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bakugoushotwife · 3 months

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blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about.

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement.

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing.

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness.

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss.

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next.

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever.

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!”

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face.

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him.

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months.

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good.

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling.

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident.

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless.

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away.

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

#kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #yuuji smut #itadori x reader #jjk yuji x reader #yuuji x fem!reader

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ma1dita · 3 months

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anything you want

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.6k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where you and him have your first kiss. It’s just Luke. He’ll do anything you tell him to, even if you talk too much. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: trouble is a yapper yall should know that by now. happy first kiss to you and luke!

(posted 1/25/24 unbetad)

—

“Come on, Castellan, we’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry!”

Your foot taps steadily on the forest floor, waiting for Luke to finish his demonstration of how to slay a chimera, and at the sound of your voice, he sheathes his sword and claps Chris on the back to finish up the workshop.

“Where you off to, man?”

“Gotta help our favorite head counselor set up for Greek Legends & Theatrics,” he says matter-of-factly, setting his battle armor to the side and making the walk up the steep hill towards the amphitheater to meet you like he’s following a siren call.

“Simp,” Chris mutters before his best friend slaps him across the head and jogs away.

“My hands are full, Rodriguez!”

“You wish!” Chris calls out as he picks up his sword, watching the slight blush rise on Luke’s pale cheeks as he almost trips over his own feet.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Watch your fucking language,” you say sternly, which makes the both of you laugh when he finally meets you at the top of the hill. Instantly, you’re relinquishing everything in your hands: your water jug, the bag of costumes, a binder of scripts, and a ukelele. Luke’s juggling everything as best he can with no complaints, following your footsteps as he bumps the body of the uke against his hip to get a better grasp as he marvels at your excitement for your little drama club.

“What’re you teaching today, trouble?”

“Orpheus and Eurydice, and it’s gonna be great! One of my personal favorites! The kids should be ready for the performance at the end of the month,” you grin, walking backward as you descend the stone steps of the amphitheater.

You’ve both grown into your roles here at camp, finding places you shine and excel at and together you bridge what the kids, your kids, are lacking. But he can see how you let yourself thrive here, being the operative heart of Camp Half Blood, and you’re radiating as you beckon him to follow you.

Following you around has become a habit as of late, one that he’s only recently made himself aware of. Sure, he’s always loved annoying you and doing something stupid to get a reaction, whether it be a snide remark or a smile, but something in your dynamic has changed. You’re head counselor after all, and even though he’s only in charge of busy cabin 11, his hand is always extended to whatever you have to offer. Quite simply, he loves it when you look for him, there’s no other explanation for it.

You’ve always troubled him, his thoughts, his life— but Luke can’t define it, or deem it something he can live without. It doesn’t make sense, and now he often finds himself wondering what it would be like to be more than whatever you are; not enemies, not necessarily friends, but perhaps a secret third thing, something he admittedly holds sacred.

Luke trusts you with his life, but wouldn’t choose you to be his quest companion again he thinks, not after the scar only you deem pretty is an evident sign of his personal transgression. He stares at you for a second too long while you ramble, organizing your thoughts out loud that he doesn’t notice any of the actual words falling from your lips because he’s entranced by them. Slight worry crosses his sharp features as he realizes he could kill someone if you got hurt.

Fuck.

There’s a space he’s carved out for you in his heart that he reminds himself not to name yet and now you’re looking for him again, turning to him when you realize he hasn’t followed.

When did you get so close to him?

“Luke!” you exclaim, nibbling on your bottom lip as you snap your fingers in his face.

“Are you even listening to me? I need an extra hand setting up smores stuff for the bonfire later if you’re free, and then we have night shift after…” You’re leaning against the table with a delicate smile on your face and in moments like these where you rattle off your routine that he gladly picks apart— Luke feels a sort of elation better than any quest or glory he can achieve. Only you can make unpaid labor sound like Elysium.

He nods absentmindedly, eyes flickering to your lips as you continue to speak, and he can’t help but admire how the way the sun filters through your hair…

Maybe Chris was onto something…

“You okay? If you need a break you can sit and watch us, the kids should be coming soon to start.”

Your fingers graze his bicep, and he blinks at you, your eyes wide with curiosity and a fire that can’t be tamed. You drive him crazy. He probably looks like a lunatic, frozen in place as he stares at you, so he shakes his head lightly, albeit unconsciously as he furrows his eyebrows, scar crinkling with his eyes as he smiles at you. What a dork.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you laugh, your head falling onto your shoulder as you look at him sideways. You’ve noticed Luke is softer with you nowadays, hands always full when you keep him busy, and unlike the other cabin counselors, seldom does he fight you about camp duties. He’ll fight you about anything else though, just to get the last swipe at your attention, to make sure your eyes are on him.

And they always are, whether you can help it or not.

Luke steps forward, duffel bag still in hand and ukelele at his other side and suddenly he looks like he’s on a mission, his signature smirk stealing the air from your lungs as you forget what you’re saying.

“Like what, trouble?”

Nervous laughter bubbles from you at the increasing proximity. It’s the first time he’s spoken since you got down here. His cargos brush against the smooth skin of your legs as you nestle your hips against the table, and the smell of sweat, musk, and citrus infiltrates your nostrils with a shaky breath.

“Like you’re about to make a mess of something. I can’t really tell,” you whisper. Why are you whispering? There’s no one here but you two and the sound of birds in the spring air.

It’s just Luke. Luke Castellan, who you glitter bombed when you were 14, who shoves you around every chance he gets, and steals food off your plate at every meal.

“I might. Not sure yet,” he swallows as he looms over you, the bag in his grasp falling to the side and the ukelele making a dissonant noise as he sets it on the table.

When did you let him past your defenses? The wall around your heart was well protected after years of whims of what you thought was love felt like running headfirst into concrete.

But Luke’s always been there, watching.

Though as a son of Hermes, sneaking in without a sound is what he does best. Perhaps a little too well, the both of you not noticing it for what it was until this moment.

“What are we doing?” you ask, and his reply is to pull you in by the belt loop of your denim shorts, snatching you closer with a curl of his fingers.

“You talk too much, you know that?”

Then suddenly, finally—his lips descend onto yours stealing your breath away like it's second nature, almost thoughtless and without anymore questions. There's a moment where you both sigh as if it was a relief to finally be touched like this, no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, and nothing else makes sense but to be here kissing him.

Luke’s calloused hand weaves under your jaw and into your hair, propping you up as your knees buckle slightly, so intense and gentle at the same time, lips forging the undeniable connection between you that’s gone unspoken for so long. His hands are full of you, and he tastes like the strawberries you snuck onto his plate at lunch.

Your hands slide up the front of his shirt, a featherlike touch to confirm that he’s there though the feel of his tongue slipping in makes you wonder how much time you’ve wasted arguing with him when you could’ve been doing this.

Everything about this kiss feels familiar in a way you can’t describe, but this embrace lets you learn about him what you thought you were already so sure of. It makes you wonder if you’ve been here before in a different life, and then you remember who’s in front of you.

It’s Luke, who likes it when he gets to fall asleep to the sound of your voice telling a bedtime story, follows you around even if his siblings tease him, and never ridicules you for your innate madness.

Perhaps he’s just as mad as you.

Your eyes flutter open, and he’s already walking away, nervously chuckling like he didn’t give you a life-altering kiss. When your heart finally feels like it’s in your chest again, you grumble loudly, shaking your head with his name still caught between your teeth—

“LUKE CASTELLAN! Don't you dare run away from me!”

He's quite sure he hasn't sprinted away faster in his life. But as he runs up the steps of the ampitheater to try and clear his head, he stumbles when he looks at you, turning around every few paces until he finally catches the unmistakeable smile on your face. Luke eats shit at the top, falling against a tree and he hears the sound of your laughter.

He thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life running away if it means he can look back and see if you’ll follow.

—

“I don’t know how it is you are so familiar to me—or why it feels like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place—some other existence.”

-Lang Leav

ask to be put on general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl l @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo show imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 3 months

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Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

#practice on me #pom #daddy fin #acourtofwhatthefuck #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar au #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand’s father #high lord of the night court #high lord #acotar x reader #fin x reader

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prismuffin · 1 month

Note

Sorry I don't request much but can I get a miles x male reader please. Where the reader doesn't talk much but when miles finally hears his voice he shocked.

If you can't do this I'll understand 😊

A/n: This seemed like a good little request to dust off the old writing skills. This might be a bit short since it's my first time writing in a while.

Grateful

Miles Morales x mute!male!reader

( summary: Though Miles was curious about how you sounded he knew you had your reasons for being mute, so it shocked him when he heard you speak for the first time since he'd met you. )

Warnings?: just some light swearing!

!-!more under the cut!-!

Miles smiled at the sight of you in the hallway, he met you a few months ago when you'd first come to Visions. He was tasked by one of his teachers to show you around. Now being more comfortable at his prestigious school, he took it upon himself to make you feel welcomed, giving you a friendly introduction to the school that he wish he had when he first joined. At first, he thought that would be a bit challenging after discovering the fact that you were mute but it turns out actions do speak louder than words.

The sound of the bell made him snap back to reality as he noticed you walking up to him, the same smile you always wore present on your face. "Hey y/n, what's up man?" He smirked, dapping you up as your body jolted in a silent laugh. "Your weekend good?" He asked, and you nodded, your arm going around his shoulder as you both started walking down the hallway. He started rambling about his weekend, glancing at you every now and then to determine your reaction. Your smile could only widen as you heard stories about Miles and his family, he always looked so happy to talk about them. Your eyes softened as they scanned over his face, he'd been so kind to you since the day you two met. You were understandably anxious about joining a new school but Miles made it all so much easier. The carefree attitude that radiated off of him made him seem so cool to you. Before meeting him, you were in a much darker place. Being selectively mute made making friends somewhat difficult. Not everyone understood exactly why you did it. They often questioned you and found you a bit weird or just thought you were shy and awkward. But Miles saw deeper than that, he didn't let your silence deter him from getting to know you as a person, most people never even bother to try. When you were with him you didn't feel like an outcast, you just felt like a regular guy. "Y/n, you listening?" Miles suddenly asked, and you snapped out of your trance, nodding quickly as you gave him a rushed smile. He didn't seem totally convinced, "Am I boring you?" you shook your head, furrowing your eyebrows and he smiled. "Good, well anyway like I was saying-" You blinked, his words dying on your ears as you were forced back into your thoughts. You were just so grateful to have someone like Miles in your life who saw you as an actual person, who talked to you like an actual person, just someone who saw you for you. You'd wanted to thank him for it all, even if to others it seems like the bare minimum.

You unwrapped your arm from around Miles' shoulder as you saw your classroom in sight. "Oh damn we got here kinda fast," You nodded, stopping in front of your classroom door. Miles dapped you up again, "Alright bro, I'll see you at lunch kay?" He gave you a smile before turning to leave but stopped as you grabbed his arm. Turning back around, he raised an eyebrow, looking at you in confusion. You felt yourself start to sweat as you inhaled sharply. Opening your mouth, you hesitated slightly, struggling to find the words you randomly felt the need to say. For the first time in your life you felt as though actions couldn't possibly speak louder than words could. Your eyes darted around his face as you attempted to gather the courage to actually do it. He stopped, looking at you with even more confusion than before as you seemingly froze in front of him. He reached down, getting ready to pull out his phone in case you felt the need to say something more than yes or no but stopped in his tracks as he heard you.

"Thank you,"

His eyes snapped to yours at the sound of your voice, it was deeper than he'd expected and was a little hoarse from lack of use. You slightly cringed at the harshness of your voice, holding back a laugh at the shocked look on Miles' face as you gave him an awkward smile before deciding to clarify a bit more. "For being my friend, and..stuff..." your voice trailed off as you looked away from him in embarrassment. His face suddenly broke out into a large smile, "Wow, I made you break your oath of silence just to thank me?" He teased, giving you a friendly shove as you smiled back at him, your eyebrows still awkwardly furrowed. You nodded and he groaned, "Aww come on I just got you to start talking and then you go silent on me again?" You waved your hands in front of you dismissively making him laugh, "I'm joking I'm joking, but- you know you don't have to thank me for stuff like that right?" He said, his head cocked in slight confusion. "You're a cool dude Y/n," He placed his hand on your shoulder and you smiled softly, glancing at his hand for a moment. You simply nodded like you had many times before.

Even if the whole thing was a little awkward at least now he knew how grateful you were to have a friend like him.

----!----

( I'm a bit iffy on this- it's my first time writing in a while so excuse me if it's a bit bad )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#prismuffin #x male reader #miles morales imagine #miles morales x male reader #male reader #spiderman miles morales #spiderman x male reader #itsv miles #spiderman itsv #itsv miles x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #marvel x male reader #marvel fanfiction #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader

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amomentsescape · 4 months

Note

I love your writing! Could I possibly get a Slasher X reader. One of the Reader ending up in the hospital for whatever reason. It could be over sickness or getting injured/hunt.

Slashers React to Reader Ending Up in the Hospital

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of injury, illness, and killings

A/N: Thank you so much! Some of the Slashers were written outside of the hospital setting since I don't think all of them would be comfortable stepping out into public. I hope you still enjoy though!

Freddy Krueger

Freddy decided to pay you a visit in the real world when he hadn't heard from you in a few days

It wasn't like you to not say anything, and he was starting to get worried

But when he checked into your bedroom and found you nowhere in sight, he quite literally freaked out

(He may have visited some of your friends that night and threatened them to find out where you were)

When he finally found you in the hospital, he was even more worried

You could barely talk and your eyes were horribly bloodshot

It was only when you began coughing did he realize what was going on

"I haven't been able to close my eyes for more than 20 minutes without coughing" you hoarsely whispered to him

Despite wanting to take you back home with him, he knew better

He wasn't exactly a doctor, and he cared more about you getting better than you visiting him

So he let you be

He did help you with falling asleep though

And he visited you every night until you got better

He killed a couple nurses that he stated weren't taking care of you well enough though

Michael Myers

Yeah, he's pissed

He comes home, and you're not there?

Livid

Mostly at the idea that something happened to you, but he won't admit that the idea of you leaving him may have crossed his mind a couple times

But when he finds a note stating you were going to get yourself checked out at the hospital, he immediately heads out without a second thought

You have no idea how, but he sneaks in without anyone noticing him?

He immediately rips the blanket off of you and scans your body, trying to pinpoint what is wrong

It's only when he sees your bandaged leg that he meets your eyes

"I was trying to clean your knife, and it slipped..." you said like a kid about to be scolded

He shook his head at you and then lifted you into his arms, carrying you out of the room

While walking out, you happen to notice several dead bodies laying on the ground, blood pooling around them

Ah, so that's how he got in

Jason Voorhees

It was after the 5th night of not being able to breathe fully that you gave in, deciding to go to the hospital

You told Jason it would be super quick, but after a few hours, you still hadn't returned

Instead of just waiting a little longer like a normal person, Jason assumed that something terrible had happened and decided to make a public appearance

(Something he doesn't do often)

He headed into town and located the nearest hospital

Luckily, it was late by now, and the hospital wasn't quite as busy as normal

When he stepped inside, he just slammed down a piece of paper with your name on it, the front desk worker frantically typing in the computer

With how Jason looked and the size of his machete in tow, nobody even bothered to question him

When he was finally pointed to your room, he immediately picked you up and walked back out with you

After finding your doctor and making them give him your prescriptions, he was off to take you back home with him

He wouldn't dare spend even a single night without you

Thomas Hewitt

With the amount of meat hooks, knives, and scrapped bones around, it was a surprise you hadn't gotten into an accident sooner

You were a pretty clumsy person in general, so when you stumbled over a little dip in the tile floor of the kitchen, you instinctively reached your hand out to stop yourself

You managed to not hit the ground, but you sacrificed the palm of your hand in the process

A large butcher's knife was sitting on the counter, and it had sliced right into your skin

Thomas was rushing to your side in a hurry, frantically smooshing towels onto your wound to stop the bleeding

Despite his protests, you insisted on going to get looked at in the hospital

You were certain your hand was going to need stitches

While you were out, he just sat on the couch the whole time, staring at the wall

You promised to be back later, and so he trusted you

But there was no way he was going to be productive with you gone

Once were finally back, Thomas was quick to give you princess treatment

He makes you lay in bed while he brings you food, treats, and cuddles

He'll be watching you like a hawk for the weeks to come, that's for sure

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba was quite literally hanging onto your ankles as you tried to make your way through the door

He was blubbering like crazy

But this stomach flu you've been dealing with was making you miserable

You needed some type of medicine to sort yourself out, although Bubba disagreed

You told him you'd be back soon before giving one last shake and running out the door, leaving Bubba whining after you

He was yelling at basically everything and everyone, frantically storming around the house until you came back

He knew he wouldn't be able to go with you, but he hated you going anywhere by yourself

He was only calm again when you walked back through the door a couple hours later, some weird looking pills in hand

He'd be all over you after that, refusing to even let you go to the bathroom by yourself

And unfortunately for him, this attachment to you resulted in him waking up with the same stomach pains you had just a day later

At least you still had some medicine left, right?

