tags: fem!reader. spiderman au. spider girl!reader. friends to lovers. slowburn. gender bend spiderman x gwen stacy? blood and violence talk related to this universe.
a/n: this one tips a tiny tiny bit into the worldbuilding realm again! but we have yearning! and soft flirty remus! enjoy xx
part three 🕸️ series masterlist
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You’re still reeling a little bit, clutching your side as you swing by, when you notice a familiar mop of tawny hair between the small crowd. Remus only flicks ash into a bin, not quite noticing you as he frowns down at his phone. It’s late enough that the brightness casts its glow on his face, highlighting his features and the divot between his eyebrows.
Maybe a small detour home won’t hurt.
You glance around, switching paths. When you land, sticky fingers against the brick building wall, arms crossed loosely, Remus still hasn’t noticed your arrival. Too engrossed in whatever he’s reading on his phone. A Spidergirl updates account.
You lean back, feeling irrationally upset and oddly touched about it. He takes a long drag, scrolling down and down until he starts finding pictures from last month.
“Aw, missing me?”
Remus jumps, cigarette flying out of his hand. “Fucking hell!”
“Fucking hell as in yes you missed me or,” you shift, leaning your arms over your bent knees. “Fucking hell in I’ve just found you watching the same edit over and over again?”
He scoffs, crouching down to pick the butt of his cigarette to throw it into the bin. “Fucking hell in stop sneaking up on me.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?”
“And it wasn't an edit,” he shakes his head. It’d be a credible lie if the tips of his ears weren’t pink. “Are you in the habit of spreading misinformation?”
“And are you in the habit of smoking in the middle of the street?” you tilt your head, smirking when Remus rolls his eyes at you. Fondly, almost. “Or looking at your phone in a busy area? Be glad I was swinging by.”
Remus huffs an amused laugh. “Right, swinging by.” He reaches inside his coat for his pack, pointedly ignoring the way you cross your arms at this. His lips curl around the cigarette as he lights it on. “You know, I’m starting to suspect that the one missing me is you.”
"Ah, still feeling smug, aren't we?" you tilt your head, Remus copies the movement as he blows the smoke out, smirking. It's a miracle you don't come stumbling down the wall at the sight. “I think I liked you better when all you did was fawn over me.”
“I did not fawn.”
“Uh, yes you did?” you slide down, sliding down the wall with such effortlessness it makes your stomach churn at Remus’ eyes following your every move. Thankfully, Spidergirl isn’t known for letting things go. “See? Just say you’re my biggest fan, Remus.”
Remus blinks, a stutter of breath where he genuinely looks bashful before he’s tilting his head again. You know him well enough to notice the gears turning behind his confused gaze, and it takes you an embarrassing longer beat to realize what you’ve said.
“y/n has told me lots about you.” You blurt out, an explanation that somehow makes everything worse. Jesus Christ. You clear your throat, forcing your voice to sound deeper. Just in case. “I mean, not a lot—I’d say it’s just a normal amount, but has mentioned you in passing. A couple of times, definitely not all the time. ‘Cause I don’t see her that much—can you stop looking at me like that?”
He blinks. “Like what?”
“Like I grew a third head,” you twist, climbing the brick wall to put as much distance between your rambling and Remus as possible. “Which, by the way, is a common misconception. Spiders do not have three body parts, let alone three heads.”
“I—Okay, that’s… really?” he tilts his head, both in confusion and reeling from whatever that was. You only nod once, fixing the hood of your suit as Remus takes a short drag. “Has y/n really talked about me?”
You drop your head, knees tucked up as you sit on your calves—making a small cocoon of yourself against the wall. Feeling stupidly embarrassed and doing nothing to help your case. Of course, and you’re secretly grateful, Remus reads this the wrong way.
“Sorry for putting you on the spot, I won’t tell her you accidentally told me that,” he speaks around the cigarette, taking a long drag as you continue hiding into your knees. “I didn't know you were on talking terms.”
“How do you think we came to our little front page photos agreement?” you grumble, still not quite looking up. “And can you please pretend I didn’t say anything? She’d kill me.”
Remus laughs. “y/n won’t kill you,” he shakes his head, sounding awfully confident. “She’s not like that.”
You pointedly ignore the way your heart slams into your ribcage. “She’s mentioned you… in passing. Once or twice,” you pretend to look around. “Anyway, you’re dodging a far more important factor here.”
“Which is?”
“You do realize it’s nearly midnight, right?”
“Yes.” Remus nods, taking another drag and not having any qualms to hide his smirk.
“Bit creepy to mope around the street alone at night, don’t you think?” you shift your weight, relaxing more against the wall in the same way Remus shifts his weight. Leveling you with a knowing look. “You’ve got the survival instincts of a raccoon.”
Remus laughs. “I thought we established you’re the creepy one, stalking civilians home…?”
You groan. “And I thought we established that it’s called vigilantism.”
“Right, of course. My mistake,” he takes one last drag before putting it out. Not quite looking away from you as he throws it into the bin. Remus tilts his head as he turns to you, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. “Shall we, then?”
“Shall we, what?”
“Well, if I’m correct, this is just part of the vigilante agenda, isn’t it? Walking me home?”
You scoff. “Someone’s confident I’d say yes.”
“I can always pretend I didn’t see you.” Remus shrugs, already falling into step. “Or that you’re not lurking somewhere near. Whatever suits you best.”
You push yourself off the wall, landing silently and biting back a wince at the pain that shoots up to your ribcage. Remus pauses in the same breath your hand flies to your side, and it takes an arduous job to keep the skip of your step light and casual to try and catch up to him. Neither of you mention how you unconsciously turn the correct way towards his flat building—and if Remus noticed it, he’s too deep in thought to comment on it.
His eyes keep flickering to you, looking at you sideways as the silence settles. Or as silent you can be in this part of the city, and at this hour.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks, voice careful and nimble fingers already flicking the cigarette pack open. “And you promise not to tell… our friend?”
You nearly trip with your own feet, shooting web up towards the streetlight to hide it. Remus barely reacts as he watches you balancing on the pole. “What is it?”
“Have you… seen her? Lately?” he speaks around the cigarette, not quite lighting it up yet as he glances up at you. “I know I said I’d drop it but, I haven’t seen her in a week and well—”
“She’s okay,” you say. Maybe a bit too quick. But you fear that waiting for him to continue speaking would surely crack your composure. “Haven’t talked much to her but I’ve seen her around, always following me with her little camera.”
Remus finally clicks the lighter on, taking a long drag as he nods. You secretly pat yourself for your quick thinking.
“I mean, no offense to you but,” he flicks ash onto his empty pack. Smirking when you hum in approval. “You do tend to get involved in… dangerous situations. And y/n is always two steps behind you.”
You lower yourself to sit on the pole, leg dangling in feigned casualness. “Is that why you were stalking that account?”
“I wasn’t stalking.”
“Scrolling, then.”
He waves you off, stopping by the corner when the red man switches on. You only make yourself more comfortable, leaning sideways on the pool—wasting enough time to gather your thoughts. And the feelings that are threatening to spill out of your chest. Or maybe that guy hit your head too hard. Maybe it’s a concussion.
“I saw that big fight on Riddle Industries, when that bloke nearly smashed you into the wall.”
“Ouch,” you fake wince. Like the evidence of that same incident isn’t making your ribcage throb. You make a flourish of gesturing at yourself. “Yeah, it was intense. But I’m here, aren’t I?”
Remus takes another drag, eyeing you carefully. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt.”
“What doesn’t hurt?” you throw yourself backwards, hanging from the pole and tilting your head sideways. Remus tilts his head as well, trying to meet your masked eyes as you hang upside down. “You think that if it hurt, would I be able to do this?”
“I think so, yeah.”
You wave him off. “Yeah, I’m okay. If that’s what you’re actually asking me.”
He only hums, flicking more ash into the pack. The light turns green, and you launch yourself to the ground, landing silently enough that your wince doesn’t go unheard this time. Remus huffs a laugh, taking another drag as you turn to skip backwards in front of him.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Yes, I won’t tell y/n you asked about her. Jesus, you’re a worrier.”
Remus glances down at his cigarette, eyes lingering on the scar peeking from his sleeve before turning back to you. “Try to directly head home after a… whatever you do—especially if you’re injured. It’s going to scar, if it hasn’t already.”
You glance down at your side, checking. “It’s not even bleeding,” you fix your suit’s hood. “Relax, I know these things like the back of my hand. You’d be surprised how efficient I am with a suturing kit.”
“Yeah? Maybe you can teach me a couple of things here and there,” he takes another drag. Longer. Like he’s bracing himself. “And maybe I can teach you about scar treatment.”
“Scar treatment?”
“Knowing you, I’m sure you need it more than me.”
This time, you do stumble.
Remus halts, turning to—what? You don’t give yourself time to think about it as you launch yourself to continue swinging close to the ground. Enough to keep the conversation going but to hide the relentless sense that the floor keeps giving out under you.
Of course, Remus misreads this for something else. Though you’re not sure if you’re thankful for the conclusion he draws out of you nearly eating shit on dodgy pavement.
“See, and this is you saying you’re not injured.”
“That?” you scoff. “That was on purpose—can’t have you going around thinking I’m cool all the time. You’re already insufferable with your fanaticism."
He laughs, shaking his head and taking another drag before shoving the cigarette inside his pack. You watch him expertly throw it into the bin, one you recognize well and a clear sign that you’re close to his flat building. Pavement creaks with each step, and Remus kicks a small pebble the rest of the walk to his flat.
You climb the streetlight right in front of his porch, reclining sideways in a way Remus has seen you do multiple times from your photographs. He suspects you’re actually sleeping in some of them, even if the position doesn’t seem very comfortable. You prop yourself on your elbow, tilting your head when he doesn’t immediately walk inside.
“Is there anything else you’d like to confess?” you ask, mostly as teasing.
But Remus only shakes his head, looking almost lost in thought as he fiddles with his keys. You shift a tiny bit to avoid lying over your side, and his eyes follow the movement. A thought seems to snap into place because he’s turning around to unlock his door before you can read too much into it.
“Don’t go yet,” he murmurs, knowing you’d still hear him even if he speaks low. “I have something that can help.”
“Help with what?”
Remus doesn’t elaborate, but does gesture at you to wait before walking inside. The door clicks shut behind him, and it takes a long stretch of buses driving past before a light turns on inside one of the windows. A warm glow that silhouettes movement in Remus’ flat. It takes you an arduous amount of strength to not climb up to that window, knowing it would expose the very important factor that Spidergirl supposedly doesn’t know exactly which window is his. y/n does, though.
He draws the curtains aside, struggling a little with the latch before he’s sliding it up. Remus leans over to search for you with a little frown before he spots you still leaned on the post. You’re moving before he beckons you over, sticky gloves against the brick wall holding you up as you climb. You don’t deign to enter, though. Even if your heartstrings are pulling you in that direction.
“Here,” he hands you a small tube of ointment. “I’d apply that as soon as you get home. If nothing gets in between, of course.”
You glance down at the ointment. “Most civilians just ask for a selfie, you know.”
His lips twitch, leaning more comfortably on the windowsill. “Yeah, well, most civilians haven’t seen you fall two times in the span of 20 minutes.”
“Jesus.” You take the tube. “You really are unfunnily observant.”
“And pretty, too. Don’t forget that.”
“You’ll never let me live that down, won’t you?”
Remus shrugs, lips twitching into that little smirk that stretches his scar. You’re thankful the mask covers the way your eyes linger on his dimple. It’s in this quiet observation that you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Well,” he tilts his head. “scars do strange things to people’s perception. Thought I’d help a bit.”
You pause, flattening your hands against the wall when it feels like you might slip down. He only shrugs, shifting his arms on the sill as you reposition yourself. The air is thick with an unsaid question, one you’re sure Spidergirl could ask—but y/n wouldn’t. Not when she knows the answer and how much it pains Remus to retell it.
“Targeted accident,” he explains softly, gesturing at himself in feigned vagueness. It makes your heart clench, but Remus only leans back on the windowsill. “My da worked for Riddle Industries, and supposedly found something he shouldn’t have. Next thing I know? My school is going up in flames.”
He doesn’t glance up as he speaks, not even when there’s a stretch of silence. You exhale sharply, working up the lump in your throat before even deigning to speak.
You try to remain calm and soft, pushing down the edge of your tone. But of course, it pushes right past your own restraint. A bitter laugh escapes you. “Riddle keeps leaving bodies and violence behind and calling it accidents, huh?”
“Yeah.” Remus’ laugh is just as bitter as yours, though quieter. More restrained. “It seems we have more things in common than we thought, Spidergirl.”
Your heart skips a bit, and you shift your weight wrong. Any words you can come up with die on your throat when your glove slips against the brick. “Woah! Shit, shit—”
Remus jumps in surprise when you barely catch yourself with a web, then flicking your wrist towards the ointment before it can hit the pavement.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes out, sharp and still reeling in surprise as he leans over to look down at you. “You okay?”
“Fuck.” It’s all you manage to say, still reeling slightly from what he’s said rather than your actual almost fall. But Remus doesn’t need to know that. “That was a close one, huh?”
Remus parts his lips to speak, watching as you shoot another web towards the windowsill to climb up. There’s an amused fleeting glint in his eyes when you reposition yourself back against the wall.
“Sorry,” you tug at the web with the ointment, catching it mid air as it flies up. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?” his eyes glance down at the ointment, then back at you. “Nearly falling three stories down?”
“No. For what they did to you.”
He goes quiet, glancing down at his hands. Thoughtful, almost. A scar peeks from the sleeve of his coat. “It wasn’t your fault.”
You shift your weight more carefully this time. “Well…”
“No. You don’t have to carry every bad thing they’ve done.”
“I know,” you nod, head tilting. Remus’ lips twitch in recognition at the movement. It turns into a little smile, albeit more sincere this time. “It’s a great motivator, though.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.”
“Of course you would,” you jump off the wall, swinging to the streetlight. Remus leans over his crossed arms, watching you with a little smile. “Wouldn’t expect less from my biggest fan.”
Remus only rolls his eyes. “Goodnight, Spidergirl.”
You only salute him with two fingers, waving the ointment in thanks before swinging away. Remus watches you go, not quite stepping away from the window until Spidergirl disappears into the night.
He closes the window, drawing the curtains closed before beginning to shrug off his coat and begin to wind down for the night. Walking around collecting his clothes and books, the sound of his phone buzzing nearly goes unnoticed. Remus pauses, patting his rumpled coat to take it out.
His stomach flutters. And so does his heart.
YN: sorry for going mia. coffee tomorrow?
RL: of course. You okay though?
YN: perfectly okay. sorry for worringyou
RL: no need to be sorry, I’m just glad you’re okay. see you tomorrow
What are you in the mood for? - Remus Lupin x Reader
pairings; fem!reader x dealer!remussummary; remus and reader finally sorted things out, and they decide to pick up from where they left off, and step up in their relationshiplcw; smut, virgin!reader, soft!remus, desperate!remus, kinda dominant remus, lots of crying
masterlist; dealer!remus masterlist
You and Remus' breakfast was so long it kinda became a lunch. You texted your mother that you were fine, that you slept at your friends house, and you reassured her that you'd be home for dinner.
So now, you and Rem had the whole day for yourself. And with that you could sense a strange feeling grow in your stomach: a mix of excitement and anxiety, as a whole bunch of new possibilities opened up to you, now that you were together, alone, with ton of time in your hands.
You kept searching frenetically for stuff to do: you offered to wash the dishes after lunch, and then you immediately told Remus to put up some movie that maybe you didn't even wanted to watch after all.
As you got comfy on the bed next to him you finally realized the reason for that buzzing feeling. You were now officially a couple, at home alone, in his bed, after you confessed your feelings to each other. And now you were suddenly feeling like you were ready to get a lot more intimate with him.
Your thighs immediately squirmed together at the thought. The air was buzzing with electricity, you could actually feel it. Was Remus feeling it too? Was he was also thinking about the same thing?
You turned to him. His eyes were glued to the screen, a joint between his lips, his shaggy hair covering his forehead. He seemed oblivious. But you knew him too well.
His cheeks were painted in a rosy tint, his forehead was slightly sweaty, and his fingers trembling as he held the joint between them.
Just like that first time in his car -which felt like life ago- you were both thinking about the same thing, and you were absolutely sure of it. You just knew it. He was nervous, he was excited, he was feeling just like you.
You couldn't stop looking at him, so he turned to you, your eyes locking together. Your stomach fluttered, you smiled nervously.
"What?" Remus giggled, acting oblivious, his flushed cheeks giving his real thoughts away. You shrugged, unable to stop smiling.
Remus took a long hit, then he rested the joint in the ashtray and sat up on his bed, turning to sit directly in front of you. Your heart rate increased, as you adjusted yourself too and sat in front of him. You looked at each other for some time, unsure of what to say, flushed and embarrassed, nervous smiles painting your lips.
"Hey" Remus said, chuckling "Hey" you answered, trying to ignore the feeling of your face burning, probably getting red. "You don't like the movie?" he asked, you shrugged "it's fine, I guess", "So why are we not watching it?" he said, jokingly. You lowered your eyes, embarrassed, your heart beating in your stomach. You shrugged again "I don't know, I guess I'm not really in the mood right now"
He smiled "I see" he locked his eyes with yours, they were big, pupils blown up. "So what are you in the mood for?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. You squirmed again. Remus scoffed, shaking his head amused, that damn smirk on his lips.
You looked up at him flustered. He was always so cocky, even when he was as flustered and nervous as you. You rolled your eyes, teasing him "you're such a dick!" you bumped his shoulder. He took that as an opportunity to grab your wrist. You heart skipped a beat at the feeling of his fingers against your soft skin.
"You wanna fight me?" he giggled, smiling teasingly. You smiled back at him "what if I do?" Remus bit his lips "you would be getting yourself in a ton of troubles" he mumbled, a wolfish grin painting his lips.
You felt a shiver down your spine, as anxiety filled your guts, your breath caught up in your throat. But you knew you could be a tease as well, if you wanted. And so you tackled Remus, pushing him down, on the mattress, under you, locking his wrists in place.
