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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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blueparadis · 2 years

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❝ FIRST CODE RED ❞ !

( 𝐢 ) → f!reader, established relationship ( they're all married ), some flashbacks, suggestive, fluff & humor, mention of periods, sanitary pads, parenting, them being adorable dads. headcanon format plus scenarios about their daughter experiencing first time bleeding. characters include—sae itoshi, nagi seishiro, isagi yochi, bachira meguru.

( . . . ) → kudos to dawn for this. @lalunanymph-main . A small gift for her when she comes back. | redirect to blog navigation| tagging –› @tokyometronetwork @fueledbysano

⌗ SAE ITOSHI

Those teal restless eyes dance all around the house and then land on the wall clock. Although occasionally but Sae seems to lose patience with each tick of the clock, each breath growing longer than the bygone moment. He remembers being like this when his wife was in the washroom with a pregnancy testing kit while he was in another country, following another time in another country. He almost cried after his match, and still thinks it was for the victory and not for the positive news of her pregnancy.

And now, he has to sit in the lounge waiting for her daughter who just had her very first bleed. She thinks she got her mother's presence of mind for calling her first and since she was not able to pick up the phone Sae witnessed half of her daughter’s face through the opening of the washroom door, lips parting, and voice steadily asking for sanitary pads. His first instinct was to call her but his daughter quipped, “I already tried calling her. She isn't answering. Probably busy.” So, rather than scouring her cupboards for sanitary pads, he got them from the store, easier and faster.

“Are you feeling all right?”Sae asked with tension brimming all over his body.

She shakes her head, grabs a pillow places it over her belly saying, “um-hm. Just. . . just feel tired.”

“Alright, come here princess.” His daughter carefully walks in between the space of the tea table and the sofa while holding her father's hand as support. She glances at him, pouting, and then sits beside him for a while only to rest her head on his lap.

“I wish I could talk to Mama” Sae smiles at her confession running his palm over her head, caressing and saying, “I wasn't there for her so many times. Always busy with soccer and as such. When I heard that I'm going to a father over a text, all I thought of was to leave the game and come home. But she never complained. She said she's gonna come to visit me. ”

“Are you listening?” Sae asks since the rise and fall of her chest is long, relaxed and he could hear a low purr. “Ah! She missed the best part. ”

“Well this is a rare sight ”

“jealous?” Sae asked taking another cushion to rest her head on it.

She responded, “try again.” before emptying half of the water bottle.

Sae curls his hands around her waist and rests his chin on her tired shoulders murmuring, “She had her first period. ”

“Oh god. Oh my god,” She checked her phone. “I couldn't pick up the phone i was on the bus.” She was aware that her daughter was calling since she had different ringtones for her daughter, her husband, and her brother-in-law.

“It's okay. I took care of it. And was telling her about you”

“ about me?”

“um-hm. How you were so quick to convince Rin that he took the next flight with you and came to visit me. . . and when I saw Rin carrying your bags I was so jealous ”

“Ah! There we go again ” Rin exclaimed in a whispering audible voice throwing his hands in the air in disappointment, from the entrance of the room watching all of these unfold. Sae recoiled like a spring from his wife glaring at his brother, Rin who was being a major hindrance for all the hard work Sae did to get his wife a little in the mood.

⌗ NAGI SEISHIRO

The cash machine beeps making Nagi more nervous than before as he weakly taps his feet on the floor. He has never done this before, not for his girlfriend and definitely not for his wife. Sure, there were times when he witnessed other people buy sanitary pads, maybe even when he went out shopping for groceries with his wife, but never alone like this, standing at the apex of the queue waiting ( and being the center of attraction ) for that particular thing to cash out. Why does it have to be like this? He just came to the nearest grocery store to buy a few things and that is when his daughter called saying that he needs to buy a pack of pads too.

He hates it, hates the fact that he is not there for his family. Not enough. His daughter is alone in the house, god knows what's running through her mind and his wife is on her way home, stuck in traffic. Well, he is no better. He is stuck in a queue. Even though both of them were aware, they could not do much other than wait.

Somehow he thinks his daughter is tougher than him or the fact that she was aware of what's happening to her body. He is thankful that his wife taught her things at the right time and talked her out of it because some firsts can be terribly scary, if not adequately aware of it's happenings.

The cashier looked at him with surprise asking, “this pack has the same price. But it has wings. Would like me to switch? ”

He tilted his head taking both the packs in his hands mumbled to himself,“Do they make you fly or something? ” He looks up to the cashier noticing a tug on her lips that instantly pushes him into a hole of embarrassment. Why does he have to be like this?. “I’ll take both,” he comments and leaves as soon as the payment was done.

Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen minutes for her to freshen up and come out of the bathroom. The longest fifteen minutes Nagi has ever been through. He was on the couch watching TV, trying to and when he noticed his daughter walking towards him and then slouching beside her he couldn't help but chuckle. It reminded him of himself.

“Here, I brought these” he hands out a packet of ice creams and chips to his daughter. “Mama is gonna scold me for having these. I wouldn't be able to eat dinner for sure.” She protested while Nagi grabbed a juice from the packet exclaiming mischievously, “Who says you're getting scolded alone?” handing her a gamepad.

⌗ ISAGI YOICHI

When Isagi walked out of the store buying pads he did not think of the consequences of not picking her up after school for the past few days. It has been weeks since he picked up his daughter from school and sadly that is the only time he properly gets to talk to her, hear her smiles, and see if she is holding up alright or not. It is not like he did not want this, albeit he wanted this, he worked for this to build a home with her. Guess it really takes a toll on the child when both parents are working.

"All okay?" Isagi asked as he walked into the drawing room holding two bags in his hands.

"What is all these?" She asked throwing her hands up in the air, her voice keeping low as much as possible so that she does not wake up her mom. She came straight home when she saw Isagi's text; a text that conveyed that their little girl is now a big girl. And of course, with all the rush, nervousness, and work exhaustion she forgot to buy a fresh set of pads.

"don't worry. I did not forget to bring pads." Isagi said handing her one of the huge packets filled with different types and different brands of pads. He leans to take a look at his wife who was asleep seated on the couch with her head resting on her hand. "no wonder my calls and texts were not reaching her." Isagi carefully lays her down on the couch while his daughter grabs a pack of pads and heads toward the bathroom.

Something does not fill right by Isagi. It is Friday. His wife is supposed to be working late on Fridays but she is here asleep on the couch. He is supposed to pick up her daughter from school, not her. He is supposed to cook dinner for today yet she has been doing it for some Fridays. When did his home start running on fuel? like a factory .

His daughter walks out of the bathroom and halts in surprise in front of the kitchen counter seeing her dad behind the kitchen counter and chopping vegetables. "What?" Isagi asked while his daughter squints her eyes at him saying, "Did you fight with mama too?"

"Probably." and she chuckles at that.

"can I help you?" she chimes walking towards her dad, standing beside her peeking to see what was boiling. It smells nice.

"Only if you tell me what were you talking to mom while I was out..." Isagi says holding his fist out towards his daughter.

"Sure," she exclaims giving him a fist bump.

⌗ BACHIRA MEGURU.

From the moment his daughter told him that she had her first period he has not stopped googling, texting, or calling. It is back-to-back. His immediate reaction was to call her, his wife and luck seems to be on his side. At least he felt so when he heard her mellowed voice saying, "hello." And there it is. the calm in the chaos of his life.

He tells what happened and when it happened to ask where he could get pads, as in, if they're out of it or if he can find them in the usual place. Many times he has done that. She had told him where she kept the pads and he would bring her while she was still in the bath. So, it is nothing unknown to him, nothing to be freaked out about. He drags the drawer in gasping finding it empty. Of all the days, she had to run out of pads for today. So, he wastes no time doing the needful but the question is how? he has never bought pads before. He tried calling his wife again but it was all in vain, must be in a meeting.

Bachira can feel it, feel her stares on him while his eyes are glued on the stretch of selves that has different types of pads of different brands with different types. How does anyone manage to pick the best from all these options? He tried calling his wife again but the call beeps after ringing for a while. out of reach. He looked around totally clueless as he ran out of time. Luckily, one of the staff turned up asking questions. Questions like, "Does she goes to the bathroom a lot? Does she change her pants regularly? does she has trouble sleeping?"

And, how on earth Bachira could answer all of those? He does not know the answers to any of them, not that he is supposed to so he says that, very clearly, that he does not know because his daughter is having her first period and he is freaking out because her mom is not around her. . .So after the staff explains the benefits of various brands he picks the one that his wife uses. Phew! that was easy. why didn't he think of that earlier?

He calls his daughter letting her know that he is on his way home and if he should buy anything to eat since mom will be late today. "Ahhh... then I want some ramen, the one that we always eat," she responded before hanging up. She did not sound nervous but rather bubbly about it. Maybe the food lightened her mood. Bachira smiled since he was already standing in front of that Ramen shop where he used to take his missis once a month when they were still not married, when they were just seeing each other, when everything was so uncertain "She got her mother's spicy tongue." he texted to the number saved Y/N xoxo.

—

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delicatebarness · 3 months

Text

i cant read your mind | chapter nine

Summary: Ah, the return of John Walker.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Major The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Spoilers.

Word Count: 928

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A/N: Oh look, an update. ALSO text like "This... Bold and Italic." is spoken in Wakandan. But, I am also excited to go back to annoyed Bucky next chapter when John's back in the picture.

The door swung open as Bucky entered the apartment, his strides long as he made his way over to the kitchen. “Well, the Wakandans are here,” he paused momentarily, looking at you. You sat with your knees up to your chest, scrolling on your phone, your gaze met his the second he mentioned the Wakandans. “They want Zemo, bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?” Sam asked, as you returned to your phone. You ignored their conversation, taking an interest in your phone again.

A small gasp escaped your lips, Karli bombed a GRC supply deport, you thought as Bucky vocalized to Sam and Zemo. You listened intensely as Bucky explained what happened to them, while you read along with the article.

You kept searching for any information, coming up blank as all the articles reused the same information. Going over the list of demands, wondering how the world can agree. Was Zemo right? Is the only way to stop it, by stopping her?

“But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?” Zemo asked in response to Bucky.

The couch dipped by the side of you as Bucky sat down. You met his concerned gaze as you glanced up from your phone. You could see the worry over his features.

Sighing softly, you put your phone down on the cushion next to you. Bucky’s eyes remained locked on yours.

Without a word, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm. His muscles were tense beneath you, a testament to the stress. His expression began to soften as he looked down at your hand, then back up at you. You gave him a reassuring smile, his lips turned into a faint smile in return.

He shifted closer to you, his other hand moving to cover yours. Your thoughts couldn’t drift away from the sensation of his touch, his conversation with Sam and Zemo faded into the background.

Zemo led the way into an old courtyard, “Shame what’s become of this place,” he mused. “When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties. I knew nothing of the politics of the time, of course, but I remember it being beautiful.”

You, Sam, and Bucky looked around, scanning the surroundings. “I’m gonna take a look around upstairs,” Sam said, “See what you can find out here. And, keep an eye on him,” he directed to you and Bucky, nodding towards Zemo.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Zemo replied with a slight smile.

You followed Bucky as he approached another group of people, “Donya? No?” he asked cautiously.

You sighed, sharing a frustrated look with Bucky. This mission was proving more difficult than you anticipated, but you knew giving up wasn’t an option. Bucky continued to search for leads, but the local resistance made his task even more challenging.

You observed Zemo, he began moving toward a group of children, surprisingly gently. He started singing a familiar tune. You watched his body language, it suggested he was trying to gain their trust.

“What the hell is he doing?” Bucky muttered as Sam came up beside you, his eyes narrowed toward Zemo. “He’s up to something,” his tone wary.

“Yeah, but we need him,” you replied. “At least for now.”

Zemo walked back toward you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “Cute kids,” he said simply.

The narrow streets of Latvia felt even more claustrophobic as you walked alongside Bucky, your senses on high alert. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily as you approached the location of Zemo’s lead.

Suddenly, you heard hurried footsteps ahead of you as John Walker and Lemar closed in with determined expressions.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit,” Walker stated, his voice was sharp.

