You know, y/n, there are so many things I admire and love about you. Your passion for what you do, your kindness towards others, and the way you always know how to make me smile even on my worst days." I braced myself before turning back around.

His eyes softened as he continued, "I love how you're always there for me, no matter what, and how you always know just what to say to lift my spirits. Your laughter is infectious, and your strength inspires me every day."

Ethan paused, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. . "And let's not forget your incredible talent and dedication. Y/n, I love you, and I can't risk losing you," he admitted, his voice filled with emotion and vulnerability.

I felt my heart skip a beat at his confession, my own feelings for him echoing his sentiments. "Ethan," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. "I love you too."

Ethan's eyes widened slightly, his gaze searching mine for confirmation. "Really?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and hope.

I nodded, a tear slipping down my cheek. "Yes, Ethan, I really do," I said softly, my heart swelling with love and relief.

A radiant smile broke across Ethan's face, and he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me close as if afraid I might disappear. "I'm so relieved to hear you say that, y/n," he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with emotion.

Feeling reassured and grateful, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss on Ethan's lips, sealing our promises to each other. "I love you, Ethan," I whispered against his lips, feeling his arms tighten around me in response.

"I love you too, y/n," Ethan whispered back, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!

i might make a part 2 as a social media au!

#Spotify #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards x reader #umich hockey #hockey

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clarisse0o · 3 days

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Camp Wiegman-Part 73

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Thursday, March 24; 8:30 AM – Camp Wiegman

I’ve never seen such organization. Mr. Johnson has planned everything down to the smallest detail. Everything except maybe the bus being late. Still, we know the time to leave is approaching quickly. Our management teacher, along with Lucy and Ingrid, are our chaperones for this trip, which is seeming more and more boring. Through a small note, we found out that the company we’re visiting isn’t even in Manchester, so we’ve got quite a drive ahead. I made sure to pack my headphones for the trip after confirming with Lucy that it was allowed. I have a feeling I won’t enjoy any of this. The company selected is an industrial one. To be honest, none of this interests me at all. Seeing that nothing was happening for a while, I slipped out of the group standing by the grills to go see Lucy.

"Are we leaving soon? This is getting long."

"I know. The driver’s on his way. Your teacher just spoke to him on the phone."

"Okay," I sighed.

"Come on, don’t complain, you’re getting out of a whole day of classes."

I shrugged. Honestly, I think I’d rather stay here, given what’s waiting for us. Lucy laughed at my lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it could be cool. It’s interesting to see the world of cars."

"Speak for yourself."

From her perspective, it’s definitely different. She really likes motor vehicles. At least there’s one person who’s going to enjoy this trip.

"Go join the others, we’ll be leaving soon."

I sighed but did as told, heading back toward my friends. At least she was right. After a few more minutes, the bus finally arrived, much to everyone’s relief, especially the teachers, given how my class was starting to get restless. After one last headcount, we were finally able to board the bus. As for me, I hung back with my friends, as well as Lucy and Ingrid. We figured everyone would rush to get the back seats, and that’s exactly what happened. Johnson had to shout to be heard over the commotion. Poor guy, he’s going to lose his voice at this rate. Our turn came, and the only thing that mattered to me was sitting near my girlfriend, which luckily, I did. I sat with Alessia, just behind Ingrid and Lucy, but in front of Lotte and Leah. At least we were sure we wouldn’t be bothered. Our teachers sat in the same row as Lucy. She took the window seat, which was fine by me. At least I knew my management teacher wouldn’t bug her. I’d already noticed he’d been trying to cozy up to her since this morning. I’m not jealous—okay, maybe just a little. He did one last headcount before giving the driver the green light. The noise in the bus was deafening. I was going to get a headache before we even reached the factory. I was already not feeling great anyway.

"Sorry for the delay. Traffic is terrible this morning," the driver explained. "There was an accident on the road I took. It was too late to turn back."

"It’s not your fault," my teacher sighed. "But this means it’ll take us longer to get there. We’ll probably hit rush hour."

Wonderful! That was the last thing I wanted to hear. My exaggerated sigh made Alessia laugh.

"Wow, you’re really not excited, huh?"

"Next time, I’ll fake being sick."

"Not in your wildest dreams," I heard Lucy say from the front.

I made silly faces, making my friend laugh, but it caught my girlfriend’s attention. She raised an eyebrow, but I just gave her an angelic smile in return. Luckily for me, she quickly gave up.

"You didn’t wake up on the right side of the bed, did you?"