Brahms Heelshire

So there's no way in hell Brahms would ever let you go to the hospital

When you accidentally tripped on the stairs, knocking yourself unconscious during the fall, Brahms was going through a mental breakdown

He didn't know how to help you

And despite all the shaking and slaps he could muster, nothing would wake you up

He finally gave up and decided to call 911

When the ambulance showed up, they were met with a grisly surprise

One of the medics was immediately killed upon entry, and the other was held at knife point, forced to call back and say everything was fine

Brahms then forced them to help you, watching their every move

It was only once your eyes fluttered open that his body relaxed

He quickly disposed of the other medic, immediately tending to you

But don't worry, Brahms would deal with the bodies and the ambulance later

He did it for you after all

Norman Bates

It was actually Norman's idea for you to go to the hospital in the first place

It wasn't like you to be dealing with a cold for this long, and he was beginning to get worried

He happily drove you there, patiently sitting in the waiting room as the doctor took you back to check you out

With a couple prescriptions (and a hefty payment) later, you were back at home with him, relaxing in bed

Norman made sure you always had some tea to drink and soup to eat throughout the night

He even ran the bath for you in hopes of opening your sinuses

He just seems like a normal, doting partner

But if the medicine doesn't seem to help soon, Norman supposes he may need to pay the doctor another visit...

Just to talk things over, of course

Billy Loomis

It's just a little cut, why do you need to go to the hospital?

You shouldn't have been playing with his knife in general

He told you it was dangerous

But he can take care of you himself, he's sure of it

But when he finds you gone just a few minutes later, he immediately becomes tense

Great

With a loud sigh and a few curse words later, Billy is out the door and driving after you

When he makes it to the hospital, he just storms inside

He ignores all the calls from staff to "come back" and to "not go in there"

He finds you talking with the doctor, a look of shock on your face

(You're not exactly sure how he knew which room you were in)

"Are we done here?" Billy grumbles

"You shouldn't be back here"

Billy rolls his eyes at the doctor

"Does it look like I give a shit?"

And with that he, grabs your hand and walks you out, being mindful of your bandaged arm

You're still not sure how you haven't received a bill from the hospital yet

In fact, you haven't heard back from the doctor at all in the past few days

Huh, weird

Stu Macher

Nothing about Stu is calm... ever

So the moment he realizes you aren't home at your normal time, he flips

Probably tries to call and text you numerous times

He even calls Billy who's like "how am I supposed to know??"

When you finally send a text back saying that you went to the doctor's, he quickly responds back saying he's coming to get you

He storms into the hospital like he owns the place, immediately asking the staff where you were

If any of them refuse, he gives them a wicked smile that makes them all uncomfortable

They give in quickly

Stu suddenly barges into your room asking "what's wrong" and "who hurt you?"

You almost laugh at his worry since all that happened was you falling due to being clumsy

He just sighs and shakes his head

"You should have called me"

Once you're all ready to go, he just walks out with you with your arm wrapped in his

He says goodbye to all the staff like nothing ever happened, but they all look a bit fearful

Eric Draven

After fighting with the flu for a good week, Eric decides he should take you to get checked out

Despite your protests, he insists he needs to take you and stay with you (just to make sure they hear you out and give you what you need)

Eric wouldn't hurt or threaten any of the hospital staff, but his presence alone is enough to make them feel intimidated

You're practically in and out within just 20 minutes

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he teased

You just give him a little shove

He pretty much dotes on you for the time being until you get better

Unlike most of the Slashers, Eric has no issues with you going to the occasional doctor's visit

He cares a great deal about your health and always wants what's best for you

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natailiatulls07 · 8 months

Text

Childhood Sweethearts

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary - After years of being separated, the two childhood lovers reunite once again

Warning - Herve Leclercs death, anxiety

Growing up, the Leclerc’s and the L/n’s were close family friends. Pascale and Herve were Y/n’s godparents. Being the same age, the parents would often stick Charles and Y/n together claiming that they were future lovers and soulmates.

That’s how the two developed a crush on the other, an innocent and first crush.

It didn’t help that the two would unknowingly play into the scenario of young love, like this one time Charles had given her his lollipop because there wasn’t any left for Y/n. Or the time where Y/n offered to play football with him when Charles’ other friends couldn’t, despite the fact that she didn’t know how to play the sport.

Pascale and Y/n’s mum would always say “oh look at them, the cutest little couple ever”. Or Herve and her father would always convince Charles to buy Y/n a little gift with his pocket money which he happily obliged to.

However, in 2017, after Herves unfortunate and devastating death, the two families grew apart. They never wanted this to happen but sometimes in life these things do happen and we can’t control them.

They felt uncomfortable spending time together without the company of the late Leclerc. Losing contact was when Charles and Y/n had finally broken apart.

Yet their life long love for each other didn’t flutter away, they would still love the other the same but just miss them incredibly.

“Yes mum, I’ll be okay don’t worry” I had only just gotten off the plan in Austria when my mum called me, she has always been very anxious when I travel alone.

“Ok honey, when you do see Charles tell him that he should bring his mum over sometime” That’s why I was here in Austria, I was planning on surprising him.

It all started when his little brother, Arthur, reached out to me through instagram dm’s.

Hey Y/n, long time no see. I was wondering if you could do me a favour

So when he explained how Charles had been feeling a little down about his performance this year on track and that Arthur thought it was best if I came to surprise him, I didn’t hesitate to agree.

It was along before race day Sunday came around. I had arranged to meet Arthur at the paddock entrance and he’d be my guide for the day. I had butterflies in my stomach, what if he had moved on from our silly childhood love? What if he didn’t want to see me again? I had many what if’s which didn’t help my anxiety. “Hey! Hey Y/n!” I heard the voice of the youngest Leclerc brother as he approached me, snapping me out of my head full of questions.

“Arthur Leclerc! Since when did you grow?!” I had always remembered how he would be smaller than me growing up and now he has grown well above my height.

“Long long time in the making, unless you’ve gotten shorter” He teased before pulling me into a hug. “No seriously we’ve missed you and your family…” Arthur’s voice now growing more somber.

“I know, we miss you guys too…but hopefully after today we’ll get some more time together…” I knew it wouldn’t be the same without Herve but we’d honour him and reminisce on the memories. Taking a deep breath as we pulled apart.

“Let’s do this! He’s going to be so happy!!” There was an evident smile of excitement on his face, which I only mirrored on my mine.

The race had just finished, with Charles coming in at second. Both Y/n and Arthur had managed to keep her out of sight of Charles, leaving the surprise for the podium.

Standing just below the podium, she watched how Checo then Charles and finally Max took their places.

Y/n wasn’t sure he’d see her as she was amongst a sea of red, all the Ferrari engineers and employees. That was until Charles had looked down at the red sea, his eyes clicked on a familiar yet stranger of a face.

His hand flew over his mouth to show his shock, before jumping down from second place and running down to her. Many staff members tried to stop him, but his force was too strong.

Finally the man in the Ferrari racing suit had come face to face with her again. “What? How are you here?” Charles had many questions, beyond baffled.

“To surprise you, Charlie” Their cheeks were beginning to hurt because of how much they were smiling. Crashing her into his arms, they both felt at home and comfortable.

“Oh ma amour… I’ve missed you some much” Y/n was close to tears, she had never found anyone who loved her the way he did. She missed that love they had for each other.

“Missed you too Charlie” She managed to croak out through her tears. They were both too focused on each other to notice everyone around them.

Arthur was watching from just beside, happy that he could reunite the childhood sweethearts after so long. Fans were confused but cheering nonetheless as they could see the relief and comfort this brought to Charles.

You could see Max looking down from his spot on the podium to see the two reuniting. He had known of Y/n from their karting days where her family would join the Leclercs to support Charles on the sidelines.

Max would often remember how she was the first one to hug and congratulate Charles whatever the race result, he saw the love in their eyes.

It had been a few days after the race, and the two were once again inseparable. Travelling back to Monaco whilst the two families planned a small get together.

“So Y/n, how is everything? I’ve missed our girls days out with me, you and your mum” Pascale had pulled Y/n aside, she wanted to catch up with her goddaughter.

“All good but even better now! Yes we should definitely do a girls spa day soon” A bright smile was etched on Y/n’s face, showing Pascale that she was far from lying.

“Of course, tell me has there been any other men in your life over the years…” As much as Pascale hated the idea of Y/n with someone else and Charles with someone else, she needed to know.

“No…Charlie has always been the one with my heart…” There was a sigh of relief coming from the older women’s lips as Y/n revealed her love for him.

“Well you’ll be glad to know that I think you and Charles are on the same page there…” She could only smirk when Y/n started to blush.

“Thank you Pascale, you really are my fairy godmother” With that Pascale pulled her into a hug, a long and warming hug.

“So tell us Charles, who is the new lucky girl?” The interviewer asked. It had been just over few months since Charles and Y/n reunited and their love had become strong than ever.

“She’s nothing new, we’ve always loved each other like we do now but yeah she’s my soulmate, my other half” Anyone who could see him now could see the love in his eyes.

This wasn’t an ordinary love story, and you could tell. “I love her and she loves me, always have and always will”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles lechair #charles leclerc x you #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x you #ferrari f1 #formula one x y/n #forza ferrari #scuderia ferrari #arthur leclerc #Lorenzo Leclerc #pascale leclerc #max verstappen

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eihoons · 11 months

Text

enhypen as your ex but they want you back ✮

ex-bf!enhypen x reader , them wanting you back , fluff , angst (?) (note: not really sure abt this one but i just really love angst)

❝ heeseung ❞

Misses you day and night

Could NOT sleep without you beside him (as if you were his source of warmth and love especially him being in your arms or vice versa)

Really did try his best to forget you

Would always try and stop himself from viewing your social media accounts, your old conversations, and your old pictures together.

But, unfortunately (or the other way around), he failed.

He couldn't take it anymore, he wanted to talk with you for the last time and so, he did.

Went to your house, and tried to talk it out as if it were a misunderstanding.

Would hold your hand and take a deep breath before talking about it.

"y/n, I know we already talked about it, but.. I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding. I have to admit, my life isn't it without you."

❝ jay ❞

Suddenly had a feeling he had to see you because he dreamt about you one night.

The dream about you was something he wouldn't dare forget because it somehow felt real to him.

Obviously knows where your daily activities are, so he attempted in meeting you one day at your nearby favorite cafe.

Would look all around the place for you.

As he spotted you, he did his best to calm down, waiting for you to approach him first.

Of course you saw him, but you, on the other hand, also waited for him to approach you first.

It definetly took quite a long time for Jay to wait, so he got up and walked towards you.

"Hi, y/n. Uh, I know we haven't really been talking to each other these days but I want to keep in touch. I do know you're trying to move on, but, as much as possible I still want to stay as your friend."

Would say he still wants to be your friend, but deep inside his heart he wanted to go and ask you out once again.

❝ jake ❞

You, Jake, and Layla have been under the same roof ever since you and Jake had been together.

But, of course, due to you and Jake's parting, you had to move out.

Jake noticed Layla looking down ever since she had noticed you were gone and didn't have any signs of you coming back.

If Layla was miserable, then so was him.

He loved Layla most, aside from you. So, he decided to meet up with you, bringing up Layla as an excuse.

As you both finally met again, awkwardness filled the air. On the other hand, Layla ran up to you, making you stumble a bit.

"I guess she misses you more than I do.. or maybe I do miss you more, y/n."

Would finally look into your eyes, although he is trying his best to prevent his tears from falling.

Would hold your hand and say,

"Please come back to us, y/n. You have no idea how much I miss your presence in our house. It feels so.. empty without you."

After thinking about it, he gave you such a tight yet comforting hug. This was something you surely missed.

❝ sunghoon ❞

Man cried the first whole week after you guys broke up

He knew he made a huge mistake thinking that he'd be better off without you.

Would be in his room for days, planning out how he would apologize or rather how he'd get you back in his arms.

An unexpected coincidence happened in your nearby convenience store. Your hands accidentally touching on the last stock of your favorite food.

He didn't really enjoy this type of food, but for you, he will. He would buy this often because some part of you still lives within him.

After meeting your eyes, he was lost in words. So, you started the conversation instead.

"Oh, Sunghoon, uhm.. hi?"

"H- Hey.. y/n."

"What brings you here buying.. this? I thought you didn't really like it."

"Ah, uhm, ah.. it reminded me of you. Your favorite food, right?"

Mentally slaps himself because this wasn't how things were supposed to go in his head.

After paying for the food at the counter, he finally composed himself and held your shoulder, making you face him, and said, "I miss you so much, y/n. I was such an idiot thinking I could live without you. It came up to the point where I couldn't even call my home my 'home' without you. I'm really sorry, y/n. Please come back."

❝ sunoo ❞

You and Sunoo had each other's back ever since. You were his best friend, his comfort person, and his human diary. He couldn't rant to anyone else but you.

Has always been reading your text conversations, but knew it wouldn't be the same since you have separated.

Was always so close to messaging you about his days, not until he accidentally sent you one.

"y/n i miss you so much that you dont have the slightest idea how i cry every night knowing you wouldnt be there to comfort me.. i just wish you were here wiping my tears and hugging me"

Knew he'd be doomed but didn't expect you to reply that fast.

You replied with, "sunoo, it's always been the same for me, if you're free lets meet up at the park tomorrow okay? i miss you too, see you"

Was in so much joy, jumping in his room and eventually thanked himself for sending that message.

As you two had met, he thought to himself that you were still as beautiful as ever.

"y/nnie—"

Got cut off once you ran to him, hugging his torso.

Would caress your head slowly, combing your hair with his fingers.

"I love you, y/n. I always will."

❝ jungwon ❞

Thought he wasn't a good boyfriend for you since he knew he didn't give you much time and love. But it wasn't like that for you, you completely understood him.

Realized that it was somehow a mistake of his to break up with you since he wasn't feeling himself ever since you were gone.

Tears up every time he thinks about you because he misses you so much :(

Eventually promised himself he'd be better to you, so he wanted to meet you once again.

Prepared a whole speech just to prove you that he would treat you better this time.

Brought you your favorite food along with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"y/n, I know you won't probably accept this but.. I really need you in my life. You've been my motivation and my reason to keep going on everyday. Without you i- it's just.. plain and empty. y/n, please forgive me and I'll treat you a hundred times better, I'm really sorry, y/n."

You saying yes meant the world to him, he was way more than happy.

And when he said he'd treat you a hundred times better, he really meant it.

❝ ni-ki ❞

Was a childhood friend of yours, so, your parents basically knew each other.

Then, you guys somehow started dating but ended up parting because of frequent arguments.

He had so much regrets with not treating you right because he thought it'd be easy finding someone else for him. But it wasn't, you were THE only one for him :)

A family dinner was held at their place after a long time of not seeing each other. (Their family inviting yours)

A perfect opportunity it was for Ni-ki since he missed playing his favorite games with you.

His heart flipped seeing you in such a beautiful dress— No, he thought, you always looked good in anything.

Ni-ki then invited you to his room after eating, but an awkward silence had only been formed.

You were caught off-guard when he suddenly pulled you into a hug, a very familiar one. This was your Ni-ki

So, you didn't have any choice but to hug back.

You then heard him sniffing, assuming he had been crying.

"You have no idea how much I've been longing for this, y/n. Can you please just come home to me? What else is the point of playing all these games without you?"

m.list

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peachypinkygloss · 9 months

Note

hello! for the 2k celebration: how about brothers bff!jk x reader (where jk has had a crush on Jimin’s big sis foreverrrrrr & now that they’re older he wants her to see him as a man) <3 all I can think of is seven jk w his tattoos & hair & abs!!! anyways happy 2k 💖💖💖 MWAH

thank you so much!! 💕 mwah 💋 x

big boy

You finally fall for Jungkook's charms.

pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: brother's best friend au

warnings: implied age gap, jk's needy but also kind of cocky??, she touches his abs lol, 600 words.

a.n.: ok like HE'S NEEDy but this is how i like it 😏 laundromat jk is my fav 🤞🏻

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game! 🤍 (requests are closed!!)

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

"Jungkook," you say his name a bit in a scolding way, but the smile gracing your features tells otherwise. You pull your clothes out of the drier, folding them neatly on top of the machine before dropping them in your basket. "I don't know, it's... it's not-"

He interrupts you as you stay indecisive, his eyes round and so, so filled with hope. He helps you fold your clothes while you're talking together. This time he stops after having dropped your folded jeans in the basket, gently grabbing your bicep to make you face him.

"Just... why not?" He softly asks, your eyes finally meeting him. You still haven't folded the piece of clothing you're holding, but you look at him anyway. "One date, that's it! Nothing more if you don't want to, but if you want... you know I wouldn't mind," he grins and you can't help but do the same.

You sigh, defeated, because there's really nothing holding you back other than yourself. You would like to, but you keep overthinking.

"But what happens after? You'll still be friends with Jimin and..." You bite down on your lip, stopping mid-sentence, not sure what you're worrying about exactly.

The past, maybe. The implications, the consequences, how you'll see yourself after that. Things with Jungkook started being different when you came back for the summer break. You haven't seen him in years because you were studying abroad and seeing him again is, to say the least, special.

Jungkook is someone very loyal, he stayed in contact with your brother and made plans the minute he knew Jimin was back in town for the summer.

The loyalty he has for your brother you would have never noticed it before, but now it does something to you. You like it, you like that he doesn't forget years of friendship, that it still means a lot to him.

"And what? Jimin's a big boy," Jungkook justifies. "And so am I," he adds, making you smile. He is a big boy, that's for sure. "We'll handle it."

You look into his eyes when he says those words, staring back at you with a serious expression. He often laughs, but you know it when he speaks seriously, like right now.

You think for a moment, a short moment, comparing the pros and cons. You realize the cons are just things you worry could happen, that you're not even sure they would end up being true. Thinking twice, you don't think it's worth it to rely on the cons.

"The real question is... can you handle me?" You flirt and Jungkook surely likes this.

He smirks, his eyes looking at you up and down. Before, he would have responded no, that he can't handle you, that you're too good — too much — for him.