Sighing, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Lemar retorted while gesturing toward you and Sam.

Stepping closer to Walker, a playful smirk danced on your lips. “Wow, Johnny, I didn’t realize you were so invested. You like keeping an eye on us, don’t you?”

Bucky shot you a warning look, however, you ignored it. Stepping between you and Walker.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” Walker stated, looking over Sam’s shoulder and offering you another one of his winks. If hadn’t been enjoying Bucky’s reactions so much, you would have vomited. “You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.” Bucky scoffed at him. Walker’s eyes remained on you. Sending him a smirk, you listened intensely to the men’s conversation.

Moving around Sam’s body, you placed a hand on Walker’s arm, your fingers tracing the fabric of his uniform. “You know, it’s nice having a strong, decisive man around. Makes a girl feel… safe,” your voice dripped with flirtation as you smiled up at him.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing on you. His patience snapped as he muttered in Wakandan. “Touch him again, and see what happens.”

“You know, Bucky, it’s cute when you get all worked up.” you teased back to him in Wakandan. Your eyes gleamed with mischief as Walker looked down at you in confusion.

“I’ll kill him,” he retorted, the tension showing in his shoulders as he stepped closer, edging his way between you and Walker. “Try me.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, taking a step back after sending Walker a wink.

As the group continued walking, you couldn’t help but feel Bucky’s gaze on you.

---

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#i can’t read your mind #i cant read your mind #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #tfatws au #tfatws bucky

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psychickiss · 1 year

Text

accident

— saiki kusuo x reader (no 3rd person pronouns, 2nd pov)

— summary: You and Saiki partner up for an assignment. Things go... not-smooth. Saiki lets you know he has powers in the worst way possible (to him).

— notes: never beta read hell yeah also there are mentions of cockroaches here and i hate them so its just one not-so-paragraph paragraph

— things: platonic maybe ooc you could see this as romantic whatevs

— masterlist | request form | retrospring

“Oh, Saiki! I didn’t know this was your house.” You smile warmly, but deep down you and Saiki both know that you knew where he lived.

“You’re joking, right? You’ve tagged along with Nendou, Kaidou, and I on the numerous occasions we walked home together.” Was what Saiki wanted to say. However, he couldn’t make any snarky comments at you whatsoever, not with his mother standing behind him.

“Ku? Is this another lovely friend of yours?”

Saiki gives you a blank glance then turns to his mother. “I guess.”

Saiki’s mother approaches you with a smile on her face, you look at her cheery expression then at Saiki’s lack of one. Polar opposites, you think. You quickly introduce yourself.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Saiki. It’s nice to meet you.”

She holds your hand gently and asks, “It’s nice to meet you too! What brings you here?”

You answer her, “I wanted to ask Saiki out.”

Saiki’s mother immediately lets go of your hand and gasps loudly. “On a date?! Do you and my Ku like each other?!”

You laugh awkwardly as you shake your head. “Goodness, no! Saiki doesn’t seem to have a romantic bone in his body.”

Well, you’re right about that. Saiki thinks to himself as he stands quietly while you talk with his mother.

“I just wanted to ask if he has a partner for our summer Pre-Calculus assignment, I was absent when it was assigned and most of the people I know have partners already. I’d text your son, but I don’t have his number– does he even have a phone?”

Saiki takes a step forward, closer to you and his mother. “I don’t have a partner yet, and Nendou wasn’t an option for me. Do you know what the assignment is?”

“If my memory serves me right, Hairo told me we had to find a partner and explain derivatives and anti-derivatives, then cite any problems with real-life situations.”

Saiki exhales, a small smile appears on his face for a second. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t look nice at the action, rarely did Saiki smile, after all. You didn’t expect as well that he’d be smiling at you. “Your memory is quite well, then. We can do this in the public library.”

Saiki’s mother turns to him, frowning. “You’re not going to let your friend stay for drinks?”

Saiki shakes his head. “We can get drinks outside, thank you.” He turns to you and says, “Wait a minute. I’ll go grab my stuff. You could... talk to my mom while you wait.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and Saiki nods as well. He says something to his mother before heading up the stairs in their house.

“So, you and Ku are good friends?”

You turn to Saiki’s mother. “You could say that. He’s a pretty chill guy, and he listens to what people have to say.”

Saiki’s mother’s face grows more cheerful than before. “I’m relieved to hear that...! He’s had a hard time making friends with his powers, being psychic and all.”

You laugh, taking every single word as a lighthearted joke. “Is he like Kaidou? I think it’s nice that you play along with his imagination. Ah, I’m sorry! I just went and assumed you knew him.”

Saiki’s mother awkwardly laughs before she answers you, “Mhm, yep! We have talked to Kaidou before, he’s a nice boy. The one with red bandages on his arm. He and Saiki are definitely friends for that!”

You nod. “Yep, he says it’s to “keep his powers at bay,” but we all know it’s fake, and we still play along. Well, some of us.” You point your index finger upwards and position your hands above your head.

“And I bet Saiki’s funky hair clips limit his powers too!” You heartily laugh. You don’t notice the way Saiki’s mother desperately keeps looking back at the stairs, waiting for her son to come down.

Powers? Please.

You see Saiki walking down the stairs and you quickly put your hands down. You ask him, “Shall we go?”

Saiki nods. You two say your goodbyes to his mother before leaving the house.

“Uhm, were you serious about the whole “getting drinks outside” thing?” You ask. Saiki looks at you confused for a second.

Ah. The thing he said to his mother earlier. He answers you, “If you want to. It’s fine by me.”

You shrug. “I could go for some coffee right now. You?”

Saiki stops to walk and looks at you. He doesn’t really know what to reply, so he stays quiet.

“Straight to the library is alright.”

You both walk side-by-side on your way to the library, not saying anything. You aren’t too nervous, and your thoughts are mostly related to the assignment and how you wish to get it completely over with so you could relax. Saiki shares the same sentiment.

You and Saiki finally arrive at the library– it’s quiet and not too crowded, so there were lots of empty seats for you two to occupy. The whole place seemed a little unclean but you two didn’t mind. You both opted for the most secluded area possible.

You sit down and look at the empty chair beside you, then at Saiki, who is still standing up. “You aren’t going to sit down yet?”

Saiki shakes his head. “I’m going to go look for books we could use as references.”

You slowly nod. “Okay, thanks.” Saiki nods back and walks off to search for books.

You place your bag on the table before you and take out the stuff you figured you two would need – ballpens, paper, etc.

...

This assignment is fucking killing me...

“Hey, Kusuo, do you know how many of these we should be writing down?”

“18. With proper citation. APA format. Also, Kusuo?”

You groan. You drop your pen for a second and shake your hand, exhausted from continuous writing and page-turning. 3 problems left...

You say to Saiki, “I didn’t know you were left-handed,” as you cracked your fingers. He nods in response. “Also, calling you by your name just felt natural.”

18 is such a weird number of problems to require, to be honest. I’m glad we don’t have to solve it ourselves.

You exhale and look at your surroundings. Come to think of it, this library looks pretty old. Probably why there aren’t a lot of people today. I’m glad there aren’t any cockroaches.

As you babble on with your thoughts, Saiki stops writing, the thought of a roach interrupting his work mortifies him.

Usually there’d be a roach or two in places like these, especially in Saiki’s and my spot. It’d be pretty funny if one did come crawling or flying around here–

Horrendously perfect timing and the worst of luck bestows you and Saiki as a large cockroach appears itself in front of you, it crawls its disgusting little legs on one of the books next to you.

You and Saiki act immediately and irrationally.

You cover your mouth with one hand to stop yourself from squealing and have an instant grip on Saiki’s sleeve with the other, and;

Saiki, figuring since he’s in a secluded area, teleports far, far away from the cockroach... with you.

...

You stare at your surroundings, slowly lowering your hand from your mouth. Your other hand still on Saiki’s sleeve, you give him a slight pinch.

Good grief. It was Saiki’s turn to stop you from screaming.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!! WHERE ARE WE!!!!!! HOW DID WE GET HERE!!!!!

“Shut up.”

You shakily ask, “Huh? I didn’t say anything... God, don’t tell me you can hear thoughts too...”

Saiki takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

LIAR.

“Fine. I can.”

You step away from him. “Are you... serious?”

Saiki stares at you with the same blank expression he always wore.

Oh my God.

“Does anyone else know? Where are we?”

Saiki answers, “Toritsuka, Aiura, they both have powers, and Akechi, due to his stubbornness and intelligence. I think we are somewhere on the other side of the world... Paris”

“That’s crazy... PARIS?”

Saiki nods.

You smile mischievously, “We should ditch our homework.”

Saiki doesn’t respond. You can feel his judginess through his unwavering stare at you without a word spoken. Jesus, do you blink?

Saiki blinks and you frown.

“Come on! We’re in Paris! City of love! Don’t they have pretty cafés here? We should eat a bunch of baked goods.”

“We don’t have any money.”

You click your tongue. ... Right. “It’s back to our stupid assignment, I guess.” You tug on the back of his shirt. “To Japan.”

“Wait.” Saiki crosses his eyes. You try your best not to question the action. “The coast is clear. Let’s go.”

In an instant, you two were back at the library.

You remember your words from earlier. Power limiters... Don’t tell me they’re real... Oh God, you probably know about me making fun of your hairpins earlier...

“They’re real.”

You whisper angrily, “I get that you can hear my thoughts but wait for me to actually say it out loud!”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Let’s just finish this and maybe finally get coffee, yeah?”

Saiki nods.

An hour or two passes and you two are finally done with your shared assignment.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, what other powers do you have?”

Your bag floats towards you. “Telekinesis.”

A small flame ignites on the tip of Saiki’s index finger. “Pyrokinesis.”

Saiki removes an incredulous thin glove from his hand and touches one of the books you two had used. “Psychometry. This book was returned just the other day.” He quickly wears the glove, and it amazes you how it seems like nothing is even there.

Saiki holds up his notebook and a ¥500 coin appears in its place. “Apport. It lets me exchange items of the same value.”

“Okay. Can we teleport to a café?”

Saiki shakes his head.

“Come on! You have powers and you won’t use them like that?”

He shakes his head at you again. “Have you ever seen me use my powers at school before?”

You shake your head. “I guess I see why... You’d probably be popular if you did, in a good way and bad way. Has it been like that since... well, the start?”

Saiki nods.

“Ah... I’m sorry.” Saiki doesn’t say anything else. In an attempt to break the silence, you ask, “Café, then?”

He nods again. “I could buy coffee jelly.”

“No. Allow me to treat you to coffee jelly, as thanks for letting me in on a secret this big.”

“If telling people I’m psychic meant getting free coffee jelly, I’d probably tell the world.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

#saiki k #saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo #ok

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jenscx · 1 year

Text

FATE — huh yunjin x f!reader

it’s been two years since yunjin had broken up with you, but fate brings you to korea, and into yunjin’s arms.

TAGS — fluff, angst, exes to lovers, cursing, wanted to write a super angsty one but felt bad for my wife yunjin :((

WORDCOUNT — 2.6k

yunjin breaks up with you through a phone call. it’s embarrassing, her voice sounding through your phone explaining and rambling while you try your best not to cry in a random starbucks.

“—and it’s not you, like seriously, it’s just our time differences and i can’t be in a relationship if i want to debut.” you grip your phone a little tighter.

“you told me you were going there to visit family. not to debut or even train again,” memories of yunjin reassuring you flash through your head and you can just hear the grimace in her voice.

your girlfriend continues, “i know what i said, it’s just, they asked and this is all i’ve ever wanted.”

“so that text from yesterday was a lie? telling me that you missed me so much and couldn’t wait to come back?” you hiss as quietly as possible, feeling more furious rather than sad at this point.

yunjin goes quiet for a second before sighing, “i do miss you and i miss new york too but i can’t give up on my dream. i’m sorry, y/n.”

you think of your girlfriend’s past endearing words and they only fan the flames burning inside you. ( “y/n? are you still there?” ) and at that moment, you no longer feel any sort of affection for huh yunjin, only disappointment that she lied to you and then broke up with you through a two minute phone call.