Remus was breathless, sweaty, flushed. His dark eyes traveled up and down your figure, before he tugged you by his shirt and pulled you in for a kiss. Which quickly became sloppy and messy, and as you grinded on his lap you felt his erection through his boxers, poking against your inner thigh. You whimpered.
Remus smiled on your lips, his hands gripping your waist "I told you you were getting yourself into a ton troubles" he mumbled. You whined again, as your hips rocked deliciously against his, your core getting warmer, wetter. Your panties being the only thing you were wearing under his oversize shirt.
You deepened the kiss, tugging Remus' hair, brushing them away from his face, peppering his whole forehead, cheeks, eyes in sweet pecks. Remus moaned quietly, his eyes closing in pleasure, his skin burning hot, his whole body melting under yours.
He grazed your thighs with his cold fingers, covering your skin in gosebumps. You pressed yourself harder on his lap. Remus whimpered, then he moved your panties to the side, sliding a finger through your folds. "Ah!" you moaned, throwing your head back, "fuck, you're so wet" Remus whined.
He started circling your clit slowly, your hips rocking together. "You're so hot in my t-shirt" he panted, as he slowly inserted two slender fingers into you. You whined, squirming your thighs together. "But you'd look so much hotter without it" he continued, you opened your eyes.
He was looking up to you in adoration, his hair falling on his face, his cheeks flushed. You smiled, before taking off his shirt. "Oh, fuck" he swore, groping your breasts with his other hand. You started going up and down his fingers, but as you were almost reaching the climax, you caught yourself needing more.
"Wait" you panted. Remus stopped immediately, he was being extremely careful with you after the prior night. "Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly worried.
You nodded, Remus readjusted your panties, and he started caressing your back reassuringly. "What is it?" You inhaled deeply, searching for the rights words to say it.
"I think..." you started, your cheeks burning in embarrassment "I think....I want to have sex with you" you blurted out, your gaze lowering immediately after, as a wave of excitement and embarrassment washed over you.
Remus was breathless, he felt like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. When he found himself finally able to speak, the words came out shaky and mumbly "are you sure?" You nodded, slowly, your eyes locking with his. There was no trace of hazel in them, his dark pupils took all the space.
"I never..." you started, cause you wanted to be sure, that he knew. "Don't worry, I already knew..." he said gently, grazing your rosy cheek. "Did you..?" you asked, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. You had already thought about it, and you imagined that he did, but you naively hoped to be proved wrong.
Remus sighed "Well, there was this one time..." he started. You felt disappointment set in your stomach immediately. Remus noticed, he pulled you in for a kiss, your breasts pressed on his smooth torso. He kissed your anxiety away, and then he spoke.
"It was like one year ago, we were both drunk and out of our minds, and I just wanted to get over it with once and for all... I don't remember much" he reassured you, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your hair "we didn't even had foreplay..."
You couldn't help but smile, immediately feeling relieved. "So, are you sure?" he repeated, you took a deep breath, and then nodded again. Remus grinned, he grabbed your waist and switched place with you.
He was now on you, his body enclosing yours. You felt so safe, so warm, stuck under him. He kissed you sloppily, and then he started trailing kisses down your chin, neck, breasts. You let out a shaky breath, as his lips continued grazing your chest, your stomach, your belly.
You squirmed when he brushed the hem of your panties with his warm lips. Remus sat up "Can I?" he asked, softly. You closed your eyes shut and nodded. He tugged them down slowly, helping you get them off, moving your legs accordingly.
"We have to prepare you first" he mumbled, kissing your inner tight. You moaned in surprise when you felt his tongue licking a stripe up your core, suddenly. "You taste so good" he mumbled, his lips brushing your clit, the vibrations of his voice against it sending shivers down your spine. You whined again.
Remus wrapped his hands around your thighs, his fingertips against your soft skin. "Rem" you moaned, helplessly. Remus groaned, his mouth open on you, licking messily all over. You felt like you were losing your mind.
Only two minutes later and you were on the verge of coming. When Remus stopped, you whined in frustration. "Not yet baby" he grinned "I want to feel you around me when you cum" you blushed, your thighs squeezing together.
Remus reached for something in his nightstand drawer. It was a condom, and you looked at him confused. "Why..?" you asked, a sense of sadness already overwhelming you. Remus smiled "I had them in store since the day we met" you heart skipped a beat at his words.
You still couldn't believe he wanted you that much. It didn't make sense to you. He was the hottest, coolest guy ever... and you were just...you. But since you started hooking up with him your confidence had somehow grown. He made you feel so hot, and special. You smiled.
Remus tugged his boxers down, his swollen dick bounced against his toned abdomen. You bit your lips nervously, as he put on the condom in a precise motion. Remus looked at you "are you still on it?" you nodded, taking a long breath.
"Are you sure?" he asked again. You smiled "it's...I'm just nervous, I don't know" you lowered your gaze. Remus grabbed your chin "baby, what is it?" you locked your eyes with his.
"I don't know...it seems...painful?" you mumbled, suddenly afraid and embarrassed. Remus kissed your temple gently "baby, I could never hurt you" he whispered in your ear, the skin of your neck immediately covering in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath on your skin.
"I'll be gentle, I promise" he said again, adjusting himself between your legs. He caressed your thighs slowly, reassuringly, and when he felt like you were relaxed enough, he spread your legs gently, lining himself up at your entrance.
He looked down at you worried. You weren't breathing, shaking in anticipation. He caressed your cheek, then he grabbed the bed frame to steady himself. "I'll go slow" he breathed out, his tip brushing at your entrance. You nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your heart beating in your ears.
Remus entered slowly, his eyes closed shut, a groan leaving his lips. A stingy sensation made your lower belly tighten. You hissed. Remus froze, immediately opening his eyes "are you okay?" he breathed out, shakily. You bit your lip and nodded, pressing your hands on his back, pushing him deeper.
You both let out a surprised moan as a quarter of his length filled you. "Oh shit" he whimpered, shutting his eyes closed, his knuckles turning white on the bed frame. "You're s-so warm, a-and tight" he said in a shaky voice, your legs already shaking.
"Ho- how are you?" he asked, grazing your cheek. Your eyes were closed shut, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, your whole body tensing up around him "I'm okay, go on" you managed to say, as you tried adjusting to his length.
Remus let out a deep breath, then he sunk another couple of inches inside of you. You whined, that burning stingy sensation feeling weirdly good in your stomach. The feeling of being filled by him. You fluttered your eyes open, you looked at Remus with half lidded eyes.
He was looking at you in fear. He looked absolutely terrified. He was so flustered, and shaky, and sweaty. He didn't want to hurt you. You kissed him softly "go deeper" you whispered to his lips, as the back of your neck got sweat.
Remus whimpered, as he sunk deeper into you. You screamed, his length was now almost feeling you up completely. "Fuck" he cried out, his other hand grabbed your inner thigh roughly, in desperate need of something that would keep him steady. He was losing his mind.
You panted, trying to adjust to that stingy pain, that inexplicably made you feel so good. You shut your eyes. Your hands were trembling on Remus back. He kissed you in desperation, as you were both waiting for you to adjust, your pussy spasming against his hard length.
He whined "oh baby, you have no idea of how good you feel" you smiled, hugging him tighter, his length sinking deeper into you. "Ah!" he whimpered, as he finally sunk completely into you. You screamed, your legs squirming around his hips, your whole body shaking.
Remus kissed you slowly on the lips, then on your cheeks, and temples, and breasts. You whimpered lightly, as you relaxed around him and you started feeling more turnt on, and less in pain. His length was filling you up completely, and you felt like you were gonna explode. You were still unable to breathe.
Remus kissed you again "breathe for me baby" he whispered against your lips. You sighed, and tried breathing in, but that stingy sensation made you squirm around him.
"Ah!" you whined, your body tensing again.
"Shhh" Remus reassured you softly "can you breathe for me baby?" he repeated. You closed your eyes and inhaled, slowly. You exhaled, your hands gripping Remus shoulder in pain, your body tensing up. You breathed in again, and when you exhaled your muscles relaxed, and you felt better around him.
When you reopened your eyes Remus was looking like a mess. He looked at you nervously, his face flushed, his rosy lips agape and his whole body shaky and drenched in sweat. You gently brushed his damp hair away from his burning forehead. You blew cool hair on his forehead softly. He closed his eyes in gratitude, his hand squeezing your thigh.
"I think I'm ready" you said softly. Remus reopened his eyes, looking at you in a mixture of desperation and fear. Then, at an incredibly slow pace, he started thrusting in and out of you. At the beginning you tensed up around him, but after a couple of deep strokes, the pleasure started to replace pain.
He was pushing deeply, slowly, into you, gasping every time he bottomed out. You wrapped him tighter, taking him in, your body covered in cold sweat, shivering in excitement. "Fuck, are you okay?" he whined, looking like he was about to cry, you moaned "yeah" he smiled at your response, teasingly.
After less than five minute Remus had picked up his pace, and he was thrusting in and out of you faster, deeper. You were breathless, overwhelmed, shaking, tugging his hair roughly. Remus reached for your clit and he started circling it lazily.
"Rem!" you whined in overwhelm "I'm no-not gonna resist any-any longer, and I need you to cum with me" he said, his tone almost desperate. You moaned at his words, and you started bucking your hips into his, ignoring the stingy pain that still made you clench around him.
Remus grabbed your waist "careful baby, I don't want you to get h-hurt" he groaned. You bit your lip, the coil in your stomach tightening "I won't, trust me" you mumbled, steading yourself on his bicep, wrapping him with your legs.
He started working your clit again, and as your hips bucked upwards, moans and whimpers started falling from your lips helplessly. Remus cried out "fuck, baby, I'm not gonna last" he increased the pace on your clit.
"You're just too good" he continued, his thrust getting sloppier and desperate "I never fe-felt so good in my life" he cried out again, kissing your jawline, you whined. "I feel like I'm gonna die" he breathed out, shutting his eyes off, his mouth agape.
"Oh, fuck! Y/n, cum for me, please! I need it!" he whined, desperate. You melted at his words, and as his pace got impossibly faster, and those erratic thrusts filled you up, bruising you so good, you felt yourself reach the climax.
"I'm.." Remus come out of you suddenly, and before you could even react to the sudden emptiness he was slamming his entire length back inside you. You screamed in surprise, throwing your head off, your eyes rolling in your skull, as the knot in your stomach finally snapped, making you cum and spasm around him, hot tears running from the side of your eyes.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Remus groaned, his body tensing on yours, as he finally snapped and came, collapsing over you in exhaustion. "Fuck!" he cried out, still shaky from the orgasm, as you accidentally clenched around him a couple more times.
He pressed his lips onto yours gently. You kissed for what felt like hours, him still inside of you, your sensitive bodies still shaking in shock and pleasure. Remus kissed your forehead, and when he fluttered his eyes open to look at you, a worried expression immediately painted his face.
"Fuck... Baby, are you okay?" he asked. Only then you realized you were crying, your cheeks flushed with warm tears. You nodded "I-i'm okay" you sobbed. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed I think" you whispered, shaking your head, smiling.
Remus came out of you, making you sob at the sudden empty feeling. He took off the condom and then he lowered himself on you.
He started kissing your tears, licking them away from your face. You giggled.
"Oh baby" he mumbled, drinking your salty tears "it was such an intense day for you, I know" He whispered reassuringly, brushing your hair away from your flushed and sweaty face.
"Maybe we should've waited...only yesterday night you..." you interrupted him with a kiss "Remus, stop, it was perfect" you smiled against his lips. Remus wrapped your waist "did I hurt you?" you shook your head "only in a good way" he hugged you tightly, resting his head between your breasts "my brave, strong girl" he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
You sighed, playing with his hair, suddenly nervous "was i...?" Remus looked up at you "were you?" he asked confused. You shrugged "you know, was I good or..?" Remus scoffed "good? I thought I was having an heart attack!" you blushed, smiling, flustered.
Remus slid two fingers through your folds, gently, making you squirm. "Rem!" you squealed. He smiled, looking at his fingers. They were glistening in blood and arousal. You bit your lips in embarrassment, but Remus caressed you lightly, in awe.
"Baby" he mumbled, his voice shaky, like he was about to cry "I'm so happy you trusted me enough to give yourself to me" butterflies filled your guts at his words, and your cheeks got red again, your heart beating out of your chest, feeling like it was about to explode, as you kissed your boyfriend in adoration.
When you came back from the bathroom you found Remus slouched on his bed, rolling a joint while watching something on his laptop. He looked so hot, fucked up, with his messy hair and his half lidded eyes. In plaid boxers and socks. He was all you ever wanted.
"I think I'm gonna go in a bit" you announced, already getting sad, as you got under the cover with him. Remus licked the paper. "Relax, we still have a couple of hours before dinner" "here, first of all we're gonna smoke" he continued, putting the joint in your hand "we can watch something while we're at it" he said pointing at the show on his laptop. You smiled, getting cozy with him.
"And then we can go for round two" he whispered, cockily, in your ear. You bumped at his shoulder flustered, but you couldn't help but squirm at the thought. Remus lit up your joint "go on baby, take a big puff"
tags; @irysque @screechingoversomethingprbly @kitrisvariation @lovelyygirl8 @violetteshoneybee
you guys!! im so sorry for disappearing, but I have a serious procrastination problem and I tend to get a lil depressed at times...but now im back! I hope you'll like this new dealer!rem fic!
ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒synopsis﹔you and bellamy were friends, friends who often did each other favors.
ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ ˚ cw﹔ bellamy blake x reader, nsfw, praise
﹒ ◠ note﹔ none
wc﹔ 800
˚ ۪˖𓏲 mood﹔ playlist
Being friends with Bellamy meant you got special treatment not many others could get- well, nobody else could get. That only meant you'd be helping him more than usual.
It wasn't a secret, everyone knew something was going on between you and Bellamy, nobody would act that close with a normal friend, but nobody cared enough to speak up about it.
You were in Bellamy's tent, legs on either side of his hips as he roughly thrusted up into you. He wasn't even fully pulling out, just grinding deeper into you while you wiggled in his grasp. You grinded your hips to meet his; eliciting a moan. You grabbed onto tufts of his hair to try and stifle your pleasure elsewhere, not wanting to wake anyone up.
Bellamys hand trailed down to your ass, giving it a light squeeze, "Just like that, princess,"
Your head dropped down into the crook of his neck, the pleasure was palpable. No matter how many times you'd find yourself on his dick, you'd never get used to the feeling.
Bellamy stopped his movements, leaving you whining.
"You want it that bad?" He teased.
You nodded in reply.
"Then ride me."
Bellamy smirked as he watched your face flush, you'd never done anything like this before. It was always Bellamy doing everything for you.
Bellamy's hand found your hips and gently guided them, helping you get started. Once you found your rhythm Bellamy let go, his hands now focusing on your breasts bouncing with every movement. His thumbs traced over your nipples, sending a spark up your body.
Your head found its place on his shoulder, once again trying to silence your moans by gently biting on the exposed skin.
"Gonna make me cum, princess." Bellamy muttered, both hands cupping your breasts as you rode up and slammed back down. Bellamy knew he was close, and so did you. With every moan, you went deeper and deeper on him.
"Bell..." You moaned out, your legs beginning to shake, you wanted to scream out your orgasm, but you remembered where you were.
You threw your head back and clasped your hand around your mouth, much to Bellamy's disapproval.
"Always sound so pretty like this." He breathed out. He loved hearing the sounds that came from your mouth when you climaxed, it was his favorite part.
Your orgasm splurged through you in fast waves, leaving your body exhausted. Bellamy snaked his hands to your hips and held you up as he pounded into you, not quite near his own orgasm.
His dick continuously hit your oversensitive sweet spot, leaving no room for you to recover from the previous high.
"It hurts, Bell." Your hands grabbed his arms, digging into the skin. His skin felt hot, lined with sweat from the damp air around the tent.
"It's okay, take it all." Bellamy hushed you, his pace never slowing.
You weren't sure how long you could last with the relentless thrusts, your legs began shaking uncontrollably around him again. You knew if he kept this up you'd surely cum again. Closing your eyes you tried to hold on, not wanting to cum a second time just yet.
"Look at me, princess." Bellamy demanded. You shook your head, knowing if you were to obey you'd surely come undone.
"You asked for this." Bellamy grabbed your thighs and lifted you up with him, placing you on the bed roughly he spread your legs, his dick never leaving your pussy. You were definitely looking now, the eye contact making your stomach flutter.
The new position brought new waves of pleasure. Allowing his dick to hit different places in you.
Bellamy's hand found its way to your hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging on it, forcing you to watch his dick fill your pussy.
The sight was enough to make you cum again, "Oh god, yes!" You yelled. It was like you'd been tipped over the edge as he fucked you through your second high. Your eyes rolled back seeing stars, the entire world went white.
"Such a mess." He said as your cum began painting his dick white. Every muscle in your body was exhausted, twitching, and sore.
Bellamy's pace began to quicken, he felt his own high was close. He let go of your hair and grabbed ahold of your legs to stable himself better.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He spoke shakily, eyes focused on pounding into your slick pussy. His head slumped forward as thick white strings decorated your stomach, heavy breaths filled the tent while you both caught up with your composure.
With a big sigh, he stood up and tossed you your clothes.
"Same time tomorrow, got that?" He said, placing his own shirt on.
Rolling your eyes you nodded playfully, you could act like you hated your routine, but he knew you didn't. It's why you come back every day.
summary : once you come into possession of an old polaroid camera, it’s only right to make good use of it - forcing your boyfriend to be your model!
warnings : fluff, body worship, biting, lazy-sweetly-pervy make out session.
word count : 1,5k.
notes : i was listening to 80s love songs while writing this and i genuinely reached flow state.
Going on supply runs to Mount Weather made you realize one thing - you were one hell of a vintage enthusiast. You found the oldies fascinating, from faded books and paintings to any kind of antiques and gadgets. So the day you got your hands on a box with a polaroid camera inside, you instantly knew it would become your favorite item in the small collection.
“I don’t wanna screw it up.” You mumbled as you made your way over to Bellamy, clutching film packs in your left hand and the camera in your right. You were truly excited about this, grinning from ear to ear like an eager kid. Although being aware of your tendency of being too hot headed for your own good, you grew to not really trust yourself with things that needed delicacy or thoughtfulness. Especially when you had little idea about them. Such as in this case.