But now, heck yes he can.

He steps closer and takes your right hand, a stupid little grin on his face. "Can you..." He begins, passing your hand under his tank top, your fingers brushing against his abs. "Handle that?"

You're surprised, but you appreciate how he's blunt with you, not scared at all to shoot his shot. You voluntarily don't take your hand away immediately, though you remember you're not exactly in a private place.

"Jungkook!" You scold, but still giggle it off.

"Don't reject me," he pouts, and he genuinely looks sad.

You sigh again, knowing you don't really want to refuse his proposition. You enjoy his presence, he's funny and he always manages to make you laugh even when you're not feeling well.

He's an adult and so much more mature than other guys your age. He's attractive, so kind and attentive. He's a good man and Jungkook's right, it doesn't matter what others will think — aka Jimin.

"Okay. Go for a date."

#🍑 [drabble game]#requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines

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auras-moonstone · 2 months

Note

Hello!!! Hru?! I hope your doing great!

I don't know if the requests are open but i know you're a swiftie and 1989 tv just came out and "Slut!" really reminds me of Jack, so could you do a story inspired by it? Just reader being famous (actress/singer, whatever you think fits) and she is being all love-sick by meeting and dating jack? And she even buy that "i love my boyfriend/girlfriend" t-shirts?

I hope you get my request and i love your writing!! You are the best <3 (And what's you favorite vault track?)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ slut! — jack champion

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.9K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: jack champion x actress!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n has to deal with the reputation that has been set on her by the media as she falls in love with jack, her co-star and best friend.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: mentions of slut-shaming. friends to lovers. instagram posts. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: hiii! <3 thanks for sending this request! when i heard the lyrics “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” my brain just screamed JACK so i agree with you! and my fav vault tracks are slut and say don’t go <3

ever since y/n started working as an actress, the media has been merciless with her. maybe it was because despite having been in the industry for just a few short months, she was already working with remarkable directors and successful and iconic franchises. media had always had the tendency to bash successful women, and y/n was fully living that experience.

the point was, she didn’t want to give the media more things to trash her for, so she stayed unproblematic and silent. and yet, regardless of all that, they had managed put a reputation on her that was far from the truth.

y/n was kind and had a unique vibe. every co-star spoke highly about her and the media always managed to twist this by painting the picture that she was a “serial co-star dater.” it happened to her with every single movie or show she worked in, and people bought it blindly. the name-calling became part of her every-day life, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t affect her.

she swore she would never make the media be right, and so she set a strict rule—never ever date a co-star or be extra affectionate with them. it was a sad way of living, setting boundaries that were useless because reporters and haters always found a way, but she just wanted to do what she loved. she wanted to be remembered for her good acting and not for who she dated.

but then jack champion walked into the set, with his cringy yet amusing dad jokes and contagious smiles, to turn her world upside down. everything was so natural with him y/n didn’t even notice the way she started ignoring the rules until the scream filming was nearing its end and the thought of not seeing jack as often anymore made y/n’s chest hurt as if her heart was being ripped out.

and then the questions ran through her mind—what should she do? should she act normal, as if realisation hadn’t drawn on her? should she confront jack and ask if there was something more than friendship between them? or should she start putting distance before the feelings got deeper?

what she didn’t count on was that she didn’t need to say anything, jack was not only observant, he also knew her like the words to his favorite songs. he noticed how her head was up in space, how she seemed to be always deep in thoughts, distracted. something was consuming her mind, and it was driving jack insane.

“you’re acting weird. what’s going on?” jack finally asked her, pulling her aside on set. right behind the trailers where no one could bother them.

y/n tensed up. “what? nothing.”

“please, don’t play dumb. if there is someone you can’t fool is me.” jack said firmly. he missed his y/n, the girl who brought him comfort like a cozy warm blanket. “i miss you.”

“i’m here.” she said breathlessly.

“but are you?” he accused her. “something is going on, and it has to do with me.”

“what makes you say that?” y/n asked nervously.

“because you’re especially tense when i’m around.” he said sadly, and it broke y/n’s heart. her mind has been a mess, and she was unconsciously hurting jack. “did i do something wrong? please tell me, we can talk about it.”

y/n shook her head and before she knew it she was breaking down. jack didn’t hesitaste to pull her in. “i’m the problem. i’m sorry.”

“shhh, it’s okay. i’m here. don’t worry about it now, just take a deep breath. we don’t have to talk about it now, i’m here whenever you’re ready.” he spoke softly, rubbing her back slowly, to try and bring some calm.

they both sat on the ground, backs resting against the trailer. jack held y/n’s soft hands tightly, hoping it would give her the comfort she needed. he had never seen her in such state, and he was concerned.

“it’s nothing bad… i guess. it depends.” she said, reading the expression on the boy’s face, which grew more confused by her words. “i realized some things a few days ago, and they have been occupying my mind. i don’t know what to do with this. no matter what i do, it’s going to change things so i might as well be completely honest.”

jack nodded, pressing his lips on the crown of her head. “not going anywhere, y/n/n. no matter what you say, i can promise that.”

“you know the reputation that precedes me, right? i’ve told you about it.” jack frowned but nodded. “because of that, i’ve set this rule, that i wouldn’t let myself be affectionate with my co-stars. and i have sticked to that rule, until you.”

a knot formed on jack’s stomach. “so it’s about that? you want to put some distance?” god, he hated this. he hated to think about not being able to hold her, but he would give it up if it meant he got to keep her around.

“that’s the thing, jack. the reason why i have been acting so unlike me is because i’ve been trying to convince myself that putting distance would be the wise decision. but… if these days have proven anything is that it would be ultimate hell.”

“why didn’t you talk to me?”

“well, to be honest i was thinking what i should do. you just beat me to it because you know me better than anyone else.” she smiled and jack mirrored it. “that’s… that’s not everything i realized though.”

“okay, go on.”

“when the countdown to our last day on set started, i got this horrible feeling on my chest. the first thing that ran through my mind was that we wouldn’t see each other that often anymore and i felt this hole in my chest… it’s more than just missing a friend, jack. i would feel empty because i like you and you’ve become my person.”

jack’s jaw fell open and he was close to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. the times he has dreamt about this scenario… it felt too good to be real.

“but…” she continued. and reality hit the shore, putting an end to his short-lived hope. “i’m scared of what people might say. it’s still hard for me to not let what others think get into my head, and to even think about the hate that might come your way if we dated, makes me sick.” she shook her head and then her eyes widened. “my god, what am i even saying? i just assumed that you liked me back, i didn’t let you talk. god, this is embarrassing i’m so sorry.”

jack cupped her cheeks. “y/n, y/n, stop. breathe.” the girl nodded and closed her eyes until she was breathing normally again. “okay, now listen to me. if you’re not ready for a relationship, that’s fine. but if it’s because you’re scared of the hate comments towards me, let it go. i don’t care about them, i just care about you. okay?”

“yes…”

“good. i want to be your boyfriend, and if you’re not ready because of what the media might think then i have an idea.” y/n’s curious eyes look up to meet his. “i really like you, too, y/n/n. we can date in secret, to see how things go, and whenever you’re ready, we can tell everyone.”

“jack, that’s a lot to ask to you…”

“you aren’t asking me anything. i want to do this. i want to call you mine so bad—in secret, in public, however you want.”

y/n smiled through the tears. “are you sure?”

“one hundred percent, y/n. never been so sure about something.” he reassured her.

y/n couldn’t even recognize herself. two months ago she had been completely against the idea of being in a relationship and now she was utterly and unquestionably love-strucked.

she used to think she was doomed to being lovelorn because of the restrictions she had put in her relationships with other people. and now, there she was in bed, feeling lovesick just because she hadn’t seen her boyfriend in two days.

though those days helped her make the decision. the relationship between them was beautiful, it was a safe place, it was her main source of happiness. jack was everything to her and she was tired of loving him in the dark. he deserved to be loved out loud, in plain sight. she knew she was going to be the one to pay the price, but it was fine.

“you know there’s no rush, right?” jack assured her for the hundredth time. when y/n told him she wanted to make their relationship public, he remained calm (even though he was jumping on the inside) and sat her down to think it through.

y/n smiled widely. how could she not fall for him when in a world of boys he was a gentleman? “i love you, and if they call me a slut… you know, it might be worthy for once.”

“i love you, too.” he pulled her in for a kiss. “okay. let’s do this.”

“okay. i’m just warning you, i truly believe in the slang go big or go home.”

jack eyed her suspiciously. “spill.”

the girl smirked mischievously and went to grab a bag. “i made us special shirts.”

“lord save me.” jack sighed when he took the shirts out of the bag.

“you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.” y/n said

“you know i’m going to, anyways. like i’d ever be able to say no to your pretty face.”

enchantedliv um, just bumped into y/n y/l/n and jack champion 🥺 they were wearing matching shirts that pretty much confirmed their relationship ????

landrysghost what did the shirts say??

enchantesliv “i ❤️ my girlfriend.” and “i ❤️ my boyfriend.” THEY ARE SO CUTE AND WERE SO SWEET😫

user1 are we really surprised? that girl dates everyone she works with.

user2 he’s too good for her.

user3 she’s going to dump her once she meets her next co-star for sure lmaooo

user3 y’all are so jealous lmao. acting bitter just because you want him, that’s her only crime. there has never been any proof that she dated previous co-stars.

liked by jackchampion, misstrinitybliss, baileybass and 878,913 more.

y/n.y/l/n hi everyone! this is more than me saying i’m taken by the most gorgeous and kindest man on the planet. this is also me getting something off my chest. been wanting to for a while, so here we go!

since the beginning of my career i’d told myself to stay unproblematic which i mistook for never fight back or defend myself.

the media always said i dated too many co-stars—even though that’s completely false. i’ve never dated anyone i worked with (until now)—, so i set this stupid rule for myself: try not to be too friendly with my workmates. i was so scared of proving the media’s rumours right that i built this shell around me, never allowing myself to fully connect with people. and then, a couple of months ago i met jack. he made me forget about those limitations i so foolishly put.

i’m done giving anyone the power to hurt me. i’m done letting people think it’s okay to shame a woman for who they date or not.

i’ve been in a dark place for a long time, and i never noticed until my person walked into my life and showed me daylight. i’m doing better than i ever was now. i’m never staying silent again, i’m going to defend myself, my relationship and my boyfriend. always.

that was all for now, thanks for reading.

ps. i love you, jack. all i need is you <3 thanks for being the best boyfriend, best friend and person in the world.

jackchampion so so so proud of you. this brought tears to my eyes not gonna lie. you’re the sweetest ever i love you 💌 thanks for the shirt, by the way, matches my personality!

y/n.y/l/n you’re so silly😭 i love you more and intend to be cheesy forever 🫶🏻💖

jackchampion certainly no complaints from me!

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jackchampion #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fic #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry scream #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 14.

Summary: Our second look through Oliver's eyes as he thinks back on the night he and Felix get champagne drunk on the bridge, and then when he gets to Saltburn. Looking around both Y/N and Felix's rooms, he gets to know more about them, and finally he meets the Catton Family.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, reader is said/implied to be high for some of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 8506 words. you have all deserved a good feed and i am here to provide. sorry it's been a week, the dam broke, things are looking good in my personal life which is nice, and i am BACK on main fic nonsense. we get another Ollie POV, please let me know what you think, im so excited to have everyone at the estate and hanging out!! got big plans going forward!! excited to be setting it all up!! yeah please feedback, my darling friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Sometimes Oliver feels like he was put on this Earth solely to exist in Felix Catton's affectionate gaze. Everything else in life is just filler.

That night on the bridge, he and Felix in suits, drunk on champagne and bathed in the twilight of the evening, will haunt him, he's sure. He welcomes it with open arms, surfacing when his mind is idle and elsewhere. Felix smiling at him, Felix trying to bring him closure even if he doesn't really need it, Felix hanging on his every word, ever story he would fabricate to keep Felix's eyes fixed on him and only him. Felix so close, Felix with his arm around Ollie, Felix's thigh pressed up against his as they sat alone on the edge of the bridge.

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Oliver feels dwarfed by him, never more so than these moments where Felix insists on occupying Oliver's personal space, and then some. But he'll never complain; Felix's affection is intoxicating, addicting even. To be so wrapped up in it, in him, it's bliss, though Oliver never wanted to seem needy for such affection, that's why he waits for these moments, for Felix to make first contact. He wonders if Felix had realised the way you so quickly had in the beginning.

Everyone reaches out for Felix, everyone else appears so desperate. Its why Oliver's always held back from touching him, always waited and let Felix make the first move. Felix was made to be wanted, he basks in it; Oliver gives him the chance to want. Isn't there a thrill in that? A novelty?

And to be wanted by Felix... That was a gift in itself too.

Oliver had, admittedly, been worried that he'd lost his chance at that. After sleeping with you, Felix holding him at arm's length, he could feel his grip slipping. Plucking at the strings of Felix's clear saviour complex was enough to claw back into his life, but he now knew his place was precarious, and most tentative of all was everything about you.

So he'd held back from you. On purpose. Often distinctly, even when you'd give these confused, disheartened looks. He tried not to look at you in those moments; his focus was Felix, Felix seemed harder won.

But when he'd tried to apologise on the bridge - at first he wasn't going to bring it up, but it was dark and he was reasonably drunk and the only person who's ever smiled like Felix had been smiling at him in that moment had been you - Felix had, at first, laughed him off. No, he can feel it now, weighing on him; he needs to balance the scales. He wants Felix so bad it aches in his bones, but Oliver knows his want goes beyond just the beautiful boy by his side. Every part of you, how you interact with the world, interact with him, the way you exist and exude confidence and love, drew Oliver in like a moth to a flame. If Felix is the hook, you were the line. The bait, and the trap. The sun, and it's warmth. He wants to always be the focus of your loving, attentive gaze. Always wants you to want him too.

Oliver is the helpless fly in the web you and Felix have woven, to be so lovingly obsessed with you both as you are, and yet still drawn further in, to love the love you share. He feels trapped and utterly helpless against his feelings for you both.

So he has to make it right. Has to make it... even? Was that how to make it right?

But Felix is different on the bridge. Different to the jealous creature he tried so clearly to hide in the weeks before. Something had changed.

"You never need to apologise for making them happy," he says easily, affectionately. Oliver tries to be insistent, that he never meant to get between the two of you. He's rambling and tipsy, but not enough to miss the faint choked noise of what Oliver could have sworn was intrigue that Felix makes at that, but he knows better than to dwell or comment on it. Instead, Felix claps him on the back; "you wanna make it up to me we can say you owe me one," he says far too easily.

"Owe you one what?" Oliver frowns, playing oblivious for a moment as he takes a sip of the champagne before Felix gives him a cheeky wink and a grin.

"Shag, of course."

Oliver does a spit take with surprise, not having thought Felix would be so casual and genuine about it, almost falling off of the bridge in the moment. Felix catches him, arm around him as he laughs through an apology.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry mate," he wheezes, carefully clapping Ollie on the shoulder, "also I apologise for assuming, poor form, sometimes I forget people can be weird about these things- not saying you'd be weird, we've just never spoken about this kind of thing."

It speaks to how much he must genuinely trust Oliver, considering how light the conversation remains. Or perhaps it's the bubbly. Still, Oliver has a little bit of an inkling about what this kind of thing may be. But part of him needs Felix to say it, to confirm his suspicions, to keep stringing him along with further crumbs of hope.

"Assuming what?"

There's a single moment, the way in which Felix looks at Oliver out of the corner of his eyes, smile briefly frozen on his face as he must be considering the weight of what he's about to say. Its in the moment that follows, when Felix laughs almost self consciously and withdraws his hand that Oliver wonders how out Felix is. Oliver had always just kind of assumed - hoped - on the basis of his relationship with Y/N, but it occurs to him that the general perception of Felix, the talk and rumours and gossip that surrounded him, never really entertained the idea that he was actually queer. Felix's affection towards everyone in his life was simply a by-product of who he was, and you're his best friend - and his cousin, according to Farleigh - so of course you don't count, and otherwise Felix Catton was a known lady's man, right?

Not quite, it seemed.

"That you'd even be into guys like that," it sounds so easy when Felix says it, like Oliver can't see the tension in his shoulders as he reaches over, taking the bottle of champagne back. Its almost empty. Oliver doesn't mind if he finishes it.

Felix looks at the sky, at the stars.

Oliver thinks about the VHS tape of Maurice that he stole from a rental store after looking at the back cover. He'd kept it stashed in his sock drawer and watched every week under the cover of absolute darkness until it literally became unplayable. Yes, Oliver liked guys, and spent his teen years having just as many lewd fantasies about boys with posh accents, and charmingly youthful features, and floppy, brown hair, as he did about girls with big, dark eyes, and high, perfect cheek bones, in bright red wedding dresses. His sisters hated Beetlejuice, thought it was gross, but he and his mother would watch it together on occasion, sharing a blanket his gran had crocheted, and a bowl of popcorn. She'd get all giggly over Alec Baldwin, while Oliver couldn't help but fall for Winona Ryder for the duration of the film, every time.

For a moment, he thinks of the sunlit kitchen he grew up in, and his mother cooking Sunday lunch with a record playing. The last Sunday before he left for Oxford. In the yard, he can hear his father mowing the lawn, and he's sure Emily is in her room packing for her own journey back to her third year of studying. But Oliver comes out of his room just as Jump in Line (Shake Senora) begins to play. Serendipity. Already excited by the song, his mother looks up from the dishes, and practically lights up at the sight of her son. She's going to ask him to dance. He's going to say yes. They're both going to love this moment; she says it's their song, and Oliver dances along to their song. When it's over, Oliver won't admit that he's disappointed it had to end, but he tells his mother he'll miss her too when she hugs him especially tightly. For that one moment he hadn't ached to leave the way he'd been for months, for years.