I shrugged. Not really, no. I got my period this morning, and it’s been a while since I’ve had such bad cramps. That’s not something I was about to tell her, though. If this was the price for restarting my whole system down there, then so be it, although I could have done without it. I sighed, leaning my head against the window. This trip was going to be long—I could feel it.

"You’re really pale. Are you sure you’re okay?" Alessia asked.

She placed her hand on my forehead to check my temperature. Her comment seemed to alert Lucy, who turned around again.

"I’m fine," I sighed. "Just feeling a bit off."

"What’s wrong?" Lucy asked. "You look like you’re about to be sick."

Now that she mentioned it, my stomach wasn’t the only thing bothering me. I shrugged in response.

"Do you mind switching seats, Alessia?"

"No, not at all," she replied.

Within minutes, Lucy was sitting next to me. She touched my forehead, but I didn’t think she’d find anything. I didn’t feel like I had a fever.

"Did you eat anything this morning?"

"Yeah."

I blushed, looking down at my hands. I didn’t know how to explain what was wrong without saying it out loud.

"Does something hurt?"

There it was—the opening I needed.

"My stomach, but it’s not because of what I ate..."

She raised an eyebrow at my confident tone. Then, I saw the light bulb go off in her head.

"Oh. I see. Did you take anything?"

"No, I didn’t have anything on me..."

"Okay, hang on."

She bent down to rummage through her bag. All I wanted to do was collapse onto her, but we both knew that wasn’t possible. Johnson, who was sitting a row ahead, started asking Lucy about me, but she quickly brushed him off, saying she could handle it. Usually, when my periods started like this during my teenage years, the pain would escalate, which was what worried me. I still had cramps sometimes, but not this intense. Normally, you couldn’t tell by looking at me, and I rarely complained.

"Here, take this."

She handed me a pill along with a bottle of water. I swallowed it without even asking what it was, especially now that even my head was starting to ache. I would have taken anything to make it stop.

"You’re usually not in this much pain, are you?"

"No."

I blushed again. I didn’t want her to think it was her fault. She just nodded.

"Rest up. We’ve got at least an hour before we get there, thanks to the traffic."

I nodded and leaned my head against the window. It wasn’t the best idea, considering the way it was shaking my head, but I didn’t have much choice.

"Don’t be silly. Come here—it’ll be more comfortable."

She surprised me by inviting me to rest my head on her shoulder. I wasn’t going to complain. It was clearly much more pleasant. With that, I closed my eyes, hoping the medicine would kick in.

Thursday, March 24; 9:50 AM – At the company

"And here we are," my teacher announced.

We had just arrived at the company, a full half-hour behind schedule. I was cold. Lucy had woken me up just before we arrived, and my body was struggling to warm up again. All I wanted was to be in my girlfriend’s arms. I hated being so close to her yet feeling so far away.

"I expect you all to behave impeccably during this visit. This is one of the few trips that’s been approved by our school, so don’t make the principal or me regret it."

Oddly, everyone had calmed down. I’m not sure what had happened, but the last thing I remembered was the incessant noise of my classmates, which had kept me from sleeping properly. Lucy was by my side, and I don’t think she was planning on going anywhere. She was so sweet to care this much about me.

"As I mentioned in class, you'll be divided into four groups of six or seven people. We'll assign the groups, and then we can begin."

Everyone is called one by one. Lucy kept me by her side, assuring me that we would spend the day together. To be honest, I tried hard to get her to reveal who was on her list, like Alessia, but surprisingly, she didn’t let anything slip. So, it would be a surprise. The surprise didn’t last long though. Ingrid was the first to form her group, and Alessia and Lotte were in it. I realized Mr. Johnson had purposely separated us. My other classmates weren’t with their usual groups either. Well, at least he ensured we were with someone we knew. Then it was Lucy’s turn. I was right—Leah was in my group, along with a few others I barely knew. I don’t tend to talk to many others, but being with Leah is fine. Though she didn’t seem too pleased, judging by the sigh she let out as she joined us.

"Try to contain your joy, Leah," Lucy teased.

"I’m doing my best," she replied, rolling her eyes, making my girlfriend do the same.

Some people laughed, but it didn’t last long. Lucy commands respect and asked us to form a line, two by two. Mr. Johnson, who had another group beside him, couldn’t help but comment.

"Well. You’re a woman who knows how to command respect."

I’m going to punch him soon. Lucy, noticing my frustration, discreetly grabbed my wrist to stop me from saying anything.

"The important thing is that it’s mutual," she retorted.