“C’mon you won’t! It can’t be rocket science, yeah? C’mere.” Bellamy reassured you with a chuckle, finding you absolutely adorable right now. You turned on the nightstand lamp that cast a warm, yellow glow over the room and hopped on the bed right in front of him, your legs touching.
“Alright, so…” He murmured as you handed him the items that needed figuring out. “Pretty sure the dark slide has to be facing outward.” Your eyes followed his long fingers that pressed the film door latch and inserted the said packet, and then clicked it back into place.
“That’s it?” You asked, barely containing your impatience.
“Looks like it.” He tilted his head up with a smile and returned the polaroid back into your hold. “Knock yourself out.”
Your back straightened as you brought the lens to your eye, assessing the frame, watching how differently lit places of your apartment looked in it. A warm chuckle came from behind you at the sight. “Wait until daylight, the lighting’s just shitty here.” He was convinced that you’d anticipate some nice shots in the woods or something like that. Your mind on the other hand, was wandering in a completely different route.
You turned in his direction, not really listening to his words, too focused on the sight in the viewfinder. Oblivious to being in the center of the frame, Bellamy leaned over to grab a book from the nightstand. The muscles of his bare, freckled back tensed, the covers sliding off his lower stomach. Too pretty not to capture. “Put that damn book down.” The moment his eyes landed on you again, you pressed the shutter, the flash hitting his confused face. You lowered the polaroid, bursting into laughter.
“Couldn’t bother to warn me?” He scoffed, blinking repeatedly.
“Sorry. Needed to immortalize your dumbfounded face.” You replied and put the ejected photo away for the colors to develop.
“Baby, you’re wasting the packs on me. Save ‘em.” He squeezed your thigh as he spoke right before lowering his body down on the mattress with a heavy sigh.
“Shhh...” You smirked and without hesitation crawled up his body, straddling his hips, clumsily wriggling the camera in your raised hand. He immediately reached out to assist you, used to your restless moves. Looking up to you with his dilated brown pupils like a damn puppy. “Stay still.” You murmured. He knew he had to give in now. You felt his chest rumble with laughter underneath you.
“‘Kay. Should I do somethin’ specific? Smile?” He grinned playfully, showing off his teeth and earning a scoff from you.
“Freedom of choice.” You gazed back into the lens, still feeling his hands endlessly kneading on your things. He stopped grinning like an idiot now but the honest smile lines wouldn’t come off his face.
You saw right through him. You noticed how he felt receiving that amount of affection a while ago. And gosh - to say you loved it would be an understatement. You relished in the way his freckled cheeks heated up just a bit, how he’d always try to dismiss how much he enjoyed having you pay attention to him in such a way. Feeling almost foolish to be facing admiration so openly.
“So handsome...” You couldn’t resist the urge to hum the words out loud while your fingers stroked his curls, messy and still damp from the shower.
“Just take the damn photo.” He murmured with a sheepish smirk and pinched your sides to stop you from giving him that torturously disarming look.
“What? Embarrassed much?” The sweet words rolling off your tongue got him good, alongside the way your head gently tilted to the side.
“Remind me again, when did I consent to this?” Well, a sudden, deep kiss planted on his lips turned out to be a fairly satisfying answer. His hands cradled you forcefully, bringing you closer by your backside. Your body practically melted into his, getting warmer with every brush of his heated skin against your own. “Mkay, I think I remember now.”
He barely got to finish the sentence before you rubbed the entirety of your body weight on him and brought him in by the neck to revive the wet kiss you still needed from him. Feeling his bare leg curl up against your own, his fist tugging at your hair… it all made your head spin in ecstasy. Your palms travelled to feel the familiar skin. Not really realizing when the polaroid left your grasp. Your fingers traced the movement of his Adam’s apple. Then they made their way up to feel his sharp jaw that worked so eagerly to satisfy you with the ongoing slow kiss. You were simply drunk on the sight of your pretty, hardworking boy underneath you.
Bellamy’s hands seemed to want to touch you everywhere at once. That’s why the moment they moved to grasp your leg that curled around his waist, they met the plastic of the polaroid that you abandoned somewhere in the sheets. “Baby, watch the camera.” He chuckled and reached out for it with you still in his lap. “Oops.” Your whisper was quickly followed by a pleased groan, dragged from his throat once your teeth clutched his lower lip. His grasp on you tightened at sensation so delectable and provocative.
“You know what shot could be real nice?” He sighed pulling your face just a tiny bit away, stroking your hair back in the process. “One with some marks from your pretty mouth on my neck. Or anywhere you’d like. That work for you, sweetheart?”
“I do see the vision.” You replied with your stomach already twisting in excitement.
“Good. We workin’ real good on this photography thing together.” Oh, you definitely agreed. Your response was immediate - your teeth sank deep between the freckles dusted over his skin. You got real comfortable sitting on his stomach, and in that position you began to taste - dragging your mouth from the hinge of his jaw, the spot that always made his head throw back. His neck, fully revealed and all yours to enjoy, looked so edible. With a satisfied sigh, your mouth wandered there, sucking as forcefully as it could. After all, the hickeys had to be visible and clear for the upcoming photography!
“Oh baby…you’re the sweetest.” The faint groans slipping through his parted lips only kept encouraging you. The wet sounds of your eager lips moved to his collarbone now. But that wasn’t enough either. His large arms were still untouched, and you couldn’t let that be. In awe, Bellamy watched your tongue carefully making its way to his bicep. Slowly, you inflicted the sweetest pain again. And again when you moved on to his other arm.
Your face then ducked down to his abs. The trail of nibbles was quickly but surely left there as well, making him hiss. He lazily brought his hand down to stroke your head when you licked over places where you almost drew blood. His stomach was so soft, so warm - you would be sick if you didn’t just nuzzle against it like a cat.
Once the amount of marks seemed like enough, you proudly pulled your head back up and admired your opus.
“You done, pretty?” He asked. His chest rose and fell, steady and deep. His gaze on you was worshipful.
“Mhm.” You nodded while your sore lips curled into a little smile. After a moment of quietly relishing the intimacy of the scene, you leaned over to finally grab the polaroid. When your body hovered over him, stretching to reach it, he steadied you by your hips and leaned in to press his lips against your torso.
You maneuvered yourself to get the best possible frame, wriggling on his lap. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of the bulge in his boxers, leaned back and stared into the viewfinder.
Bringing one hand up to his face, you tilted it to the side, showing off more hickeys. You let your fingers linger on his jaw, then let your thumb move closer to his mouth. Into his mouth.
Your chuckle merged with the sound of the click and the whirr of the photo sliding out. 
if anyone were to walk into bellamy blake’s tent, the image before them would appear innocent - a messy haired boy curled up with his girlfriend, his arm drawn across your waist. what they wouldn’t see is his cock stuffed deep into your cunt beneath the covers, still as a statue. the hand so ‘eloquently’ around your waist is instead dipping to rub tight circles against your clit whilst he tells you that he’ll only move when you’ve already come once.
bellamy blake, who tries his damn hardest to keep to his word, to prevent himself from driving into the girl before him with a pace so bruising you’d fear he might pierce through your tummy. every soft mewl you let out fuels the fire burning in his core to take you, to claim you, to fuck you until all you know is his name and the shape of his cock inside of you.
his patience is thin, and bellamy blake has never been one to hold back. he moves his fingers hastily until your jaw is dropping in a near silent screech, the digits of his free hand stuffing deep into the warm crevice of your mouth to silence you. he doesn’t want anyone else hearing how you writhe for him, and only him.
all bellamy blake knows by now is how to please you, to make it known that if you ever leave, nobody will bring you to the heights he does. nobody would position themselves behind you and imprint their cock quite so deep within you, deeming a thrust incomplete if his tip hasn’t smacked against the wall of your womb, if he hasn’t felt your cunt attempt to milk him dry before he’s even sheathed by an inch.
now if someone were to walk into bellamy blake’s tent, they would get a show.
This wasn’t how you expected this to go. One moment you were reading The Odyssey, trying to read something Bellamy liked so you could bond over it, to him eating you out as you read it. You were practically shaking, fingers curled tightly around the book. Every time you stopped reading or stopped answering his questions, he stopped moving.
You gasped, leaning your head back as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to get tighter. “Bellamy,” You whined, your hand leaving the book to card through his dark, messy curls. He stopped, looking up at you with those brown eyes that were blown out with lust.
“Keep going, what does Athena do?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your clit. You were choking, there was no way in hell you’d manage to keep going. But the only way to get what you wanted was to keep reading to him. Your hand left his hair, opening the book again.
“She-oh my gosh,” You shuttered as you began to answer. “Into a beggar, she disguised him as beggar!” You rushed out, back arching as he began to give you that pleasure again.
“Turned who into a beggar?” He asked, mouth never leaving your mound. The vibrations of his voice made you forget the question for a moment, an almost pornographic moan leaving your mouth at the feeling. You took a deep breath, trying to speak.
“Odysseus.”
“Why’d she do it?” He asked, his hands keeping your thighs spread open as he continued his attack on your cunt. You would’ve have assumed he hadn’t eaten in days with how he was lapping at you.
“The suitors,” You began, moaning out. You dropped the book, hands flying to his head. Your fingers pulled on his curls, a low hum coming from him. You knew you had to finish. “So the suitors didn’t recognize him and kill him!” You said through your teeth.
Yeah, you gave up. You were coming whether the question was finished or not. “Bellamy!” You called out his name. It wasn’t permission nor a question, it was letting him know how your body was reacting to him. You came on his tongue, body shaking as you did so.
He slowed down, allowing you to ride out your orgasm as you shuttered in his grasp. You were breathing heavily as he continued again. You whined, grabbing at his hair. “Did they recognize him?” Bellamy asked, looking up at you from your legs.
You hadn’t gotten to that part yet. “I don’t know.” You spoke, your hips bucked towards him as he stopped.
“Well,” He began, reaching over for the book. “Let’s find out. Keep reading.” He tells you as you opened the book again. It would be a while until you found out they did—but only when Odysseus was able to string the bow.
Telling remus “you could have been nicer to me” and he gets so offended and pouty
fem, 0.9k
“Oh, handsome?”
Remus stiffens a little at your tone. He knows you well, but not well enough to know feigned hesitance from real. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
He sits at the top of his bed, where you often like to be, shirtless in a strange turn but still wearing socks and pants. His torso is pale, dotted in freckles at the chest most of all, though there are a few darker ones along his shoulders. His fairer skin paired with the lighter tones of his hair, curling impishly behind his ears. The book he’s reading gets hugged to his tummy as he waits.
You wonder how best to wind him up without giving it away.
“Can we– talk?”
He is palpably unhappy with your question. You cannot wait to see how annoyed he gets when he realises it’s all a fakeout.
“Yeah, of course we can.” Remus stares at you. “Come and sit, then.”
You sit sideways on the bed, keeping your eyes on his leg so as not to give up the game. “I’m nervous.”
He softens, some. “Well don’t be, chick, just tell me what’s going on.”
Chick is a strange one. He uses it when you’re acting small. Like he’s further apart from you than he means to be, or like he’s- it’s almost protective. Reassuringly, ever so slightly patronising, without any of the associated condescension.
“I was thinking a bit about today.”
“Yeah?”
“And there’s…” You press your knee to his gently, without meaning to. “There were a couple of things that stood out to me, and I don’t want to be a priss, but I just think you could’ve been nicer to me. That’s all.”
Remus, to his credit, looks more worried than annoyed. “What things, dovey?”
“That’s not important.”
When Remus frowns it changes his face. He is almost Cabanel, a fallen angel full of growing contempt. “Right, but if I don’t know what I did, how can I–”
“It was less about the specifics. I just– I think you could’ve been nicer.”
“Right. Again, though, I don’t really know what I’ve done wrong. I actually thought I was well-behaved today. I didn't even complain when you said that man on the telly was handsome, when I really could have, and I–”
You can see him restrain himself from starting a tally, which is mature. If he were there sitting beside you saying such a thing when your relationship is as healthy as it’s ever been, you might feel some resistance, too. Remus had woken you up gently, kissed you sweetly. He’d made your breakfast and done the washing and helped you when you couldn’t dust the eaves by taking the chore from you completely. He is a good boyfriend. He’s a good man, actually. Very hardworking, and generous in love.
You feel actually embarrassed for such a silly joke, which lends itself to your acted-shame. “Sorry,” you say, ducking your head. “I’s stupid.”
There’s a small silence. A hand with freckles on the knuckles takes your hand on your knee, cradling it gingerly.
“It’s not stupid. But I can’t understand if you can’t point things out to me. I am… sorry, though, that I made you feel like this. It wasn’t what I was trying to do, but I’ve done it, and you don’t deserve to feel like that.” He draws all of your fingers together like he’s collecting them under his thumb and squeezes. “Can you forgive me?”
“Are you teasing me?” you ask.
Remus’ voice lowers a shade. “No, dove. Not teasing you, how could I? Don’t like seeing you upset like this.”
Coming clean isn’t as fun when he’s being sincere, but what could you expect?
“Remus, I am very very sorry, but I’m just pulling your leg.” You lift his hand to your cheek and rub his knuckles against the finest of hairs that flock the side of your face. His eyes have gone very dark, his mouth pressed in tight line. “I have tricked you. You are, genuinely, always quite nice to me.”
“Not anymore,” he says decidedly, pulling his hand from your grasp to cross it over his chest. “Sofa. And I’m not kissing you goodnight, so have that.”
“Fuck off,” you laugh.
“I’m dead serious. See how nice I am now?” Remus grins. “Best pack yourself a few pillows, though, that sofa’s murder on the coccyx.”
You laugh under your breath, slinking across the top of the bed to lay yourself over his chest and shoulders. Nosing at his naked collar, you smother anymore laughter, worried and then relieved when he refuses to hug you for a bloated two seconds.
“You’re a nuisance,” he says.
“Thank you for saying sorry, even though you didn’t know what I was talking about.” Your top lip kisses his neck. You screw your face sideways to be closer, forehead tickled by his soft curls. “You don’t have to apologise, though, you could have argued with me. I was trying to wind you up.”
Remus’ arms are like cords around you. You worm your way into his lap, just ecstatic to be loved and to have tricked him. He even laughs by your ear.
Summary: Christmas (FINALLY) has arrived! What better way to spend the day full of cheer than with your family (and the boy you previously didn't really care for until just a few days prior). It'd be better if you could spend it in Boston as well...
Part 7 of 10 (Masterlist)
Warnings: Making out, swearing, talk of sex, and jokes about pimping out one's father.
Heyyyyyyy, what's uppppp, it's meeeeee. So...okay, long story short, I got back from strudying abroad and have been using this summer to just readjust to America (it's been rough, low key). So I just want to apologize for the long wait, and I hope this chapter is worth it. Also, because the main characters in this story (reader and Angus) are minors, I WILL NOT be adding smut. Still, thank you guys so much for your patience!
Word Count: 6.4k
You thought you slept in at first, until you glanced at the clock on the nightstand and read ‘7:30am’. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your face when the realization hit you: It was Christmas!
That’s what caused you to leap out of your bed and immediately look under it, pulling out the three horribly wrapped gifts in newspapers tied with a twine ribbon. Before you could do anything else, a light knock on the doorway made you flinch.
“Yeah?” You whispered.
“Are you decent?”
Giggling at Angus’ use of your words from last night, you said. “Not really, I’m still in my pajamas.”
“Get dressed, I wanna show you something.”
You snorted. “You’re not gonna kill me or something, are you?”
“No, but on an unrelated note, we’re going off campus.”
“Wait,” your face dropped. “seriously?”
He snickered. “No. It’s just in the theater.”
You shook your head. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the hall.”
His footsteps echoed outside, and you decided to give him his gift early. After changing into a long-sleeved shirt and pants, then your socks and boots, you slipped out of the door whilst hiding the present behind your back.
“What’s behind your back?” Angus immediately asked once he saw you.
“Merry Christmas to you too.” You teased. “It’s nothing.”
“Amy…”
Sighing overdramatically, you held out the gift. His eyes grew to the size of the moon (both things that you still think are beautiful) as he took it from you. “I…what is this?”
“Well,” you shrugged. “it’s a present, but you kind of have to open it to-.”
“-No, I mean…I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay, I don’t want anything.”
“Hey-.”
“-Ordinary people say ‘thank you’ and open the damn thing.” You smirked.
He mirrored your expression before tearing the newspapers. It was almost funny to you how Angus Tully looked as if his breath was stolen from his lungs just at the sight of Little Women in his hands.
“This is yours.”
“Well, it’s yours now. That’s kind of how gifts work.”
“It’s your favorite though.”
“Who told you it’s my favorite?” You tilted your head, as if challenging him.
You’d never seen a face whiter than the snow outside. “I-I, um, shit.”
“No,” you shook your head. “you’re telling me you kiss me so hard my lips turned blue in the kitchen-!”
“-Hey, hey! Shut up!” He tried to be serious but only ended up laughing.
“But you can’t remember what my favorite book is?!”
Taking a deep breath, Angus then said. “I’m sorry, okay?”
A smile pulled onto your lips. “Yeah, I’m just messing with you.”
“You’re horrible.”
“Thank you.” A giggle fell from you. “Oh god, I hope my dad didn’t hear that.”
“I checked his bed, he’s out somewhere.”
“Alright,” you shrugged. “escort me to the theater then.”
He grinned from ear to ear as he led you through the halls. Unashamedly, you were a bit disappointed; you wished he’d taken your hand. Still, despite the sun being out, to your knowledge, you were the only two people awake. You wouldn’t blame Mary for sleeping in, and it was Christmas, no way Danny would waste his time with you three; that man had family in Worcester.
When you and Angus made it to the theater, you both walked up the steps to the stage and after he set the book down on the floor, he leaned against the piano.
You crossed your arms, smirking. “Mr. Tully, you better not serenade me.”
“I’m not singing.” He tried not to smile.
“So, there is a God.”
“Quit it.” He snickered. “Sit down, I’m gonna teach you how to play the piano.”
Raising your brow, you said. “You told me you hadn’t played since you were ten.”
“I hadn’t taken lessons since I was ten. We have a piano back at home, so I still play sometimes.”