Looking now at the rock in the rubbish that represented his father, there's a momentary pang of guilt for lying so dramatically about him he hadn't been expecting. So he pushes it out of his mind.

Felix finishes the bottle, and Oliver watches him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. Effortlessly beauty.

Oliver wants to focus on his future, not his past.

"Haven't got too much experience with 'em, but that doesn't stop me from liking them well enough," feeling especially bold, he levels a sly smile at Felix, "so if it's all good with you, maybe we do say I owe you one."

Felix blushes the most beautiful scarlet as he barks a loud, pleased laugh. But most importantly, he relaxes.

"It's not that hard," he offers so nonchalantly, amending with a sheepish grin, "well it is, that's part of the point -" but Oliver can't help himself.

"I said I didn't have a lot of experience, didn't say I was completely inexperienced."

"No, I know," Felix's voice turns all smug and teasing, and Oliver can feel his face beginning to heat up as he realised the implications of Felix's tone, "I've heard rave reviews." Oliver had taken the time to have his fun, to have a few hook ups here and there in the past year, usually with girls or guys from town or other campuses who had no idea who he was otherwise. There's only one person who'd be giving him rave reviews, as Felix had called them.

Huh. It's quite the compliment; he had gone out of his way to give you the kind of attention he suspected few people ever bestowed upon you, but rave reviews? What had you actually told Felix?

Instead, considering that this still feels like potentially rocky territory, he tries to bring it back.

"It's one of the few ways I ever really learned how to make people feel appreciated," his gaze drops with his tone, and hopes that Felix takes the bait. The threads that tie back to the story of his unfortunate upbringing, but also perhaps the threads that subconsciously tie his attitude and behaviour to you in Felix's mind. Even if you don't say it, he knows it's part of how you operate, and he's willing to bet that Felix had picked up on that too.

It works. Felix wraps an arm around him, assuring him that he has so much to offer the world. God, he sounds so sincere when he says it; if Oliver hadn't knowingly baited him into the compliment, he would have believed him entirely. At the very least he basks in how good it is to hear Felix say.

They talk through the night, Oliver tentatively feeling his way towards his goal, the opportunity to spend Summer with Felix too, to make sure this connection doesn't wither in the interim. Of course he plays at being humble, at refusing the offer despite how clearly uninhabitable the sob story home he'd made up for himself was, but just as he'd predicted, Felix, ever the saviour, refuses to take no for an answer. Apparently his mother has people stay for months at a time anyhow. Oliver wonders idly if that's where Felix got it from.

"Y/N will be so pleased, I can tell you that," Felix mentioned with fondness. Of course Oliver had anticipated that you would probably be spending at least some of your Summer with them, but he's surprised that when he enquires further, Felix admits, "yeah they live with me at Saltburn when we're not at school, have for ages now."

"What, all the time? They really are a ward of the Saltburn Estate?"

Felix wears a strange little smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes; there's an unfamiliar kind of melancholy that doesn't look quite right on him, Oliver thinks, as Felix shrugs again.

"Some people's parents just aren't meant to be parents."

For a split second Oliver feels a rush of guilt as he comes to realise he may have fabricated a life for himself that you had actually lived. In the moment, however, he dips his head, a sign that he understands, that he agrees.

"Then we're lucky to have you."

Felix throws an arm around his shoulders, pulls him in tightly and presses a kiss to the side of his head, assuring him it's no trouble at all.

"What are friends for?"

Yes, this moment would be burned into his brain; Felix so warm beside him, Felix smiling against his temple, Felix champagne drunk and willing to share his life, if only for six weeks. Every fibre of Oliver's being is willing it to work out, willing it to be more than just these six weeks -

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Except the minute he knocks on the doors of the house that looms so large he feels like he's about to be swallowed whole by it, he feels like he's failed a test. The look in the terrifying doorman's eyes, his tone of voice, the unflinching scrutiny when faced with Oliver's continual awkwardness and questions, makes him feel like he's failed several more in rapid succession.

Oliver's actually pretty sure he's never been quite so glad to see Felix as the exact moment he calls out to Oliver with absolute joy. Which is saying something. It's never felt like Felix is judging him, at least not in a way he can't pass. Thank fuck. Felix, in this moment, is the only one who matters, he tells himself.

That being said, Oliver had been expecting you to be by Felix's side when he'd come bounding in to save him from Duncan's scrutiny. That's generally where he's come to expect you. Not that he wasn't grateful for Felix giving the tour, it was just... unexpected.

Honestly, when you appear from a door on the other side of the long gallery, opposite Felix's bedroom, Oliver's surprised by how relieved he is to see you. The room you've exited seems to be themed in pale purple from the brief glimpse Oliver sees, and you've got a leather bound folder in your arms, but neither of those is nearly so interesting as the look in your eyes. Looking back, Oliver sees Felix lounging in his doorframe, looking between you both with patient amusement.

"Ollie!"

Oliver's pretty sure no-one in his life has ever sounded this excited to see him. The only person who comes closes would be Felix, five minutes ago.

"Ollie, oh Ollie - Fi, hold this," you pass off your folder to Felix, who of course takes it without argument, before Oliver's swept up in a tight hug, "you're early, you smell nice," you hug him so enthusiastically the two of you spin for a moment, before pulling back, holding him at arm's length like you're assessing the state of him. Instead, you beam, holding his hands as you turned to Felix, "Fi, Ollie's here! We love Ollie!"

This time when you meet Oliver's gaze, he's surprised to see not just love, but want. You'd worn that look in the weeks before the two of you had fucked, like all you could think about was how you'd once begged him to want you, and how he of course admitted he did. When had he started missing this look in your eyes? All he can think about is that night in the warmth of your bed, the way you'd sounded so fucking certain and needy - of course I want you - and how he can see it in your eyes again now. For a moment his mind and resolve is fuzzy; why had he ever stopped reaching out for you?

"We do love Ollie," Felix agreed with further amusement, and that's when he remembers. Except... this isn't the jealous version of Felix that had shown up in the aftermath. This was the Felix who'd brushed off Oliver's apologies about the whole ordeal on the bridge and proceeded to overtly, if jokingly, flirt with him. Already he feels just a touch more relaxed in this new dynamic that was being set up for the Summer.

Actually, Oliver, for just a second, thinks he may have died and gone to heaven.

"Fuck, Ollie, look at your nails," he hears next, however, and it immediately shatters the illusion as he pulls his hands away from you and your judgemental eyes.

"Don't be mean," Felix chides, and you look up with surprised, as if you hadn't realised your own less than complimentary tone. Looking between Oliver and Felix, there's apology in your eyes.

"Sorry Ollie," you're quick to offer, and he awkwardly tries to act like he's not embarrassed, "I'll give you a manicure, I can paint your nails; we can match!" You smiled brightly, hands pressed flat and warm to his chest all of a sudden, "I match Fi's shirt today; Farleigh painted my nails -" your eyes go wide as if you'd just remembered; "Farleigh; shit."

You run for the door to the blue room. Oliver, deeply confused, watches you go. Then, he hears Felix sigh with fond exasperation, holding out the leather folder. A moment later you burst through the door again.

"Documents. Shit. Thanks, Fi!"

And you're off again.

"Is this... how they normally are just at Saltburn?" Oliver finally asks with faint concern, looking from the door to Felix in the darkened doorframe.

"My lovely cousin is an atrocious influence on our dear Y/N," Felix said with incredible diplomacy. But Oliver's mind momentarily catches on the wording.

Our Y/N.

Just like before, a strange thrill, a rush; he remembers the look in your eyes when he'd first said 'Our Felix' to you. An exclusive kind of possessive, one you'd willingly share with Oliver. He liked this dynamic, he wondered how hard he'd have to push it to get beyond the simple semantics.

We love Ollie!

We do love Ollie.

Perhaps it wouldn't be too difficult at all.

"What do you mean?" He asks instead, and Felix turns to him with that same amused smile.

"They're fine, don't worry mate, they're just high is all," clearly Felix's feelings are mixed on the subject; Oliver knows he has no problems with getting high himself, so he suspects Felix cares more about Oliver's first impressions of his home and his family than he was wanting to let on. You were his right hand after all. There's something endearing about how much he seems to want Oliver to want to be here. Which he does, for the record.

"So this is your room?" Oliver enquires, shooting for brightness, despite the momentary awkwardness. He watches the tension leave Felix's shoulders. It's enough for Oliver, and his gaze drifts, roams around and tries to catalogue every single piece of Felix he can glean from the clutter. Even with an army of servants there's something unkempt about how he decorates the otherwise old and ornate space. CDs he'll spend time poring over, stacks of books, and trinkets, and tchotchkes. Felix even has a balcony; stone railings and enough decorative chairs, and even a lounge and small table, for company.

Here and there in the room itself, however, a few things seem out of place; shoes that didn't look like Felix's sitting neatly by the door, two dressing gowns, one maroon and tossed over the bed, the other in navy and draped more deliberately over the end of the bed. Two glasses of water, one on either side of the bed. Tell-tale signs that clue Oliver in before Felix even confirms it -

"Mine and Y/N's, yeah," he says it so easily, so nonchalantly, no bothering with pretence here at Saltburn, "you'll be staying just next door," Felix continues on with a wide, easy smile over his shoulder as he continued to flit through the rooms, catching light, voice echoing amongst the decorative walls.

"Bathroom," he offers, before turning, adding, "we're going to be sharing a bathroom, by the way, I hope you don't mind," and Oliver finds himself drawn to the sight of the ornate bath, as if on purposeful display in the middle of the room, "otherwise you'd be miles away on the other end of the house," Felix explains, continuing on without even considering his words as he says them. No, of course Oliver didn't mind.

All Oliver can think of is everything that simple sentence implied. Closeness. Implicit want. A sudden flash in Oliver's mind as Felix continues through to the dressing room, of sweat beading along skin and hands clutching desperately at the cool, porcelain edge of the tub, of water sloshing and spilling and overflowing, and the sound of breathless moaning -

He tries to focus, tries to simply watch Felix's hands as he taps idly on the red walls of the dressing room as he lead into what Oliver can only assume to be his room. He stays out of his head, leans into the moment, and lets himself relax as Felix gestures broadly, brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Your room!"

It's bright, all wide, open windows looking over the beautiful grounds of Saltburn, honey coloured wood and lamps that glow in such a way that he was reminded of Oxford. Already someone's brought his suitcase up, set it out at the end of the bed; he'd get to unpacking that later tonight, for now he took his time relaxing into the space. Felix had already sat himself down, seemingly at home in the old, wooden rocking chair, watching Oliver, almost like he was trying to hide his nervous anticipation.

"I'm really glad you're here, mate," for just a moment, Felix sounds more honest than he'd been since Oliver had arrived. There's something in his eyes that Oliver hadn't been anticipating, in the brief moment in which their gazes meet. There's a kind of arrogance, Oliver thinks, to calling even a sliver of it something like love, but it's adoration and appreciation nonetheless. It's gone in a flash, too brief to be anything serious, he thinks once more as Felix stands, "right, I will, er... I'll leave you to it."

And Oliver is quiet. It's a kind of reverence, or perhaps it reads like shock and awe at the whole place, but he listens quietly as Felix tells him about his mother's aversion to stubble and ugliness and piercings and -

"Anything else I should know about?" Finally he asks, sensing Felix was close to rambling on a nervous tangent. Thankfully, Felix actually seems relieved by the interruption, assuring him that there was nothing else to worry about.

Felix tells Oliver that he just needs to be himself, that his family will love him. That it's relaxed. Oliver loves Felix dearly, but doubts he, a man who rarely seems to be anything but relaxed, would be the best judge of that. Especially in a place like this. Still, Oliver smiles like he believes him, and watches the way Felix hangs himself back from the door on his heels, almost like a little kid, telling Oliver that his family will be in the library when he's ready.

Library?

His mental image of Saltburn grows with each moment. Soon it will overwhelm him, he's sure.

So he tries, just for the moment, to get acquainted with the room he's been given. His own, honey-coloured piece of Saltburn, if only for the Summer. Hopefully beyond, that dreamy little voice of want whispers in the back of his mind. Another flash of desire runs through him, the image of a quiet evening on Felix's balcony, a purple sky and a glass of scotch, book in one hand and Felix's head in his lap. He'd be too big for the little sofa, legs hanging off the edge, but he's comfortably fallen asleep with Oliver's fingers carding through his hair; when you drape yourself over Oliver's shoulders, there's loving affection in the way you call them 'your boys' -

God he'd been entertaining these fantasies for months, sure, almost since he'd met you and Felix, but never this vivid, never so detailed or hard to push away, to pretend like he'd never had them when he next tries to look you both in the eyes.

Yeah, me and Y/N's room. You're right next door. We'll be sharing a bathroom.

This is either going to be a dream, or the hardest Summer of his life. Pun entirely intended.

The room itself is rather charming, once Oliver finally breaks free of his own fantasies. Charming in a different way to the rest of the house, but in a way that was hard to put his finger on at first. Saltburn was like if a place could put on a performance of itself, none of it felt lived in, or at least, not for a very long time. Except Felix's room, it had his youth and carelessness that gave it a feeling of home, as, for some reason, did Oliver's.

Except then he sees them. Then he understands. There's space stickers on the top drawer of what he can only assume is the otherwise expensive bedside table. Some are peeled off, some even leaving the ugly, half-peeled, paper residue of planets and stars and little cartoon astronauts. The second of the two drawers is in much the same state, but depicting a faded sea creature theme. It's so unexpectedly, joyfully childish. There's two books in the top drawer, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories, and a copy of Emma. Oliver swallows hard, trying not to wonder what you must mean by that. Otherwise the drawers are empty, almost hotel-like in it's severe starkness.

There's other little things, however. Fairy lights curled up and around the headboard that glow a comforting, warm white once he finds their switch. A digital clock at odds with the rest of the room's aesthetics, red numbers glowing in the afternoon light. The painting on the wall above the bookshelf that looks far more modern than anything else he'd seen so far on the walls, a rich, blue night sky glittering with stars, and a dreamy silhouette of a figure with a cigarette almost glowing orange against the darkness. Despite the vagueness of the figure, there's a comfort, a kind of love with which they'd been captured that Oliver can somehow feel in his chest when he looks at it.

The little bookshelf itself in the corner is filled with titles he can imagine you specifically enjoying, but a few anomalies here and there - books on botany and Edwardian flower code stick out in particular. It's completed with a small stack of CDs and a CD player gathering dust on top. When he crouches down, however, he's surprised to see an old, portable cassette deck taking up space on the bottom row of the bookshelf, mostly hidden behind several stacks of what appeared to be blank cassette tapes, crammed into the very corner, almost out of sight.

How strange. How... human.

There is an echo of someone else in this room, but to his relief, it feels like you. For the barest moment, he almost feels like he's already home.

It's a short-lived feeling, however, as Felix's words come back to him once more. His reflection in the bathroom mirror as he carefully rids himself of even the barest traces of stubble, doesn't meet the standards he's sure the mother of Felix Catton must hold.

Oliver's never considered himself particularly beautiful, nor did pretty much anyone else, it had always seemed. His mother was of course biased, Felix was filled with too much affection to be considered anywhere near reliable about that sort of things, and you - something inside Oliver squirms almost with embarrassment for even thinking so poorly of himself in the past few moments. Maybe a face like his would make Felix's mum happy, if the look in your eyes meant anything, every time you saw him.

Oliver chooses to leave the way he was brought in, taking a long few moments in Felix's room, leaving it untouched, undisturbed, but treating it like a museum to his best friend, clues about his life he couldn't glean from conversation alone. Felix's bookshelves were bigger than yours, stacked with comics amid countless fantasy and adventure books, but a surprising number of cowboy and western titles, though it's not as if there appears to be any kind of sorting system. There's a ceramic bowl that looks hand made, full of faded wristbands for events all over the world for the past five years. There's a shoebox that apparently used to hold a pair of lady's runners, now sitting at the end of one row that now has 'A Stupid Box For Feefs Stupid Rocks <3' sharpied on top in handwriting he doesn't recognise. A thick textbook about space on the bottom shelf with a cracked, worn spine and sticky tabs seeming to note various pages, various guitar tab books for different, popular bands that Felix would definitely be interested in. Four decks of cards stacked on top of each other, boxes looking so worn and used they were practically falling apart.

For a very long time, Oliver finds himself caught, looking at the little cork board full of photos leaning on top of the bookshelf. Countless photos of Felix, Farleigh, Venetia, and Y/N throughout the years. He hadn't realised just how long you and Felix had even known each other. How long you'd practically been a fixture at Saltburn in the Summer. There's a photo of the four of you all in your bathers, laying asleep on the grass beside the lake, all next to each other on brightly coloured towels, none of you could have been older than twelve; you fit right in along with the rest of them.

There's a photo strip, the kind taken in a booth at a mall or a museum, that Oliver thinks he recognises, but it takes him a long moment of staring at it to figure out why. It's you and Felix, and the strip itself says it's from an aquarium. Smiling. Laughing. You blurry, covering your laughter as Felix looks particularly goofy and pleased with himself, as if he'd just told a stupid joke. The last one has been ripped off.

Oh. Right. He'd seen it while snooping through Felix's wallet a few months ago; the photo had been the reason he'd put the wallet back at all. The way the two of you were kissing in the final photo, so wrapped up in each other, and love, and joy, had made Oliver feel almost physically sick with both want and jealousy.