Her reply made him look away, and she let go of my wrist. I hated how he acted like he had the right to flirt with her. She really needs to put him in his place. If she could tell him she’s taken and mention she prefers women, that would be perfect. But, unfortunately, according to her, it doesn’t need to go that far. Maybe I should show her what it feels like to be hit on in front of your partner and not be able to do anything about it... My period is really messing with my emotions. I took a deep breath to calm myself. Lucy gave me a soft smile as she stepped ahead of Leah and me.

"Alright, we can head in now," announced my teacher once the groups were formed.

"Let’s go, and quietly," Lucy instructed when it was our turn.

Without resistance, the group obeyed. We entered, and to my surprise, the interior was quite welcoming. I had expected something much more industrial, given the environment. We were greeted by a man in his thirties. He spoke briefly with our teacher before giving an introduction. I realized he was the director. Given his age, it was likely a family business, and that’s exactly how he introduced it. Since some were already taking notes, I followed suit, fighting off the headache that was starting to form. I wasn’t sure I’d make it through the day. Lucy seemed to understand how I felt, but apart from a small, sympathetic smile, she couldn’t do much.

"Alright, now that the introductions are over, we’ll begin the tour."

I started to panic. I hadn’t written much compared to Leah’s notebook. She smiled at me and said she’d share her notes with me at the end of the day if I wanted.

"We’ve divided you into four groups. We’ll be exploring the different departments of the company. There’s the administration, the design office, the factory itself, and the logistics section."

I jotted down what he listed. Those would be the four key areas. Based on the questionnaire we had received, I began to understand much more. He wanted us to grasp the management aspects of a business.

"Each area is vital to the smooth running of a company, so it doesn’t matter in which order we visit them. I’ll personally be following one of the groups today. The others will be guided by my colleagues. I hope you enjoy the tour of my company."

You could really sense how proud he was of his business. I could easily see Lucy reacting the same way someday. She was about to join the other instructors, probably to decide which group would go where, but I stopped her.

"I think I need to use the restroom before we start all this..."

My stomach was still hurting, and the medicine hadn’t worked. She nodded.

"I’ll ask about it."

I watched as she walked off to speak with the director. And there was another man staring at her a bit too much. I’m really going to lose it with all these guys.

"Still not feeling any better?"

"No," I sighed.

I glanced at Leah, who was fidgeting beside me, her hands stuffed into her pockets. I could tell something was bothering her. I was glad to be with her today. Since I started dating Lucy, she’d distanced himself, and I had to admit it hurt a little. She was one of the first I’d managed to befriend since I came here. She’s a really good person, even if she doesn’t believe it himself.

"Everything okay?"

"Not really... I feel bad."

"Why?"

"I wasn’t fair to you and your girlfriend."

"Oh... Leah..."

"I feel guilty for judging you too quickly. You two seem really solid, unlike what I thought."

I smiled softly. For her to admit her mistake, she must have given it a lot of thought. I was surprised, but happy at the same time. Maybe not all was lost. She really cared about our friendship after all.

"I don’t hold it against you, don’t worry."

"I was thinking, maybe we could plan something together, with her, sometime."

"Yeah, we could do something at the end of the year if you want. I don’t think she’ll be up for it before then."

She nodded understandingly. She finally dared to look at me after all that. She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You really don’t look good."

I shook my head. I’d been trying to hide it, but I was on the verge of vomiting right there. I barely opened my mouth.

"Hey, Bronze," Leah called out. "She’s about to throw up."

Thank goodness she understood. Immediately alarmed, my girlfriend pulled me into the restroom. Luckily, the door was just behind us all along, and I hadn’t even noticed. She barely had time to open a stall and save my hair before I threw up my breakfast into the toilet. The scene felt like déjà vu. She sighed as she tied my hair back with a hair tie.

"Do you feel any better?"

I didn’t even have time to answer before it happened again. All Lucy could do was rub my back. I’d never been this sick before, and I was starting to wonder if it was really my period causing this.

"Okay... You can’t do the tour like this."

"Is everything alright in here?"

I sat on the bathroom floor as this voice echoed. I must have looked pathetic. Lucy grabbed some paper to wipe my mouth before flushing the toilet as she stood up. I looked over at the man I recognized as the director.

"No," Lucy answered. "She’s been feeling sick since this morning, and it seems to be getting worse."

My stomach was hurting so much I had tears in my eyes. I held it with my arms, but it didn’t help. I didn’t dare look at them either. I preferred to stare in the opposite direction to avoid them seeing me like this.

"It’s been decided that I’ll lead your group through the tour, so I suggest going ahead without you."

"I’m not sure that’s the best solution. Students can be difficult sometimes."