“Never here?”
“Never here. Come on.” he tilted his head to the bench.
Rolling your eyes, you sat down, placing your hands on the keys. Angus came to stand beside you. “Okay, you know the alphabet?”
“What the hell is that?”
“Perfect.” He scoffed, then pointed to the white keys. “So, you only have to know ‘A’ to ‘G’. If this,” he pressed the white key in the middle of the piano between two black keys. “is ‘D’, then what is this?” He hovered his finger above the white key to the right of it.
“E.” You said simply. “I do know that this ‘B’ key is out of tuned though.”
You reached over his arm and played the ‘C’ an octave above, bringing your face just a little closer to his. He smiled. “Okay smartass, you do know what the alphabet it.”
“Yeah, I just don’t know how to play anything, that’s all.”
Angus took your right hand in his hand (fucking finally), and brought your fingers to play the ‘E’ and ‘D#’ a few times before then ‘B’, ‘D’, ‘C’, and ‘A’.
“Know that one?” He asked.
“‘Fur Elise’.” You grinned at the name. “And you’re sure you wish I was your first kiss?”
He answered plain and simple. “I’m sure.”
“Okay,” you decided to keep toying with him. “what comes next? And I’m pretty sure I have to use my other hand at some point.”
You expected a retort from him, but he only went behind you and grabbed your left hand. Gently, he pressed his fingers over yours, and guided you to slowly play the piece by Beethoven. It was peaceful to say the least; well, as peaceful as it could be while your heart was trying to beat itself out of your chest.
As his chest hovered against your back, you decided to soothe your own worries.
“Son of a bitch, you just wanted to hold my hand!” You teased.
The music stopped as he pressed his face against your shoulder while laughing. It should’ve made you uneasy how just at ease he was around you; but perhaps you both had already acted like this before you kissed. Perhaps, with only being around him for a week, you had come to know him as a close friend (even with how much you loathed him at first).
He took his head off your shoulder and looked at you, his nose practically against yours. “And what if I did?”
This was the part where you were supposed to say something smart in return and make him feel just a bit stupid. But…were his eyes always that brown and beautiful?
You were just a girl; no one should blame you for immediately throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him.
Luckily, unlike the night before, he was less surprised this time. His arms were around your waist, and whether he meant to or not, he pulled you down to the floor with him when his own legs gave out.
Still, even though the sudden shift of your body caused you to squeak out in surprise, your lips didn’t leave his as your hands soon carded through his hair, and his moved further down your hips.
“I don’t want to do anything more,” you said quickly between kisses. “I don’t want to do anything more!”
His lips moved down to your neck, one of his hands came back up to cradle your jaw tenderly. “Me neither.”
“Okay.” You answered, your voice slightly pitched as he kissed your neck. Angus laid you down as softly as he could on the stage and hovered above you; his kisses never leaving your skin. His hand found yours and held it above your head as he brought his lips back up to yours. Even with it being clumsy, nothing in your whole life had felt so…good.
You wondered just how anyone on earth could get anything done after being kissed like this for the first time.
Perhaps it is because they hear their father calling their name.
At the sound of your father’s voice echoing through the halls, you and Angus froze. With one look, you both immediately pulled away, and he got off you, sitting on the piano bench and putting his hands on the keys.
It was quite comedic how that was the first time you heard him play; and he was quite good at it.
Luckily, you managed to get up and lean against the piano the moment the door to the auditorium opened and soon slammed shut. Angus stopped playing, and you both looked up and saw your father, huffing as if to catch his breath from running around everywhere.
“Merry Christmas.” Were his first words, and after both you and Angus repeated his sentiment, he then asked. “Where the hell have you been?”
You shrugged. “Just here.”
His eyes traveled to you and then to Angus, who, like any nervous teen boy who’d nearly been caught after making out with the teacher’s daughter, waved. Your father simply nodded. “Well, come on. I have something to show you two.”
He left through the doors he came in, and after you and Angus glanced at each other, you both followed; Angus picking up the book of course. Your father took you both to the dining hall where Mary had been waiting, and proudly presented a frankly shabby Christmas tree with some wrapped gifts to you.
“No ornaments?” Angus asked.
“Oh,” your father sighed. “I’m sure we can round up some ornaments somewhere. Uh, now.” He picked up one of the gifts, handing it to Angus. “This is for you.”
The boy glanced up at him as if he handed him the best thing he could receive that day (next to your copy of Little Women of course). He tore it open, and it was revealed to be another book.
“‘Meditations.’” Your father read the title. “by Marcus Aurelius. For my money, it’s like the Bible, the Koran and the Bhagavad Gita all rolled up into one. And the best part is not one mention of God.”
Mary huffed, obviously not a fan.
“And this,” he handed her the other package under the tree. “is for you.”
She opened it, revealing another book of ‘Meditations’. “So, you just give this to everyone?”
“And.” He gave her the other gift under the tree; that being a horribly wrapped bottle of whiskey.
That got her to smile wide as she took it. Your father, grabbing the final package under the tree, then handed it to you. “Yes, it’s a book, no, it’s not ‘Meditations’.”
Smiling, you unwrapped it and stood absolutely still in shock before exploding into a cheer. “Where did you get this?! I couldn’t find even in Boston!”
“The day trip we took to New York for Thanksgiving? Found it while you wandered off in the bookstore.” He joked.
Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried.
“What is it?” Angus asked, looking over your shoulder.
“Maria,” you answered. “by Mary Wollstonecraft. She’s Mary Shelley’s mom.”
“Like, Frankenstein Mary Shelley?”
Oh, how much you wanted to kiss him just because he knew the author of a popular book. Still, you didn’t know how many men even knew a woman wrote one of the most iconic stories of all time. Still, your father and closest woman you had to a mother in years were watching you, so you settled on shoving him.
“That’s right; maybe you’re not that stupid.” Before he could verbally respond, you were almost out the door. “I got something for you guys, be right back!”
You felt like a little girl again as you ran through the halls and up the stairs into the infirmary room before taking the shittly wrapped presents off your bed. You slid down the main staircase railing before barging back into the dining hall where it looked like barely anything had changed.
“What was my time?” You asked your father, a huge smile on your face.
He gave a look. “You didn’t ask us to time you.”
“Happy Christmas.” You handed him his gift, then repeated the same action and sentiment to Mary.
Your father was the first one to open his, and a pleasant smile spread upon his face while holding it up to you; a coloring book of ancient Rome.
“How’d you know I wanted this?” He joked. He had perhaps almost every single book on Roman history, so you had to get creative.
You shrugged. “Oh, you wouldn’t stop talking about it, remember?”
Mary opened hers next, grinning from ear to ear once it was unwrapped. A pink pocket-sized prayer book. “How’d you know I lost mine?”
“Because you told me.”
She hugged you, pinching your cheek when she pulled away. “You’re an angel.”
“Oh, Angus,” Your father took the forgotten envelope out from under the tree, handing it to the boy beside you. “this came in the mail for you.”
He opened it, and glancing over his arm, you saw cash stuffed inside of the card with “Greetings of the Season and Best Wishes for a Happy New Year” printed inside, with the only written words being: “Love, Mom and Stanley.” Not any personalized notes or words of adoration anywhere to be found.
You wanted to squeeze his hand, give him any traditional sense of comfort; yet you weren’t ready to explain to your father and mother figure about the both of you…you weren’t dating, but you were something. So, instead, you merely pushed yourself against his side and acted annoying.
“Fuck, you’re loaded.” Mary scoldingly said your name, but you continued. “Well, he is! Yeesh, you should be paying off my father’s retirement if you hate him that much.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Emma Woodhouse.” You father rolled his eyes.
Angus, fortunately, snorted. “I’ll think about it.”
“Alright,” Mary placed her hands on her hips. “now who’s hungry?”
As usual, the four of you had a lovely breakfast; although, this time, per Christmas tradition, you each had a little piece of chocolate with your pancakes she made. When helping her with the dishes, you saw that only one Christmas cookie you left out the night prior had remained.
When the dishes were done, you and Mary pulled the men into the teacher’s lounge.
“So why are we being held against out will?” Angus joked.
Your father sighed. “It’s almost ten-thirty.”
“And?”
“Charlie Brown!” You cheered, plopping yourself down on the carpet in front of the TV to turn it on.
“It’s the one tradition we have each Christmas,” your father explained and lowered his voice to Angus and Mary. “and one I wouldn’t mind getting rid of.”
“If you want to go drink alone while reading Agatha Christie, go ahead.” You announced, not turning to look at him as you flipped through the channels.
Mary and Angus merely laughed, and you proudly sat down on the couch. Your father mumbled incoherently, but before he could take a seat beside you, Mary grabbed his arm.
“Now, now, come help me make popcorn for the movie.”
Sighing, he let her lead him out of the teacher’s lounge and into the kitchen. Angus soon sat where your father would’ve if not for Mary. You smiled.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” He grinned, and there was silence (as always) between the two of you. One that was broken with. “Thank you.”
You tilted your head. “What for?”
“Just…” He laughed. “for liking me I guess. Also, for what you said about the stupid card and everything.”
Smiling, you glanced up to see if your father and Mary were close by. When you determined they weren’t, you took his face into your hands and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“You don’t have to thank me for that, dumbass.” You pulled away, looking back at the movie as little children start to sing Christmas Time is Here. “Just don’t bitch for the rest of the day.”
He snorted. “I’ll try my best.”
And he did. The four of you watched the movie, and after that, you and Angus went back up to the infirmary and spent the rest of the afternoon reading. Definitely not kissing at all; for sure not.
When you weren’t reading, you were either talking about stupid shit-.
“I thought I heard somewhere that plants can feel pain, do you think that’s true?” You asked, looking up at him while you laid at the end of his bed, your feet by his head.
“…I just want to thank you for letting me peek inside your mind and to see how weird it is.”
Or, surprisingly emotional conversations.
Angus nodded as he laid on the bed, you at his side. “Yeah, I mean…I had a good childhood, it just felt…weird sometimes.”
“I get it.” You rested your head on his shoulder as you both stared at the ceiling.
Still, it was perhaps the longest and most intimate interaction you ever had with a person up until then. How strange it was with a boy you hated only days ago.
Hours later, Mary called you both down for supper (luckily what was reheated from the previous night), and despite there only being four of you, you felt less lonely than when you had at the party. You sat beside Mary, not minding when the smoke of her cigarette tickled your nose.
“Thank you Mary,” your father smiled at her once he was finished. “that was just lovely.”
“Oh, is that an actual compliment?” You never heard Mary sound so surprised. He sighed heavily, and you didn’t bother holding back your laughter.
Angus set down his silverware. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a real family Christmas like this. Christmas dinner, I mean, family style, out of the oven, all the trimmings. My mom always just orders in from Delmonico’s.”
Mary nodded. “She’s got the right idea. Next year, I’m ordering from Delmonico’s.”
“Anyway, thank you, Mary.”
She winked at him, then turned to you. “Well? You got something to say?”
You squinted your eyes mid-chew. After swallowing, you replied with. “The meat’s a bit raw, don’t you think?”
“Oh, none of that today!” She scolded you as everyone else giggled. “Ungrateful child on Christmas.”
“It’s great, Mary.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Your father rose a glass. “I’d like to propose a toast. To my two unlikely companions on this snowy island, to my lovely daughter, and to our absent friends and family.” There was a pause much obviously for your mother and Curtis as if they were at the table with you. “I realize that none of us is here because he or she wants to be, so if there’s anything I can do to make the holidays a little cheerier for any of you, just say the word.”
“Copenhagen.” You didn’t miss a beat.
“Try again next year, Josephine.”
Angus shrugged. “Boston.”
“Boston?” Your father wrinkled his nose. “Why?”
“Why not? I want a real Christmas. I want to go ice skating. I want to see a real Christmas tree with ornaments, not that stupid thing.”
That was what you couldn’t take (as a joke, obviously). “How dare you. You put some respect on that tree my father grew with his blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids.”
Whilst the adults groaned your name in disgust, Angus stared down at his plate, his body trembling with repressed laughter.
“You both said it was nice.” Your father reencountered.
“It is nice.” Mary defended.
Angus, after recovering from his amusement, continued. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s have a real holiday.”
Your father huffed. “We’re not going to Boston. It’s out of the question.”
“You just told the kids ‘anything’. So, if Copenhagen doesn’t work, then why not Boston?” Mary argued.
“Mary, we’re not allowed to leave campus or the immediate environs.”
Well, it was your moment to shine. Now, here’s the trick: Usually, the ‘puppy dog eyes’ only work on parents from the ages of birth to nine. Sometimes, but not in your case, it can go on longer into the early 30s (that is, if your parents are total pushovers, or you’re a master manipulator). So, what do you do instead? Well, if it’s with your father, you do this:
Glance at him one last time as if to make a final plea, but then act as if you already know the answer and look down as if you’re trying not to show your sadness. You cannot be angry at all, just sad and disappointed so that he can assume you’re judging all of his life choices that he had made previously to lead him to this.
…It’s not easy, but it certainly gets you what you want (…there was like a 76% success rate last time you calculated it).
“But,” your father sighed upon looking at you and Angus. “I suppose we could call it a field trip. A field trip would fall under the ambit of additional academic pursuits. There’s even a fund set aside for additional academic pursuits.”
Despite him looking annoyed, you had a feeling deep down, he wouldn’t mind getting out of Barton. Angus gleefully rose out of his chair.
“I’ll go pack!”
You knew you couldn’t chase after him excitedly, so instead, you focused on your father.
“Now wait a minute,” you scowled. “so you not only listened but also let him persuade you into having us go to Boston, but you didn’t even bother with Copenhagen? That’s really sexist of you.”
He sighed, exhaustedly saying your name. “You’re a smart girl, so you should know that there’s a difference between a ten-hour flight across the world, and a-!” Of course he stopped when he saw your shit eating grin. “…and you’re a smart girl because you played me like a fiddle.”
Grinning from ear to ear, you got up from your seat and wrapped your arms around him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you, papa!”
He waved you off with a smile as you gathered up your dishes and glass, then went into the kitchen and placing them in the sink. You dashed up the stairs to the infirmary, to which you were greeted by Angus’ arms entrapping you.
Laughing, you reciprocated. “Why’re you like this?”
“I’m just happy, is that so shocking?”
“Yes.”
He pulled away only to then cup your cheeks in his hands and bring your lips to his. You sigh into his mouth, kissing him back.
“Does it ever stop?” You asked between kisses.
“What?” He led you to lie on the bed.
“You kissing me all the time."
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.” You meekly threatened, pulling him back down.
Neither of you started packing for another fifteen minutes; not until you heard your father’s footsteps in the hallway.
You surprised yourself by how well you slept that night. Usually, before an exciting day, you are restless. Yet, you actually jumped out of bed to get ready once your father came in to wake you up.
After a quick breakfast and an hour of waiting, the four of you were in the car on the way to Boston. A curse that you never thought possible is that you could not read in the car without throwing up; so, that forced Angus to read aloud (something that wasn’t a curse).
“‘That boy is a perfect Cyclops, isn’t he?’ said Amy.”
“That’s not what Amy sounds like.” You said matter of factly, laying almost flat in the backseat.
Angus sighed. “Well, she does today.”
“Mr. Tully,” your father looked in the rearview mirror. “is she implying that Amy usually sounds different?”
You grinned. “Yes I am.”
“Oh?” Mary arched her brow in interest.
“I’m not doing a voice.” Angus immediately retaliated.
Sighing dramatically, you stuck your bottom lip out. “Just this one line? Please?”
He stared at you as if you had him under a spell; either that, or your face was a monstrosity so terrible he couldn’t look away. It’s nice to think the first one. So, breathing heavily through his nose, he pitched his voice up.
“‘That boy ith a perfect thyclops, ithn’t he?’ said Amy.”
Needless to say, the car erupted into laughter.
You can’t quite remember what else was discussed between the four of you on that long drive. All you can recall is that you never once felt sorrow or pain from your mother’s absence. It was…lovely actually.
Soon, the car stopped outside Peggy Lamb’s triple decker apartment in Roxbury neighborhood. You hadn’t been there since you were thirteen for Thanksgiving. When, after your mother passed, Mary and Curtis invited both you and your father to dinner for the holiday. Then, just all of a sudden (much like Miss Crane’s Christmas parties), you stopped going.
“Here we are.” Mary announced.
“That’s an awful lot of stairs…” Your father trailed off.
“Probably icy too…”
Nope, not going to give your kissing buddy (what was Angus Tully to you? What were you to him?) a clue.
“Mr. Tully.”
“Right.” He nodded once he finally took the hint from your dad. He smiled. “Mary, can I help you with your bags?”
“Yes, please.” She smiled, and Angus got out of the car.
You leaned against Mary’s seat. “Mary, may I help you with your bags.”
“You may.”
You heard your father prod at just why you would want to go into the cold air and help Angus carry the bags but paid him no mind. You did though when it was Angus who asked.
“What’re you doing out here?” He popped the trunk.
“Mary asked me to help too.” You pulled out the large suitcase with all your strength. “She knew your noodle arms couldn’t handle it all.”
Scoffing, he took the hatbox and closed the trunk. “Seems like you’re handling it perfectly.”
“Of course, I am.” You did your best to hide the ache in your arms already forming as you led the way.
Mary, with her window rolled down, stopped you at the foot of the stairs. “Hey, why’s she carrying the suitcase?”
“She said she could handle it.” Angus replied.
“That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”
“Yeah, Angus.” You taunted as if him only carrying the box was his idea.
This was certainly not the first nor the last time you’d make his jaw drop from your wittiness. Sighing, he held out his hand for the suitcase, and you traded it for the hatbox.
“And be careful with the box,” Mary called your name. “Knowing you, you’ll drop it.”
You just stuck your tongue out playfully and continued up the stairs, Angus lugging the suitcase. “What do you think she packed in here, rocks?”
“I’d tell you, but you’d make a joke about how much women need to pack even though ‘We’re only here for a few days’.” You said in an accent that any man with low self-esteem would deem offensive.
He scoffed, stopping on the first floor. “Yeah, maybe.”
You tutted. “Ah, ah, ah, one more floor up.”
“What?”
“Peggy lives on the top floor.”