God, he has to leave, has to stop snooping again and actually find this library and the rest of the Cattons.

Walking through Saltburn's many rooms alone makes Oliver feel like he's constantly out of bounds at a museum. There's hints of life throughout the building, but they're few and far between compared to the ornamental, carefully curated decorations of each room. Even the hints of the Cattons themselves seemed... too purposeful. The little, animated 'Catton Family Players' puppet show is the kind of thing only rich, whimsical weirdos could ever think was charming, and not just bizarre, vain, and haunting in the same way that porcelain dolls were.

But then he hears laughter, and warm chatter from down a hall, and the tinny, purposeful shouting from what could only be a movie or TV show. It sounds so much like his own family's living room on a cheerful evening that it's almost relaxing. Almost.

Because as he's approaching, he realises they're talking about him. They're picking apart the life he'd fed Felix as if it were mere gossip, speaking so airily, their sentiment so clearly out of touch that he'd probably find it amusing if he didn't have to pretend to be living it. Briefly, he wonders if they spoke like this about your life, or if the novelty of you had worn off in the years before. Perhaps you were just glad they could focus their pity and unapologetic classicism on someone else for a change; he couldn't hear you in there, which surprised him. Maybe part of him had expected you to defend him the way you had back at Oxford. Maybe you don't feel like you can at Saltburn. At least Felix sounds embarrassed, irritated as he admonishes Farleigh for having told the rest of the family.

Before he enters the library where the rest of the family has gathered, Oliver pauses by the door, both to get a better idea of what they're already thinking about him, but also because he'd spotted someone watching him from one of the adjacent rooms.

Bleach blonde hair, stars clinging to the tights on her legs, she's reading a book that Oliver can't quite see the cover of. Venetia was written on the collar of the little, blonde puppet in the Catton Family Players; Oliver suspects this is her. Oliver thinks she could be considered very beautiful, if she didn't seem quite so sharp. The way she huffs a laugh and wears a dangerously amused smile after she'd taken her own time in analysing him seems to prove as much. That being said, Oliver's not sure if she's laughing at something about him, or about the fact that they can both clearly hear her family's disparaging remarks about his apparent upbringing.

"Farleigh seems to think he's ghastly," Oliver hears a woman say as his hand comes to rest on the door handle, "why are you and our dear pet even friends with him, darling?"

"Dirt poor, not attractive, and his parents are drug addicts," a second woman's voice seems to surmise as Oliver lets himself into the room, "I can't actually -" but Felix makes a noise as he sees the door opening, and the woman goes quiet as Oliver peers in.

"And here he is now," Farleigh sounds as thrilled as he ever was to see Oliver, "we were just talking about you," like he's trying his best to make Oliver feel as unwelcome as possible. It's... kind of working. Bastard. However looking over at him does solve one mystery; you and Farleigh are sharing a sofa at the back of the room that's only just big enough for the both of you as long as you're tucked up against him, his arm slung over the back of the chair behind you.

And you're fast asleep against him.

The blonde woman on the sofa who shares Felix's elegant, effortless beauty admonishes Farleigh, even though Oliver can tell from her voice she was one of the ones very much talking about him only moments before. Oliver has the grace to pretend like he hadn't heard, though is still glad for the vaguely embarrassed, apologetic look Felix is already giving him.

This has to be Felix's mother, the blonde with the airy voice who immediately gets up to greet him, to assess him.

"Oh, what beautiful eyes," oh thank god, "oh, how wonderful!" There's genuine surprise and adoration in the way Felix's mother regards him, and Oliver can't help but feel relieved, like he's finally passed the first of what he's sure will be many tests during his life at the Saltburn estate.

"Yeah, we told you he wasn't a minger," Felix pointed out when his mother turns to him.

"Oh, but darling, you and pet are kind about everyone; neither of you can be trusted about those you're fond of." Pet? Does she mean Y/N? Suddenly Farleigh's comments over the months make a strange amount of sense. At the very least Oliver's heart begins to sing at the idea of you and Felix speaking so kindly of him to the others that they know you're both especially fond of him... And you both seem to think he's beautiful enough that you mention it when he's not around. Huh.

But yes, the moment the woman explains her aborrance of ugliness Oliver knows he's talking to Felix's mother. At least she seems to like him well enough, going so far as to ask if he'd seen Venetia yet, that even she'd been dying to see him, but had chosen to drape herself around the house as if laying in wait for him. Indeed that's how it had seemed when he'd spotted her earlier, but none of them have let Oliver get a word in edgewise.

Felix's father is the next to introduce himself, all long limbs and warm handshake to match his smile, just like his son. When he asks Oliver about his trip to the estate, Oliver finally breathes, can finally respond.

"Oh, God, don't with the 'sirs'," Felix's mother waves him over to sit down, insisting, "no, no, no, we can't stand anything like that here," though her outburst seems to have been enough to rouse you. As Oliver sits, he hears, syrupy and warm with sleep from behind him -

"Ollie!" As you had each time since he's arrived, you sound so genuinely delightful. Farleigh makes a noise in the back of his throat. Oliver turns in time to see you elbow Farleigh in the ribs.

"I liked you better when you were asleep."

"Fars," your voice drops low, like a warning, and Oliver's surprised by how sharply Farleigh looks away, jaw clenching tightly, "be good." Oliver almost thinks Farleigh might be angry, but then he sees the gentle way Farleigh's holding your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles against your upper arm; from what Oliver can see, he realises Farleigh's expression is almost embarrassed -

"Children, stop bickering," Felix's mother orders brightly, and your expression returns to unbothered and chipper as you refocus on Oliver.

"Hi Ollie," again, then as more of an offer to the rest of the room, "isn't he just lovely?" Oliver flushes, but gives you a fond smile, even as you settle back against Farleigh. Even though Farleigh persists with glaring at him, when he turns back, he rests his cheek against your head, oozing malevolence as he seemingly tucks himself against you too. But he does indeed remain quiet.

After the altercation passes, Oliver gets a brief introduction to one of the other house guests at Saltburn, Pamela, brief being the operative word as she's quickly sent away to ask about tea from one of the staff members at Felix's mother's insistence. Pamela herself doesn't exactly seem confident in the task, but that's once again when you speak up. Much to Oliver's surprise, you give a detailed physical description of the woman - Annie - and succinct directions to the kitchen itself, following it up with a yawn and -

"The Irish one, a bit mousy, might have trouble meeting your gaze but she's nice enough."

Pamela looks far more confident thanks to your directions. Oliver's genuinely shocked at your level of detail and knowledge, but everyone else seems to be so casually used to it.

"She is a bit like that, isn't she?" Felix's mother muses with an idle air, and when Oliver glances back at you, you still have your eyes closed, as if close to falling back asleep, while Farleigh has his faint, fond laughter pressed against your temple.

Before Oliver can even reckon with the moment that had just come to pass, Felix's mother is regaling him with all of Pamela's dirty laundry, before she dives right into pitying Oliver himself, and the sob story of his life and most recent 'tragedy' she's heard.

She looks at him just the same way Felix had. He think of the moment he'd decided to commit to this Dickensian kayfabe, that day in the pub when Felix's eyes were fixed on him, all pity and desire and a desperate need to fix, to save, to be a light in Oliver's life. The way this woman speaks, the way she looks at him in this moment, makes Felix Catton make total and complete sense. Something inside Oliver relaxes; she would not be hard won.

As they circle back around to the tragedy of poor Pamela, however, something about what Farleigh says, pointing out that the tragedy of her was the only interesting thing about her, sticks in the back of Oliver's mind.

Being beautiful and tragic would only ever get him so far, would only ever make him a novelty. It takes another glance back at you for him to realise a little more of why you behaved the way you did; tragic and beautiful and useful. That's the thought that turns over in his mind, even as Felix's mother starts her line of questioning about the sordid details of his upbringing, and Venetia joins them only to stare at him like a bug, and Farleigh only seems to be holding himself back from outright contempt at your behest. You are once again asleep. At least Felix makes a token effort to reprimand his mother, not that it appears to make much of a difference.

Oliver offers what little he can get away with, and feels only relief when Felix insists they start getting ready for dinner. Oliver practically bolts, he doesn't even wait for Felix like he probably should have, just desperately hoping he's got the right door to his own room. Clearly he has, swearing when he's finally in his little piece of sanctuary, but after a beat he realises that even that has been breached.

His suitcase is no longer at the foot of his bed.

In another moment, the door that connects his room to the bathroom squeaks open and there's two more people in his room without bothering to even knock. At least Felix is apologising for his mother. Part of Oliver thinks he should have expected the Cattons to be exactly as out of touch as this house implied, that he should have braced himself better, that it's not Felix's fault, but the apology is still nice.

Also he's rather distracted by the fact that all of his clothes have been organised neatly in the old, wooden cupboard.

"Did someone unpack my suitcase?" Oliver hears himself ask distractedly. Looking back when Felix makes a noise of guilt, he sees Felix sitting on the edge of his bed with an apologetic smile, and you next to him, laying back on the bed and looking at the ceiling.

"Uh, shit, yes, I should have told you," Felix admits, "they do that kind of thing here." Rich, whimsical weirdos, the lot of them, "the maids all report back to mum, by the way," Felix informs him, while you're just quietly swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. Felix's tone turns teasing, however, "so I hope you didn't pack anything scandalous." Oliver leans on the wooden foot of the bed, into Felix's space with an amused smile at the thought - pushing his luck, pushing into Felix's space to play off of the idea of scandal, so close to Felix and his mischievous smile. Felix leans back, the tease, giving Oliver space to quietly say -

"Just my old boxers."

You snicker. Felix grins.

"No, they're used to that, don't worry," but then Felix is up again, almost too close, looking at Oliver like he knows this is all some kind of joke, like he know - like he wants Oliver to keep looking at him, at his teasing smile, at his lips like that, "Duncan will be thrilled." Like this is all a game. Oliver snorts a laugh.

But the moment doesn't last, and Felix is moving again, getting up, telling Oliver a new rule - ahead of time this time. Dinner at Saltburn is an event you dress for, with the kind of dress code that requires a dinner jacket and cuff links and - Oliver would be properly embarrassed if it didn't mean he got to wear Felix's spare jacket. Felix seems almost embarrassed by it all, his casual nature clearly butting heads with the formality of his heritage. In this moment he almost seems childish, it's rather sweet. Judging by your smile, you're endeared by his behaviour without even having to see it; you hadn't even thought to sit up; your eyes have fallen closed, as if basking in this moment.

Oliver watches you, the way you radiate contentment. You were not born into Saltburn, but you'd made it your home. You'd won the love of Felix Catton, and a place in his life, that no-one else had managed to achieve. Hope was a beautiful thing, and you were both in this moment.

"I'm really happy you're here, Ol," Felix finally murmured, and finally Oliver believes him, "I'm sorry everything's so... old fashioned."

"No," Oliver's voice is soft, "it's wonderful."

The pleased smile Felix wears as he heads through to his own room makes everything about this strange, ritualistic, obsessive, critical world worth it. Over his shoulder, he asks if you'll be coming through too, and you tell him you'll catch up in a second. Felix closes the door over quietly, and after a moment, Oliver joins you, laying back on the bed.

"I like your room," Oliver breaks the silence after a moment. After a moment, a hum that's more like a contented laugh escapes you. You mumble a thanks; it's been a few hours since he'd seen you initially, your chatter had died down considerably, it seemed like you'd sobered up a good deal in the afternoon that had just passed.

There's a million things Oliver wants to say in this moment, things he wants to do, questions he has about you, about Felix, about Saltburn.

"It's not-" he finally starts, voice so soft as he finally turns to you, "it wasn't your fault, by the way."

When you turn to meet his gaze, there's surprise and confusion in your eyes, clearly not sure what he was referring to. Its been a long time now since he'd deliberately reached out for you, since you'd slept together, since Felix had first started giving him resentful looks. Things are better now. Much better.

"What?"

All it takes is a deliberate, gentle touch, his hand taking yours, apology in his eyes. Its enough to acknowledge that he'd spent time pulled away from you, that you weren't crazy to think that, and that you weren't at fault.

Oliver's always liked watching you process things, at least when you allow the world to see it happen on your face, not making an effort to hide it. You look down at his hand on yours, grip loose like more of a reassurance; raising your joined hands like you can't quite believe the sight, he takes the opportunity to link your fingers. It wasn't your fault.

Looking deliberately back at the ceiling, he gives you the time and space to process this development without feeling so watched.

"Oh," you mumble quietly, finally, "it's..." you give his hand a squeeze, "thanks?" Oliver smiles, and knows you see it, can see in his peripheries the way you're watching him now, but when he goes to withdraw his hand, you hold him tighter for just a beat, as if on instinct, before you let him go.

"Can I be bold for a moment?" He breaks the moment, breaks the tension, voice light and inquisitive.

"I like your boldness, Ollie, you know that," you respond automatically, matching his energy easily. Sitting up, Oliver turns to fix you with a scrutinising look for a long moment, and you wait, you watch him with eyebrows raised and an amused smile painted across your lips.

"You're sleeping with Farleigh," it's not a question. Your smile grows wider and far more smug.

"Ollie - Oliver - look at me," you prop yourself up on one elbow, gesturing down at your body, "look at where we are," you gesture around at the bedroom itself, "how many Summers do you think unrelated teenagers in close proximity, growing steadily more attractive with each passing year, can get through without ending up deciding to fuck to pass the time?"

Oliver, charmed by your blunt confidence, can't help but laugh, while also being able to connect enough dots to the implication that he should expect you to be just as close to Felix's sister too. You join him in his laughter, finally sitting yourself up. Oliver knocks his knee with yours, deliberate, and watches with a kind of fondness as you immediately focus on the moment of brief contact. You'd missed him, just as he'd anticipated.

But the laughter dies down, and you finally stand, sighing that you should probably get yourself ready for dinner too. Before stepping away, you lean back down with a wide, goofy smile that reminds Oliver a bit of Felix, and gently grasp his chin, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Oliver, a little startled by the gesture but welcoming it nonetheless, feels want burn through his veins momentarily as he watches you head to the door.

"Oh, Ollie, there's some stuff under the sink for you," you yawned and stretched and Oliver tried desperately not to stare at the way your shirt rode up, "shampoo, toothpaste, contacts; junk like that, you know, just in case." Wait, what was that last one?

"Contacts?"

"Yeah," like it was perfectly fucking reasonable, your hand on the door, "in case you didn't bring any or you ran out - there's actually a spare pair of glasses as well, if you'd prefer. Same frames as yours, I wasn't sure-"

"You know my prescription?"

"Yeah?"

"How...?"

You go quiet. You shrug. Its not a real answer.

Right; a magician never reveals their secrets. Its not particularly reassuring for a man lying about a large portion of his life.

For now Oliver just tries to remind himself of the way you look at him, the way you want him, the way he loves you, for who you are, for all you can do.

"Thank you," he says quietly, gives you a smile and hopes you believe it, "you're good to me." He's not sure what about that surprises you, but he catalogues this in the back of his mind. There's something beautiful and, he suspects, rare, about catching you off guard. But your next words are enough to return the favour, have his heartbeat in his ears, hopeful and quick as a humming bird right before you leave.

"Of course I am, Ollie, I love you."

And he's not sure why, but he believes you.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #saltburn imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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jackhues · 3 months

Text

in love love - alex lyon

notes: this is part of @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange, and written for the amazing @2manytabsopen !! this is my first time writing for alex and honestly first time writing in a while, but i had lots of fun with this and i really hope you like it <33

summary: 3 times the world realized alex was in love with you + the 1 time you realized it

word count: 2.7k

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

gif not mine

you and alex had known each other your whole lives. as long as you could remember, it was you and him. sure, you both had friends that came and went, but at the end of it all, it was the two of you who made it through.

you made it through your elementary years, all the way to college, and now even beyond. despite graduating early, alex was still in contact with many of the friends you both made in university. it was a good thing too, because you could just go together to all the events you were invited to.

“i don’t know what i was thinking, making so many friends,” you muttered to yourself, nursing your drink.

it was late at night, and you were no longer the same person you’d been at college. instead of pulling all-nighters and partying with the crowd, you wanted to be in bed once it was dark.

“are you tired?” alex turned to face you. “we can go home if you want.”

“that’s okay,” you smiled tiredly at the tall boy. “it’s not like we get to meet up with them often. it’s been a long time since we were all out. we can stay.”

“you sure, love?” he asked, eyebrows knit in concern. “you look ready to drop.”

“i’m fine,” you promised. at his unconvinced look, you continued, “really, i’m okay. i think i just need another drink.”

“i’ll get you one,” he offered immediately, heading up to the counter to get your drink.

unbeknownst to you, some of your college friends were giggling to each other, wondering if the two of you were finally together.

“i mean, they have to be, right?” one of them whispered. “they’ve both got heart eyes for each other.”

“alex isn’t even trying to hide it,” another one laughed a little. “good for them, i guess. i always knew he liked her.”

you smiled once alex returned with your favourite drink, handing it to you.

“a special drink, for a special lady,” he grinned.

“thank you,” you took it from him, taking a sip.

indeed, all you needed was a little something in your system to get you going. you took alex’s hand, leading him to the dance floor where you ended up spending most of the night.

after some time, alex broke away from you, drifting to the edge of the dance floor and allowing himself a moment to admire you.

“so? you two finally together, huh?” one of alex’s old teammate’s wiggled his brows, sliding up next to the goalie.

“what? me and y/n? no — no, we’re just friends,” alex insisted.