"Oh, I don’t doubt it," he laughed. "I have four kids and I run a business, so I don’t think six students are going to give me much trouble."

Hearing that, I noticed the wedding ring on his finger. I felt foolish for thinking he was eyeing Lucy earlier. Now that I saw him up close, he also seemed slightly older than I had initially thought. He looked to be in his thirties, but probably closer to forty.

"You can’t leave her alone, so take care of her. Maybe she’ll feel better, and you can join us later. We’re visiting two departments this morning, and then it’ll be time for lunch," he explained.

"I need to check with Mr. Johnson first."

"It’s already been arranged. He agreed to this."

"Alright... Well, thank you. Hopefully, we’ll join you later."

"My pleasure. Good luck," he said before leaving.

Once we were alone, Lucy crouched down in front of me again. I felt better, or at least relieved, but my stomach pain wasn’t going away. Lucy gently cupped my face.

"Are you sure it’s your period? This seems a bit extreme."

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure anymore.

- "The pain isn't just in my lower stomach..." I admitted after noticing it.

- "Alright," she murmurs. "I'll call the school. Maybe you’ve eaten something that didn't sit well, and if that's the case, you’re probably not the only one."

- "I had the same thing as usual," I complained.

- "I know, but you never know. I'll be right back."

She kissed the top of my head before leaving to ask for a phone. Apparently, she didn’t have hers. I groaned when she left. Judging by the silence, I assumed the others had already left the lobby. Something like this always has to happen to me, especially during my only class trip. I'd pay good money just to get a hug from Lucy right now. I waited a while, and during that time, my stomach continued to rumble. Maybe she was right. It probably wasn’t just my period causing this. It felt like hours passed before she finally returned.

- "Did you have hot chocolate this morning?" she asked.

What kind of question was that? Of course, I had. I nodded.

- "Well, looks like we have our answer. The milk was expired. They forgot to check the date. Didn’t you notice anything odd about the taste?"

- "N-no."

Since I usually dunk my pastry in it, I hadn't noticed anything strange. I groaned again as the pain persisted. Lucy sighed and sat down next to me. I wasted no time collapsing into her. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around me, and I sighed in contentment. I had been waiting for this moment. She kissed my forehead again.

- "You’re burning up. Looks like you’re in for a rough day, poor thing."

- "It’s not so bad, since you're here with me."

She chuckled softly, tightening her embrace.

- "For once, you’re being optimistic…"

I nudged her playfully in the stomach, making her laugh. I could stay here for hours. Of course, she had to shatter my hopes.

- "Come on, we can't stay here. The ladies at reception offered us a room to rest in."

- "No... I'm fine right here," I mumbled.

- "Come on," she teased. "We’re not staying on the bathroom floor all day."

I groaned as she stood up, leaving me without anything to lean on. I had no choice but to stand, with her help. The only positive thing was that my nausea had passed by now. Lucy supported me as we walked to the reception area where two women stood behind the counter.

- "Is the room still available?" Lucy asked.

- "Yes, of course. I’ll open it for you," said the younger woman.

She stood up immediately, offering me a small smile that I struggled to return. She led us to a door opening into a large conference room.

- "Feel free to ask if you need anything."

- "You’ve already done a lot. Thank you."

She nodded and left us alone. Lucy guided me inside and closed the door behind us. At least we’d have some privacy.

- "Alright, lie down for a bit. It’ll help."

She made a makeshift bed by lining up several chairs in a row.

- "Come on."

I sighed but complied. I took my time, a bit afraid of the setup's sturdiness, but once I lay across the chairs, I realized it wasn't too bad. Lucy even gave me her scarf as a pillow. She couldn’t have picked anything better—I could still smell her scent this way. She then covered me with her jacket. I felt like I was freezing, but Lucy said it was due to the fever.

- "You’re staying, right?" I murmured.

- "Of course."

She pulled up a chair across from me and sat down. I smiled as she ran her hand through my hair to move it out of my face. I clung to her other hand, wanting to make sure she wouldn’t leave, though I knew she wouldn’t.

- "I love you," I murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Thursday, March 24; 12:10 PM

I woke up to some commotion. Several voices stirred me from my deep sleep. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. I hadn’t moved from the chairs. My first sight was Lucy, still sitting across from me, talking to someone I couldn’t make out. Our hands were no longer linked, and I soon understood why, recognizing the masculine voices in the room.

- "Looks like she’s waking up."

Lucy immediately turned her head toward me. She smiled as I stretched slowly, still gripping her scarf beneath me. Something felt off about the room, but I couldn’t place it.