Angus sighed all the air that was left in his body before taking a deep breath. “I should’ve let you carry the damn bag.”
“But ya didn’t.” You smirked, leading him, once again, up the stairs.
When you both finally got to the top, you didn’t even need to knock on the door before Peggy and her husband came out to greet you.
“Oh, my goodness!” Peggy wrapped her arms around you once you set the box down. “It’s been too long.”
You laughed, hugging her back. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
She pulled away, but still holding your arms. “Never apologize, honey. And who’s this with you?”
Obviously, she was looking at the scraggly, 6’1 white boy behind you. Still, smiling, you introduced him.
“Angus; he goes to school at Barton and has been spending the holidays with us.”
“Aw,” Peggy shook his hand. “it’s nice to meet you.”
He nodded, grinning. “Nice to meet you too.”
“So,” she looked at you. “where’s that sister of mine?”
You tilted your head over ledge, and she and her husband walked over, waving and calling Mary’s name. Peggy turned back to you.
“Well, it’s been great seeing you again. If you ever need anything, you’re always welcome here.”
You nodded, smiling unwavering. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a Happy New Year.”
She repeated the pleasantries and hugged you one final time before you and Angus started descending the stairs. When you passed by Mary, wishing her goodbye, she stopped you.
“Not yet, now you’ve gotta help me up there.”
“Oh yeah,” Angus offered her his arm. “sure thing.”
You resisted. “I already said hi to Peggy, am I excused?”
“I guess so.” She sighed as if you annoyed her.
Happy with her answer, you hugged her tightly and rushed into the front seat of the car, enjoying the warmth. In the corner of your eye, you saw your father arch his.
“You and Mr. Tully seem to be getting along finally.”
Glancing over, you nodded. “Yeah. He’s still a bit of an ass, but he’s not so bad.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Time.” You shrugged, hoping your years of (somewhat) lying paid off. “I guess forcing us together for a week in the cold really helps.”
He hummed, turning back to look at the front as if there was anything eye-catching about the road. Thankfully, it didn’t take Angus that long to walk Mary up the stairs, and he was soon in the back of the car.
Your father drove into the city centre of Boston, and parked outside of the hotel you three would be staying at. Of course, you had a room all to yourself (although, you only had a single bed and not a twin, but you were happy nonetheless).
After twenty minutes of getting situated, the three of you went out to explore the city (a city the three of you had been to multiple times but was still just as beautiful as the first day you saw it). You went through more parks you could count, streets that almost all looked the same but still something unique about each of them; it was just nice enough to walk and talk with your companions.
“Alright,” your father lit his pipe after the three of you had lunch. “it’s about one-thirty right now, what’s one thing everyone want to do today?”
“I have two things.” You said.
“One for now, Josephine.”
“Brattle’s Books.”
“Very good, even though you already have too many. Mr. Tully, what about you?”
He shrugged. “Just ice skating, honestly.”
“Wow.” your father released his breath. “I must say, I am impressed with how simple both your suggestions are.”
“What do you wanna do?” You asked.
“The Museum of Fine Arts, of course.” He began walking. You and Angus sighed as if it was the worst convenience in the world. Your father defended. “Oh, quit your bellyaching, both of you! This is still technically a field trip. Okay, what’s the second thing you want to do?” He asked you.
“A milkshake and fries.”
“That’s it?” He wrinkled his nose. “That disgusting concoction, is it?”
“Yes, and it’s not disgusting, you’re just a picky eater.”
Angus chimed in. “It doesn’t sound that appealing.”
“Who asked you?” You questioned.
Your argument ended there as the three of you made the journey to Brattle’s Book Store. Just as you did in the car, you talked about nothing and everything at the same time; perhaps that’s why those little moments of transitioning matter the most to you.
When you made it to Brattle’s, you spent a little time inside the actual store, but more of it outside in the large empty space between the two buildings. It was like it was another floor on the old bookstore, several upon several shelves hugging the walls, and smaller ones creating aisles on the floor.
You primarily were by yourself, keeping a mental list of more books to buy for later, and lose yourself quickly in between the pages and old smell of them. You hadn’t even noticed it’d begun to snow until Angus was beside you.
“So, you’re telling me it couldn’t have snowed all the times we were indoors?” He joked.
You looked up. “Of course not, God’s angry at us.”
“Why?”
Smirking, you nudged him. “Kissing outside of wedlock.”
“The worst of all sins.” He played along.
“Above heresy, even.”
“Hi there handsome,” a woman’s voice penetrated the air. “got a cigarette?”
Neither of you wanted to turn around to see who she was talking to (or acknowledge her if she was talking to Angus). So, communicating with just one look, you stayed put.
“No, sorry. I smoke a pipe.”
Well, so much for staying still. At the sound of your father’s answer, both you and Angus turned slowly. A woman with red hair tied up in a messy bun wearing the ugliest shade of yellow and a raggedy fur coat graced your presence.
“How about a date, then?” She tried again. “You want a date?”
“No thank you.” He took the pipe out, smiling nervously.
“Oh, come on, let’s go somewhere warm!”
“Go ahead.” Angus teased. “We can wait here.”
Jaw on the floor, you couldn’t even say anything at first.
“See?” The woman stuck her hands in her pockets. “They can wait here, read some books. They don’t mind if daddy gets a little candy cane.”
“Thank you, but I never really liked candy canes.” Your father picked up a book. “Plus, I’m prediabetic.”
She scowled, and turned over her shoulder, leaving. Angus leaned over the bookshelf in between the two of you and your father.
“You know, if you do want a little candy cane, I won’t tell anyone.”
You swatted him, finally. “Stop trying to pimp out my father, you…you…”
“What?” He grinned from ear to ear. “What am I?”
“Papa, cover your ears.” You looked at him.
“Mister Tully,” he said instead. “for most people, sex is ninety-nine percent friction and one percent good-will. Call me old fashioned, but I place value on physical intimacy, and so should you two.”
“I never-!”
“-You know,” Angus interrupted. “if it wasn’t for your kid in front of me right now, I would’ve thought you never had sex.”
Again, you struck him; this time, enough to leave a bruise.
“Ow!” He cradled his arm.
“You know,” you used his words. “if it wasn’t for your mom sending you to private school, I would’ve thought you were a cheap, common whore.”
Instead of scolding you, your father laughed. It’s not as if he never did, it was always just...a rarity and almost a blessing to hear him be so carefree.
“Mr. Tully, cover my daughter’s ears, would you?”
Angus followed through and you let him.
“Believe it or not,” your father continued. “there was a time when the fire in my loins burned white hot.”
“You’re full of shit.” Angus snickered.
“No, the details would curl your toes.”
“Okay, then let’s hear.”
He shook his head. “Whatever happened between my wife and I is none of your business; especially our daughter’s.”
“She can’t hear anything.”
“Yes, I can.”
His hands left your ears, leading both men to laugh. Nothing more was (thankfully) said about your father and mother’s sex life. It was after another ten minutes outside when your father announced it was time to go; not before having to use the bookstore’s bathroom. So, that left you and Agnus by yourselves for the first time since arriving.
“You’re horrible.” You playfully kicked his feet.
“You hit me!”
“You deserved it. God, you’re such a man.”
He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, with a smile, he reached into his coat pocket and brought something out. In his hands, he held a somewhat worn copy of The Little Prince, and two different colored ribbons.
Freezing where you stood, you could only stare at them. “What’s this?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Looking up at him, your parted lips couldn’t form words to express just the…surprise of it all. So, Angus continued.
“I bought it; the book at least. I found it inside, asked your dad for the money so I could get it for you, and that was it. The-the ribbons, I got one that was your favorite color, but then I remembered my mom would talk about how there’s some colors that look better in a girl’s hair, so I got one I thought-.”
You threw your arms around Angus and held him so close to you people would think you were using him for warmth. He froze at first before immediately melting into your embrace. You brought his face down to yours, kissing the tip of his nose before pulling away and taking the gifts into your hands.
“Holy shit…you’re too sweet.” You giggled, flipping through the book.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you like it?”
“I love it, you idiot.”
“And if you find the book at your house when you go back-.”
“-I’ll keep this one too.” you cut him off. “You’re thoughtful, you know that?”
Angus stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking the snow at his feet. “It’s nothing.”
“Fuck you, it’s everything.”
“Well,” he shrugged, smiling. “since you said it so eloquently.”
You rolled your eyes with a playful grin, then held up the colored ribbon he deemed (and was correct about) would look good in your hair. “Can you put this one on, please?”
“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “sure.”
You handed it to him, turning around. It wasn’t the first time he put his hands in your hair, but this time, with your back to him, it felt strange. Strange in a good way, but perhaps there wasn’t anything sensual about it, it felt that way.
And it was nice.
The feeling of it anyway; other than that, he had no idea what he was doing.
“What do you want it as?” He asked.
“Half-up, half-down.” You took a hair tie off your wrist, holding it our for him.
“What?”
“Like, instead of an actual ponytail, just make the top of my hair one, and leave the rest down.”
You didn’t even have to look at this man to know there was nothing going on inside his head trying to figure out what the hell you just said.
Thankfully, your father came out of the store.
“And what’s going on here?”
Angus looked over his shoulder. “I uh…”
“Step aside please, Mr. Tully.”
He did, and your father snatched the hair tie you were holding. “Half-up, half-down?”
“Yes, please.” You nodded.
“Do you know how to braid hair, Angus?” He asked, tying the hair tie around the ponytail he made.
“No.”
He hummed disapprovingly, sliding the ribbon into the hair tie and beginning to make a bow. “You should; it’s quite an important skill for a man.”
One More Reason to Control Myself {Angus Tully x Reader}
Summary: Angus Tully knows she's hiding something. Why else would she lie about where she was the morning of Christmas Eve?
Part 5 of 10 (Masterlist)
Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, and mention of exploitation of a minor.
We get an Angus POV chapter, motherfuckaas!! I had fun writing from his perspective while also giving him a little more backstory as well. Also, considering I want to try and eliminate the Y/N effect, anytime there's a she or her (italicized) it's you, dear reader. Shoutout to me forgetting there was a character named Danny in the movie, so I have to cover my ass for naming the creep "Daniel". Also, part 2 of an Angus/Reader coded song (what do you mean it breaks my heart? No it doesn't!)
Word Count: 7.1k
“So, why’d you miss supper last night, and why is little miss Jane Bennet missing breakfast now too?”
That was what Mary asked Angus and Paul Hunham at Christmas Eve breakfast. Mr. Hunham glanced around, trying not to show his nerves, but failed. “Oh, we went into town on some uh, school-related business. As for my daughter…I do not know; she wasn’t there when I woke up, have you seen her, Angus?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Mary hummed. The door opened, and in came Danny, the janitor who, even in the below freezing temperatures of winter, somehow almost had a smile on his face. Carrying in a mop and bucket, he greeted. “Good morning, everybody.”
“Good morning,” Mary pointed to the kitchen. “you can go on in and fix yourself a plate.”
He nodded. “I just saw something funny. I walked into the gym, and someone had vomited in there.”
Angus stilled as he drank his orange juice. Mary looked at him and Mr. Hunham, and the two of them looked at each other.
“You don’t say,” it was Paul who spoke first. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Angus answered loosely.
“No, uh, I’ll look into that right away. Thank you.”
Mary raised one of her brows. “I see how it is.”
Danny shook his head, walked over to Angus, and placed the bucket and mop by him before walking away. “You’re out your mind.”
Angus sighed, fiddling with the eggs on his plate. It had been a week of a frozen hell for him (perhaps not so bad…he made a friend. A friend who, despite there being billions of nerves in the body, she still managed to get on every single one of them; yet, he knows he does the same to her). Still, as Christmas Eve was supposed to be a time of excitement for the holidays, Angus Tully felt nothing of the sort.
He had no idea if it was because he was getting older, or because his father wouldn’t be there after Christmas mass, carrying him out of the car when he pretended to fall asleep.
Maybe it’s because he didn’t live in the same house anymore where the Christmases he used to love took place…
Fortunately, his moments of wintertime dread were gone once the doubles doors from the outside were opened. He watched as Mr. Hunham’s daughter entered, pulling off her gloves and unwrapping the scarf that was brought up over her hair and around her neck.
“And where were you?” Mary was the first to interrogate, sitting beside Angus, still smoking her cigarette.
She smiled, approaching the table. “Out.”
“Out where?” Her father then questioned.
Chuckling, the girl pulled out a chair by her father and sat down, taking an orange of the fruit basket, peeling it. “Just on a walk. I gotta clear my head from you people sometimes.”
Mr. Hunham shook his head, not necessarily shocked by her response, but still bewildered. “Clear your-? How long were you out?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I woke up around seven-thirty, read for a bit, then went out. So…maybe eight? Not for long, that’s for sure.”
Angus knew she was lying. He didn’t mean to peek into her room when he woke up (genuinely he didn’t, no matter what anyone says). Even though Mr. Hunham decided not to wake everyone up at the crack of dawn since Angus was the only holdover, the boy’s internal clock wouldn’t let him sleep in. So, the first thing he needed to do was go to the bathroom, and as he passed by the doorway to her room, she wasn’t there.
He didn’t think anything of it until he was eating breakfast at eight-thirty, and he still didn’t see her.
“I see.” Her father furrowed his brow, but then shrugged, going back to lunch. “Well, please at least eat something other than fruit.”
She took the whole bowl. “But it’s the candy of the good ol’ days.”
“And what are the good ol’ days?” Mary huffed,
“Ancient Rome and Greece,” she popped a grape into her mouth. “also when women had less rights than they do now.”
Angus snorted, trying to then cover up his amusement with a cough. He didn’t find women not having rights funny (please believe him), it was just unexpected of her to say. Still, he felt all eyes on him, and refused to meet any of them as he picked up a piece of bacon.
He likes to think Mr. Hunham’s daughter was smiling at him when she stood up. “Fine, I’ll get real food.”
She went to the kitchen to grab a plate, and Mary hummed. “Never thought I’d see that girl ever be happy this early in the morning.”
Angus finally looked up. “She usually isn’t?”
Mary smirked, placing her cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you’d last a day with her if you were both ten.”
There was nothing else to do after Mr. Hunham lectured Angus for an hour about the aqueducts in Rome. What was usually two and a half hours was only one, since the teacher claimed: “I’m feeling a little generous because of the season.”
Not because he wanted to drink alone in Dr. Woodrup’s office reading mystery novels (Don’t be ridiculous).
So, that brought Angus Tully back up to the infirmary, to do what, who fucking knows? He glanced into the other room and saw Mr. Hunham’s daughter laying on the middle bed, reading. When she looked up, sensing his presence, he instinctively hid behind the corner.
“You don’t have to be creepy anymore.” She spoke with the sarcasm he knew so well. “We’re friends, remember?”
Angus, playing it cool, entered the room, leaning against the wall. “Who says I was ever creepy to begin with?”
“I did.” She placed a bookmark in her book before setting it down and sitting up. “And you know, ordinary people just enter a room; they usually don’t bother checking.”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “maybe you’ve convinced me there are ghosts here and I just want to be safe?”
Not because he was hoping she was in her room and had a reason to go talk to her (Don’t be ridiculous).
She rolled her eyes yet smiled anyway. “Took you long enough to figure out I’m always right.”
“I said ‘maybe’. What’re you reading?”
“Just now or in general?”
“Yes.”
She held up The Two Towers. “You ever read Tolkien?”
Angus sat on the spare bed across from her. “I read The Hobbit my freshman year; one of the only books I liked reading in school.”
His eyes fell to the stack of books on her nightstand. Little Women, Sense and Sensibility, Giovanni’s Room, andThe Count of Monte Cristo.
“You’ve read all of these?” He couldn’t help but ask.
“Yeah.” She then pointed to The Count of Monte Cristo on the bottom. “Well, I actually tried to read this one when I was fourteen but got bored with it; I’m trying again.”
“Right after you reread everything else?”
“Shut up.”
She tried to sound serious, but he watched as she turned her head to try and hide her smile. He wasn’t ashamed to show her his. Angus’ eyes went back to the stack of books, and he took out Little Women, flipping to the first page.
“‘Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’ Grumbled Jo.” He read aloud, then looked up from the book. “Now I know why Mr. Hunham calls you that.”
“Are you saying I’m selfish, Fitzwilliam?”
He shook his head, going back to reading. “No, you just complain a lot.”
She scoffed. “Just wait until you meet Amy. I love her, but I’m glad I don’t have sisters.”
Angus’ didn’t respond, his eyes trailing over the words on the pages. He didn’t truly know why he kept reading; whether it was out of boredom, or perhaps he was already hooked on the story, he would never tell.
“Wait,” he heard her. “are you still reading?”
“Damnit, you made me miss my spot.” He glared at her.
She already knew he didn’t mean it (that much). Still, the girl giggled, laying back down on the bed and opening The Two Towers, going back to her own reading. They were like that for ten minutes perhaps? It was a strange time that went by fast and slow. No, Angus Tully wasn’t even doing this to think of what to say to her, he was genuinely engrossed by Louisa May Alcott.
Then, it was when he was more than half-way done with the first chapter, that he asked. “Where were you this morning?”
She looked over at him. “I’m guessing you hate the book?”
“Don’t change the subject.” He sat up. “And no, it’s actually tolerable.”
“Tolerable for it being written by a woman?” She sat up as well. “And for your information, I just went to the woods. What, were you worried about me or something?”
“Maybe…I don’t know, maybe.” Were the only thoughts behind his eyes, but his mouth moved differently.
“No. Wait, you’re walking around the woods, and you’re calling me creepy?”
“What’s so creepy about walking around the woods by myself?” She questioned. “If there was someone following me, then they would be creepy, dumbass.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t know anyone who spends their time frolicking through the woods for fun.”
“You didn’t really know anyone, but neither did I, so we’re even.” She stood up, going to the window to look out of it. “I also prefer frolicking through flower fields, but this isn’t the best season for that.”
Angus hummed. “Yeah, I noticed.”
He debated on asking her why she was out there for an hour and a half; if she was in the woods, or if she was even outside. Just as he was battling with himself and wondering how to ask her without her biting his head off, he saw her tremble.
“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked.
“Come over here.” She commanded without looking at him.