“oh, really?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “i guess i haven’t seen you guys in so long, i forgot how close you were.”

alex nodded, despite the lump in his throat, before excusing himself to get some air.

your friends exchanged glances at that interaction — at alex running away, and at you now dancing with another friend, clueless to it all.

“well shit,” one of them muttered. “he’s in love with her, and he knows it.”

“but does she?”

ii.

“here, let me get that for you.”

“thank you,” you smiled as alex took the plates from your hands, placing them in the sink.

you were at a family friends house, inviting alex along to celebrate with them. since most of your family lived further away, you often celebrated the holidays and other events with them. alex was someone you’d known your entire life, and by extension, your family and family friends knew about him too.

after years of trying to convince you to bring him along to one of these gatherings, you finally caved in. it wasn’t that you were embarrassed of alex. if anything, you were a little embarrassed of your family friends.

not in a bad way. they were just loud and talkative and much more rowdy than alex’s family. you were worried how well he’d fit in if he came along.

so far, he had proved you wrong, getting along with absolutely everyone there. the younger kids kept trying to steal him to play games, the older aunts and uncles doted on him — everyone loved him.

you took the broom out, getting ready to sweep around the house a little. everyone was busy cleaning up after themselves or gossipping with each other. might as well make yourself useful.

“here, let me do that,” alex appeared next to you, reaching for the broom.

“it’s alright, i got it,” you assured him. “besides, you’re the guest. go sit and talk with the older people. i’ve got this.”

“y/n,” he said your name in a strict tone. “give me the broom, i’ll sweep up around here. you’ve been on your feet all day, take a seat and let me do this.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, realizing he wasn’t going to budge. “okay, go grab the dustpan. i’ll sweep, you collect it, okay?”

alex sighed, “all right, fine. but you’re sitting down and hanging out with everyone after this. no more work for you.”

“alex, that’s not how it works—”

“if someone needs you to do a chore, i’ll step in,” he said in a strict tone. he softened his voice, “you did a lot today, okay? i can do a little bit of work around here too. i’m not entirely useless, you know?”

you laughed a little, “i can think of multiple instances where you were entirely useless.”

“right now,” alex amended. “i know how to sweep and do the dishes and stuff. i couldn’t help you out in the morning, but i can now. so let me, please.”

“okay, okay,” you raised your hands in surrender. “i’ll sweep and then take a seat. happy?”

“very,” he grinned, happy that he’d finally won this argument.

behind you, one of your cousins shared a look with their sibling, wondering if anyone else just saw what happened.

“that’s so weird,” one of them whispered.

“i wonder how long it’ll take for them to get married,” another thought aloud.

“oh, he’s in love love,” another one muttered.

they looked at you, sweeping the floor with a little smile on your face, and behind you, alex watching you with the same smile on his face. it was so painfully obvious, just by the way he watched you.

“i hope she realizes it soon.”

iii.

“come on, come on, come on,” you grabbed alex’s hand, pulling him along.

there was a new cafe that opened down the street, and based on the reviews, it had some really nice hot chocolate. alex was the one who’d found their page on instagram, forwarding the message to you.

so of course, you dragged him along for your first visit.

the interior of the cafe was chic, with a checkerboard floor and a cozy interior. you immediately claimed one of the couches at the store, scanning the qr code for the menu.

before you even opened it up, alex spoke, “you’re getting a hot chocolate?”

“i didn’t even look at the menu yet,” you rolled your eyes.

“yeah, but it’s why you came here, right?” he asked. “to try their french hot chocolate?”

you opened your mouth to argue, but simply sighed. “yeah, that’s why i came here.”

“that’s what i thought,” a satisfied smirk appeared on alex’s face. “so, one french hot chocolate for you, and one cinnamon hot chocolate for me.”

you gave him a thumbs up in approval, letting him place the order at the counter while you saved your seats. you pulled out your phone, scrolling a little as you waited for alex to return.

near your seat, an older woman smiled to herself, waving to her own husband at the counter giving their order. she remembered their earlier days together, when her husband first learned her order and immediately went to the counter. it might be a really small thing to someone else, but she’d associated that act with his love for her. she wondered if one day you’d do the same thing with alex.

“i’m back,” alex announced his return as he took a seat next to you.

“yes, i can see that,” you replied.

he flicked your forehead, “congrats, you have eyes.”

“you’re such a child,” you laughed.

“you’re just jealous because you’ll be old and wrinkly while i stay young and hot.”

the two of you kept it together for three seconds, before bursting out into laughter.

your waitress smiled to herself, placing your drinks on the table in front of you. the cafe was new and it didn’t get many customers yet. seeing you two in here laughing loudly warmed her heart.

she wished she’d get to experience that kind of love one day, with someone who looked at her the way alex looked at you. as if he’d seen the entire world and decided you were his favourite thing in it.

“enjoy your drinks,” she smiled at you two, heading back.

“thank you,” you smiled at her, reaching for your hot chocolate.

you smiled at the sight of how delicious the hot chocolate looked, reaching towards it as if it were gold. to you, it might’ve been.

the second you took that first sip, you sighed in content, melting back into the couch and closing your eyes.

“so, it’s delicious?” alex asked, taking a sip of his own. he blinked in surprise, “okay, wow. this is pretty good. you know, y/n, i think you were onto something when you fell into that hot chocolate obsession.”

“i’m always right,” you grinned, turning your head to look at him.

alex caught his breath at the sight of you. after all these years, and you still managed to make him speechless with just a look.

“always,” he merely agreed.

you smiled triumphantly, going back to your drink. around you, the people whispered — they always whispered the same thing, but you never heard it.

“they’re so cute,” one person would whisper.

“oh, he’s so in love with her,” another would say.

“too bad she doesn’t even know it,” one would sigh.

“she knows it, she just doesn’t realize it,” another would respond. “she doesn’t even realize how in love she is with him.”

and alex would hear it all, and he’d keep his mouth shut. because whether you knew or whether you didn’t wasn’t the question.

the question was whether you’d do anything once you did realize.

iv.

you looked at your caller i.d., trying not to cry at the sight of alex’s face.

even though you saw him a day ago, the sight of him was so comforting to you. especially after the shit day that you were having at work.

“hello,” you answered, wanting nothing more than to hear his voice on the other end of the line.

“hey — wait, what’s wrong?” he asked. you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the exact face he was making as he continued. “are you crying? y/n, are you okay?”

“i’m fine,” you promised, taking a deep breath. “it’s just — it’s been a long day alex. i’m happy you called, i needed to hear your voice.”

“anytime,” alex responded immediately. “i’m always here for you, you know?”

“i know,” you smiled to yourself, because he was. “what’s up with you though? why’d you call?”

“i was just calling because i was bored,” he responded a little sheepishly. “i wanted to bother you a bit.”

“instead you’re comforting me,” you laughed a little.

“it’s an honour to do so,” he responded, followed by a small thwack sound. you laughed, imagining him pounding his chest to play the part, even though you couldn’t even see him.

the two of you continued talking for a bit, until you finally ended the call. you took a deep breath, looking at the time on your phone. two more hours, and then you were free.

you locked the door behind you, placing your bag and keys down.

you were finally home, and ready to put this long day behind you. except now that you were inside, you could hear some noise from somewhere in your house. music was playing softly and a familiar voice was singing along. the smell of something baking made its way to you — banana bread, you thought happily. after a long day, you needed something like that to cheer you up.

you followed the source of the noise, stopping at the sight of alex in the kitchen making banana bread and singing along to the song. you watched him for a minute, smiling to yourself as he spun around and put on a little show.

when the song ended, you clapped, laughing as alex jumped at the sudden noise.

“bravo, that was beautiful!” you cheered. “encore, encore, encore!”

“ah, as much as ii would love to do so for my wonderful fans, the banana bread i am baking for a very wonderful woman will burn if i don’t take it out now,” he spoke in a posh accent before reaching into the oven, pulling the tray out and setting it to cool.

you looked around at the kitchen, noticing for the first time how spotless it was. you’d left some dishes this morning because you were in a rush, and you were pretty sure you made a mess last night while cooking dinner. you were normally pretty clean, but you were just in a lazy mood these past few days.

“did you clean the kitchen?” you asked alex.

he looked up at you, shrugging to himself, “yeah. when you said you had a bad day, i wanted to make you feel a little bit better. so i came over, cleaned a bit, and cooked.”

“thank you,” you whispered, your heart heavy with too many unspoken emotions.

“you’d do the same for me,” alex shrugged.

it was true. you had done and would continue to do the same thing for him. people often thought you two were just friends, but you were so much more than that. you were everything for the other. alex was the one you’d run to when you got good news or bad news. you were the one alex would find for comfort or to share his joy.

you never questioned it, but you finally realized that somewhere along the way, with the jokes and the laughter and the unbreakable friendship, love had also blossomed.

“y/n?” alex called your name. “are you okay?”

you blinked up at him, realizing that you’d basically zoned out in the middle of the kitchen. lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t know how to reply.

and so you blurted out, “are you in love with me?”

alex froze, staring at you for long enough that you began to wonder if you wildly miscalculated. maybe those lingering gazes and longer than necessary hugs were something you imagined. maybe you two were just friends in his eyes.

“and if i was?” he asked, he met your eyes, not a hint of hesitation in them. “if i was in love with you for as long as i could remember, longer than i even knew what the word meant? that i’ve been waiting for you to notice for years now? what would you say?”

you looked at him, trying to tell if he was joking. it didn’t look like he was.

“i’d say why didn’t you tell me years ago?” you responded honestly. “that way, we’d already be past then. and then… and then i’d tell you to kiss me already because i’ve been in love with you for a long time too.”

alex stared at you, trying to figure out if you’d actually just said that. you hear practically the gears turning in his head, you could imagine the questions he was asking himself.

“it’s not a dream,” you smiled, answering his biggest one.

“oh thank god,” he muttered to himself, reaching you in two long strides.

you gasped as his hands grabbed your waist, your own arms reaching up to grab his shirt. without a moment of hesitation, alex leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss just as sweet as the confession.

oh, he’s in love, you thought to yourself with a little smile.

it’s okay, because so were you.

#naqia writes!#alex lyon #alex lyon x reader #alex lyon imagine #alex lyon imagines #alex lyon blurb #alex lyon fic #detroit red wings #detroit red wings fic #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #hockey x reader #hockey x you #hockey fic

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xomakara · 5 months

Text

Coming Home

SUMMARY | You and Haechan try to cope with a long distance relationship but when you land the opportunity to write a ballad song, you finally get to reunite with Haechan PAIRINGS | Haechan/Fem!Reader GENRE | smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral (female giving/male receiving), LDR RATING | Mature LENGTH | 6,456 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | This was originally supposed to be a Jaehyun story but I decided to make it Haechan instead.

On another note, I’m still working on the Taeil and Xiaojun stories. Should be done soon 🙂

My Love

Hey, baby. I miss you.

You sighed as you read the text message that followed after yours. You were sitting in a local café and sipping your coffee, laptop on the table with your phone next to it. Your papers in your lap, you opened the word document ready to start writing some new lyrics for the new U.S. based girl group you were working with.

Staring outside of the shop’s window, you looked at the passerbys dressed in their winter coats and bundled up for the winter holidays. You wished you were back in Seoul, in the warm arms of that one special person you longed for. But your job as a songwriter made you go to the US, when you wanted to see your love, your heart. You sighed as you continued to sip your coffee.

You wondered what he was up to. Of course he had to be busy; Korean idols usually were busier than American singers. You sighed, wanting to experience the thrill of being back in Seoul, the rush of idols having promotions and performances. You missed the daily screams of fan girls, the feeling of being on stage and dancing and performing. Yes, you were an ex-idol. But your group had split due to problems with your former company and you signed to SM.

That's where you met him...

Your boyfriend. The love of your life.

You remembered the day you met him. Before you expressed the desire to become a singer-songwriter to your new company, you were attending dance and singing sessions despite already being known as a former idol. You were in the practice room one day, when he and his fellow members came into the studio for their own practice session. He caught your eye and approached you. You remember thinking how good looking he was, with those boyish features, and beautiful brown eyes. He expressed that he was glad that he was able to run into you since he was such a big fan of yours.

You laughed because you were also surprised by this, but then he told you that he admired your talent. From there, you started talking more often and he always showed up during your practice sessions. Then one day, he asked if he could talk to you privately and you went to the hallway near the studio rooms and talked about music and you soon became closer and closer to each other.

You still have moments where you replay the moment where he confessed his feelings to you, through song, during a performance at their showcase, back when they were only a rookie group and you were already well into your career. You blush every time you hear his name mentioned or see his face appear on your phone. But then again, you've been with him ever since, and he's the most important thing in your life. The most valuable person in your life.

But right now, you felt lonely.

Even though you spent your days working on music and meeting people to help make songs for the various projects you worked on, your evenings and nights were just so quiet without him. Just you, your notes, and a cup of tea. It wasn't like you didn't have any friends or acquaintances in the States. You were part of a creative team for this U.S based girl group, so you had other Koreans that had worked with you since you joined SM, that flew overseas with you. But you still missed home and all the familiar things from there, like your favorite cafes, people you knew, places that reminded you of him.

And now you're away from them, working on something that you want, doing what you love. And although it can be challenging sometimes, you're so grateful that you are where you are right now, making a living off of something that you truly enjoy. Because no matter what, you will never forget how lucky you are that you were given the opportunity to do this. Even though things weren't perfect at first, they ended up turning out just fine.

You picked up your pen and jotted down lyrics from your favorite Korean group's songs. You weren’t planning on using it in your own composition, no you wouldn't dare do that, but it was a type of inspiration for you. It gave you some ideas just looking at the lines your boyfriend sang. It lifted your spirits up and you knew one day you would go back to him.

“Y/N~” Someone called your name. Looking up from your laptop, you smiled as you saw several girls waving as they made their way to you.

“Hey girls!” You called out as you lifted a hand and waved at them. “What brings you here?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Ivy, one of the vocalists, asked as she sat down next to you. With her pale skin and bouncing blonde curls, she was clearly the visual of the group. “Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?” Sophie, another of the vocalists, asked as she sat down on the other side of you. She had the skin of caramel, her dark thick hair barely brushing her shoulders. Looking at your screen she also took a double take. “He’s a cutie!”

“Ah, him?” You pointed to the screen and smiled. You would always look at your screen and smile, the smile of the man staring back at you always made you feel happy inside. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“Who is he?” Gemma, the leader of the group, asked as she threw her long black hair behind her.

“You guys don’t know his group?” You asked, the girls shaking their heads. “Really? How could my girls not know about my boys?”

“We just recently got into the genre.” Ivy frowned, the others laughing. “Give us a break here.”

“Well, you're in for a wild ride once you get into them.” You laughed and gestured to the girls to sit closer. “And my boyfriend? His name is Haechan.”

Haechan watched as his 127 hyungs wandered about the practice room after their practice. He was standing next to Mark, drinking from his water bottle, clutching his phone in his hand as he listened to Mark go on about something one of the Dream members did the other day.

“Dude,” Mark waved a hand in front of Haechan’s face. “Are you listening?”

Haechan shrugged and stared at the floor. “Nope.”

“Are you okay?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been spacing out for a while now. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.” Haechan muttered, letting out a sigh. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“It’s Y/N, huh?” Mark asked, placing a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You miss her?”

Haechan closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Awhhhh,” Jungwoo pouted as he enveloped Haechan in a hug. “Our Haechannie is a lovesick puppy.”

Haechan rolled his eyes and hugged Jungwoo back. “Hyung, please. I am not lovesick.”

Jungwoo scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. We know better. And besides, how can you not miss your girlfriend when she’s gone?”

“Time differences sucks,” Haechan frowned, watching as the other 127 members made their way over to him. “Even though we have video calls and talk to each other on the phone, there’s nothing like seeing her face every morning and evening.”

“She’s coming home soon, right?” Taeyong spoke up, grabbing hold of Haechan’s other arm. “After Christmas?”

“I hope so.” Haechan answered quietly.

There was a silence amongst the rest of the 127 as they waited for the youngest member of the group to say something else. A few seconds passed before he cleared his throat and looked at them.

“Maybe if we wish really hard for her to come home, she will.” Taeil said hopefully. “I kind of miss having Y/N hanging around the practice room. She brightens up the place.”

“Is it weird that I miss Haechan’s and Y/N’s random ass pranks?” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Like that time you taped some ladybug stickers on us while we were asleep.”

“Or when she would hide in the dark and then scare the crap out of everyone by popping out of nowhere,” Doyoung added.

“Those pranks never failed to make me laugh,” Yuta mused.

All of a sudden a noise filled the room and Haechan jumped, his hand immediately going to his pocket where he stored his cellphone.

“Y/N!” Haechan excitedly said as he smiled at you through his phone.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” You muttered, noticing Jaehyun popping his head in to wave hi. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s fine, babe. We just finished practice.” Haechan reassured you. “Where are you?”

“Sitting at this coffee shop.” You replied. “Doing some work.”

“Work sounds fun.” Haechan grinned. “So what is it that you’re working on? Writing some songs or something?”

“Yes, actually.” You smiled sheepishly. “But I’m still trying to figure out what I want to write about.”

“Well maybe I can help you.” Haechan offered. “Why don’t you send me a few of your songs and I’ll give you my opinion.”

“I would love that, babe.” you replied, a soft smile on your face. “How have you and the oppas been? And the rest of our chingus and dongsaengs?”

“Haha, we are great. Everyone’s well and taking care of business.” Haechan chuckled. “The older guys keep asking me about you, about when you’re going to be home so we can meet up again. It makes me happy knowing they miss you too.”