- "How are you feeling?" she asked.

I shrugged, still groggy. I wasn’t sure how I felt yet. I thought my fever had broken since I wasn’t as cold as before.

- "Your classmates are having lunch. Are you hungry?"

A wave of disgust washed over me. Any mention of food made me nauseous right now. Lucy laughed at my expression, which must have been amusing.

- "Alright, I get it," she smiled softly. "But I’m hungry. So either you come with me, or someone else will stay here with you."

I groaned, trying to sit up. She quickly stopped my abrupt movements.

- "Take it easy," she teased. "I’m not going anywhere."

A cold draft hit me as I lost the warmth of her jacket. I slowly sat up and glanced around. Mr. Johnson was there with the company manager. I was glad they didn’t bombard me with questions. However, I noticed my teacher giving me a rather stern look, which I ignored. I ran my hand through my hair to smooth it down, shivering in the process.

- "Can I keep your jacket? It’s still so warm."

My voice cracked from disuse. Lucy nodded and helped me put it on to preserve the warmth. She also draped her large scarf over my shoulders like a shawl.

- "Alright, let’s go."

She guided me with a hand on my back. I ignored the men in the room, sensing that they understood this wasn’t the time to talk to me. Lucy must have filled them in before I woke up. We walked into another, larger conference room. The company had prepared sandwiches and muffins for lunch, which was nice of them. My classmates were gathered around the table, but Lucy led me to the far end, where the teachers were seated. I still felt a bit out of place, but I didn’t want to leave Lucy just yet.

- "Hey there," Ingrid greeted me. "You always get sick at the worst times, don’t you?" she teased gently.

I groaned in response. Lucy laughed as she pulled out a chair for me between the two of them. I sat down, gripping her scarf tightly around me.

- "Stop bothering her. She’s already grumpy enough."

- "Oops, sorry," Ingrid said with a playful grin. "Do you know what caused it?"

- "The milk this morning. Wiegman was furious. Several students got food poisoning."

- "Damn, that sucks for you," she said, patting my shoulder. "Though now we know you’re the only one still drinking hot chocolate in the morning. Maybe it’s time you switched to coffee," she joked.

I shrugged off her hand and rested my head on my arms on the table with a soft groan. Lucy chuckled, running her fingers through my hair.

- "She’s just kidding. Calm down."

I didn’t respond. They continued chatting, but I lost track of the conversation. I felt like I could fall asleep again in any position. However, Lucy didn’t give me the chance. She gently rubbed my thigh, discreetly keeping me awake.

- "Looks like someone won’t be feeling better this afternoon," Ingrid remarked.

- "No, it doesn’t seem like it."

- "Do you want to switch?" Ingrid offered. "I can stay with her if you want to do the factory tour."

I glanced over at Lucy. I didn’t want to keep her from the tour, but I’d rather have her stay with me. As if to reassure me, Lucy’s touch became more soothing.

- "No, it’s fine. I’ll stay with her."

- "Alright, as you wish," Ingrid didn’t insist.

I felt relieved. I love Ingrid, but she couldn’t replace Lucy’s presence. The break was brief. My class soon resumed the tour in their groups. I didn’t even get a chance to chat with my friends. I hope they don’t hold it against me for ignoring them during that short time. I’ll catch up with them once this is all over.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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lulublack90 · 4 months

Text

Prompt 2 - Night

@jegulus-microfic June 2, Word count 560

Previous part First part

“Why are we in the peasant seats?” Regulus asked Sirius after they were directed to the back of the plane instead of the front.

“Because we got upgraded on the way out. We were always meant to be in these seats,” Sirius told him. Regulus pouted.

“Tight arse.” He grumbled, just as a backpack hit him in the head. “That’s it, we’re swapping seats. If I have to sit here, I get the window.” Sirius nodded and swapped seats.

Regulus started to relax. The flight was only a few hours long, he could deal with that. However, the second the plane was in the air, the child behind him started kicking his chair. He managed to keep his cool for a minute before he turned around. “Excuse me, your child is kicking my chair.” He scowled at the inattentive parent.

“Dotty, stop kicking the seats,” The parent said, not looking up from the tablet they were swiping at. Regulus rolled his eyes and turned around. He inhaled deeply and tried to relax again.

He’d just accepted a gin and tonic from the air steward and carefully placed it in the little groove for cups on his fold-down tray, when the person in front of him leant the seat the whole way back in one fast motion, causing his drink to tip over and soak into his trousers.