“i hope i never see you again, jennifer. bye.”

it’s been two years since the breakup and you glared at anyone who brought it up. it was a sensitive subject and you would rather spend your time thinking of anything else but yunjin. yet, you feel exhilarated. a sample of your mix had somehow worked its way to hybe and the producers there had reached out to you, an opportunity anyone would give anything for.

a ticket headed to south korea was booked and you stood in the airport, giving your teary goodbyes to your family. you had tried to build up your korean a few weeks beforehand and maybe, you could understand it more than the average foreigner.

after all, if you were to potentially be signed to hybe, you might just end up migrating there and a little korean could help you out.

“be good, i don't want to see my only daughter ending up a prisoner,” your dad says.

you laugh, affronted, “why would i do anything that would warrant jail time?”

he shrugs and you give your parents one final hug before departing for the gates.

excitement fills your veins and you are soon jittering with nervousness. as soon as they announce boarding, you rush onto the plane, a newfound enthusiasm for your future.

maybe you could meet blackpink there, but yg and hybe don’t really collaborate often, you thought.

or maybe if the whole hybe thing doesn’t work out, you could try for the black label and end up producing for somi. that would be fun.

your fantasies entertain you for the rest of the flight and sleep overtakes you at the later part. it is a 14 hour flight after all. you dream of soft brown eyes and even softer black hair.

it’s around 10 o’clock in the morning when your plane lands and surprisingly, you feel well-rested. it’s surreal that you were finally in korea and as you wait for the designated driver to pick you up, a crowd of fans rushes past you, camera flashes going off at lightning speed.

“ah, isn’t that lesserafim? they just came back from japan,” a stranger remarked while passing by. you tense up. the group, lesserafim, familiar yet painful at the same time. you clench your eyes shut, not willing to make any sort of contact with one particular member.

however, your body gravitates towards the crowd and the sight of the group’s success before you grips your heart painfully.

she left for a good cause.

“kazuha! look here!”

“chaewon! chaewon! do a heart with sakura!”

“eunchae-ssi, do a heart!”

just as you’re about to leave, someone calls out.

“yunjin! look here!”

unfortunately, the person who had yelled stood next to you and even though your head was screaming at you to run, your legs stayed rooted and you’re forced to face the girl who had broken your heart.

“y/n?” she mouthed, eyes widening. you pulled the cap on your head downwards and gulped. should i just run and hope she thinks i’m just her hallucination?

unluckily (or luckily for future you), neither you nor yunjin move away and you’re stuck in a staring contest with your ex.

she did nothing and snapped her smiling façade back on her face but her gaze wandered to you occasionally.

you thought back to your words, “i never want to see you again.” yeah, that was how it should be and your body finally cooperated as you pulled yourself out of her trance, away from the crowd.

you stare at the building, a modern, skyscraper corporate building that spoke of the company’s success.

“hello,” you greet the bodyguards stationed at the front and head in. it was pristine and honestly, you would die to work here every day. there was a cafe and everything, you promised yourself to get a snack later.

“oh, you’re the producer that no joohwan has a meeting with,” the receptionist says, “the twelfth floor, i think he’s in the studio.”

you nod and express your thanks before making your way up. despite the fact that you were about to talk to a hybe producer, your head was filled with thoughts of a particular idol under hybe. her blonde hair and bright eyes… why did she dye her hair? you frowned as the elevator dinged.

you’re greeted with a hallway and multiple doors. the sign above most reading, ‘practice room’ while the door at the end is a different colour.

you knocked and waited a couple seconds before opening it slightly.

a man sat before a layout of buttons and mixers that you were well familiar with and inside the recording booth, a sole girl looking at the lyric sheet.

“oh, hello, i wasn’t expecting you to be so early but come on in. you can take a seat there first while i finish up,” the producer, no joohwan, smiles. you nod and do so, not before recognising the girl inside as lesserafim’s chaewon.

“chaewon-ssi, let’s do the last verse, okay?”

“yes.”

you’re amazed at her voice and the way joohwan moves so fluidly around the mixer. it feels like it’s his second home and it probably was. it was like a performance artwork.

“i think that was good, we can wrap up here today,” joohwan says, “tell yunjin to drop by later, we need to record her verse too.”

even her name urges some sort of reaction out of you and maybe chaewon notices since she raises a questioning eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“okay,” joohwan turns to you when chaewon leaves the room, “so, i heard your mix and i think you’re just what our team needs. i think that you bring something new and i want you to work for hybe, or more specifically, source music.”

source music, the company lesserafim is under. you’re now in some dilemma because if you were to reach joohwan’s level, you would have to see the members during recording. the members, including yunjin. your head spins at the opportunity presented, either let your past relationship affect your future or forget about it.

you feel slightly bitter. yunjin chose her work over your relationship. she didn’t let you, no matter how much she loved you, affect her dreams.

“i would love to work for source music.”

you think you’ve made the right choice when joohwan takes your hand into a firm handshake, “i’m glad you chose our company! when i’m done recording with the girls, we can sign you to source music and draft up a contract.”

“okay, i’ll come in next week then?”

“yes, that would be great.” you don’t lie through your teeth when you tell him how much you appreciate the opportunity and joohwan seems genuinely excited for new ideas and samples.

as soon as you open the door however, your smile fades away as a blonde blocks your way.

“oh. you’re… here,” yunjin blinks. seeing her in close proximity brings up a lot of things you want to say to her. for example, you’re still so pretty ranging to i hate you and your stinking guts. but you don’t say any of those. you nod and then try to manoeuvre past her but she’s so much taller and stronger than you that your wrist just ends up in her grip. she drags you away while you struggle in her grasp and only stops when you two are both in an empty practice room, the door swiftly locked by yunjin.

“what are you doing!” you shriek, backing away from your ex-girlfriend but it seems, she has other plans that prevent your escape.

“no, what are you doing in korea?” yunjin retorts, “aren’t you meant to be in new york?”

“i’m here for a job, dumbass, so can i leave now?” you frown, not liking the way yunjin rests her gaze on you.

a moment of silence befalls the two of you, and of course, your temper runs short and it’s another episode of you trying to reach the locked door but yunjin’s arms reach you before you do.

her arms wrap around your waist and you writhe uncontrollably.

“jennifer! let. me. go!”

“no!”

you gasp, “what the hell do you mean, ‘no’!”

“i just wanna talk to you!”

“and i don’t want to talk to you!”

your ex-girlfriend pointedly ignores you until you stop trying to escape, too tired to fight back against the once comfortable embrace you wished for.

you pant, “what?”

“what?”

“what do you want to say? and it’s not nice just grabbing your ex— or anyone, like that!” you scoff.

yunjin releases her grip slightly but not enough for your body to wiggle out. she sits you both on the wooden floor and sighs.

“i…”

“what, jennifer? you wrestle me and then have nothing to say? you better start talking if not i’m leaving in five seconds.”

“okay, this isn’t how i envisioned our first meeting.”

“and i didn’t envision this at all,” you whisper under your breath, rolling your eyes. who the hell fantasises about meeting their ex again?

“can you stop saying shit and just listen?”

“no, jennifer, because you literally just kidnapped me!”

yunjin groans loudly, “oh my god, stop calling me jennifer!” her shout falters you and you stay quiet. a part of you is scared of her anger and another part wants to cry. cry that yunjin’s hold is so, so warm.

you hear yunjin take a deep breath.

“i regret breaking up with you.”

and it’s crazy that you don’t have a snarky remark to bite back. you don’t have any words at all because… well, why would yunjin ever regret that?

it got her famous, rich and her dream that she desired.

you feel her embrace you a little tighter again. at this point, your back was to her chest and she rested her head against your shoulder. it was like you two were cuddling, only that you were deathly upright and still. suddenly you hear sniffles and your shoulder getting wet.

“it was fine at first. i liked being an idol but i just… i’m sorry for leaving you. i was an idiot and i can’t tell you how much i’ve missed you,” yunjin cries into your shoulder, “i was so stupid to break up with the only person that supported me then… and i’m so sorry for being such a dumbass to ever let you go. i wanted to go back to new york and beg for you to take me back—”

“so why didn’t you?” you interrupt.

“i was scared, scared that i might see you with someone new and scared to face you again, but now that you’re here, all these emotions just rush out and fuck, i can’t stop crying. please, please let me try again, i won’t be the same idiot that breaks up with you. i’ll do anything for you, y/n.”

yunjin just sobs into your shoulder and there’s some mumbles that you can’t make out.

“jen,” you mutter softly, “i was so broken when you left me. you lied and then just broke up with me on the spot, and there’s still a little bit of my heart that hates you for it.” your ex-girlfriend’s body tenses up.

“the days after, i waited for any contact with you. maybe you would call, apologise and come back to new york, but a part of me knew that you would never. but i stayed, hoping,” you chuckle, “so much for wistful thinking. you haven’t changed much. but i did.”

yunjin inhales sharply.

“have you… moved on?” you can tell her cheeks are burning red at her curiosity despite her hair hiding her face.

“i could never move on, you know that right? i just had to change to become someone who would survive without you,” you turn around, facing the one that left you heartbroken in a starbucks two years ago. “you left so abruptly and… i can’t just forgive you instantly. also, i meant it when i said it wasn’t nice of you to just drag me in here.”

yunjin pouts, cheeks reddening further, “you would have ran away.”

you pinch her cheeks, “then you can chase me properly this time, instead of leaving again.”

she sighs into her hands.

“i wish i could turn back time and never leave you.”

you shake your head, “i’m still pissed at you. i think i had to change pillowcases every day since i cried into my pillow every time i thought of you.”

yunjin lets out a watery laugh.

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i became okay.”

“i just,” yunjin stutters, “missed you… way more than i thought. i love you, so much. fuck, why’d i ever think of leaving you?” she says the last part more to herself than you.

“let’s start slow, yunjin,” you offer the girl, who raises her eyebrows.

“yunjin?”

“everyone here calls you yunjin, shouldn’t i do the same?”

“but i like jen…”

you giggle, “okay jen, i’ll give you another chance.”

you swear that yunjin’s face brightens up tenfold when you let those words out.

lesserafim’s dating ban is lifted after five years. yunjin is more mature and so are you. you had recently celebrated your 27th birthday by flying back to new york (with yunjin tagging along) to visit your family.

after reaching incheon international airport, yunjin takes ahold of your hand and laughs, “this is the first time i saw you since we broke up. it’s so crazy that fate brought you here with me.”

you roll your eyes at her.

“you mean, you broke up with me, don’t make it into a mutual agreement,” you sass.

“yeah yeah, but i wanted to ask you something,” yunjin shifted uncomfortably, “y/n.”

“yes, jen?”

“we should start dating.”

“yeah? that’s not really asking anyway, more like stating,” you say.

yunjin is now the one rolling her eyes.

“is that a yes because i might just start crying.”

you give her silence before bursting into laughter at her worried expression.

“yes, you doofus.”

( “hey jen, you were kind of like joe jonas breaking up with taylor swift when you broke up with me.”

“oh my god, i was joe jonas.” )

#huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim

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so-long-soldier-writes · 7 months

Text

Feeding 101

kai parker x reader

summary: damon was a great teacher during elena's transition, but he's less than helpful when kai escapes hell and needs to feed. luckily, you're there at the right place, right time, and offer to teach him, (much to damon's disapproval). | heretic!kai

tags: based on s08e13, mention of twilight, blood drinking, blood sharing, feelings, confessions, arguments, protective!damon but also protective!kai, mention of sex but no sexual content, almost kiss

word count: ~2.7k

You’re too busy texting to look where you’re going. A nervous text from Alaric; a warning, judging by his unusual use of the red exclamation + question mark emoji. You stumble to the bathroom to read it, wanting your reaction to be out of sights from the crowded diner. Mystic Falls has been a mess lately; no doubt it concerns the next big enemy.

But as you burst open the nearest door, you catch the sight of two bodies occupying. Right as you turn to leave, you realize it’s Damon by the sink.

“Oh, shit, sorry - wait, Damon?!”