He stood up immediately, and as he was halfway to the window, she giggled; a sound he had heard before but…not like this, somehow. Angus stood beside her at the window and watched as Mr. Hunham walked on the sidewalk by the quad, stretching.
“Look at that sad, little man.” She tisked.
Angus asked without looking away. “You talk about your dad like that?”
“You would too if he was yours.”
“Point made.”
They watched as the teacher picked up a stray football on the ground, and with perhaps the worst technique ever, threw it. Both she and Angus, as if her father would see them in the window, backed away from it, laughing at the absurdity.
“I almost feel bad now.” She said through her enjoyment. “That’s a lie, I don’t.”
Her honesty only caused Angus to laugh even more, and he can’t remember when the last time it was he had ever laughed this much. Especially over something so stupid.
“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t play football in high school.” He said.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “he’d go on and on about being president of Latin and Chess club.”
That’s where Angus’ amusement ceased. Even if it was at his own expense, he didn’t mind it at all since he could see just how wide her smile could get.
“Angus Tully, don’t tell me-.”
“-What’s wrong with Chess club?”
“I knew it!” She pointed at him. “You nerd!”
“You’re the one that knows all of Roman history and mythology like the back of your hand, and you’re calling me a nerd?!” He teased.
The girl snorted, crossing her arms. “Not all of it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“So why have I lost to you twice now?”
“I just got lucky.”
“Uh huh, sure.”
“I’m serious!” He tried to brighten the strange air that settled in the room. “Your dad didn’t drill it into you for nothing.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.” She hummed, sitting back on the bed. “So, you’re good at chess?”
He shrugged, taking a risk and sitting next to her (with about two feet of space of course). “I guess so. My…my dad taught me how to play, and I never beat him.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, nearly losing himself in the memory. “I was like nine when this snowstorm hit, I was out of school for almost a week, and my dad and I just played the whole time.”
“So, you played without bathroom breaks, and you still didn’t win?”
“Okay, smartass.”
She smiled. “My dad tried teaching me chess and he beat me every time too.”
“You still play?”
“Hell no.”
“Why not?”
“I always cussed at my him whenever I lost, so probably not a good idea to keep going.”
Angus snickered. “How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“You were cussing at seven?”
“He was an asshole!”
“Yeah, I’ve met him.”
It was almost horrifying how her face dropped at his comment. One where it was like the words themselves shocked her. Then, before Angus could fully register what had just happened, she was laughing.
“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I’m just imaging what you looked like as a kid.”
He tried to laugh it off with her, but that odd tension crept its way back in. “I was weird.”
“So was I. You should’ve seen me when I was twelve, my father drilling Roman knowledge into my head, proclaiming how, if I wanted to be better than all of the boys in my class, I had to work for it.” She grinned. “It’s like he tried to make me a small version of him, which was impossible from the start.”
Angus nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. “Yeah?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “Well, he doesn’t mean to, but I feel like he sometimes forgets I might want to wear ribbons in my hair, put on makeup, girly things like that that I almost called stupid, but they’re not. But could you imagine it? My father wearing makeup and…okay, he doesn’t have much hair for ribbons, but you get it.”
“I do.” He smiled.
She nodded, and they fell into another beat of silence. It was almost a competition as to who would speak first, and in the end, she surprisingly lost. She stood up from the bed.
“I uh…I promised Mary I’d help her in the kitchen.” She walked backwards. “You’re more than welcome to keep reading my ‘tolerable’ books written by women.”
Angus hummed, trying to shake off her abrupt exit. “Yeah, I got nothing else better to do. Maybe I’ll meet you downstairs and keep harassing you?”
“Yeah sure.”
With that, she turned on her heel and scurried out of the infirmary. Angus always found her to be strange; from the moment she stepped into Mr. Hunham’s classroom in September, to her just then. Still, it was a strangeness he couldn’t help but be intrigued by. Not the same as how a scientist would study a foreign species but…he had grown quite fond of her.
He already had a liking for her that first day he met her (despite her harsh and course attitude towards the others in class). Not a liking enough to have it be a crush per say (he was still annoyed with her). Then, the whole catastrophe of him being stuck with her over Christmas break only added fuel to a fire.
A fire that has both warmed and burned him all at once.
What kind of shit was he going on about? He read half of a chapter from Little Women, and now look at him!
Not knowing what else to do with himself, Angus slid The Count of Monte Cristo out from the bottom of the stack of books. It had been one of his favorites as a kid; ironic in both a sense that he read it as a child, but also his mother of all people recommended it to him. Before he could even flip it to the first page, he saw a small gap in the middle as if there was a bookmark. He opened it and found a letter; an already opened letter.
Angus’ blood ran cold at the sight of it, and as he took it onto his hands, he turned it over. It was addressed to her, and the stamp was a toy train. He had only gotten a glance at the first letter when Teddy stole it, and he recognized the stamp.
Sighing, it almost felt like the envelope was burning in his hand as he hunched over himself. He could’ve read it…it was right there, and it was already opened so it’s not like she would’ve ever known.
But he would’ve. And he knew there was no going back if he read whatever Daniel wrote to her, and even if it wasn’t bad (how could it not be), then he knew she’d be able to sniff him out like a rat that he’d read it.
Wait…Daniel…Danny…The janitor.
“Shit!” Angus hissed, almost falling off the bed, then sprinting out of the infirmary and running blindly though the school he has gone to for months.
He ran outside without a jacket on, looking around for Mr. Hunham. When he already saw his fingers beginning to turn white in a matter of a minute, he ran back into the school and navigated the halls as if he were a bat out of hell.
It took him quite literally running into Mr. Hunham for him to finally stop.
“God almighty, Mr. Tully!” He gasped. “What is the meaning of this?!”
Angus, trying to catch his breath, said. “Mr. Hunham, I have to tell you something.”
Immediately upon noticing his distress, the teacher’s harsh demeanor and voice dropped. “Well…alright, what is it?”
“Can-.” He looked around, feeling suddenly exposed in the hallway. “Can we do this somewhere else?”
“Sure, sure.” Mr. Hunham nodded, looking around as well until his eyes landed on the first door he saw. “Let’s uh, is there fine?”
“Yeah.”
They both entered into a classroom that neither had been in before. It was smaller in size, more than likely meant for honor’s classes, but it looked like it hadn’t been dusted since the beginning of the year when parent’s would visit. When the door was shut, Mr. Hunham turned back to him.
“Now, what’s going on?”
Angus said her name. “Someone’s been sending her letters.”
“What kind of letters?” He asked, his face a mix of confusion and even a hint of denial.
“I…” Angus looked down at the one he had in hand and held it out to the teacher. Mr. Hunham took it, slipping his reading glasses out of his pocket. Angus continued. “Someone named Daniel sent her one days ago, Kountze stole it and read it aloud to everyone back in the woods. I think it’s Danny, the janitor.”
The moment he said ‘Daniel’, he’d already seen Mr. Hunham’s entire demeanor change. He saw him visibly tense, as he read the letter what must have been a million times. As time stood still in the dingy classroom, the teacher swallowed thickly.
“You said she got another letter a few days ago? Where is it?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head.
“Mr. Kountze read it aloud, what exactly did it say?”
“I…” Angus paused, trying to remember just what was written so he wouldn’t miss a thing, “He asked her to send a picture of herself to him, and wished her a Merry Christmas. He sent her thirty-five dollars too; did he send more?”
Mr. Hunham shook his head, obviously bewildered at the amount of money. “No, he didn’t. Mr. Tully, did you even read this?”
“No.” His response was instant.
“Why not?”
Angus’ eyes trailed to the side, somehow finding the blank chalkboard much more appealing than Mr. Hunham. To be honest, anything at the time was more-.
“Angus,” His voice was stern, but not mean. It was enough to catch the boy’s attention, but not enough to scare him. “I need to know what you know, so we can help her.”
He took a deep breath. “Teddy made a joke that she…she…has pictures of herself in a skin mag.” It was absolute hell to watch Mr. Hunham sigh, so Angus looked away as he continued. “She didn’t say that she did, but she didn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to know whatever creepy shit Danny sent-.”
“-First off,” Mr. Hunham interrupted, rubbing his face. “this isn’t Danny the janitor.”
“How do you know?”
“Daniel,” He tried to say the name like he was a historical figure and not someone who made his skin crawl away from his body. “was...a family friend of some sort. That is all you have to know about him.”
Angus nodded, but couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, and how his stomach began to tie itself into knots as he asked. “Why did he stop being a family friend?”
“I said that’s all you have to know about him.” He said with more of a bite, then calmed himself. “I’ll speak to her about this the next time I see her, and rest assured, I won’t mention you.”
“She’ll know it’s me.” He shook his head. “I found it in one of her books when she left the infirmary after we talked.”
Mr. Hunham clutched the letter in one hand while removing his glasses with the other. “Regardless of details I cannot share with you, this little incident should not effect on how you view my daughter-.”
“-It doesn’t! I just-!” He lashed out unexpectedly at even the assumption of him finding any shred of blaming her for what was happening to her. “I just…I want her to be okay. That’s it.”
The teacher all but froze at his response, it is apparent that he was not expecting him to say that. Still, after regaining himself, he nodded. “You’re a good man for doing this, you know that, right?”
Angus scoffed, shrugging. “I don’t think she’ll talk to me ever again.”
“She may not,” he nodded. “but she also might. I won’t force her to do either. Again, thank you for letting me know.”
“Sure.”
The two of them walked out of the classroom in silence, and with Mr. Hunham’s “See you at dinner?” and his student’s nod, Angus Tully was left alone again in the grand halls of the school.
A fate that has somehow always caught up with him ever since he got there.
Angus read the same Popular Mechanics magazine three times over since he found it the night he was the only one left behind at Barton, and he’d gotten sick of it after the second time.
So, with nothing else better to do, and with it starting to get dark, he went down into the kitchen, where apparently everyone but Danny was, helping Mary cook. Including her. She was washing vegetables in the sink while Mary was preparing a roast, both of them laughing at someone one of them said. Mr. Hunham was just at the table, peeling potatoes like his life depended on it.
“Mary.” Angus greeted, smiling at her. Mr. Hunham’s daughter immediately turned back to the sink upon seeing him.
Mary looked up. “Speaking of…”
Deciding to ignore the strange tension in the room (He has a knack for doing that, doesn’t he?), Angus’ eyes traveled around until they landed on a dish beside him. “Oh, brownies? God yes, I want all of these.”
“Ah, ah!” Mary scolded when he took one. “Just take one. The rest is for the Christmas party tonight.”
“What Christmas party? There’s a Christmas party?” He said her name. “Did you know there’s a Christmas party?”
She didn’t turn around, and only responded with. “Uh-.”
“-Yes, at Miss Crane’s house.” Mary interrupted her. “She and I are only going for a little bit, show our faces, and say we were there. Well, she might stick around since her little friend is there. You know, Miss Crane said she invited you too.”
Angus furrowed his brows, looking over at Mr. Hunham. “I want to go to the party.”
He stammered. “She-she didn’t mean it. We were just making small talk.”
Mary shrugged. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. I’ll take him.”
“Mary can take me.” Angus reiterated.
“No, that’s not how it works.” Mr. Hunham raised his voice a hint. “You’re under my supervision.”
Angus frowned. “So, your own kid isn’t under your supervision, but I am?”
“Don’t even think about pulling me into this.” The ‘kid’ in question shook her head, not even turning around.
Still, he scoffed, bringing his eyes back to Mr. Hunham. “Okay, maybe it’s fine for you to sit around here and read books all day,” he turned on his heel, beginning to walk out. “but I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jesus!”
“Hey!” Mary yelled at him once he threw the brownie across the room. “Watch your mouth, young man! Not on Christmas Eve.”
Angus ignored her, storming off back to the infirmary. He didn’t even make it to his room and a bed to dramatically throw himself on and scream into a pillow. He rested his back against the wall before sliding down it. Now sitting, his shoulders still tensed at what just happened. He’d been stuck in the school for a full week, only being able to go out when he dislocated his entire shoulder.
Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was for holding him captive?!
Closing his eyes, he thought back to what Dr. Gertler told him. Sure, the guy was a quack, but once or twice he actually had a few things that helped him. Angus breathed in, counting to four, held it for three, then released it for another four.
He repeated that until he felt the tension (mostly) fall away from him, and there was even a hint of calmness in his head.
Which was then lost when he opened his eyes, and she was peeking from around the corner.
“Jesus!” He gasped, and she immediately hid. Once his heart stopped beating so damn fast, he said. “Okay, now who’s being creepy?”
“…Me.” She said after a moment’s silence, still hiding.
Sighing, rested his head against the wall. “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.”
She finally showed herself, standing in front of him now. “I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to but thank you. My dad said you can go to the party with Mary and I.”
That got Angus to sit up taller. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, but he’s going with us, so it won’t be that fun.” She joked.
He snickered along with her, before asking. “What about dinner?”
“We’ll probably just have it at Miss Crane’s. We’ll just have a nice lunch or something tomorrow instead of tonight.” She explained before walking into her room.
This was what caught Angus Tully off guard. She wasn’t exactly acting like her father had just confronted her about the letters, she was being too nice to him…so did she know it was him? She had to; or was he just overthinking it and getting in his own head (Something he did frequently)?
“When are we leaving?” He asked.
“In an hour!” She yelled, her voice somewhat muffled. “So, get on it, Fitzwilliam.”
“Anything you say, Amy!”
He ran off before she could storm after him (like he assumed she would), and went back into his room, which had darkened quite a bit. He went to his bag and took out the razor and shaving cream that he had only opened a few times since the beginning of the semester. He shook the can and applied the cream to his face before bringing the blades of the razor up to shave.
There was honestly no need to. It’s not like he even had “sawdust under his nose” as one would put it when talking about the mustache men would try to grow after watching Top Gun, which didn’t exist at this time, but that’s beside the point.
Even so, as he wat attempting to shave what was not there, he heard a knock, and her voice asked. “Are you decent?”
“Yep.” He answered, not even bothering to glance at the hall of lockets she had knocked from.
She came into his eyesight and stood so close to him in the mirror that he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “Move over.”
“Why?” He scoffed playfully, yet still did so.
It was only then he noticed the small makeup bag she had in her hand, and she placed it on the sink before opening it and taking out a sponge and small jar of liquid that matched her skin tone (it was foundation; he’d heard the word before but didn’t know it was that until perhaps a year later).
“The lighting’s better in here.” She answered, getting close to the mirror and dabbing the liquid on the sponge and upon her face.
Angus took a second (and only a second, if he took any longer she’d yell at him) to look at her entire self, and saw that she was wearing a dress. A dress that he would never have imagined on her. Her hair was almost the same as always...but there was something more to it he couldn't quite verbalize.
She was still herself, and it was silly to Angus Tully that it took a different dress and perhaps some makeup (something he’d hardly see her wear) to realize just how…just how…
“You look…” His mouth trailed off faster than his brain before he could stop himself.
After finishing her foundation, she took out a powder and brush. As she applied the powder, she glanced up at him through the mirror, a smirk on her face that was holding back a laugh. “Yeah?”
He couldn't call her ‘pretty’ (both because she’d never talk to him again, and that would be belittling her), and he couldn't call her ‘beautiful’ (she just wouldn’t talk to him again period; and he’d probably be scaring her off). So, apparently, the best thing he could think of in a limited amount of time was-.
“-Like a girl.”
Oh, how attractive it was to open one of the windows and jump out of it. If it wasn’t the fall that would kill him, it would certainly be freezing to death in a foot of snow.
Instead, to his surprise, while she momentarily scowled at him (as she should have), she giggled. Shaking her head, she said. “I would say you look like a man, but there’s nothing about you to prove that.”
As his heart began to beat again from her apparent lack of offense, he took the towel off the rack and wiped the residue cream off his face. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”
“A boy.” She set down the brush and took out a small tube of liquid, shaking it. “A tall, little boy.”
He snorted, walking away from the mirror when her gaze became just a little too much. “You said you were friends with Miss Crane’s niece?”
“Yes.” Her tone changed somewhat (or was he just overthinking it).
“Do you think I could-?”
“-Should I put on eyeshadow?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“You know,” she turned over her shoulder. “the color that goes on the eyelids?”
“I know what eyeshadow is. I’m not that big into makeup, so I don’t know.”
“Really?” She teased. “You aren’t into makeup?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She turned back to the mirror, opening the tube. “Nothing.”
Angus’ eyes scrunched as he smiled at her playfulness. “Well-.”
“-Shut up.” She interrupted him.
He scowled. “Huh?”
She had the pen (it was eyeliner; he actually knew what that was) hovering over her right eye, and she was glancing at him again through the mirror. “I’m doing the most important part, and it’s the one I’m horrible at, so I need complete silence.”
Angus Tully merely nodded, looking away. He didn’t know how long she took, but she knew she was finished when he heard her gasp.
“I did it!” He looked back and saw that she turned to him with the biggest smile on her face, and blackened wings kissing the corner of her eyes. “I did it!”
He could only nod. “Yeah, it looks good.”
She grinned from ear to ear before turning back to the mirror, setting down her eyeliner and getting out an eyelash curler. “Could I ask you a question, even though you’ll feel stupid afterwards?”
“Do your worst.”
“Why ‘Amy’?”
Angus felt safe to smile at that. “Does that bother you?”
“Why, on God’s green earth, would you say I was like Amy?!”
“Well,” he shrugged. “it pisses you off, that’s the first reason. Second is…she grew on me.”
She scowled, turning to look at him. “Oh yeah? How so?”
“I mean…you made her out to be so annoying, and someone who complains a lot which, yes she does. But she’s funny, and she sticks to herself like Jo does, but…I don’t know, I just like her.”
Her face fell for the second time that day; but not like it did that afternoon when he made a joke about her father. No, this time, he knew it was because she truly didn’t think he would say anything like that.
And, for the first time since he’d known her, she almost looked shy.
Something he thought would be the thing that terrified him the most that entire Christmas break.
So, when she didn’t respond, and wanting to disrupt the awkward silence, he then asked. “Wait, why was your dad so against going, but now he’s fine with it?”
She looked back at the mirror, looking at him through it. “Besides the fact it wouldn’t be fair that you’d be stuck here while I’d go, he has a crush on Miss Crane.”