“Oh, sorry, Sir. I’ll get you another,” The air steward exclaimed. She moved ahead one row and asked if the other passenger would mind putting the seat up sightly and explained what had happened. The rather large man wriggled his way around so he could look at Regulus, and decided it wasn’t worth the fight. He put the seat all the way back up and Regulus downed his replacement drink.

Sirius, on the other hand, was having a lovely chat with a family in the centre row while eating a cookie.

“Where did you get a cookie from?” Regulus asked, and why hadn’t he been offered one?

“Saffron gave me one. They’re delicious, Saffron, thank you.” Sirius grinned as he took another bite.

“Sirius, you can’t just take food off random people on a plane!” Regulus said, horrified. Only just resisting the urge to hit it out of his brother’s hand. He watched Saffron like a hawk after that.

Regulus didn’t relax the entire trip and by the time they were getting off the plane, he was a tensed-up mess. And to add injury to insult, his suitcase hadn’t made it onto the plane. He put his hands into his hair and yanked.

“It’ll be okay,” Sirius said, uncurling Regulus's fingers, saving his curls. “It’ll be on the next flight and we can go and collect it. Look,” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll ask Remus to keep an eye out for it, he’ll be on the same flight.” Regulus sighed and followed Sirius out of the airport.

Regulus fell asleep as soon as they got home. Night had fallen when Sirius gently woke him so they could go pick up Remus from the airport and try to find Regulus's suitcase. He picked up his phone and realised the slip of paper with James’s information on was tucked into the front pocket of his suitcase. He could have kicked himself for not putting it into his phone when James gave it to him.

Next part

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gay-wh0re-slut · 9 months

Text

Are You Mine?

rhea x reader

content: reader accidentally gets knocked out causing memory loss but rhea is there to help you remember. a cute fluffy lil fic (gonna try first person in a more diary kinda way?? i hope this makes sense and works??!?!)

One Monday Night RAW went a little too crazy. Rhea and Shayna were arguing which ended up becoming a fight. Things got out of hand and chairs were being thrown. Sitting in the front row, I got free tickets because Rhea is my hot goth buff girlfriend, anyway, one of the chairs ended up hitting me in the head. Everyone thought it was planned but it surely was not.

I was immediately out, on the floor. For the sake of television, Rhea and Shayna continued to argue but once the segment was over and the commercial came, the goth wrestler jumped out of the ring and flew to my side.

Medics ran towards me, rolled me out on a gurney and drove me to the local ER. Once the show was done, Rhea drove to the hospital and forced her way towards my bedside. She was crying and holding my hand begging and pleading for me to wake up. I had tubes and lines all over me.

“Is she okay? Will she wake up?” the australian asked the nurse.

“She had a bad hit, so she’ll be out for a while. But everything inside is looking as good,” the nurse sounded dull and tired. I was probably her fiftieth concussion that day.

“So she will wake up?”

“It looks like she will be able to. Considering how hard she was hit, she might have some memory loss, so be prepared for that,” she wrote something on my chart.

“Fuck,” Rhea growled.

The nurse jumped a bit at the muscular woman in her intense makeup and dark clothing. She was scared of her when she walked in but it wasn’t even close to the craziest thing she saw that day.

“I’ll be back later to check on her,” she placed the chart on the hook.

“Okay…Thank you,” Rhea kissed my hand and rested her head on the bed.

The nurse left and closed the curtain behind her.

You’re probably wondering how I remember all this…well I don’t. This is what was told to me and a little bit of dramatization for the story. But this next bit I do remember because it was after I woke up and I was able to recover my memory, but not at first. Don’t worry, it’ll get good.

So after a few hours, according to the doc, I finally woke up. I forced my eyes open and looked to see who was resting beside me. I tried to not freak out about this large dark woman holding my hand but I couldn’t think at all other than “Where am I ?!”

“Y/N!! You’re awake!” she kissed my hand and I immediately pulled it away but she didn’t take too much notice of it because she stood and called for the nurse, “Nurse!! Please hurry she’s awake!! Nurse!”

The nurse walked just a bit quicker than her normal gait. Followed by two more who were checking on different tubes and monitors. She shined the small light in my eyes as I squinted away from her, she checked my pulse and my breathing before spewing off some random medicines.

“Can someone please tell me where I am and why I’m here?” I sat up trying to avoid everyone touching me.

“You had a bad concussion, you were out for a good few hours. You’re at Rosendall Grace hospital,” the nurse said as if she was reciting lines from a play.

“How?” was all I could say.

“It was my fault,” the scary muscular woman said sniffling in the corner, “I was arguing with shayna and we threw a chair and it hit you, I’m so sorry baby.”