This is an uncommon place to find him. Usually, he’d be at the Mystic Grill or the Scull Bar. Never at the rather unkempt small diner on the end of the street. You, however, go there often, whenever you need to escape wandering eyes and small-town chatter. Damon, often both the cause of the eyes and the chatter, enjoys being in the center of attention.

However, when you catch his gaze this time, his throat tightens in fear. “Y/N, out! Go!”

His urgency scares you. Your eyes bounce around the room for the threat, wondering what’s so imperative that you hurry on your way out the door.

You settle your attention on the figure beside him. Well, not one, but two.

One man slouched against the wall, diner apron still loosely around his waist. Another man is holding him up by his shoulders, feeding on his neck.

You startle at the sight, not expecting it.

“Get out, Y/N!”

The man feeding is too caught up in his gig to notice your presence, but you soon start to recognize his shoulders.

You stop, feet planted into the cement; fear becoming curiosity. “Is that Kai?”

“No!”

At the same time, the man in question lets the diner cook slump to the ground. He turns to Damon, unsuccessfully wiping blood off his face. “So that was-” he finally sees you, “hey, I remember you.”

“She’s leaving,” Damon answers. “Y/N, go!”

“Y/N, that was it!”

You’re having trouble tearing your eyes from his face. Jesus Christ, he’s a messy eater.

“Is this the big emergency Ric texted me about?!”

Damon shrugs, “probably.”

“As much as I love talking about Ric, I need to feed on more than just this big guy. I’ve been in hell for a long time, Damon, and-”

“I know! You’re hungry; I get it. We’re having a little problem right now of finding people that you can eat. It’s not like there’s a line outside of willing participants.”

You swallow hard.

Kai’s always made you feel a type of way you couldn’t explore. His bloodstained lips and teeth multiply that feeling tenfold, reminding you why you came to Mystic Falls in the first place. Vampires, witches, werewolves. You started out as a Twilight enthusiast looking for adventure, attending Whitmore College, but then became a valuable asset to the team.

God, if Kai ever knew how hard it was for Elena to keep you away from him, you’d probably die inside. You fell for him hard. And now, staring at him in his full transition, you can already feel those tingles returning.

“What are you guys doing?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Kai here says he can bring back Elena, but he needs to be strong enough to do the spell.”

Ah. You shift your feet nervously. Even despite what he did to your best friend, you can’t help your desire for him. “So you need to go,” Damon continues, “and not be a witness anymore, and we need to go find more bad people.”

“Why only bad people?”

“So that Damon doesn’t feel guilty for eating good ones,” Kai answers, to which Damon gives him a distasteful smile.

“And, because like I said, you don’t exactly have anybody willing to be fed on, especially not by you. So we have to get a move on it if we’re to reverse this spell quickly, before Cade gets his hands on you.”

“Cade?”

“He’s coming for me, because I escaped Hell.” He glances down at the diner cook again, wondering if any of his blood is still fresh for a second round. “I really don’t want to go back there, to Hell, and every time I feed, I can feel myself getting stronger, so that’s great, in case I need to fight him.” Kai takes in the sight of you one last time before tearing his lust-filled eyes away. “So if we can find more people-”

“Feed on me.”

“What?”

“What?!” Damon repeats Kai’s question, but with extra dismay.

“You need to feed, but are having trouble selecting people. I’m a willing participant; feed on me.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

“C’mon, Damon, you want Elena back, and so do I, and I don’t know… I trust Kai won’t kill me.”

“Y/N, do you not see the dead guy slumped on the floor?”

“Yeah but Kai knows me. You both do. I’m not some villain, or some unimportant cook.”

“That man was very important,” Damon fakes, “he was doing his job, serving burgers-”

“He was forcing his hand on an underage girl,” Kai interrupts, “that’s why we picked him.”

“See? Eating people with a good cause. C’mon, Kai, I trust you. Just heal me back up when you’re done. Has Damon taught you how to do that yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, then I will.” You shrug off your coat, exposing your neck. “Come here. Pierce this vein,” you point, “and drink from it.”

“No!” Damon lunges for Kai when he steps closer to you. “Y/N, this is insane!”

“It’s fine! You’re being dramatic!”

“You’re being under-dramatic!”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It certainly is!”

“He isn’t going to drain me, I’m just giving him enough to make him stronger. You want Elena back, right? So do I. Kai, drink.”

The vampire steps closer, flicking his tongue against your neck. When your knees buckle at the sensation, he grabs your waist to hold you up.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Go ahead.”

Damon can only watch as Kai follows your instruction, biting down carefully into your jugular vein and beginning to suck. He was never so careful with his previous victims, and would let himself tear messily into their skin before finding his latch. Blood would stream down their neck and his chin, staining them both. You showing him where to latch makes his bite a lot cleaner. Instead of worrying about hurting you, he can focus his attention on keeping you upright.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Damon asks, also noticing your weak knees.

“Mhm- yes.” You grab onto Kai for support. He pulls off to look at you, but latches back on when you nod the consent to continue.

“Doesn’t look like that from here.”

“It’s just… intense. I’m okay.”

After a minute or two, your skin pales. Your body is weakening under Kai’s strong grip, and he realizes quickly, detaching his teeth from your neck.

“Hey, what do I-”

“Bite here,” you point to his own wrist, “feed me your blood to heal me.”

“Bite here,” he repeats, situating his teeth on himself. He bites, then it bleeds. “Like Damon’s done?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” He pushes his wrist up to your mouth, almost force-feeding you. You would’ve grabbed onto his wrist and fed yourself, but the way Kai does it, like he’s desperate for you to heal, makes you wonder if he could really feel that way.

Within seconds, you start to feel like yourself again. The color returns to your face, and you get a little of your strength back. Most of it is turned to mush at the fact that he fed from you - he literally fucking fed from you; your heart is racing - but not all of your weakened state is due to overwhelming feelings.

“Are you okay?”

“Mh- yes.”

“Are you sure?” Damon overrides, coming up behind you.

“I’m good. Fuck,” you’re still trying to catch your breath, exhilaration coursing through you, “felt good.”

“Well it isn’t supposed to feel good,” the elder vampire comments.

“I, um, I just meant… the healing part of it did. Felt good to have my strength back.”

“Mhm, sure.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Kai asks, head tilted.

“No, you didn’t. You’re okay.” He smiles, then brushes a loose hair from your face. You have a suddenly overwhelming urge to kiss him, but doubt Damon would like that very much. Instead, you point towards the sink, then at his bloodstained mouth. “Let me clean you up, okay? Can’t go anywhere with dead line cook all over your face.”

Kai takes a step back to let you reach the sink, while Damon tries not to be dumbfounded at how okay you are with this whole situation.

You wet a paper towel and add a teensy bit of hand soap, then beckon Kai forward.

“Thanks for teaching me how to feed properly,” he says, watching the first bit of blood wash down the drain.

“Of course. I don’t know why Damon didn’t-”

“-because that’s not my job, Y/N. And it wasn’t yours, either.”

“Still. There’s a huge bloodstain on the wall now, and that one certainly isn’t my problem.”

“We’ll just leave it for the cleaning lady. Put an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door.”

“Nice,” you reply dryly.

“Hey, while I was feeding,” Kai says suddenly, “I felt this rush go through your body that I hadn’t tasted before. Is that normal?”

Damon’s heart drops to his toes. “It was fear,” he tries to say. He knows you had a crush seven years ago, and Kai does not need to learn about it now.

“I’m asking Y/N.”

“I, um… yeah, I mean, normal sometimes. Blood sharing can be really personal, so since you weren’t feeding to kill, it’s not…” you glance over to Damon, who’s making gestures of cutting off a head to make you stop talking, “it’s, uh, normal.”

“It’s personal? Like how?”

Damon’s eyes roll all the way to space. He slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Um, like… well… that level of trust that I put in you, coupled again, with the fact that you weren’t feeding to kill. Sometimes it can stir up, uh, feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“Oohkay, Y/N, you’ve done enough!”

“I don’t know how to explain it!”

“Blood sharing is personal because you’re feeding off one another in a really intimate way, sometimes more intimate than sex. Now, Kai, another important thing you’re gonna learn about being a vampire is compulsion. Compel her to forget this ever happened.”

“What?” You step back in surprise, “no!”

“Come on, Y/N, it’s for your safety. He doesn’t have any feelings anyway.”

“No! Damon-”

“For the record, I feel things sometimes. Remember - hello - merge with Luke? And before that, I could feel, I just didn’t know what I was feeling.”

“Neat. Great. Compel her anyway.”

“Damon!”

“No! She doesn’t want it. I’m not gonna force something on her that she doesn’t want.”

“I bet this guy didn’t want to die, did you think about that?”

“That’s different. She’s different. She matters.”

“Oh, great.”

“You just said blood sharing is really intimate, so why would I compel her when she doesn’t want it when we practically just had sex?”

“That is not what I said!”

“It is, too!”

Damon sighs, “you compel her because it’s for her own good! Because she should never be caught doing anything with the likes of you. You’re only gonna get her killed.”

“I didn’t get her killed just a minute ago when I was feeding on her.”

“Because she showed you how! Otherwise, you would’ve just ripped into her neck like this other guy here.”

“No, I wouldn’t have fed on her at all if she didn’t teach me, because I’ve never wanted to hurt her.”

Damon throws up his hands. “God! Kai, why?!”

“Oh, is it suddenly bad that I care about someone?! I thought that’s all you ever wanted from me. And now I do, and I’m the bad guy again?”

“You were never the good guy, I-”

“Okay, just stop it!” You interrupt, putting hands between the men. “This is ridiculous.”

“His apparent, sudden feelings for you are ridiculous!”

“I’ve had a crush on her since the day I merged with Luke,” he blurts out.

“What?” You and Damon say in unison, both now looking at him.

He sighs. “You were there for Bonnie’s birthday and helped us all send a message to her. But after my sister stabbed me and Damon healed me with his blood, you were the one that cleaned me up and made sure I was okay. I always thought you were cute, but from that day on, I don’t know, I just felt something.” He looks down, embarrassed. “I never said anything because I’m, well, me, and you’re you - this super sweet and gentle and caring person, and I would be nothing but wrong for you. And the only reason I agreed to feed on you today was because I am really hungry, and your blood smells just so good, and you were willing to teach me how to do it without hurting you.” He pauses, “I’m sorry for lying to you, and I’m sorry for causing such a big fight, and for letting this get out, but that’s the truth.”

“You had a crush on me,” you say, not really as a question. Kai looks up, unable to read your tone, hoping your face gives you away. He expects mocking, certainly not the excitement you seem to have instead.

“Yeah.”

“Damon,” you turn suddenly, “did you hear that?”

“Yep, all three times, Y/N.”

You turn back to Kai, expression unreadable. “For the record-”

“Y/N, don’t-” Damon attempts.

You ignore, “I’ve always had a crush on you, too.”

A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. “You have?”

“Even before the merge, I liked you, but then after it, watching you navigate the world, I couldn’t help but fall head over heels. I wanted to help you through it more but somebody…” you glance at Damon, “held me back.”

“For good reason-”

You interrupt him again. “But yes, Kai, I like you.”

“Even as a heretic?”

“You think I’d let just anyone feed on me? Let alone a baby vamp who I literally just watched rip open another guy’s neck?”

He smiles. “Got it.”

“If anything, it was hot.”

“Y/N-”

“You learning control on me was hot, too, but that display of near-rabid vampirism was also super hot.”

“Y/N-” Damon warns again, not liking the direction of the conversation.

“And yeah, I wouldn’t share my blood with just anyone. So, yes, Kai, I think it’s safe to say I like you even as a heretic.”

Kai’s hand finds its way to the side of your face. An overwhelming urge to kiss you settles in his bones.

“Nope-” Damon speeds forward to separate you. “You can talk about your weird, gross, feelings, but we aren’t going any further with them today.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Damon,” you warn, not liking the grip he has on Kai’s shirt. “Easy.”

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s a big, strong heretic now, right?” He pushes him hard into the wall.

Kai groans, pain coursing through his body for a mere second before any bruises heal themselves.