“Me too, Haechan. Me too.” You replied softly. “I’m going to end this call soon because I need to get some work done. So until tomorrow. Go get dinner with the oppas and have fun. I love you.”

“Love you too. Until tomorrow.”

You woke up early in the morning. Getting out of bed, you changed into your everyday clothes, grabbed your bag and headed out to grab some breakfast before you went to the studio. Before heading out, you decided to check your emails. Checking your inbox, you found an email from your company. You were surprised to find out that in addition to the songs that you were preparing for the girls in the U.S, the company offered you an opportunity to write a song for NCT for a winter special.

Specifically for the members Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and… Haechan.

You had to smile. You knew exactly what kind of song to write for them. You took their voices into account deciding to write a romantic ballad. It wasn’t the first time you wrote such a song, but you had to admit, it felt good to write this kind of song for your ‘boyfriend’.

You just hoped that you could finish it in time to send it off so that the guys could start recording it. But even if you couldn’t finish it on time, you had faith in your writing ability and knew that you would be able to write it.

Since winter was around the corner, you wanted to write a song that could relate to people who missed someone during the colder months. Being away from your loved ones during the holidays must be hard. That’s why you wanted to write a song that people would connect to easily. Something they could use as a mantra to remind themselves that the person they miss isn’t far away. That they have a place that is still home. They just needed to think about that special person. As much as it broke your heart thinking about being apart from Haechan, you knew that you'd go home to him one day and make sure he knows that no matter how far away you two were, he would always be close to your heart.

Walking into the studio, you greeted everyone and started your work. Hours later, you had the melody written and you only needed to add lyrics and chords.

It wouldn’t take long for you to complete the song and get it sent off. Maybe by tomorrow. You certainly hoped so. The sooner you sent it off, the faster you could hear it. But it needed to be perfect for the guys. Perfect for Haechan especially.

“I can’t wait for you to hear this, babe.” You whispered to yourself. "I can't wait for you to sing it..."

Thinking about it made you smile.

And you could almost imagine Haechan singing it. You wondered if he would be the first to record it. Or if someone else would. The possibilities seemed endless. You wished you could be there in Korea with Haechan. But until then, this song was a sign of things to come. Of how you’d spend your days missing him. Missing his voice. Smelling his scent. Everything about him.

Your fingers danced across the keyboard as you typed out the finishing lyrics. The words flowed out effortlessly and you smiled as you realized you were writing about your feelings towards Haechan. The butterflies in your stomach grew stronger as you remembered all the sweet moments you shared together. Moments that made you feel giddy, silly, and... loved. You were ready to share these emotions with the world.

With Haechan.

After finishing the song and playing a sample to the rest of the staff, you stood back to listen to the track. It sounded amazing. Just like you thought it would. Hearing your own creation was an amazing feeling. You always loved writing songs, but this was different. This was something personal. To you. For you.

"What's this?" Haechan asked his manager as the older man handed him a paper filled with lyrics. He was sitting in one of the conference rooms with Taeil, Doyoung and Jaehyun.

"This is a song." Manager Jung answered, smiling proudly. "For a Station song that you four will be singing for a winter release. It's called Coming Home."

"Wow." Haechan mumbled, flipping through the lyrics. "This is really beautiful."

"It is, isn't it?" Manager Jung grinned. "I'm really proud of everything she's doing. She even wrote a beautiful song for you guys."

"Who?" Doyoung asked curiously.

"Y/N," Manager Jung replied. "Y/N wrote this song specifically for you guys."

"Y/N?" Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Taeil let out a small whimper before enveloping Haechan in a hug. "Your girlfriend is a god sent. She wrote us a damn song!"

"What do you guys think?" Manager Jung turned to Taeil, Jaehyun and Doyoung.

"It's amazing." Doyoung smiled, hugging Haechan. "She put so much emotion into this. Can you believe it?"

"She took all our voices into account." Jaehyun added, hugging Taeil. "This is a perfect song."

Manager Jung nodded. "That's the point. I think it'll really resonate with your fans. Especially those who've missed their family and friends while living abroad."

Haechan smiled as he looked over the lyrics. His girlfriend never seemed to fail him. Not once since they started dating. She truly was a gift from above. An angel sent down to protect him. Who could ask for anything more?

"Can we listen to the demo?" Haechan asked.

Manager Jung nodded. "You're in for a treat because Y/N sang it herself."

"Let's listen." Haechan urged, turning up the volume.

Seconds into the demo, Haechan's eyes widened. He looked over at Taeil and Doyoung who had the same look on their faces. Both looked at each other and smiled, their eyes glowing with happiness. Even Jaehyun looked at Haechan as if they both shared a secret between them.

"She did this?" Haechan asked, incredulous. "Damn, this is beautiful."

They listened intently as Y/N's beautiful vocals flowed out of the speakers. Each note was beautifully sung and every word perfectly crafted. When they reached the bridge, Haechan's smile got bigger. He knew this part was the best. There was no way anyone could listen to this song without getting choked up. Without feeling the way he did. The way he always felt whenever Y/N sang a song. Every note was perfectly placed and they held meaning beyond just the song itself. She didn't just create music, she created emotion. She created magic.

And Haechan was lucky enough to be the one who saw it happen.

"We should hurry and record this. I don't want to lose this chance." Doyoung commented, smiling. "Let's try and record it this weekend. Hopefully we can finish it in time."

Manager Jung smiled. "Y/N will be happy that you all like it."

Haechan glanced over at Taeil, Doyoung and Jaehyun, a gentle smile on his face. This song was his gift. From his baby girl. A piece of her that he could hold on to forever. Even if they weren't together physically, they could always be together through the power of music. Through her beautiful voice. Her unique beauty. All the memories they made together would live on through their music.

Forever immortalized in song. A song written by his angel.

"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered quietly. "Thank you for loving me. Thank you for making this happen."

A few weeks later...

"Noona!" Seungeun, one of the staff members on the creative team that came with you from Korea, called out as soon as you stepped into the room. You walked over to where he was standing and noticed he was holding the remote control to the TV. Your eyes wandered to the other people in the room; Ivy, Sophie and Gemma on the couch, some of the American staff leaning against the walls or sitting in chairs, the Korean staff members all standing or sitting on the floor.

"What's going on?" You asked, shrugging your coat off and placing your bag next to you. "Is this a meeting or something?"

"No." Ivy answered. "This is another surprise."

"Manager Jung sent us a video link and told us to watch it when you get here." Seungeun explained. "He wants us to congratulate you."

Everyone in the room cheered.

"Y/N!" They yelled. "Congratulations! You deserve it!"

"I'm so confused," You laughed and joined the girls on the couch.

"Press play! Press play!" Gemma told Seungeun. "Don't leave us hanging!"

The video began and immediately you recognized Haechan's footsteps as walked into the screen. You let out a small smile as Doyoung's melodic voice filled the room, Haechan's soft vocals following right after.

"My time stopped When I turned away from your crying self I didn't even give you a last goodbye Your warm heart said, "When you’re tired, come back and rest" When I look back on my snowy way after a while, you're there By the time when my trip is over, I'll know it Like that time holding you in my heart I’m coming home"

When Jaehyun and Taeil sang their parts in the chorus, you just knew. You wrote a perfect song for them. And now you were watching it come alive. You couldn't help but smile at how the boys made the song come alive. At how emotional and beautiful it sounded to have such amazing singers bring your words to life.

You couldn't help it when a tear threatened to fall when you looked at Haechan's beautiful face in the music video. If you closed your eyes, you could see him as he sang the song, looking absolutely gorgeous in front of the camera. His brown hair glistened as he stared down at the camera. Eyes filled with passion. Passion that matched the lyrics you wrote for him. A passion that hadn't died even though you hadn't been able to see him in months. The tears spilled down your cheeks as the video ended and you wiped them away, smiling at the memory of how incredible the video was.

The room fell silent for several seconds. Everyone's gaze fixated on you.

You glanced around the room nervously. Everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to speak.

"I'm sorry about that," You finally said, clearing your throat and wiping at your face. "I didn't mean to cry. I-it was just-"

Gemma jumped up from the couch, startling everyone in the room. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer.

"It's okay." She murmured, squeezing you tight. "Just let it out."

"I haven't seen him in months." You mumbled, burying your face into Gemma's shoulder. "Seeing him sing made me so emotional."

"You miss him." Sophie whispered.

"A lot." You admitted. "Even more than I ever imagined. More than any of you probably realize."

Gemma let go of you and walked over to Ivy. They exchanged a few words before returning to sit down next to you again. Sophie wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gave you a comforting squeeze.

"You know, seeing him perform your song was probably one of the most special moments of my entire life." Sophie mused, stroking your cheek softly. "Seeing you write something so heartfelt for him..."

"Yeah." You sighed. "I didn't think it would make me so emotional."

"That's understandable." Sophie chuckled. "If it wasn't Haechan or the other guys who were in that video, I'd be crying too."

"Eonni," Minjung, another staff member of the creative team, rushed to you, her phone in her hands. "You have a video call."

You looked down at the screen and gasped.

There was Haechan, smiling brightly at you. Your smile widened when you noticed Taeil was standing next to him, grinning happily. And then there was Jaehyun and Doyoung, sitting behind Haechan, rubbing Haechan's back gently.

"Babe? What's wrong? You look like you were crying. Did something happen?" Haechan asked, concern written all over his face.

You pressed your finger to your lips and shook your head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

Jaehyun raised his eyes. "Did you watch the music video, Y/N?"

"Is that why it looked like you were crying?" Doyoung asked.

"Baby, you cried?" Haechan interjected. "Why? I thought it would make you happy-"

"It made me incredibly happy." You assured him. "But watching it also made me sad. Sad that I'm not there."

"I feel like that too." Haechan confessed. "Seeing you being so far away from me makes me feel sick. It's killing me."

Taeil sighed loudly and pulled the other two men to their feet. "Let's leave Haechan and Y/N to speak alone."

The boys bowed to you and left the room quickly.

"I miss you, babe." Haechan muttered through the phone. "I wish I could pick you up and hold you in my arms right now."

"I wish I could do that too." You admitted. "I miss you so much."

"Me too." Haechan agreed. "Thank you for the song, babe. Thank you for writing something so wonderful for me. My love for you grows stronger every day."

"And my love for you grows stronger every single day." You said quietly. "Every time I hear your voice, I fall deeper in love with you. I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you all the time. But when I wake up, it's always just a dream."

"But it isn't a dream anymore, babe." Haechan reminded you. "And when you open your eyes, I will be there."

"Yes, Haechan." You smiled. "When I open my eyes, you will be there."

"I can't wait for you to open your eyes, babe." He promised. "I can't wait until you come home."

"Soon." You promised. "Very soon."

As soon as you hung up, the Korean staff members rushed to you and hugged you tightly. You cried for a little longer, but eventually managed to pull yourself together.

"You guys are so sweet." You said once you managed to catch your breath. "But don't worry about me. I'm okay. Really."

"Are you sure?" Minjung asked worriedly. "We wouldn't mind staying with you if you need someone to talk to."

"Thanks, Minjung, but it's really okay." You reassured her. "I promise. I'm fine."

"Okay, eonni." Minjung nodded. "Just remember that we’re always here."

Everyone was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain what had happened.

You gulped. How was it possible to explain what you just did? How was it possible to explain how the sound of his voice made you melt inside? How you missed him so much that it hurt? How you dreamed about him every night and hoped that one day you would be able to be with him again? How you felt like nothing in the world could tear you apart if you were with him?

Well, all those things couldn't be described with mere words.

"Noona," Seungeun looked at the rest of the team before looking at you. They all seemed to be in silent agreement about something. "Should we...go home?"

"Yeah." You nodded slowly. "Let's go home."

“Haechan, I’m coming home.”

Haechan couldn't believe his eyes when you walked into the practice room. When he saw you standing there, his heart nearly stopped beating. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as he watched you approach him. He walked towards you slowly, stopping when you reached him.

His fingers brushed lightly against your cheek. You closed your eyes as you leaned into his touch.

"Haechan, I'm home." You breathed.

He smiled widely, stepping forward and kissing you softly.

"I missed you." He whispered, brushing his lips against yours once more.

"I missed you too, baby." You whispered back. "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I woke up."

"How long has it been?" He asked curiously. "Since you last kissed me?"

"Too long." You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's been way too long."

"Maybe I should keep you locked in my room from now on." He teased.

"You're welcome to try." You snickered. "I promise I won't fight you."

"Deal." He grinned, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." You admitted, sighing contentedly.

"Get a room or something, lovebirds." You heard Johnny snicker from across the room. "I can hear you two kissing from here."

"It's nice to see you too, Johnny." You chuckled. "I would say hi, but honestly, I'm kinda busy right now."

"Busy sucking face?" Mark laughed, opening his arms to give you a hug. "Welcome home, Y/N."

"Thanks, Mark." You smiled, hugging him back. "It feels good to be back."

"Y/N!" Taeil called, running over to you and giving you a big hug. "Welcome back! We missed you so much!"

"Hi, Taeil." You smiled. "It's good to be back."

"It looks like you already have your hands full." Mark chuckled, watching you give some of the Dream and WayV members hugs. "I wonder who else is going to run over to you."

"Can't help that I'm everyone's favorite person." You shrugged. "They practically attack me whenever they see me."

"Can't believe that I have to fight everyone for your affection." Haechan mumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple. "I am fighting against all odds."

"It's okay." You laughed. "Fighting for my affection is totally worth it."

"I missed you so much." Haechan mumbled, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "Please don't leave me again."

"Don't worry, Haechan." You promised, turning your face so you could kiss him. "As long as I have you by my side, no matter where I am, I'm never going anywhere."

"Thank god." Haechan sighed. "Otherwise, I might die from this torture."

"Stop being dramatic and take me home." You giggled, pulling away from him slightly. "I want to go home."

"Home sounds good." Haechan agreed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. "Do you want to go home right now? Or do you want to stay here a little bit longer?"

"Oh God, Haechan." You groaned, burying your face into his chest. "Take me home now. Please. I need you to take me home so I can give you your present."

"What present?" He asked, still holding you close.

"My surprise gift for you." You sighed. "Now please, before I change my mind."

"Okay, baby." Haechan grinned, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you out of the practice room. "Come on. Let's go home."

Once you got back to your apartment, Haechan put you down on the couch and went to get some water for you. You took a sip of the cool water as Haechan came back to join you.

"I'm gonna put you to bed." He said, standing in front of you.

"Oh no you don't." You laughed, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down on top of you. "I'm not tired yet. And I haven't given you your present yet. So get off of me and let me give it to you."

"What kind of present?" He asked, trying to wriggle out of your grip. "Is it food? Because you know how much I love food."

"No, it's not food." You laughed. "It's much better than food. Much, much better."

"A massage?" He guessed, sitting up on his knees.

"Hmm, no." You sighed. "I think it's a lot more fun than that."

"More fun than food?" He repeated curiously. "More fun than a massage? Can you tell me what it is?"

"No." You smirked, pushing him onto his back. "But I'm pretty sure you're going to love it."

"Oh boy..." Haechan groaned, rolling his eyes playfully. "Whatever it is, I bet it's gonna make me lose my mind."

"Oh yeah, it's definitely going to make you lose your mind." You laughed, getting off of the couch and straddling him. "So shut up and let me show you what I got you."

"Go ahead, baby." Haechan encouraged, letting his arms slide down your sides. "I'm ready for whatever the present is. Show me."

With that, you drew your shirt over your head, revealing your lacy bra underneath. You let your hands glide over your breasts, feeling your nipples harden as you caressed them gently.

"God, these are beautiful." Haechan murmured appreciatively, reaching out and squeezing both of your breasts firmly. "This present is gonna blow my mind."

You smiled, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. As your tongue explored his mouth, Haechan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. After a few minutes, you pulled away slightly and reached behind you, unhooking your bra. You tossed it aside, smiling as Haechan stared at your bare breasts.

"You are such a tease." He growled, trying to pull you back down on top of him. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I can." You replied, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants. "And because I want to. Now stop complaining and enjoy the present."

With that, you slid your hand inside his pants and began to rub his cock through his underwear.

"Oh fuck, yes." Haechan moaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the couch. "That feels so good. What are you doing to me?"

"Giving you your present." You smiled, slipping your hand inside his boxers and stroking his dick with a firm grip. "Like you wanted me to."

"God, you drive me crazy." Haechan groaned. "I wish you'd hurry up and finish. I need to feel you."

"Hmmm, maybe later." You replied, kissing him softly. "For now, you need to be patient."

"Fuck patience." Haechan growled. "I'm gonna explode if you keep teasing me like this."

"Oh yeah?" You smiled. "How will you explode then?"

"All over your tits." He answered quickly, undoing your jeans and pushing them down along with your panties. "Or all over your ass. Maybe even on your stomach."

"Mmm, I'm liking your ideas." You purred, running your hand over his erection as you pushed his jeans and boxers off. "Tell me, baby, which part of my body do you want to cum on first?"

"Anywhere you want." He replied eagerly. "I'll cum everywhere if you ask me to."

"You're a very horny man, aren't you?" You chuckled, squeezing his shaft gently. "Just how much have you been fantasizing about me while I was gone?"

"Enough to shoot a load." He answered without hesitation. "Every time I close my eyes, I picture you naked, rubbing your tits over my face. Or walking around naked, showing me your perfect body. Don't tell me you haven't been fantasizing about me like that too?"

"Of course I have." You laughed, cupping his balls in your other hand. "I fantasized about you almost every night. How could I not? I'm in love with you, you silly man."