“Who’s Shayna and why’d you call me baby? Who are you?” I felt the side of my head that was pulsing. It felt like my brain was going to burst out.

“Don’t touch, there’s a wound there,” the nurse pulled my hand away.

“Shit,” the dark woman slammed her hand on the wall, “You lost your memory. I’m Rhea, I’m your girlfriend and have been for two years. I’m a wrestler for WWE, and Shayna is another wrestler and we were arguing on television but you were in the audience.”

The nurses that were swarming around me looked at each other as if it finally clicked in their head why she looked the way she did and why she was here with me.

“What’s WWE?”

“You’ll remember later, too much to explai-”

“Please don’t pull out your IV,” the nurse grabbed my wrist.

“I’m scared, I don’t know who she is, I’m in a random hospital with nurses that could give two shits about me. I want to leave, please!” I tried wriggle my arm out from her grip.

Rhea sits down in the chair in the corner of the room, “Please just listen to them for right now and you’ll be out sooner. Fighting them won’t help,” she sighed putting her head in her hands.

“Fine,” I huffed crossing my arms refusing them from touching me more.

“Please, we need to fix it,” the nurse held out her hand.

If looks could kill, she’d be long gone by now with the daggers I was shooting at her. She didn’t budge. So I so dramatically give her my hand.

“Thank you,” she snipped, “this is medicine that will help with the pain… morphine,” she shot a look to the australian, as if she was making sure she knew what was going to happen. “You should get your memories back within the night,” she looked back at me giving a fake smile. Taking a big sigh and checking the medicine bag hanging near me, “try to jog her memory like talking about things she likes or about the moments leading up to the injury,” she turned towards my girlfriend before nodding her head. Who knows how long she’s been here.

“Okay, yeah… I can do that,” Rhea dragged the chair back to the side of the bed.

“We’ll be back later the check on things,” the nurse gave a nod and shut the curtain once more.

“Hey,” she tried to grab for my hand but I pulled it away.

“Don’t touch me, I don’t know who you are,” I turned away from her.

“You know me very well actually,” she sat back in the chair, “You know how much vegemite I like on my toast, you know that I love to be the little spoon, you know that I-”

“Vegemite?” I looked at her confused because what the hell is that, legitimately.

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved me away.

“And you,” I gestured frantically to her big arms and muscular stature, “like to be the little spoon?”

“Yes. Don’t start with me, princess,” she began to play into the memory loss as if I was someone she had never met before.

Unbeknownst to me, she was trying to win me back over but obviously I had no clue who this dark haired goth woman was. Did I think she was attractive? Yes but that’s not the point.

“Oh now you’re trying to flirt with me,” I said.

“I’m always flirting with you actually,” she winked.

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried my best to hide them but…

“Now how did I know that would fluster you, hm?”

“I don’t know! You’re good a flirting?!” I shrugged.

“I am, thank you,” she giggled.

“Ugh,” I huffed and crossed my arms. I remember thinking that she was so incredibly attractive and mysterious. I needed to know more about her but I had no clue where to start. We sat in silence for a good long minute before I decided to break it. “What did you say you did?”

“I’m a wrestler for WWE.”

“And what’s that?”

“It stands for World Wrestling Entertainment. My nickname is Mami, and I’m the big scary villain along with three other guys but we’ll get to them later.”

“Oh,” I really did try to process what she said but I was so far out of it that I had no clue what wrestling was. I thought that if I faked it, she would believe me.

“It’s okay if you don’t remember, you will eventually,” only then did I notice what she was wearing because she was putting everything on display by her manspreading. She noticed that I was staring pretty hard trying to take it all in, “What’re ya looking at so hard?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m trying to figure out what you’re wearing and why you’re wearing it,” I shifted in the bed.

“Oh,” she chuckled before she stood. “These are my boots,” she pointed at them as her feet turned in, “these are my fishnets,” she pulled at them with a snap, “they always gets holes in them but I think it makes me look cooler, and these are my lil booty shorts,” she pointed at them with both of her hands gesturing to her center, “this is my shirt with the group on it… that’s me,” she pointed at each of the silhouetted figures on the shirt, “that’s Dom Dom, that’s Damian and that’s Finn. They’re my boys,” she smiled.

“Hmm,” I said contently. I was really was fascinated by this woman. She was so… interesting.

She sat back down pulling the chair closer to the bed but I didn’t feel the need to shy away again. Something about her made me feel…safe.

She cleared her throat, “so do you remember anything at all?”