“Damon!” You come to his side. “Let go.” Luckily, he does. Kai makes another, lower groan as his body is released from the man’s clutches. You try to not let it go to your head. “Can we just… go do whatever it is you were doing earlier now? This guy is starting to smell.”

Damon looks at him, then at the two of you. “Fine, whatever. Y/N, I’m assuming I can’t shake you off?”

“Nope.”

“Alright. Then let’s go make enemies out of my friends.” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Bonnie, who’s helping Kai get out permanently. Alaric, with… Alaric in general. Elena, when we wake her, for letting her realize I failed to keep you two apart like she tried so hard to do. Matt-”

“We get it.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #kai parker oneshot #this is 2/2 things i wanted to post today!#hopefully my writer's block is over with and life will chill out bc ugh #i hate not being able to write and post #anyway the world needs more heretic kai fics i need him to bite me

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amoreuxx · 11 months

Text

feenin' for it — ksn.

tags: smut :) minors dni , fubu!sunoo

clothes thrown. wrappers ripped. rubbers filled. exactly what you were asking for. it's been weeks since the last time you met for your 'fun nights'. he was busy preparing for their upcoming album, while you were booked with a lot of office meetings and reports. when he sent that text message earlier in the afternoon, it just so happened you were free tonight. so here the two of you are, bodies naked and rubbing desperately on each other. you were on top of him, rocking your hips wilder than you thought you could. it's been too long for you, you sincerely missed the feeling of having a dick inside of you. sunoo was a moaning mess. having you on top meant he was deeper inside of you and you were in control. he likes that. "fuck, yes. just like that. you feel so fucking good." he says in between moans. you leaned back and placed your hands on his knees for support. you rocked at a pace where the motion hits exactly where you want it to hit. "mmh... sunoo... ah." you moaned. his hands gripped on your hips and scratched down the sides of your thighs. "fuck, fuck, fuck! i'm gonna—" you didn't let him finish his sentence and removed yourself from him, earning a desperate cry. before he could say anything, you took the condom off, placed yourself between his legs, and put his fully erect member in your mouth. the warmth of your mouth made him sigh in pleasure. you pushed yourself until it hit the back of your throat. you felt like gagging but you didn't move away, instead you squeezed his dick with the inside of your mouth as hard as you can. he threw his head back further when you did that and gasped. you moved your head slowly, keeping your mouth on his dick like that, until you let it all go with a 'pop'. that made him sit up immediately. strings of your saliva still attached on his dick. you gasped for air. he gripped onto the hair at the back of your head and made you face him. "do that again and i'll seriously cream in your mouth." you just giggled at him. you were just giddy that the two of you were fucking again. you've been fiending for this. you wanted this exact reaction from him too when you the idea of sucking him like that came into your mind. you watch the corner of his mouth moved and he was smirking down at you. "open." he said in a demanding tone. you opened your mouth with your tongue out. he spit on it then pushed your head down his dick again. you repeated what you did earlier, but this time, you held his dick longer than earlier— squeezing as hard as you can. he winced and you popped it out of your mouth again, gagging for air. you dove down to do it another time, but maybe he was impatient— too impatient— that he gripped you by your hair and bobbed your head on his dick as he pleased. it was at an erractic pace that you tapped on his thigh to let him give you time to breathe. but of course he didn't listen. he was catching his high. so when he came without warning, you were a sobbing mess. literally a mess when cum dripped down from your mouth and even your nose. you were coughing for air when he cupped one your cheeks. he fixed a bit of your hair behind your ear and grinned at you. "you look so cute like that. we should fuck like that more often." he said. you chuckled. "i've been saying, we should fuck more often." he laughed. "sorry, babe, i was busy." he helped you up, so now you were sitting on his lap and facing him eye to eye. you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in for a deep kiss. "it's okay, i was busy too." you tell him. his hand slid down your back until it reached your ass. "anyway, we're here right now. i might as well fuck you even if we run out of the rubber." he said. "my pleasure." you replied. and as if automatically—

#sunoo #sunoo smut #sunoo hard hours #sunoo scenarios #sunoo imagines #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #smut

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ngkr-backyard · 1 year

Text

Enstars x Reader Smut Month 2023 - Jun Sazanami

Tags: Fem!reader, first time, hook up, idol & fan relationship

Word Count: 902

Summary: You accidentally date your favorite idol, Jun Sazanami, who doesn't expect to date his fan. Your secret date feels like a dream.

Note: English isn't my first language, and I don't play ENGstars so I'm not sure how Jun talks in EN. I'm sorry for grammar mistakes and weird expressions😭

Ao3 Link

MINORS DNI

You must be crazy to have your first sex with someone from a dating app, especially someone who doesn't even have a clear profile pic showing his face. But you could tell this guy was good-looking from the eyes in that photo. So you sent him a friend request and swiped right. Luckily, he accepted and promised to meet with you, sending you the hotel's address.

You are nervous about your first date but excited too. You lie on the bed in the hotel room, frequently checking your phone while waiting for your date. Finally, when your date texts you with a simple "I'm here," you know it is the time.

He wears a hat and a mask, covering most of his face. He quietly walks into the room and sits on the bed. It feels so awkward in the room, and you can tell that he is as nervous as you.

"Uh… Should we start with kissing?" You ask him, gripping your clothes awkwardly.

"I guess yes…? It's my first hookup. Please tell me how you want it."

He sighs and takes off his mask and hat. As you expected, this guy has a pretty face. You are proud of your straight sense, but soon after, you realize how bad the situation is.

—Wait, he looks way too similar to Jun Sazanami, the idol you love so much. But you know Jun too well. You see his face every day. The guy you are dating now is Jun Sazanami himself.

You almost shout his name but hold back because you don't want to cause trouble or make Jun feel awkward. You close your eyes when you kiss him, trying not to look at his face. But it is like a dream when you feel his soft lips on yours. Isn't it how you have dreamed of the whole time? As Jun slips his tongue between your lips, you can't help but shiver and moan into his mouth. Soon you lose your strength, leaning helplessly against Jun's body.

Jun starts stripping your tops while carefully lying you down on the bed. As soon as he removes your bra, he kisses your neck, nips your collarbone softly, and finally reaches your breast. Jun licks and sucks on your nipple while caressing your tits. His other hand reaches down and takes off your remaining clothes. Jun teases your clit for a while and then pushes his finger into your wet pussy, making you whine and squirm under him. It feels so good, much better than you playing with yourself alone. And your favorite idol is now making out with you. All these thoughts make you more and more horny, and you can only throw your head back helplessly and moan for him.

"Ah…Jun, please…!"

Jun suddenly stops, looking into your eyes in surprise. And you realize that you just said his name out loud, and you are terrified of ruining the whole thing.

"I'm so sorry…! I didn't mean to make you feel awkward or anything…I won't tell anyone about this. Please forgive me…"

"Well, I know it's gonna happen at some point…" Jun sighs and smiles embarrassedly, "I'm an idol, after all. People are gonna recognize me, aren't they? You don't need to say sorry."

Jun explains why he's using that dating app—Hiyori is behind the scenes and urges Jun to find some fun stuff. Jun didn't put anything showing his face on his profile, wishing people wouldn't notice him and protecting his reputation, but he didn't expect to hook up with his own fan.

"So that's everything…Can you keep it secret?"

You agree without hesitation. After all, you want to protect your favorite idol's reputation, but it's also because of your little selfishness. You want Jun to be yours, even if it's just for a night.

Jun pulls you closer to wipe off your tears and give you another kiss. Your tongues tangle with each other. Soon, your body heats up, and you are turned on as just now. Jun smirks and licks his lips, taking the small package on the nightstand.

"You're doing great. Now's the time for special fan service~."

It doesn't hurt at all when Jun finally pushes his cock inside you, probably because you want Jun so bad. You are so happy as your needy pussy is filled up by him. You still can't believe what's going on now, but the pleasure of Jun thrusting into you brings you back to reality. Jun fucks you hard, making you think of nothing but only him. He groans into your ears, telling you how good he feels inside you. In return, you put your arms around Jun's neck, moan his name loudly, and say that you love him so much. The two of you kiss again and again, just like a real couple.

…

You can't remember what happened afterward when you woke up. Jun already left, leaving some snacks and water for you. He also wrote a short note that he had a great time with you last night.

You decide to keep that note from Jun as a secret memory between you two. You believe you will never see Jun again like that as the relationship between you two returns to idol and fan, nothing more than that. It was a dream.

But you never expect Jun will reach out to you again. That's a whole different story.

Note: I did it!!! I finally wrote a fic not in my native language for the first time!!!🥳 I always wanted to write something about idols having sex with fans which idols are not supposed to do…Sorry for bringing real life idol culture stuff into this, but I think that's very thrilling (for me at least Thank you Rei for holding this event! I really had fun writing this. I hope you enjoy it☺️

#esxreadernsfwmonth2023 #enstars #enstars x reader #jun sazanami x reader #enstars smut

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ladytauria · 6 months

Text

find the word tag

tagged by @paprikadotmp4 thank you so much <333

my words are cold, wonder, wrist, and try!

cold -> jaytalia, trans!jay + public sex

Finally, her hand moves. It slips from him, leaving him cold where she had touched. He can’t find it in himself to complain, though, when her fingers finally pull the back of his long, open skirt up, to tuck it out of the way.

It leaves him bare. Exposed. Talia had instructed him to forgo underwear this morning. Anyone behind him has the perfect view of bottom half. He’s already wet; his folds glistening between his thighs. His arousal has been building for the entire meeting—since this morning, actually, when Talia got him ready for the day.

She’d started with his collar. There were other, subtler was that Jason wore his submission to her, with the collar coming out only when they were alone, or on special occasions. The click of it settling around his throat had been the first thing to stir him.

The second had been the plug she’d held up.

It’s your favorite color, pet, Talia had said, a sly smile on her mouth as she worked it into him. I expect a proper thank you.

wonder -> jason-centric, jason & personal gratification over the years

Thing is… lately, Jason’s been curious. About… about what it might feel like. If he were to—take care of it more…. traditionally.

It’s not that he’s never wondered before, mind. It’s just… everything else—the same, the fear, the anxiety, the… almost disgust—had always eclipsed his curiosity.

Tonight is different.

Tonight… Jason feels like maybe… Maybe he could.

And luckily, it seems like things have aligned to ensure that he has the time and space as well. He doesn’t patrol tonight. His homework is finished. Alfred is down in the cave, running comms for Bruce, Babs, and Dick. He, for all intents and purposes, has the Manor to himself until patrol ends.

Jason still locks his door. It’s… weird. He hasn’t bothered locking his door in… a while. But… he doesn’t want to be caught with his pants down.

Literally.

Jason dawdles a few extra minutes, making sure he’s got everything he needs. Towel? Check. Lube? Check. Books, just in case this goes bad and he needs a distraction? Check. He takes a deep breath.

Holds it.

Exhales.

It’ll be fine. People do this all the time.

wrist -> jaysteph meet cute, written for a prompt!

It won’t hurt to treat herself, would it? Sure would make her a lot happier than her textbooks have recently.

Tim doesn’t show up again until she’s leaving the store, a bag dangling from her fingertips. He spots it immediately, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you were buying lingerie today.”

“The store doesn’t just sell lingerie, Tim,” Steph sniffs. “Maybe I bought sweats.”

“You called them overpriced and tacky the other day,” Tim says flatly.

“A woman is allowed to change her mind,” she says. Tim’s face remains unmoved. “Where were you, anyway?” she asks, knocking him in the shoulder. “I turned around to talk to you, and you were just gone!”

He winces, rubbing his arm. “Ah… Got distracted texting the group chat and ended up following the wrong purple shirt?”

Steph snorts. “Of course you did. I swear I’m gonna get one of those wrist leashes. For you and Cass.” She tosses her hair again, half-wishing she’d worn it up today instead. “Now, you promised me a giant pretzel, and I intend to collect!”

She can tell him about Jason while they eat.

try -> jaytim, aob mating run

If Tim is out here, though… the door might be unlocked. If Jason can get inside, he might be able to lock himself in a room where Tim can’t get to him.