Angus snorted. “Figures.”
She shrugged. “I kind of always knew. I mean, she’s worked here for five years, but I think he only started liking her last year. I’m also not sure what he’s more afraid of; how I’d react to him liking someone after Mom died, or him just liking her period.”
“And how do you feel about it?”
“My mother’s been in the ground for six years.” She decided to take the eyelash curler back in her hand, then brought it up to one of her eyes. “We still visit her of course. She wasn’t selfish either, and it’s been so long, so I don’t think she’d mind. Besides, I’m going to technically graduate next semester, and I don’t want to be stuck here, but I also don’t want him to be alone. Mary’s really his only friend so…yeah, I think I’d be okay if he was with Miss Crane.”
Angus nodded. At first, it felt almost invasive and even wrong for her to tell him all of that so effortlessly. But…he leaned into it the more she went on. She’d been vulnerable with him before (whether she thought it or not, she had been), but this time…it wasn’t a huge confession, it was just a simple conversation.
“I don’t…” He found himself saying.
He didn’t what? What was he going to say? Something about his father? His mother? It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her something.
She took the curler away from herself and turned to look at him. Her eyes…her damn-no, they weren’t damned; they were kind, gentle…but still he felt damned just as she looked at him in a way he hadn’t ever seen her look at anyone before. She was waiting for him to say something.
Say something.
Say something.
She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything but stare at him, but he was suddenly twelve again. Angus Tully, with his hair that was just beginning to have out of place curls, walking into his parent’s room at two in the morning. He woke his mother up, who gasped when he touched her. After she calmed down, she was appalled to see him crying.
It wasn’t a bad dream, it wasn’t because something had happened to him at school; he didn’t know what was making him weep, but he was doing it anyway.
He could barely say anything, he babbled like a baby learning to talk, and all he could get out was “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
His mother tried her best (he liked to himself that), but she could only say “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
Didn’t she hear him? He didn’t know.
Even now, at seventeen, he didn’t know what to say to her.
“I don’t know how you can use that.” He glanced at the eyelash curler.
She furrowed her brow upon the change in tone. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, it looks like a torture device.”
Scoffing, she looked back to the mirror and curled the lashes of her other eyes. “You’ve just never tried it before.”
“And I never will.”
She looked back at him once she was finished. “Are you scared?”
“No, I just don’t see the reason to.”
She shrugged. “I think you’re scared.”
“Am not.”
“Okay, then let me put mascara on you.”
He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” She shook her head. “If you’re not scared then you’ll let me stick something in your eye. You don’t have to wear it to the party, but I think it’d be fun.”
Angus was at a loss. She was a good actress, so how was he supposed to know she wasn’t messing with him? Well…he didn’t; he just had to trust her. To be fair, he had been weird around her this whole time, so…
“I’m not doing the torture device, just the makeup.”
Her face lit up, and she took the mascara out of her bag, setting everything else inside of it. “Get over here.”
He followed, leaning against the wall by the mirror. Suddenly, as he stood in front of her, he was nervous. It wasn’t the first time he was (whether that was because of her wit, her confidence, or even her meanness), it was because it was just her.
“How uh,” he stammered. “how are we doing this.”
“Lean down first of all, fuck why are you so tall?”
“Not one of my favorite qualities.” He joked, pressing his hand against the sink for support as he lowered himself slightly.
“Meh,” she shrugged, unscrewing the cap of her mascara. “girls usually like tall guys.”
His heart flipped. “Yeah?”
She froze momentarily before continuing. “I guess. Elise told me.”
“Right.”
“Okay, close your eyes. You’re going to want to open them when you feel something touch your eye, but I promise you, you don’t want to do that.”
“Sounds good.” He closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of discomfort. He could feel the heat of herself hover around him, but the pain from the mascara never came.
He heard her sigh. “This isn’t going to work.”
Angus opened his eyes when he felt her draw away, and he saw her sit on one of the beds. She titled her head. “Come here.”
He didn’t know if his heart was still or was going to beat itself out of his chest. Obviously, he sat by her before but…he had to be closer to her. Angus did his best not to make a big deal of it, but he felt like he was almost watching himself outside of his body as he sat beside her and closed his eyes.
“Do you want to know what my mom called me when I was younger?”
She was trying to distract him and he knew it. “Sure.”
“Ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?”
He tensed but soon relax when she rested her hand on his cheek; it felt like she was burning him, but the way that he felt whenever he had a fever. Somehow…it was comforting. Breathing shallowly, he answered. “Greek? Kind of.”
“Well,” he cowered away a little when he felt something brush his eyelashes but kept calm as she continued. “where my father loved Roman history and mythology, my mother was more into the Greeks. They’d go back and forth debating on which was more influential, and that was more so how they became friends. She…before I was born, she talked about naming me Eurydice because it was her favorite story. My dad was obviously against it, so that was a no. So, that’s when she’d just call me Eurydice at home a lot, just to piss him off which was funny.”
Angus hummed, paying attention to her words, but having to bite his tongue to keep himself grounded from losing himself within her touch. “What’s she like in the story?”
“Not much to her.” She moved onto his other eye. “Well, what it gives us anyway. I always had my mom tell me their story, and Eurydice kept changing. It was always who I was like growing up.”
“Really?”
“Really. I was shy around the other kids when she first told me-.”
“-You, shy?”
“Shut up, I’ll mess up your eye if you make me laugh. But yeah, so Eurydice was quiet and shyer. Then, when I’m like nine, I’m a bit more outspoken, angrier even, so she became that.”
He didn’t move his head, scared that he’d mess her up. It was then, after she stopped speaking, he could feel her breath on his face. Her hand was still warm against his cheek, and he found himself leaning into it more and more. He had not felt this sense of peace since…he couldn’t recall.
“Done.”
With one word from her, she took her hand away and he opened his eyes. She was still so close to him, and while he saw her smiling at what he assumed had been her work, it was him staring at her that made it drop. Still, she didn’t look frightened nor upset, she was just…looking at him.
The moment his eyes dropped to her lips for only a second, it was all over.
He’d thought about it, of course. He wanted to. But…like with everything about her, he froze.
She didn’t.
“You…” She stood up from the bed, straightening the skirt of her dress. “you should probably wash that off after taking a look.”
Angus didn’t have time to respond before she grabbed her makeup bag and ran off. He just sat there, trying to process if he was waiting to wake up from a dream, or if it had been in fact real.
When nothing happened, he sighed heavily, getting up and walking towards the mirror. His eyes looked different, and he felt weird. He could not tell if it was from the makeup, her, or both. Still, what he did know, was that he made a fool of himself.
Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.
Part 4 of 10 (Masterlist)
Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.
This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!
Word Count: 5.0k
Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.
“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.
“I think he’s just as religious as you.”
You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”
“You’d make a lousy nun.”
“I’d be a fun one.”
Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.
Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.
“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.
You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.
“Everything alright?” You asked.
“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”
“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”
“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”
“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”
He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”
“Never mind, let him rot.”
“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”
You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.
“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”
His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.
“What am I now?”
He looked away. “Nothing.”
“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.
“I didn’t mean-.”
“-No, no of course you didn’t.”
Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”
“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”
Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”
Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”
“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”
Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”
“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”
In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.
You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.
You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.
“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.
You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”
Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”
He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.
Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.
Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”
When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.
Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).
So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.
“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.
“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.
Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).
“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”
“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”
“I told you to stop!”
“You said you washed your hands of me!”
“No, I meant it metaphorically!”
“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”
Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”
“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”
When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”
“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”
“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”
Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.
There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.
“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”
“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.
Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”
“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.
He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.
A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”
Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.
“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”
“It’s just standard procedure.”
“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”
Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”
But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”
The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”
“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.
Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”
You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”
He looked back at the nurse. “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”
What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.
When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.
“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.
“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”
Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.
The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.
“Barton men don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.
"Lie."
“Well, I had momentum.”
“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”
You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”
Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.
When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.
“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”
“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.
“Never going to happen. Trust me.”
Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”
“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”
“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”
“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”
You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”
Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.
“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”
He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.
“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.
“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”
“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”
Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.
“Does she?” He teased.
You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”
“Now be nice.” Your father said.
“When have I never?”
The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.
“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”
“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.
“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”
You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.
“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”
You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.
Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “
“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”
You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”
“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”
With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.
“How’d you lie so easily?”
He gave you a look. “When?”
“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”
Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”
“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”
“-Are you any good at pinball?”
Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”
He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”
“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”
“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”
“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”
“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.
“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.
Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”
“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”
“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”
You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”
Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”
“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”
“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”
His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”
Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”
“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”
“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”
“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”
“The fuck did you just say to me?!”
Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”
You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.
“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”
He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array). “Why?”
“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”
“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”
Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.
“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”
Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.
Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”
“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.
“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”
“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”
It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”
“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.
It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.
He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).
“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”
Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”
He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you. “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”
Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”
“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.
“Were you ever in the military?”
“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”
You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”
Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.
“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”
He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”
Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”
“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”
“Wow…your whole life?”
Your father nodded.
“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”
Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”
“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”
Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”
“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.
“My shrink.”
Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?
He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”
“Something negative about you?”
“Sure, just one thing.”
“Just one?” You and your father questioned.
He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.
“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”
Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”
You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”
“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”
To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.
“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”
Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”
None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.
“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”
Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.
It felt different this time…stranger, even.
“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.
“Well?”
Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”
“Your mom’s?”
“No, one in Boston.”
“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”
You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.
“Am I that insufferable to be around?”
He shot his head up. “What? No.”
“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”
“-My father’s dead.”
Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.
It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.
“I…I had a feeling.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.
“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”
“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.
“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”
“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”
“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”
“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”
He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)
“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”
“I get that.”
“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”
You gave him a smile. “It does.”
For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.
“What were you going to call me?”
“Huh?” He perked his head up.
“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”
His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”
You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.
…What the hell was happening to you?
You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…
…No…
No…
Oh, what the fuck?!
Oh god!
Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.
You're a Mean One, Miss Hunham {Angus Tully x Reader}
Summary: Four days into being stuck in an all boy's school for Christmas break, and you're on the brink of insanity. If it's not because of Angus Tully still trying to one up you in history lessons, then it's Teddy Kountze getting a hand on something personal of yours (prick).
Part 2 of 10 (Masterlist)
Warnings: Swearing, period typical sexism, mentions of pornography, blackmail, minor physical assault, and as always, Teddy Kountze.
You guys don't get to escape being an awkward af teenager just because it's fanfiction, so enjoy! Also, thank you all so much for the love already shown just from the first part alone!
Word Count: 5.0k
You always knew to put a pillow over your head when you heard your father get up from his bed.
“All right you fetid layabouts, it’s daylight in the swamp!” He smacked two metal basins against each other, waking the boys up if they weren’t already, groaning. “Arise!”
It was funny the first day, but by the fourth, it was unbearable. Still, a part of you was grateful for your father; you never had to get up early and run with the boys in the cold, Massachusetts air. Call it nepotism, call it sexism, you were just glad he didn’t want you to interact with them (physically, that is).
The second day you were there, he called you in during afternoon study hall (leaving you on a minor cliff hanger in Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre; forget that it was your third time reading it, it pissed you off). Just like he had done months ago, Paul Hunham hosted a trivia game (whether that was to show you off, or get them to study, you had no idea).
What idea you did have, was beating every single one of them.
For Alex and Ye-Joon, they were babies in your eyes, so you would give them more time to think on their answers whenever they were up. Alex got close on one, but overall, they didn’t do so well.
Oh, the boys your age? Yeah, you didn’t show mercy, even towards Jason.
“When was the last king overthrown?” Your father questioned.
You smacked the desk before Jason could even process the question. “509 B.C.”
“What planets are named after Roman gods?”
“Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.” You recited it perfectly.
Teddy scrunched his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
Your father pursed his lips. “That was the easiest one I have, Mr. Kountze.”
Angus Tully…Angus. Fucking. Tully.
“What emperor temporarily restored peace to Rome and the cost of-?”
Angus hit the desk before your father could finish the question. “-Diocletian.”
“At its peak,” your father eyed you. “how large was the Roman Empi-?”
“2.3 million square miles.” You answered, keeping your eyes trained on Tully.
“Nero had five spouses in total, what was the name of the slave boy he-?”
“-Castrated and married,” you finished for him. “Sporus.”
Back and forth you both went like that, rapid fire at first, and your own levels of exhaustion were catching up to you. After perhaps five minutes of this (maybe ten, twenty, who gives a shit, you were tired), it was one damning question that would haunt you.
“True or false, the Pantheon was built before the Coliseum.”
“True.” You said, slapping the desk with the confidence of a mediocre man.
There was silence in the room, and your father sighed. “False.”
It wasn’t a big deal, it shouldn’t have been a big deal; to literally everyone else but you, it wouldn’t be a big deal.
But it was.
Oh, it was.
It was the second time you lost to Angus Tully overall, the first time from an easy question. Still, while Kountze’s grin made you want to rip out his teeth, it was Tully’s outstretched hand that caused you to snap out of it.
“Good job.”
Two of the most hurtful words in academia, whether it meant for it to be or not. Still, swallowing your pride, you shook his hand, and left the room gracefully.
Then started crying as you walked down the darkened hallway.
It wasn’t like you were weeping, you were just frustrated. Thankfully, by the time your friend Elise came to pick you up, you were fine and had a fun day simply walking around town with her.
You bought cigarettes and chocolate at the drug store, then spent the rest of the day at her house, laying on the floor and listening to records in her room while answering her prodding questions.
“Who’s the cutest one?”
“None, they’re men.”
“Okay,” she rolled her eyes, smiling. “I know that, but if you had to choose.”
“Like, ‘if we were the last man and woman on earth’ I had to choose?”
“Sure.”
“A very tall bridge.”
She laughed, shoving you playfully. “I’m serious!”
“So am I.”
“Really.”
Sighing heavily, you thought for a moment, before smiling. “He’s a football player.”
“What?!” She sat herself up. “You and a football player?!”
“Shut up!” You laughed with her, sitting up.
Elise shook her head. “What about the one you went head-to-head with in trivia today?”
“Ew,” was your immediate reaction. “he’s maybe your type, but not mine.”
“So, you don’t want a smart one?” She questioned. “And that’s mean of you.”
“I’m mean to everyone.” You laid back down on the floor. “And yes, of course I want someone who’s smart, but not smarter than me.”
She mirrored you, laying down and leaning her head against yours. “So, he’s out for the count?”
“One hundred percent.”
“If you say so.” Elise reached up onto her nightstand and handed you a letter. “Also, my aunt left something back at the faculty housing and said she found this in you and your dad’s mailbox.”
You looked at your name in the center of it, and then at the stamp: a toy train.
It took everything within you not to sit up in shock. All you did was smile, say thank you, and slip it into your coat pocket.
You gave Tully his chocolates and cigarettes and didn’t have a problem. It was the fourth day when your father had given them just another ounce of freedom outside of the school, allowing them to walk around the wooded area of campus. You still had your books, but you were also feeling lonesome (the only time you really interacted with any of them was during mealtimes, except for Teddy…fuck Teddy), and you had talked about almost every single thing you wanted to talk about with Mary (God bless that women for letting you read to her too).
So, on December 20th, you laced up your boots (not too tightly), pulled on your mittens, and zipped up your jacket to go on a miniature adventure with the five boys.
“I’m gonna teach you how to play football.” Jason teased you as the six of you walked two by two (you and him at the front).
Shaking your head, you smiled more so at the thought of what you’d look like than his obvious flirting (was he even flirting or just being nice? Decades pass, and you still aren’t sure). “Please no.”
“Come on, it’s easy.”
“Roman history is easy.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not; you’re just smart.”
“It’s easy to me. Football is easy to you, see what I’m getting at?”
Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself, Teddy?”
“Say no more.” He responded, brushing past you and running up ahead as Jason threw the football to him and he caught it.
That left you by yourself for just a moment before seeing Angus walk beside you. You turned your head over your shoulder to see Ye-Joon and Alex lagging behind as they talked.
“Boys,” you called them. “try and keep up!”
They responded with a chorus of ‘Yeah’s and ‘Sorry’s.
“So what, you’re like their mother now?” The second most irritating voice belonging to a boy asked.
You looked over at Angus, hands in his pockets as he gazed down at you. “You’re not exactly the nurturing type.”
“You don’t know that.”
Humming, you stepped over a log in the middle of the path. “So, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Jason’s here because of his hair, Alex and Ye-Joon’s family are in other continents, I don’t care nor want to know about Teddy, why are you here?”
He didn’t respond right away, before then saying. “I was supposed to go to St. Kitt’s with my mom and stepfather, but then they decided to say it was their honeymoon and ditch me.”
Your gaze turned to him and saw him pick up a stick, dragging it behind him to make a line in the snow. Even just from his profile, you could see the anger withing his eyes; bubbling more violently than a volcano about to erupt.
“That’s despicable.” You stated plainly.
“That’s one way to put it.” He scoffed.
You didn’t know exactly how to follow up such a personal conversation, but you wanted to make him feel better (at this point during the break, only because it was the decent thing to do), so you just said.
“You beat me fair and square both times.”
Angus looked at you. “Did I? At your dad’s bullshit trivia?”
“You did. Well actually, it was just me versus five of you, and I do believe the more I talk to Kountze, the more braincells I lose, so-.”
“-Don’t sell yourself short.”
You gave him a quizzical look. “I know, I was just telling you why I lost to you both times.”
He shrugged. “The first time you had to go against fifteen of us.”
“I’m sorry,” you chuckled, genuinely not believing it. “are you suddenly saying that you think I’m smart?”
“I never said you weren’t.” He gave you a look.
“Last time, you looked me in the eye and said you knew more than me.”
That’s what silenced him, and when he nor you said anything after that, you simply walked ahead of him. Hell yeah, you had the last word and made him feel like an asshole (you honestly didn’t know that was possible).
The six of you all caught up with one another, and you spoke with the freshmen boys more about meaningless things (but perhaps that’s what made it so meaningful). Angus, still carrying the stick like he was a child, and it was his favorite toy, said to Jason after talking about if there was anything else to do in Barton.
“What about your car? We could take it, go somewhere, Boston maybe?”
“Nah, we’d get in so much trouble.” He shook his head, nudging you. “Little miss perfect here would snitch on us.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I would not. Besides, it’d be easier to say you all kidnapped me, and everyone would believe me.”