“Well, I know my name is (y/n) only because that’s what you said earlier, and I know I got hit in the head, and obviously I know how to talk, but other than that…” I couldn’t think of anything, nothing at all. I began to freak out a little but I tried to hide it as best I could.

“Hey, hey," she grabbed my hand, "it's okay, you'll get your memories back soon, I'm sure. Nothing to worry about, just a lil blip is all," she kissed my hand.

A shot of warmth from her voice as the kiss flew through me and calmed me almost immediately. I guess I did know her.

We sat in silence for a good moment as I studied her. Her eyes are an icy blue that almost close when she smiles wide, her teeth are perfectly white, her nose is long and skinny with a bump in the middle, it suits her. Her tattoos are dark but fit her style as if she was born with them, her calloused hands look rough but are softer than you can imagine. The way her black wavy hair falls perfectly around her face, framing it just right to accentuate her cheekbones. Her arms are muscular but you can’t tell when she’s relaxed, though I’m sure that if she flexed I’d go into cardiac arrest. I laughed at myself with that one.

“What’s so funny, love?” her voice was quiet but gentle.

The pet name didn’t phase me as much as the first one did, “just thinking.”

“Bout what?” She crossed her legs leaning on her elbow with her chin in her hand.

“How I wish I remembered who you are because I definitely think you’re my type,” I could feel my face getting red and hot.

“Oh trust me, I wish you could too because I most definitely am your type,” one of her blue eyes winked at me and the monitor started beeping faster.

She laughed as she looked at the heart rate going up, “Told ya.”

“Knock, knock,” a different nurses voice came through the curtain before she walked through, “your nurse left for the night so I’ll be taking care of you for now,” she grabbed my chart, “So how are you feeling?”

“My head isn’t throbbing anymore so that’s good, but I guess I still don’t have my memory yet.”

“It’ll come soon, but I’m glad the morphine is working,” she smiled as she put my chart back and flicked the IV bag to get rid of the bubbles, I’m not exactly sure why she did that though.

I gave her a weak smile before looking back at the dark woman beside me. She gave me another wink and the monitor beeped faster again.

“Oh! You okay?” the nurse shot me a look.

“Yeah, uh… I’m fine,” I tried to shrink myself down.

“She’s okay Doc, just trying to jog her memory,” the wrestler said.

“I see,” she giggled, “I’ll be back to check on you later. Maybe try to get some sleep, that usually helps others with their memory. Like a hard reset!” She quietly left the room, if that’s what you wanna call it.

“That’s actually a good idea, wait, when did we eat last?” my so called girlfriend asked.

“Around 5 I think?”

“What?”

“What what?”

“You remember when we ate?” She started to get excited.

“Oh… I guess I do!”

“Do you remember what you ate?”

“Uuuuhhhhhh….” I really thought hard about what food was, “Damn, no I don’t.”

“Damn,” her face dropped immediately, “I’ll get some stuff from the vending machine though, I’ll be right back, baby,” she stood and kissed my forehead.

As if someone hit me with another chair, my head pounded with memories. True Love’s Kiss really came through with this one. I remembered everything, who she was, what I ate, who I was, where we were, why we were here. I held my head as they came rushing back, “Rhea?”

“Yeah?”

“Do that again,” I pointed at my forehead.

So she did, but she didn’t notice that I said her name, which shoulda been the dead give away because I’ll be honest, I didn’t remember her name when she said it at the beginning of this whole mess.

“That’s what I thought,” I said.

“What?” she stepped back a bit.

“That I love you,” I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

“You do?! You remember?!” She was almost jumping she was so excited. “So who am I? What do I do?”

“You’re Rhea Ripley of the Judgment Day, you wrestle for WWE and most importantly you’re my girlfriend,” I shook my legs with excitement.

“Yes! Yes!!” She bent down and kissed my lips holding my face, “What else?!” she didn’t let go of my face though.

“We had burgers for dinner with the boys, Dom, Finn, and Damian. You had a match against Shayna that ended with me getting hit with the chair,” I laughed it off.

“YES!!” she kissed me once more, “NURSE! She remembered! Nurse!!!”

She came running in, “YAY!!” she was much more enthusiastic than the other one, “That’s exciting news!! Oh I love hearing about things like this, it’s so cool how the brain works,” she laughed. “I’ll get the doc to come check on you once more to see of you can be discharged. Be right back!” as she slipped out.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!!” Rhea kissed all over my face and down my neck finishing with a long kiss on my lips.

“I love you too…Mami,” I giggled.

“I can’t wait to get you out of here,” she snarled playfully.

“Me either.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #head trauma #memory loss #i thought this was a fun idea so i had to do it #please like it

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