His best plan? No.

But it’s a better plan than running himself ragged throughout the city, until Tim just takes him wherever he drops.

His cunt tightens at the thought. No, fuck, that’s not hot! That’s mortifying.

His body isn’t listening, though. Instead, he feels slick soak into his underwear and shame makes his cheeks flood with heat. He ignores it—and that Tim can probably smell it, fuck.

Jason risks a few precious seconds to try the front door, and thanks a god he’s not sure he still believes in when it’s unlocked. He wrenches it open, and then throws it shut behind him, dashing toward the stairs.

All he needs is one room with a locking door. Just one.

Tim’s study, that’s a safe bet.

no pressure tagging... @zeroducks-2 ; @ragnarokhound ; @anawrites3 ; @n1ightw1ng ; & @disniq <33

and i give you: warm, dark, shiver, and hand!

#tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut #tag gaming #nsft

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moonstrider9904 · 2 years

Text

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+. Sexting (only text, no pictures involved). Female and male masturbation.

Note: Italics are reader’s messages. Bold italic represents Tech's messages.

Also this is one of my favorite entries hehe

Word count: 1.4k

Kinktober Day 26: Sexting

Few things beat having some time to yourself, in your room, with no one to bother you while you listened to some of your favorite songs.

But damn, did you miss him.

It was never easy when Tech was away. If time difference wasn’t an issue, then the comm connections would always falter, or perhaps he’d simply be too busy to respond. You could never tell, all you knew was Tech was, for sure, doing something important.

But whenever your comm made the customized message tone you’d assigned to him, your heart skipped a beat, and you’d always reach for the tiny device with shaking hands, eager to read your lover’s words.

Forgive me, I was busy tending to my brothers’ wounds. As usual.

You chuckled.

Are you all okay?

You waited patiently as he typed back.

Yes, my darling, thank you for the inquiry. But I have told you not to worry, we are more than capable of succeeding in these missions; so far, we have not encountered great difficulty. These wounds were a result of Wrecker’s ego—which is, as he said, ‘worth it’.

Another soft laugh left you; while you could read that entire message in Tech’s voice, it only made it more evident that he wasn’t there with you. You took a moment to reminisce, picturing Tech’s beautiful eyes covered by his goggles, his brown curly hair, his talented hands tinkering away on whatever project he’d be working on, the way he’d mumble to himself and scribble in whichever paper or surface he had room in.

The smile you had faded, replaced by a sigh of longing, until the device beeped with a new message.

Are you still there, darling? You have taken longer than usual to reply. I understand if you wish to rest.

I’m here! You were quick to reply. Sorry, just thinking a lot.

About what?

You managed to smile at the holo screen again. About you.

Ah, yes. But that is no surprise. I am well aware that I occupy a large portion of your headspace.

You laughed a bit louder as you went from the chair you were sitting in to your bed, lying down and hovering the holo screen above you.

You seem proud about that, Tech.

I am.

You almost didn’t notice the way you bit your lower lip as you absently spread your legs on your bed. Are you alone?

Yes, I am finally in my private quarters. Why do you ask?

You wished he could see you. It’s just that I miss you so much, Tech…

Much to your surprise, Tech’s messaging fell silent as you continued typing away, albeit getting a little carried away, but you wanted to be sure your emotions could be conveyed properly through the words you typed.

I’ve been thinking so much about you, about how much I want you here beside me. I miss having you lying in bed with me.

Is that so? And however do you manage to cope?

I find ways to entertain myself.

When you sent the message, you felt yourself beginning to ache between your legs; your cunt had already begun to pulsate and you hadn’t even gotten started yet—of course, it wasn’t hard for you to get aroused only at the thought of Tech. He was probably in his quarters right now, armored only from the lower half of his body, with his upper body lined only with the tight shirt of his under-armor suit, sitting back while he texted with you.

As you continued to picture that in your head, you undid the button of your trousers with one of your hands and rubbed your pussy slowly over the fabric of your panties.

My darling? What are you doing right now?

You smirked widely at his message and typed in, slower due to only using one hand:

You know what I’m doing.

Ah… His reply came. How very interesting, my love. Do you require my assistance?

You finally slid your hand underneath your panties and let yourself feel the wetness of your folds, typing in slowly: I’d appreciate it.

Perhaps a mental image might suffice? Would you like that, my dear?

Sweet sparks traveled between your legs as you read the message with his voice.

Yes.

What is it you want me to do?

A quick wave of pleasure shot through your body, making you whimper. You grinned brightly and applied more pressure on the bud of your clit, feeling the heat pooling between your legs at the thought of Tech ravaging you the way only he knew.

Tell me what you want me to do, my love.

I want you to finger me, you managed to type as you slipped one of your fingers down your entrance—nice as it felt, you missed the reach that Tech had with his longer, more skilled fingers.

Excellent choice, my love, his message came in. I know you like to maintain eye contact during intimacy, so I want you to picture me on top of you, looking into those beautiful eyes of yours. I want you to picture me smiling at you, whispering to you how exquisite you look when your legs are spread and your gaze is clouded with pleasure and ecstasy.

You moaned freely into your room letting your head relax back onto your pillow; you switched between fingering yourself in and out and applying pressure in a circular motion to get your clit involved as well, and soon, you were feeling close to release. You’d moan Tech’s name, scream it if you had to, and while it hurt that he wouldn’t hear it that time, you couldn’t wait to get lost in the thought of him

Are you undressed?

You giggled. Actually, no. Are you?

I am now.

Another moan left you. And what are you doing, handsome?

I am following your coping method for solitude, and might I say, it works, he replied. Forgive me if I type slower, I am only using one hand.

You couldn’t help but buck your hips into your hand, giving you more of that sweet friction, now picturing it was Tech’s cock inside you instead of your finger. You pictured him alone in his room, touching himself at the thought of you, pumping his cock up and down while he texted you.

Are you hard?

Oh, yes, as I assume you are quite wet as well.

Yeah, you whined. Tech, I’m so close…

Let yourself cum, my love.

Between your legs, you fingered yourself faster until you reached the very tip of your edge. You switched to rubbing our clit again as flashes of memories of Tech crossed your mind. His smile, his body, everything that drove you crazy about him, thinking about him on top of you, kissing you, fucking you, making you feel better than any other man could.

Tech… gods, I love you so much…

Oh, my darling…

I’m gonna cum

You barely managed to finish writing that last message before you had to drop the holo screen beside you. Wave after wave of your orgasm plowed through your body, making your body squirm and shake while the pleasure took over you. Loudly, you moaned out Tech’s name; you missed him and felt his absence, but at that moment, you felt he was there, making you feel that sweet pleasure.

You drew your orgasm out as much as you could, and you had to take a moment to recover after it, when a wave of drowsiness invaded you. Regardless, a smile was planted on your face, and as you slowly came back to the real world, you reached over for the holo screen.

I assume you’ve reached your climax, correct?

He’d sent that message a few minutes back.

Yes, dear. Sorry for leaving you like that.

You need not apologize, my darling. I have had a great time as well. ;)

You came too, didn’t you?

You are correct.

Still smiling, you sighed at the screen. I miss you, Tech.

My dear, I miss you too. I will be back soon, though, so you need not feel upset in that regard.

Deep in thought, you stared at your screen as you counted the days until he was scheduled to return. You could only hope they would go by swiftly, that he would be alright in the meantime…

All you knew was that you needed him with you.

Be excited, my darling. Once I return, you are not escaping me ;)

I can’t wait, handsome, you texted back, giggling, knowing he was, as always, absolutely right.

#moon's 2022 kinktober #moonstrider writes #tbb tech smut #tbb tech x reader #tbb tech x reader smut #tbb tech fanfic #tech x reader smut #tbb tech #tech x reader #bad batch x reader

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thewarriorspecial · 1 year

Text

Greenhill Chapter 7

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Katma Tui

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A little something special for @hobicat!

The interpersonal drama continues to unfold at the table and Guy gets his spy gear out.

It's here it's finally here!! I deed it!!

Guy watched as Kyle lowered himself into a seat at the table. Kyle fiddled with the silverware roll, opened it. He pulled out the knife first because of course he did. No surprises tonight, Guy thought as he turned on the recorder he had hidden in his sweater vest. He folded his fingers under his chin as he studied Kyle’s movements scrupulously. He’d play back the audio to listen carefully for any other telling inflections in his speech that he might’ve missed as he professionally navigated the sometimes hostile waters of a coworkers’ night out. I’m in my silver fox James Bond era, Guy smiled to himself.

Kyle fiddled with the butter knife as he thought both of his painting knife at home where he’d be far more comfortable and also of the fact that for many years his mother forbade him using an actual knife at the table after too many dinner theater tragedies. Kyle had learned early in his life that he did not possess the full body dexterity to become an actual fruit ninja and that was not an actual job. Kyle faked a bright smile at his quiet coworkers. What have I gotten myself into, he thought

“So,” Carol said, finally breaking the silence, “Not a vampire fan, John?”

“Ah, no. Just not my thing. Too much D&D in the past, I guess.” John replied with a shrug.

“Paladin?” Guy asked.

“Always.” John answered.

“Knew it.” Guy said with great conviction, banging his fist on the table. He’d have all his coworkers figured out by the end of the night.

“What exactly is D&D, anyways?” Carol asked.

Hal gently touched the place where his glasses used to rest, and then suavely pushed his bangs out of his face, “Well, it’s a tabletop role-playing game, or TTRPG for short—“

Ah, fuck. Here we go, Guy thought with a fake smile as he started looking around for the waiter. As his eyes scanned the area, he caught Kyle returning the same already-tired smile. He liked the kid more by the minute. Shame he was a criminal. Which was also, admittedly, kinda hot.

A young girl with multi-colored hair and facial piercings greets their table with exuberant friendliness. She talks extensively with John and Carol. Guy knows her face but can’t think of her name. She was likely an upperclassman, then. The trio nattered on, unpressed for time as Guy’s knuckles whitened on the back of the empty chair next to him.

Kyle pulled out his phone and started texting someone. Guy could almost read the texts in the mirrored lampshade behind him. He cursed his old crusty eyes and wondered if he could somehow use the selfie stick to get a good look at the screen without being too obvious. He reached into his pocket and slowly, obviously pulled the thing out. As curious eyes fell on him, he pretended to scratch his back with it, “Carry on. Just…itchin’” Guy said with a weak laugh. As the chatter—which is to say info-dump via Hal—carried on, Guy put on a show of seeming to examine the selfie stick with great concern. He held it up in the air, trying to find an angle that would allow him to see what Kyle was typing.

Unfortunately, the support of the selfie stick was painted a dark color and even less reflective than the lampshade. To Guy’s cloudy eyes, it appeared that the letters WOWanBAB were in the text bar at the top of Kyle’s screen. If the text is mirrored that means it’s upside down! Guy rationalized. As his brain made the Windows fail sound he thought, Mom and Dad?! But aren’t they…? Is it someone else’s Mom and Dad? Is he seeing someone?! Fuck! Not that it mattered because Kyle was a criminal. And this investigation was absolutely about protecting the students. From this dangerous, hot, bad criminal man.

“Ow! What?!” Guy exclaimed suddenly, again interrupting Hal’s attempt to woo Carol with his knowledge of emotionally mature Dungeon Mastering.

“Tst!” John made the sharp sound as he kicked Guy’s foot under the able a second time.

“What?” Guy stage whispered.

You know what. Stop it, said John’s Eyebrow of Paternal Disappointment (emotional damage +5)

“So issat like, your mom, or—“ Guy asked, impatiently waving his hands towards Kyle’s phone, hoping to get the conversation back on track and away from Nerds and Virgins or whatever.

“Oh,” Kyle smiled sadly, “No. No my mother passed away.”

Guy made a noise somewhere between choking on a chicken bone and being hit by a truck. John’s lips pressed together as he tucked his chin to his chest and raised both of his disappointed eyebrows even higher. Now look what you’ve done.

“Ow!” Guy exclaimed as a flank attack struck from Hal’s side of the table.