“Face it,” Jason passed the football back to Teddy. “we’re stuck.”
“If we just had some way to get out of here.” Angus kicked a patch of snow. “Just split.”
Jason pointed towards the quad. “Well, you could put a chopper down right in the quad.”
“A what?” Angus furrowed his brow.
“Helicopter, dumbass.” Teddy mocked. “His old man’s the CEO of Pratt and Whitney.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, he’s go his own bird. He takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our back yard. Pilot’s name is Wild Bill.”
“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon asked, amused.
“Yeah, flew to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me.”
“Flying with presents,” Alex spoke up. “like Santa Claus.”
That was perhaps the first time you smiled out of geniuses that day.
“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”
Jason whistled, and Teddy immediately dashed ahead of him and caught the ball once Jason threw it. The two drifted off playing catch, leaving you and Angus with the freshmen. Alex spoke just as whimsically as he did about Santa.
“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar.”
Ye-Joon smiled. “That sounds really nice.”
You nodded. “During finals week, I helped Mary and the other cooks bake cookies for you guys. I still think that’s one of my favorite smells of all time.”
“You helped out with that?” Angus asked.
Dropping your smile, you said. “Yeah, and if I knew which one you’d have taken I would’ve spat in it.”
Before he could even come up with a response, Teddy ran up to Alex and yanked the glove off his right hand. “Hey!”
“That’s what you get for ratting me out, you little Mormon!” He laughed before throwing it into the river.
You marched up to him immediately. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Like, what the actual fuck?”
Teddy only stuck his tongue out like a child before running back to catch up with Jason. A part of you (somehow) foolishly believed he would’ve berated Teddy for the obviously asshole act; but he didn’t.
Rolling your eyes, you went down to the river with Alex, hopefully trying to find the glove and be able to fish it out. Though, to no avail, you couldn’t find it.
“It’s gone!” He yelled back up to Angus and Ye-Joon. “My glove’s gone!”
“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose!” Angus responded. “Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more.”
Alex looked down at his hands before tugging off the other glove and throwing it into the river as well. You glared at Teddy as he had a fun time, still laughing and throwing the ball with Jason. Sighing, you looked back down at Alex and pulled off your mittens, handing them to him.
“Here.”
He glanced up at you before staring back out at the water, rubbing his nose. “I don’t need them.”
“Your fingers are frailer than mine.” You continued even when he gave you a look. “That’s not an insult, that’s a fact. It’s alright, I have pockets.”
Alex, after a moment of debating, took them from you and slipped them on, smiling. “Thanks.”
The six of you were on your way back to school when you felt someone slip their hand into your coat pocket.
“Now what do we have here?”
You turned on your heel, seeing Teddy’s face light up as he waved the letter in his hand. Your face dropped, along with your voice.
“No!”
Immediately, you began to chase him around the small, snowy clearing as if you were a dog and he was a car.
“Theodore fucking Kountze, give that back!” You commanded.
He ripped open the envelope. “Or what, Hunham? You’re gonna tell your dad on me?”
“Just give her the letter, idiot.” Angus rolled his eyes.
Of course, Kountze ignored him, taking the letter out, and money falling from the paper. That’s when he stopped in his tracks and so did you. For the first time since…a while, you were frozen, and you had no idea why.
The rest of the boys caught up to you two, and Teddy picked up the money that fell from the letter; a twenty, a ten, and a five-dollar bill. After the initial shock wore off, he read the letter aloud to everyone.
“‘My dearest girl, how are you? It’s been a while, and I just want to know what you’ve been up to. Merry Christmas, here’s my gift to you. From, Daniel. P.S. Please send another picture of you if you could.’”
Shame crept in like a shaking animal from the cold, and you couldn’t even look at any of them. Still, that didn’t stop Teddy from taunting you; hell, it probably spurred him on.
“The hell kind of business are you running if you got a someone paying you thirty-five bucks?” He laughed, looking back at the guys. “You think she’s in a skin mag or something?”
“Hey, man, shut up.” Jason rebuked.
“No, I’m serious. They take pictures without showing the face sometimes.” He looked at you now. “Which one is it? Penthouse? Modern Man?”
“Leave it, Kountze.” You hissed, not looking at him.
Teddy laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s Playboy; you?”
“Are you fucking deaf?” Angus asked. “She told you to cut it out.”
“Piss off Tully, you probably saw her tits this morning in study hall.”
You whipped your head around and couldn’t control the face you made; to this day, you still have no idea if it was pure rage, a form of betrayal, or both at once. Still, you watched as how Angus avoided your gaze like he’d done something wrong; he did, but still. Teddy opened his disgusting mouth to speak again.
“Shit, if I were to line up every girl in Barton, you would’ve been the very last one I-.”
“-I’ll let you take the picture.”
All eyes were back on you, and you looked right at Teddy’s; once confident and sly, now widened with surprise. Who knew it would take just six words for him to shut up?
“What?” Was all he responded.
You swallowed thickly, clutching your hands into fists to keep yourself calm (and to not cry). “I’ll let you take the picture of me, but we have to be alone, and you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone else; especially my father.”
This was not what you had envisioned or wanted to happen on your first outing with them away from the adults in your life. You prayed to whatever god above, Christian, Roman, Greek, Buddhist, it didn’t matter, you prayed that Teddy would grow a brain and take the deal.
“Alright.” Was all he said, shrugging with an excited smile on his face that made your skin crawl.
You nodded. “I’ll take my letter and money now.”
He tilted his head, walking closer to you. “Please.”
Taking a deep breath, you said. “Please.”
Teddy’s grin only deepened, then handed you your things. “You know, Hunham, maybe you’re not a total prude after-.”
Your fist met his eye, and the both of you stumbled backwards; him clutching his face, you your hand. Needless to say, you were both cursing. Still, you managed to gather your bearings and push him over.
“Fucking bastard.” You spat before trying to make a run for it.
Teddy grabbed your left foot, causing you to fall into the snow, your teeth sinking into your lip once you hit your chin on impact of the ground. You struggled, then managed to quickly wiggle out of your boot before getting back up and running like a girl (anyone would run like a girl if they were being chased by a man like Teddy Kountze).
You honestly have no idea how he didn’t catch up to you at the time, but you were on the steps of the main building when you turned back. There they were, just five, not-so-little specks that stood out across the valley of pure white snow. It was only when you slowed down did you notice how cold your left foot was. Your sock was dripping wet from the snow, and you then pulled off your other boot, leaving it on the stairs before entering the school.
Taking a deep breath once you closed the door, you wiped your mouth; specks of blood colored your hand, but thankfully, not that much. Sighing, you walked through the halls of the school, trying to make your way back to the infirmary and hoping that your father wasn’t there.
You ran into Mary instead (a fate worse than death).
“Where are your shoes?” Was the first thing she asked once she saw you in the main hall (you got lost; hey, you’d only been there a few times in the past, don’t be too hard on yourself).
You shrugged, smiling. “We were playing a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“Hide and seek tag.” you leaned against the wall, hands in your coat pockets. “First one to get to the school wins, I hid my shoes under a bush, so they thought I was there, and I made a run for it.”
“You take a fall then? Your mouth’s bleeding.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never slipped on ice?” You managed to joke.
She arched her brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve known you?”
It actually took you a few moments to think back on it; it felt like you’ve known her longer, but no. “Since I was nine?”
“And do you think, in the last eight years, I haven’t been able to tell if you’re a bad liar or not?”
“…Well, am I?”
“Did one of those boys put their hands on you?” She asked the question you both knew was coming. “Was it that shitass Kountze?”
Even with it being a serious question, you laughed (both from surprise and discomfort). “Well like, you should see the hands I put on him. Mary, we were just playing, it’s fine.”
The main door opened before she could say anything else, and you saw the same five boys walk in; Ye-Joon holding your boots. You smiled, approaching them as if nothing was wrong, and you took your shoes. “Thank you.”
He nodded, quickly looking away.
“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Mary spoke up behind you, and your heart dropped for a moment as well as all of their faces. “I get that you were playing a game, but you don’t need to be so competitive.”
They turned to one another, obviously confused about the whole thing (you were as well). Still, she continued. “Yeah, little miss Hunahm told me everything. Hide and seek, tag, I don’t care what it was, you all need to be just careful with each other. Poor girl over here took a fall, and I see you did too, mister Kountze.”
At his name, Teddy turned away. Angus spoke up. “We’ll be careful next time, miss Lamb.”
“Please, we’re on vacation; just Mary.” She looked at you. “You’re gonna help me with dinner later, right?”
“I will.”
“Good, stay out of trouble.”
“No promises.”
With that, Mary left through one of the doors leading to the teacher’s lounge. The moment she did, Teddy hissed at you.
“What the hell was that?!”
Rolling your eyes you said. “Didn’t you hear? We were playing a stupid game.”
“You mean you punched me in the face.”
“You blackmailed me into doing something I wouldn’t have wanted to do; we can keep going.”
“It’s not my fault you’re a-.”
“-A what?”
He stopped to your surprise, then changed his tone. “I just don’t think your father would be proud of the choices you’ve made.”
On one hand, damn, those words cut deep enough to almost make you bleed; but on the other hand…
“Are you gonna tell him?” You asked, trying not to sound like you gave a shit.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I mean, unless you’re gonna say sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” You laughed. “Beating the shit out of you? You started it. Besides, who’s he going to believe?”
Silence was what you were met with. Even at the sight of his face, you only continued to grin. “Teddy, come on, you start ‘not fights’, we all know. It’s not a hard question, I thought you were smarter than this?”
He sighed. “You.”
“Exactly; you’re my bitch, Kountze.” You walked backwards, a little skip in your step. “Don’t you forget that.”
Turning away, you retreated to the infirmary, grabbing your books and escaping to the library in hopes of not having to see any of them for the rest of the day.
Men…so exhausting.
You managed to disappear into the world of The Yellow Wallpaper (not necessarily lighthearted reading, but it was still interesting) and a chapter of The Two Towers before Mary called you down to help with dinner.
After another strange but not so subtle comment from her (“You know you can be honest with me, right? I am with you.”), it was quiet between the both of you. That’s what you always loved with cooking and baking; the quietness, even if you were with one other person. You both just worked in tandem and it was almost frightening how you would both know to move out of the way of each other without saying a word.
Dinner was uneventful; somehow, your father hadn’t noticed the slight bruising on your lip, or Teddy’s eye (the color would probably start to show as days went on, but that was a future problem for you). Not one of the boys your age talked to you; even then, the freshmen kept to themselves a lot too.
So, it was quite a surprise to you, as there was “supervised leisure time” in the library, when Jason Smith sat across from you at the table.
“Hey.” He said softly.
You looked up from Jane Eyre. “Hello.”
“So…” He almost looked nervous (initially about what, you will never know). “you really gave Teddy shit today.”
Tilting your head to the side, you went. “Yeah? Well…he kind of threatened me.”
“No of course. Just…wow.” He chuckled. “You really held him off.”
Nodding, you honestly had no idea what to think. Was he complementing you? In shock? All you were doing was staying silent at this awkward exchange when he asked. “You okay?”
“Huh?”
“Just that, I can’t really read you right now. Did I say something weird?”
“No.” You shook your head, then said. “Well, yes. Sorry, I just…” You tried again. “Thank you, I think? But um…do you want me to be honest?”
“Sure.”
“I’m kind of…no, I am mad none of you stepped in. Maybe not mad but…I don’t know.”
“Well,” he began. “we told him to stop.”
“So did I, but he didn’t.” You wanted to say, but you only knew saying something true would make it worse (this is why you couldn’t be outnumbered by men; it’d make you scared). Instead, you settled on.
“I know, and thanks, but it still would’ve been nice for some help.”
He shrugged. “You seemed to have it handled.”
Six words you thought (and prayed) you’d never hear again; and he said them with a nonchalant shrug. As if, by now, he was already bored and annoyed with a conversation he had started. Perhaps you were reading too much into that last part, perhaps he didn’t mean to come off as callous; but he was still oblivious at the end of the day.
“Look,” he interrupted your overflowing mind when he saw how much it was affecting you. “if it helps, he tried to run after you when you punched him, but Tully and I held him back.”
You took a deep breath as his words sunk in. Then, you chuckled bitterly. “How nice of you to not let him beat me to a pulp.”
He shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
“Angry? Pissed off?”
“Irritational.”
Your jaw actually dropped. “What?”
He said your name, shaking his head and lowering his voice as if you both hadn’t been quiet already. “Look, Kountze is a dick, we know that. But come on, he said some horrible stuff, and you punched him. That doesn’t really add up.”
“…He threatened me.”
“You basically invited him to take a picture of you alone. I mean, yeah it was to bate him, but still.”
No further questions, you picked up your book and your jacket. Without another word and ignoring how he tried to call you back with a soft tone of voice as he said your name, you walked out of the library without another thought.
Your father asked you about it of course, but all you said was that Jason spoiled a book you were looking forward to reading. He believed you and wished you goodnight, leaving you to lie in your bed and be stuck in your thoughts until snoring reached your ears.
You waited a few more minutes before you stood up, gathering your blanket to wrap around you. As you walked down the hall, the nagging thought of ‘Do I even feel safe in there?’ invaded your mind when you only realized that you were going to be in a room with both Jason and Teddy. You were outside of the hall for longer than you would imagine, when you heard quiet voices on the other side of the wall.
“…I had an accident.”
“Yeah, you did. Shh, stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”
You had to cover your mouth from the unexpected line. How…strange it was to hear Angus Tully be this comforting. You heard the smaller voice again and heard that it was Ye-Joon.
“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends.” His voice broke at the end, and so did a piece of your heart.
Then, Angus with his words of wisdom, said. “Yeah, well, friends are overrated. I’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right? In the meantime, find a dry spot, and try to get some sleep.”
“Thank you.”
You gave it a few moments, still reeling over the gentleness of it all, before entering into the light of the infirmary room. You knocked lightly on the door frame not to frighten anyone.
Angus turned over his shoulder, and somehow didn’t jump when he saw you.
“Hi.” You greeted.
“Hey.” He responded, trying to act like his common, moody self.
You wanted to acknowledge what you heard; tease him (but not in an unkind way) about him being nice, ask him why, in the dead of night, was he like this and not in the daytime? Still, all you could manage was the basic.
“Is everything alright?”
He nodded. “Yeah, just nightmares, you know.”
“No,” you shook your head, deciding to lighten and grace the room with your sarcasm. “I’ve never had one in my life.”
Angus seemed to catch on, and it surprised you greatly to see him actually smile. “Nobody likes a bragger.”
“So that’s why you don’t have any friends.”
…Too much; too much sarcasm.
Both of your smiles fell, and you wanted nothing more than to shrivel up like a leaf and die in front of him, then have someone sweep out the crumbs of your body and then them on fire in the snow before burying the ashes.
You still can’t believe you came up with that metaphor quicker before you could say. “I’m just gonna…”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
You scurried into the other room and under the covers of the bed. The fear of Teddy and Jason no longer was the thing keeping you up at night in that room; it was the worst possible thing you could’ve said to Angus Tully of all people.
i was wondering if you were up to writing another one? maybe a first meeting? where reader comes from a neighboring school and has to spend christmas at the boys school and then meets angus. it’s up to you! i’d love to see what you come up with
GROUPIE
warnings :: none i think
!! :: angel!reader
—
NO ONE knew what to do with you.
that was the problem.
you arrived two days before christmas with a single suitcase and a letter from a neighboring school explaining, in stiff, apologetic language, that due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’, you’d be spending the holiday break at barton academy instead. a girl. at a boys’ school. during holding over.
you looked out of place the moment you stepped inside — not because you didn’t belong, but because you seemed untouched by the bitterness that clung to the halls. your coat was light-colored. your voice was soft. you smiled at people like you expected them to smile back.
someone whispered angel under their breath once, and the name stuck in angus tully’s head like it had always been yours.
he noticed you from afar at first. across the dining hall, where you sat alone, posture straight, hands folded like you were afraid to take up too much space. in the hallway, where you paused to admire the old windows dusted with snow. in the common room, where you read quietly while everyone else complained.
you never complained.
angus did enough of that for the both of you.
he wanted to talk to you. god, he wanted to. but every time he opened his mouth, he imagined ruining you somehow — his sharp words, his temper, the way teachers already had him catalogued as trouble. he thought of you next to him and felt… wrong. like he’d smudge something clean.
so he admired you from a distance.
until christmas eve.
the halls were quieter than usual, the building almost reverent. angus wandered aimlessly, restless, until he found you standing in the chapel — not praying, just looking. the candles were lit. the light caught in your hair.
you turned when you heard him.
“oh.” you said softly. “hi.”
he froze. “hi.”
an awkward beat passed.
“i didn’t know we were allowed in here.” you added.
“we’re probably not.” angus said. then, wincing, “sorry. that wasn’t- i mean-”
you smiled. not amused. not judgmental. just kind.
“i like it.” you said. “it’s quiet.”
he nodded, suddenly very aware of his hands. “yeah. it is.”
you stood side by side, not touching, but close enough that angus felt warm despite the cold stone floor.
“you’re angus, right?” you asked.
he blinked. “you know my name?”
“everyone does.” you replied gently. “you’re… memorable.”
his stomach dropped. “that’s one word for it.”
you turned to him then, really looked at him. “i think you’re just honest.”
that shouldn’t have mattered. but it did.
“you don’t have to stay away from me.” you added, quieter now. oh. so you noticed. “you know. i don’t break that easily.”
angus swallowed. “i just didn’t want to mess things up.”
“you wouldn’t.” you said. then, after a pause, “and even if you did… i think i’d forgive you.”
something in him gave.
he leaned in without quite meaning to, slow enough that you could stop him. you didn’t. your lips met his, warm and careful, like a promise rather than a spark. angus’s breath caught; his hand hovered before settling at your waist, reverent.
“merry christmas.” he whispered.
you smiled, glowing in the candlelight. “merry christmas, angus.”
and for the first time all break, he didn’t feel like trouble.
he felt chosen.
—
i was putting this off for a bit but i decided to write it today bc it’s one of my moots bday’s ( @sentrytuna ) so happy bday !!
violette. @violetteshoneybee - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