“Its okay! Really!” Kyle raised his hands in supplication, “It was a long time ago. I’m fine.”

“Hardly appropriate dinner conversation,” Hal said.

“Ooh, what’s inappropriate?” Their server reappeared, a full tray of their orders perched over her shoulder.

“Well, Guy’s put his foot in his mouth I think,” Carol offered.

“He went and asked about poor Kyle’s dead mother!” Hal was offended.

“It’s okay, really. I brought it up!”

“Yeah he brought it up!”

“Oof,” said their server as she quietly passed out their plates.

“He brought—! Alan. How you been? You got anything you wanna add, here?”

“Not at all,” Alan said, bringing his drink to his lips and taking a long, luxurious sip. “I’m enjoying watching you fine, young people exercise your conflict resolution skills.”

“Guy’s could use a little work,” Hal snipped.

Guy’s ears turned as red as his hair as he folded the selfie stick back to pocket size and returned it to his secret spy pocket. Mission Failed, clearly.

“It’s okay, honest. I don’t get to talk about her much. Most people are too afraid to ask.” Kyle rested his warm hand over Guy’s sweaty knuckles. The Defensive Debuff hit home as Guy began to fully blush and sweat. He whipped his gaze over to John, his rock, who rolled a nat twenty on the second Eyebrow attack. Critical damage. Guy swallowed heavily, mouth dry, speechless. He should’ve never multi-classed into Rogue. “My mom was really cool. I miss her every day,” Kyle continued. He pulled his hand back to brush his hair behind his ear, “I wish you could’ve had the chance to meet her.” Kyle looks down for a moment and something else bumps Guy under the table, but pain-free this time. Kyle’s knee. Kyle’s knee. Kyle’s knee. When Kyle’s big, sad brown eyes find their way back to Guy’s it’s direct Constitution damage. Guy wants to wrap him in a blanket and drive him home. “I was just texting Wally. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s on me, buddy.” Guy stammered. He dearly wished he had his Oakleys to hide behind. “My bad. We still cool?”

“Of course.” Kyle’s smile is bright and devastating. Guy wonders if he’s the kind of monster that sparkles in the sunlight. Maybe it’ll all be okay? Just a little peril?

Everyone resumed eating and Hal resumed telling the Tale of Games Past That No One Asked About. Carol’s smile is thinly polite. Hal barreled on in his futile attempt to make her laugh or maybe even impress her. He switched tracks, insisting on the Much Cooler Time He Was One Of The Knights At The Renaissance Festival. This captured her interest but not for the reason he had hoped. After all these years Hal remained unable to discern actual interest from confused horror.

“Wow,” said Carol, “That’s crazy.”

“So,” Kyle said softly to Alan, “History, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Alan grumbled as he took full advantage of Guy’s stun-lock to continue pilfering fries from his plate.

“Alan’s been teaching for us since the school opened,” John offered, “Anyone could understand he’s a little tired or bored maybe?”

“I’m just old.”

“Maybe you can find a new way to present the material? Or tread new tracks so to speak? Novelty really keeps kids invested.” Kyle beamed with his idea.

Guy tried not to melt. He loved the kid’s enthusiasm.

“Kyle, it’s History. It’s not new.”

“Maybe you could use a little somethin’ new, pops. Might put some spring in your step,” said Guy.

“It won’t.”

“With respect,” Kyle began carefully, “You can’t possibly know everything there is to know about your subject.”

“I do. I was there. I remember.”

“You’re not…that old?” John wondered.

“The things I remember would curl your back hair, boy.”

Oh no, the warning bells went off in John’s mind, not the Nazis. No one wants to talk about the Nazis over dinner.

“You ever climb a bridge to dismantle a mine under heavy artillery fi—“

“Oh! Look!” Hal suddenly interjected, “They have tapioca pudding here. See?” He shoved the dessert menu in Alan’s direction.

“Ooh,” Alan cooed, placated for the moment. The only thing he loved more than bitching about Nazis and pontificating about the brutalities of war was tapioca pudding.

A loud crash near the door grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Ah, fu—shticks! My bad!” Wally appeared directly in the path of the waitress, sending most of her dessert tray clattering to the ground. Kyle noticed, as Wally caught several of the glasses with incredible speed, he seemed to choose to let a few fall to the ground. It happened so fast. Maybe Wally was just very agile. Maybe he was an athlete as well. “Here, chief,” Wally held his credit card out over the bar, towards Radu, “Just ring it up. I gotta watch where I’m going.”

“Oh Wally!” Radu cried, “No trouble at all for one of my favorite customers!”

“You’re too good to me, man.” Wally said over his shoulder as he approached the table. “Sorry I’m late guys.” He took a chair from another table, behind Hal and Carol, even though there were two empty seats next to Kyle. “‘Scuse me real quick,” he said as he grabbed the back of Hal’s chair and slid him away from Carol, making room for himself.

“Hey!” Hal shouted, the picture of indignant.

“Did you see Tru Blood last night?” Wally asked, sitting backwards in his chair and fully turning his back to Hal.

Carol lit up, clapping her hands, “Oh I did! It was so good! I loved when—“

“Aren’t you married?” Hal hissed at Wally’s back.

“Ew!” Wally snapped, whipping around suddenly and at an odd angle like an owl. “Don’t interrupt! It’s rude. Anyways.”

Hal harrumphed and sunk down in his chair.

“So, tapioca is your favorite?” Kyle asked.

“It is. One of my earliest memories.” Alan said, chewing thoughtfully.

“Oh?” Kyle tried to press for more detail. He let Alan slowly share some of his oldest memories—happy and full of detail of his childhood home.

Guy caught Hal’s gaze and jerked his chin up once, You okay?

The one corner of Hal’s mouth pulled downwards and he shrugged one shoulder, Yeah I guess so.

Guy stabbed his fork into his apparently child’s size portion of fries. He stuffed them into his mouth and nodded sharply, At least the food’s good.

Hal nodded in agreement, taking one of his chicken tenders off of his plate with his hand and breaking it in half.

They watched as Wally dumped dessert after dessert into his face while Carol gushed about the TV show. Something was off about that guy. He seemed way more nervous than usual and he kept looking at his watch. He stood up suddenly, “Hold that thought,” He said to Carol, almost too fast to understand, “Gotta use the bathroom. Berightback!”

Kyle was still in rapt fascination with Alan’s story. John was concentrating on his Boba hunting experience. Carol chose this moment to use the restroom as well. Hal huffed again.

Guy looked from Kyle back to Hal, a concerned expression on his face. He raised his eyebrows, tilted his head to the side, pointed one finger from his folded hands at Kyle as he jerked his head in the opposite direction and then made a steeple with his two index fingers. You don’t think she’s still in the house?

Hals lips flattened in a grimace. His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded his head towards Guy. He unfolded his hands, flattening his palms in parallel like he was showing a measurement. His eyes widened to accentuate the size. He then curved his fingers and touched the tips together. You're being a huge asshole.

Alan smiled as he watched the silent conversation unfold. He was the only other person at the table who was also versed in bitches’ cant. He also noticed that Wallace hadn’t gone to the restroom at all. He had vanished out of the skate park door. And at an incredible speed. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with interesting powers. Something was indeed afoot at Radu’s Cafe.

#*myfic #guykyle #highschool au

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buckyismybicycle · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER 13 [AO3 Link]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Body Image Issues, References to Depression/Anxiety/Eating Disorders/Alcohol Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Powers/Hockey, Team Bonding, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Top Bucky Barnes, Pining, Idiots in Love, Miscommunications, Requited Unrequited Love, Slight Jealousy

<< Previous Chapter | Series Masterpost | Overall Masterpost

Steve

The weather refuses to let up, but the show must go on, they say. He’s not even sure how the Philadelphia Flyers are going to make it into the city given all the flight cancellations, but they can’t go into a game without practice.

Steve might have been more bummed about going out in this horrendous snow if he wasn’t secretly just a little bit glad that he gets to see Bucky again. It should worry him that two days feels like two weeks, with this Bucky-shaped hole in his daily routines. He can’t remember ever feeling like this, and gets so lost in his daydreaming he nearly messes up said routine.

He washes his mug, sets it on the dish rack, and slings his bag over his shoulders to head downstairs, trying not to think about all the ways he could ruin what he and Bucky have. Trying not to think about Bucky with someone else.

Get a grip. They had agreed to this, and he knows he shouldn’t have, if he didn’t really mean it. He just thought he could handle it, but apparently, it’s not as easy as he thought it’d be.

Even though Bucky had given Steve the extra key to his apartment, Steve has never had to use it. The door’s always open for him, and he enters, comfortable as if it were his own space even though it isn’t.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him casually with a smile on his face as usual.

Steve forgets everything. Valeri who?

“Heya, Buck.” He thinks he manages to sound pretty normal. At least, Bucky doesn’t mention anything if he doesn’t.

“One sec,” Bucky mumbles, fighting with his hair even though he’s going to put a helmet on in less than an hour.

“What’d you get up to on our day off?” He feels like such a fraud, knowing perfectly well what Bucky had “been up to”.

“Oh shit!” Bucky blanches, looking a little horrified. “I totally forgot to text you back, didn’t I? Man, I had a message all typed out and everything. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Steve says easily, shrugging.

Bucky is like a tornado, fixing his hair and then his shirt, grabbing his bag and travel mug before picking up his keys to lock up. “I went for coffee with Val, you know the little one across the bookstore?”

Val. Steve forces a smile and tries not to analyze the quick and easy nickname as they get in the elevator. “Yeah.”

“And we just got talkin’, and then I remembered seeing something about a — fuck, do you know what a banya is?”

“Um.” Of course he does, he’d read the page off his search thoroughly. “Like a sauna thing, right?”

Bucky beams at him, looking like he’s proud of Steve for knowing. He should probably say something, but telling Bucky he’s not actually cultured enough to have known that and he’d only read up on it out of jealousy doesn’t feel like a good way to start the day. So, he keeps his mouth shut as they get off the lift.

“Yeah! More or less. Did me hella good, too,” Bucky grumbles, as if his muscles were protesting again, totally oblivious to Steve’s internal moral battle. “Did that flight right after the game not fuck you up?”

Steve laughs, and just like always, his spirits begin to rise just from merely being around Bucky. “I never said it didn’t.”

“You should really try it, I think you’d like it,” Bucky says. “What about you, what’d you get up to?”

Steve tries not to feel the bite when Bucky doesn’t say I’ll take you. “Nothing much, had some errands to do.”

Ah, yes. Using imaginary errands to make himself seem less pathetic, isn’t that a new low?

“Ew,” Bucky chirps too cheerfully. “Sorry you’re an adult now.”

“You’re one too!” Steve squawks. “…Sometimes.”

Bucky’s laugh could cure any ailment, Steve’s sure, because a small smile starts to form on his own face. Steve’s going to give himself whiplash.

Bucky

He doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something different about Steve today, even if it’s not obvious. He’d been quiet on the drive into practice, and even his skating looked a little off. Bucky would know, because he spends an inordinate amount of time watching Steve play.

He hopes it’s not because Steve thought that Bucky had been ignoring him yesterday.

On their way back to their building, he attempts to crack the shell. “So, any plans for Christmas?”

Steve looks surprised by the question, but it does make him all soft again. “Usually, Dugan tries to drag me into his family dinner. He thinks I’m a lonely orphan.”

“Hey, I’m the one with the Batmobile!” Bucky puts on a pout but he’s warmed by the thought that Steve is being looked after. He deserves the big family dinner, and all the gifts in the world, in Bucky’s opinion.

Steve chuckles as they park and hop out. “You should come. He’d take you right in, I bet. And you’d love his kids.”

“Nah,” Bucky says on instinct. “I don’t wanna impose. Besides, I’m a Christmas Grump, remember?”

Steve shoves his shoulder, playfully admonishing him. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Bucky fires back, waggling his eyebrows.

—-

Bucky hadn’t paid any attention to holidays after he’d lost his family. They only served as reminders of his loss, of the unbearable feeling of being alone and missing out on traditions the Barnes family had built over the years.

He’s surprised when he gets cornered by Dum Dum in the showers after their devastating loss to Chicago, though he supposes he shouldn’t be. In fact, Bucky’s almost positive that Steve has spoken to Dugan after Bucky had asked him not to. He’s not sure if he’s touched or annoyed.

“Really, it’s okay, I –”

“Did I ask you if you were okay or did I ask you if you were allergic to anything?!” Dugan pins him with what he assumes is a stern look, though it loses some of its effect when Dugan’s got a tuft of shampoo bubbles on his head.

“Uh - um,” Bucky stutters, before he even has a chance to think of an excuse. “N…o?”

“Good. You better be prepared to play mini sticks until your knees bleed.”

Bucky doesn’t have a comeback, and Dum Dum goes back to whistling as he rinses his hair.

–

“Did you have Dum Dum bully me into Christmas dinner?” Bucky asks Steve as soon as they’re cleared of the locker room. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate it, but he feels less than great about it even if he can’t explain why. Maybe it’s because he can’t stop thinking that it’s a pity-invite, that he’s the “new kid” they’re trying to make feel better or maybe it’s just so glaringly obvious that he doesn’t have anyone that he needs to be adopted for a night. In any of those circumstances, he feels pretty shitty about it.

“No!” Steve protests immediately, grimacing as they leave the arena, cold air nipping at him. He tugs his hat down further on his ears. “You told me not to, so I didn’t.”

On first instinct, Bucky doesn’t believe him. In the truck, he turns to look at Steve, and watches for any anxious tics, because he’s discovered that Steve is usually terrible at keeping secrets. His eyes don’t leave Steve’s face, narrowing as if investigating, and that’s when Steve glances over and has to do a double take.

“What? What’d I do?”

Bucky hates how adorable it is, when Steve genuinely looks confused with his big, sparkly eyes. Ugh.

“I don’t believe you.” He harrumphs as he puts his seatbelt on.

Instead of pulling out of the parking lot, Steve sits there a moment, and before Bucky can ask what the hold up is, Steve turns Bucky’s face with a finger under his chin. Their eyes meet and Bucky’s widen a bit at the closeness.

“I swear on my mother’s grave that I didn’t mention a thing to Dugan,” Steve says with a serious, steady voice. “If he asked you over for Christmas dinner, it came from him. He wants you there, Buck.”

It hadn’t been that serious. Bucky had mostly been kidding around, but then Steve just drops this? He’s speechless.

And his chin is still resting in Steve’s hold.

There’s just the middle console between, they’re close enough to kiss, but that’s not something they do outside of sex, no matter how easy it would be to just lean in one more inch. That’s all it would take.

With his feelings threatening to creep up, he does what he always does – he runs away, and changes the subject.

“So. Uh, what am I supposed to bring?”

Steve

They’re on their way to Nashville for a small road trip when he manages to catch Dugan when Bucky’s in the bathroom.

“Heard you invited Bucky to Christmas,” Steve says appreciatively. “That’s good of you.”

“Got a habit of taking in strays,” he jokes, giving Steve a clap on the back. “Besides, figure it’d give you more incentive to come too.”

Clint snorts on the other side of Dugan. Steve tries not to read into it, tries to talk himself down and convince himself that Dugan didn’t mean anything by it past the fact that they’re friends. He just kind of hates how right that statement is.

“Hey.”

Dugan laughs at his weak protest. “You know we look forward to it. The kids love you, and it’s fun. But I swear to God if I hear the missus talk about how tight your shirt is this year, I’ll make you sit in the corner.” Dugan points to his eyes, fingers in a V-shape before pointing at Steve in an I’m-watching-you gesture.

Steve gets a little pink, apologetic and also still reeling from the fact that he was so blessed to have teammates – friends – like Tim “Dum Dum” Dugan. Before he can say anything else, Bucky plops into the seat beside him.

“Oooooo,” he sings with a gleeful smile. “What are we doing to make Steve all embarrassed now?”

Dugan roars with laughter, and Steve wants to disappear into the floor.

—

It’s always rough to lose the first game on a road trip, and while some of the boys are watching movies or playing card games to unwind, Steve takes the moment to slip away.

He’d had the thought for a few days now, and figures it’s better to do his research. Pulling out his phone, he goes to his Favourites under contacts and selects the second name.

So what if Bucky had taken the top spot in the short time they’d known each other? He was just looking out for Bucky, that’s all.

“Romanoff speaking.”

“Natasha, hi,” Steve greets after her standard pick up.

“Steve. What can I do for you?”

“Ah, well, I’m sorry – I should’ve just texted or something. It’s not hockey related.”

“Oh?” It’s evident she’s curious, so Steve tries not to feel too embarrassed.

“I was wondering, um, if you could maybe just tell me a bit more about some Russian… Christmas traditions that you might know of, that aren’t… too imposing.”

“Already throwing parties for Nichushkin? Cute.”

Steve doesn’t correct her, because it’s easier to let her believe that. He’d read some of it online – the different date of celebration, the religious service – but then Natasha unknowingly gives him exactly what he’d been looking for.

“I’ll send you the address to a delicatessen, they’ll have it all.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Steve says truthfully. He makes a note in his phone – listing blini and angel wings under things to buy.

“You’re a good captain,” Natasha replies. “I’m heading into a meeting, but text me if you need anything else. Now go make me proud.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Steve jokes.

—

They win the second game of their road trip against Winnipeg, but lose the last to Colorado. It’s another crushing defeat, but they make up for it the very next game when Colorado comes to Dallas this time. Steve’s always believed that playing in their own arena gave them a little extra luck. Whether it’s because the fans cheer louder or simply because it’s home turf, he’s always preferred playing at the American Airlines Center. Sometimes he thinks he spends more time here than at home.

The days of December just continue to fly by and before he knows it, Christmas is right around the corner. He spends all the time leading up to it trying to stop Bucky from fretting.

“Buck, you don’t have to bring anything,” Steve assures him for, quite possibly, the millionth time. “So if you do, no matter what it is, I’m sure they’ll love it either way.”

“That is of zero help to me.”

“What! You’re a great cook! Why do you think I don’t lift a finger to help ya? And I still think about that lasagna sometimes,” he says solemnly.

“See if I ever make you another one after all of this not helping me.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve gasps dramatically.

—

Christmas Day comes and when Steve knocks on Bucky’s door, he’s greeted by a large styrofoam box first, and Bucky second.

“What is that?”

“Cake!” Bucky sounds cheerful. “Dum Dum says his kids love cake.”

Steve eyes up the sizable box, and how it’s as high as Bucky’s torso when he goes to pick it up. “How big is this cake, Christ.”

Bucky chuckles, arms around his prize as Steve carries his own trays. He’s hopeful that Bucky will enjoy Natasha’s recommendations, though he’s never known Natasha to be wrong.

He knows that Bucky’s still at least a little anxious, given the fiddling with his jacket sleeve when they’re on their way.

“You know, I’m glad you’re coming,” Steve randomly blurts out. “His kids are very energetic. Can’t keep up with them.”

“Geez, way to sound like an old man there, Cap,” Bucky chuckles. “It’s been a while since I’ve been around kids. God, and they’re so young.” He pulls a face resembling worry.

“You’re gonna be great,” Steve protests. He’s confident in this fact because any time Bucky interacts with younger fans, Steve gets a little dopey watching him

Bucky gives a helpless little shrug, but Steve notices that he doesn’t hide, he doesn’t deny it, and he doesn’t shrink in on himself. It’s close to receiving a compliment, Steve thinks. The thought makes him warm inside.

—

“Here we go,” Steve warns as he rings the doorbell. They’re greeted by all four children barreling towards the door, despite Dugan’s booming voice telling them not to.

At first, Bucky’s eyes widen, as if overwhelmed, before Dugan wrangles his kids back into the house.

“Jesus, whaddya got in there, a whole damn Christmas tree?” Dugan asks, shaking his head as he ushers the both of them in.

“Bucky, this is my wife, Christina. Christina – JAGGER, DON’T TOUCH THAT – honey, this is Bucky.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Christina says with a smile, pulling Bucky into a hug and smacking a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve heard a ton about you. And Steve! I’m glad you could make it again, the kids have been asking all day.”

Steve blushes, and accepts his hug and kiss next. “Thanks for having me back.”

“Told you these two were obnoxious,” Dugan mutters as he picks up the youngest of his children. “This here is Caleb, hey, can you say hi, buddy?”

The child squirms, shy, and hides in Dugan’s shoulder. “Hi?.”

“Heya little guy,” Bucky answers easily, appearing unfazed by the reaction.

“Now you get all shy?” Dugan laughs, amused. “This is my new friend, Bucky. He’s Steve’s friend too, and you like Steve, don’t ya?”

The toddler nods, turning his face to look back at the two of them. “Bucket.”

Everyone immediately erupts into laughter, Bucky possibly loudest of them all, taking it in great stride. “Bucket – you know what? Yeah! Why not! Bucket it is.”

“Bucket!” Caleb echos.

As predicted, the kids adore Bucky.

Bucky

The anxiety melts away pretty quickly thanks to the barrage of children clambering for attention from the both of them. He doesn’t even get a second to doubt himself as they tug him by his fingers showing him the tree, their stockings, the kitchen and just about everything else in the house.

Landon tells him very proudly that he’s eleven, which means he’s the oldest. Bucky almost says I used to be an older brother, too. Brody tugs on his pants in an effort to get him to sit down on the couch.

“Brody’s eight,” Landon informs him proudly.

“Oh wow, you got three whole years on him?!”

“Yeah!”

Landon gives him a toothy smile, and starts showing off a science set he’d gotten that morning for Christmas.

Jagger, who Bucky thinks might be the most energetic of them all, even if he’s only six, is currently trying to climb Steve, and Bucky privately thinks about climbing Steve in a very different way.

[Image: Steve, in a white sweater, and Bucky in a plain navy shirt, looking in each other's direction]

He grins at Steve, who looks so stupidly cozy in his white cable knit sweater. It looks so soft – almost as soft as Steve, and it makes Bucky want to cuddle. The thought terrifies him, that he falls so quickly, so hard, and sometimes he doesn’t notice until it’s too late. It feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute, the ground and trees coming at him faster than he has time to process.

Except he knows too well what it’s like when he finally hits the ground, and he won’t — can’t — let it happen again.

When they come to gather at the table for dinner, the spread is exceptional. For a moment, he completely forgets what he’s doing, eyes widening at the sheer amount of food.

“Honey, I think you broke him,” Dugan teases as he nudges Christina for her to get a look at Bucky.

She looks immensely proud, and kisses Dugan a quick kiss. They each take a spot at the head of the table and the kids climb all over the two players debating how to sit, before deciding to bracket them on each side of the table, setting Bucky and Steve across from each other.

“Are you comfortable with us saying grace before dinner?” Christina asks Bucky gently.

He’s never been asked that in his life, and his family was never overly religious, but he nods. Having never said grace, his knowledge comes from TV shows alone — he can’t fuck up saying one word at the end right? Surely, even he can manage that.

“The floor’s yours, beautiful,” Dugan announces with a smirk, reaching for Brody and Jagger’s hands on either side. Bucky can’t help but think how Jagger’s hand is so small in his, and holds it carefully, while his other hand is taken by Landon, who reaches for his mom.

Brody takes Steve’s hand, and lastly, Caleb completes the chain.

She closes her eyes and bows her head, the rest of the family following quickly.

“Right. Everyone… let’s think of all that we are grateful for.”

Bucky can’t help but look up across the table, where Steve does the same, without prompting and the world fades a little bit around them.

“Thank you for our health, our work, and our play.”

Bucky tries to look away, to pull himself back from the edge of the plane but it’s impossible.

“Thank you for the blessings of the food we eat and especially for this feast today.”

It’s a private, shared moment; an unspoken understanding or perhaps a declaration that neither of them can say out loud.

“Thank you for our home, our family and friends, especially for the presence of those gathered here.”

“Amen,” he whispers.

#stucky #stucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #stevebucky #bucky x steve #steve/bucky #steve x bucky #hey now you're an all star #stevebucky fanfiction

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