"I love you too, baby." Haechan smiled, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "I love you so fucking much."

"Good." You sighed, sliding down so you were sitting between his legs. "I'm glad we understand each other."

With that, you lowered your head down and took his throbbing cock into your mouth, slowly taking him in. He shuddered as you started sucking him gently, moving your tongue over the tip. He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the couch, moaning loudly.

"Holy shit." Haechan gasped, gripping the couch tightly. "This is amazing."

"You really like that, huh?" You asked, keeping your rhythm slow and steady.

"Love it." He replied breathlessly. "So much."

You continued to suck him slowly, alternating between licking his shaft and swirling your tongue around his head. After a few minutes, he stopped thrusting his hips and opened his eyes, staring at you with lustful eyes.

"Are you ready to cum, baby?" You whispered, licking your lips seductively. "If you are, just say the word and I'll swallow everything you give me."

"I'm so ready." Haechan panted. "Give me your tongue, Y/N. I want you to taste me when I come."

"So do I." You whispered, licking your lips and lowering your head to his lap.

You swirled your tongue around his shaft once more, this time focusing on the sensitive underside. His breathing became faster and quicker, until finally he released his seed into your mouth, coating your tongue with his sweet taste. You swallowed as much as you could, savoring the taste of his release. Once you had finished swallowing, you raised your head to look up at him. He was looking at you with pure lust in his eyes, clearly pleased with the blowjob you had given him.

"Better than expected." He breathed. "Come here baby. Let me feel you against me."

Straddling his hips, you settled yourself between his legs and looked down at him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Wow, you look so sexy like that." Haechan mumbled, running his fingers through your hair. "It's hard to imagine that anyone else would ever be able to make me feel this way."

"Trust me, there's nothing else that makes me feel this good." You assured him. "Nothing compares to you."

"Same here." He smiled, kissing your lips lightly. "I've missed you so much, baby."

"I've missed you too." You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. "Now show me how much you miss me."

"Gladly." Haechan growled, lifting you up so he could position himself inside you.

"Hmmm." You hummed in response, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "There's nothing better than having my boyfriend buried deep inside me after he's been deprived of it for months."

Haechan leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours passionately, pulling you deeper into the kiss. You returned the kiss with equal passion, pulling him tighter and tighter as you felt his cock begin to fill you up.

As Haechan continued to push into you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his body, grinding your hips against him. You held on tight to his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock inside you again. You hadn't realized how much you had missed being fucked by him until he was finally there, filling you completely.

"Fucking perfect." Haechan panted. "Feels so good to be inside you again. Fuck."

With that, he increased the speed of his movements, slamming himself into you over and over again. Each thrust made you moan louder, driving him wild.

"You love it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" He grunted, tightening his hold around you and grinding harder.

"Please! Yes! Oh god...don't stop...keep going...don't stop!" You begged, panting as Haechan kept up his relentless pace. "Not yet...not yet..."

As you heard the words leave your lips, Haechan slowed down slightly and reached down between your legs, grabbing your clit and pinching it gently. Your whole body tensed as he did this, making you moan in pleasure.

"Ahhhh...oh god...you bastard..." You moaned, losing control as Haechan teased you mercilessly. "Don't stop...I need it...so bad..."

He didn't listen though, continuing to rub your clit, increasing the pressure of his thrusts slowly but surely. You tried to resist, but Haechan was simply too strong. Eventually, he managed to break through your resistance and you came undone under his ministrations, screaming out his name as your orgasm swept over you. Haechan threw his head back, groaning as he pumped his cock into you one last time before shooting his seed into your hot pussy.

You collapsed on top of him, lying on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. Your heart was still pounding wildly from the intensity of your climax, but Haechan's strong embrace seemed to calm your nerves, making you feel safe and protected.

"Are you okay?" Haechan asked, pulling back slightly to look at you.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You answered, grinning at him. "I needed that."

"Well, then you definitely deserved it." He said, kissing your cheek. "I missed you so much. It's so nice to be able to touch you again."

"Mmm, me too." You replied, snuggling closer to him. "Especially after spending all those nights in bed alone. At least we get to spend the rest of our time together in bed, now."

"True." Haechan agreed. He lifted you up and made his way to your bedroom, laying down with you in bed. "And this time we're together. No more long distance. No more phone calls or emails. Just you and me, together."

"Yes, together." You agreed, burying your head against his chest. "Forever and always."

"Y/N?" Haechan questioned, lifting your head and brushing some hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You responded, staring at him with sleepy eyes.

Haechan pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for coming home."

"Anything for you, baby." You replied softly, closing your eyes and falling asleep next to him.

#nct #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct dream #nct smut #nct haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #haechan x reader #haechan smut

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psychedelic-ink · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.2k

chapter summary: Summer break is finally here, meaning it's time to pick the annual vacation spot for the Miller's, only this time you also have a say in where to go. Later that night Joel makes you a promise.

warnings: none, just some fluff and family dynamics, mention of parent abandonment (sarah's mom leaving), mention of an unplanned pregnancy (again, sarah's mom)

a/n: yes there is a modern family reference in this. a heavy one at that because that show has been engraved in my brain from rewatching it over and over this year

special thanks to @undercoverpena for cheering me on and to all the lovely readers who continue on joining in for the ride. ily all xx

Chapter Twelve || Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t understand. Sarah never in her life hurt anythin’. She hates it when I watch action movies and always calls me a caveman for it. How the hell is she gettin’ into a fight with some girl?”

He’s spiraling. That’s the easiest way to put it. His body is humming with worry, the light in the school hall burning his eyes. Sarah, his perfect little girl getting into trouble—

Surely it was self-defense.

He paces back and forth, then angrily looks at the door. Why is this taking so long? Why isn’t he already in there, learning what the hell happened?

“Take a breath, Joel.”

His head snaps towards the source of the voice, his heart easing a bit but not entirely calmed down yet. You offer him a kind smile, patting the seat next to you for him to join you. Joel shakes his head almost violently. “I can’t,” he sighs. “I need to know what the hell happened. I need to know if she’s alright.”

“She’s in class, she’s alright,” you swiftly get up from your sweet and cradle his cheeks. He wants to look away. He’s still not used to being this vulnerable, this open. “I need you to calm down before we go in, okay? Don’t go on wreaking havoc without us learning what happened.”

Joel grimaces, his brows furrowing, he holds your wrists and tugs your hands down. He sees a moment of hurt reflected in your eyes but is quick to appease those worries by pressing his lips against your cheek. He’s glad you’re here. Truly. But he’s also worried about Sarah. She might be in class, however, that doesn’t mean that she was hurt in some other way. He lets out another breath and looks at the door. If looks could kill the wooden furniture would be dead by now.

He’s in the middle of leaning in for a proper kiss when the door finally opens. Both of them jolt, turning towards the interruption. Joel recognizes the woman on the other side. She has straight black hair that’s in a neat ponytail and thick glasses perched above her nose. Joel remembers her vaguely from Sarah talking about school... Ms. Pritchett, if he's not mistaken. He doesn't remember her first name. She’s young, maybe closer to your age rather than his. He gives the teacher a pointed look, to which she answers with a kind smile.

“Mr Miller, welcome,” her gaze shifts to you “And…”

You quickly offer her your name, flustered, as much as Joel can tell. He's a bit ashamed to admit it but at that point, he doesn't really care to figure out why you're suddenly tripping over your words. Joel turns to the teacher, his shoulders squared and tense. “You called about Sarah gettin' in a fight?”

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.”

He feels the brush of your fingers against the small of his back, a soothing touch and a quick one at that. He wishes your touch would linger, that your body would drape over his like a soothing velvety blanket. Sadly, he can't have that. At least, not now. You sit across from him and Ms Pritchett takes her seat behind the large wooden desk. Joel appreciates the craftsmanship of it. The way the wood feels smooth and new under his touch, polished to perfection, reminding him of something Tommy would make in his spare time. His eyes then linger on the nameplate right in front of him, Lily Pritchett. Now he knows the name of Sarah's teacher.

Miss Pritchett laces her fingers on top of the desk, her sharp eyes fixed on Joel’s. He suddenly feels very exposed. Like this woman can see every mistake he’s made since the day he was born. Her smile isn’t soothing. Nor is the slight tilt of her head to make her seem whatever she’s about to say isn’t a big deal. But it is. He knows it is. He’s a single dad, no mom in the picture to help him out, and day by day those shortcomings are becoming more prominent in their lives.

“Has Sarah told you about why she’s been having trouble at school?”

The question is like a knife to the gut. It’s being twisted and pressed in deeper. He can feel your gaze on him but he refuses to look back. His heart skips a beat, then another. Why the fuck is he having trouble breathing?

“Her grades are high,” he manages to choke out between gritted teeth. “I ain’t aware of any trouble she’s been havin’.”

“I’m not talking about grades Mr. Miller. In that aspect, she’s excelling. But she seems to be having trouble fitting in—”

“She has friends.”

Miss Pritchett smiles again, albeit it looks more forced this time. As if Joel is working her last nerve, “She does. But those girls are in a grade higher.” she sighs and twirls her thumbs over one another. “I had a similar problem when I was her age. The thing is yesterday the girls were getting ready for gym class and started teasing each other by snapping each other’s bra straps.” Joel’s mouth goes dry. He’s definitely out of his element. He holds his breath and waits for the teacher to continue, he feels your hand on the slope of his knee. “But Sarah didn’t have one and the other girls started teasing her.”

“Why the hell are you talkin’ to us then?” Joel glowers and Miss Pritchett's mouth snaps shut. “Seems to me that my girl is the victim. Where are the parents of the others?”

“Mr. Miller. . .”

“No. I ain’t lettin’ her take the blame that was clearly some other kid’s fault!” his voice raises, his blood pumping faster, warmer. “You here blamin’ Sarah when she was clearly gettin’ bullied under your watch—”

“Sarah tackled one of the girls.”

Now it’s Joel’s turn to snap his mouth shut. Miss Pritchett's gaze turns sympathetic and you stiffen next to him, your fingers tightening around his knee. He shuffles in his seat and raises a brow, “Pardon?”

“Some words were exchanged about Sarah’s mother abandoning her and Sarah tackled the other student to the ground. Things didn’t escalate—When Miss Crest came in Sarah was just holding her down.”

“What did they say?” he growls, anger simmering right under the skin.

He hates feeling like this. So out of control. Hates that her daughter is being targeted for something that was out of his and her’s control.

“Her mother left us when she was young. A goddamn baby. Are you meanin’ to tell me that these kids are so undisciplined that they’ve been bullyin’ my girl for somethin’ that ain’t her fault?”

“The girl who said it, Kimberly,” Miss Pritchett sighs softly when Joel fixes her another glare. A warning that she’s seen too many times from overprotective parents. “She apologized later on and the two have been talking a bit in class.”

“I don’t care if she apologized—”

“Joel. . .” He finally turns to look at you. You say his name not as a warning, but more as an anchor grounding him to the moment. He’s breathing heavily. His body wrung out and ready to collapse. He takes a deep breath. In and out. He allows you to say what you want to say, what he’s too stuck in his own head to ask. Your gaze shifts from him to Miss Pritchett. “What should we do?”

“Try to talk to her. If her mother left when she was young, like you said,” she gestures towards Joel. “She might’ve not fully registered what happened. Or what it means to not have a mother and only now she might be realizing it. As for the other situation, it might be good to get her a training bra for now.”

A training bra, what does that even mean? It’s like he’s drowning, everyone saying things he just can’t understand.

“The girls reconciled but I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, Mr. Miller, before summer break starts.”

God, they still have to pick out the annual vacation spot, “I appreciate it,” he mutters, not really looking at anyone in particular. He gets up from his seat and so do you and Miss Pritchett. She extends a hand and he takes it.

“Feel free to call if you have any other questions,” she says. “Sarah is a good girl and has a bright future. This is just a little bump in the road.”

And for the first time since he entered the office, Joel smiles. She does have a bright future. She’s the most amazing girl she knows.

“Thank you.”

The sky is crystal clear not a cloud in the sky. Joel hates it. And not just because he’s in a sour mood but because there’s nothing he can stare at in the sky. Nothing to distract him. They’re waiting for the final bell to ring so they can get Sarah and go home together. Tommy is supposed to pick them up.

“You have to calm down,” you say, walking up to him enough to leave a friendly distance in between. Joel is tired of keeping you a secret. He wants to feel the softness of your body against his own, want to feel your breath on his skin as you speak. “I can go with her and get her a training bra. But you need to be the one to talk to her.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You think I don’t know that?”

“I. . .I know you do. But let’s be honest you’re not exactly the most talkative. We’ve been together for a while and been living side by side for even longer—I still have no clue about Sarah’s mother or what her name is.”

“Her name is Jessica,” he deadpans. Then with a sigh, he drags his palm down his face. “It’s hard for me. I don’t really have answers, sweetheart. She just up and left one day. She must’ve planned it because it was right after when we switched to formula.”

“Did Sarah ever ask about her before?”

“Once. When she was little.”

“And?”

His cheeks burn with frustration and he stammers of his words, “I don’t know. I don’t remember, she was really young so I think I made up somethin’ about her having a job far away or somethin’.”

Joel groans and looks up to the sky. He watches the blank blue sky. How fucking boring.

Your touch on his cheek brings him back down, your smile a balm to his soul, “Just talk to her. Ask her if she has any questions and be honest. She’s a smart girl. I’m certain she’ll understand that you’ve been hurting too.”

Joel leans into the curve of your palm. A grateful smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re too good for him. That much he knows. You’re everything.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his heart melts between the bones of his ribcage. “I lo—”

The sudden sound of the bell makes you both jerk away from one another. Joel’s eyes land on your face, you look horrified and panting with parted lips. He can’t help the burst of laughter that drops from his mouth as he places a hand on the top of your head.

“So jumpy,” he mutters, and as he does his eyes catch sight of a bubbly girl with beautiful brown curls. “And there’s Sarah.”

He might be imagining it but Joel swears you frown when he removes his hand from your head. Before Sarah comes over, he gives you a quick pinch on your waist and your smile is back.

“Hey there baby girl,” he says. “How was school?”

Sarah’s eyes flit between you and himself, “It was fine. . . Am I in trouble?”

“Not at all.” Sarah looks skeptical but accepts his father’s words for now. Just as she opens her mouth, a loud familiar honk interrupts. The three of them turn towards the song along with a couple of children and families.

“Whoops.” Joel can vaguely hear Tommy say as he jumps out of the truck. He makes his way towards them with quick steps, only slowing when his gaze lands on you. Joel hates the way his chest puffs up like a rooster at that. He doesn’t like the sudden kicked-puppy look Tommy is giving you. As if you’ve betrayed him in any way. . . He runs a hurried hand over his jaw. If anything all of this is Joel’s fault and not yours. He refuses to let anyone think otherwise.

“I thought the teacher called you?” Tommy asks, gesturing with his head to Joel. His gaze swiftly moves back to you. “What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

The endearment rolls off his tongue a bit too rough, which rubs Joel the wrong way. Joel watches you shift from one foot to the other, looking like a deer in headlights. “I asked her to come,” he steps up. “I was worried.”

Tommy’s eyes soften and Joel’s heart threatens to shatter. He knows his brother cares about him. It hurts especially when he shows his emotions so easily, the complete opposite of Joel, he’s like an open book.

The younger Miller holds Sarah’s shoulder and pulls her close, “You a’right? Anyone givin’ you trouble?”

“No, Uncle Tommy. It was more like I was the one causing trouble.”

All of them start towards the truck and as they do Joel doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes light up at what she said.

“The perfect student finally getting her hands dirty? Now I’d pay good money to see that—”

“Tommy.”

“But I wouldn’t obviously,” Tommy clarifies, ignoring Joel’s warning. He leans into Sarah’s ear. “Did you get them good, baby?”

Sarah smiles and Joel realizes he would let her get away with murder if he must.

“I did.”

“That’s my girl.”

You and Sarah sit in the back while Joel sits in the passenger seat and Tommy gets behind the wheel. An uncomfortable silence surrounds them. The car starts moving and Joel turns a bit, looking between both you and Sarah. You’re looking out the window, your forehead smushed against the glass and Sarah is pretty much doing the same thing excluding the smushed forehead part. He sighs and turns back. Tommy is also tense which Joel can tell by the way he holds the wheel. He can’t really blame him. If you coming along with Joel wasn’t a tell of some sort he doesn’t know what is.

“So,” Joel says loudly, cutting the silence in two. “We might as well plan the family trip while we’re drivin’ back home.”

“Italy.” Sarah piques.

“Every god damn year—no Sarah we’re not goin’ to Italy. But we will one day. Promise.”

“Then I’m out of suggestions.”

“What about you?” Joel asks, addressing you. For a second you look unsure, and he notices your eyes finding Tommy’s through the rear window mirror. “With how often we see each other you might as well come with us on vacation. It’s only for a week.”

“Are you sure?”

Your voice comes out tiny, insecure. He hates it.

“‘Course I am.”

Tommy jumps in before you can respond, "How about Lake Buchanan? You know, where we used to take Sarah when she was little. There's a resort there now, called Canyon of the Eagles or something."

Joel raises an eyebrow, considering the suggestion. "Not a bad idea, Tommy. What do you think?" he asks, stealing a glance at you through the mirror.

A small, genuine smile forms on your face. "Sounds perfect. I'm in."

"Great," Joel grins. "Lake Buchanan it is."

Sarah, who had been lost in thought, perks up at the mention of the destination. "Lake Buchanan?"

"Yep, that's the place.” a fond smile playis on his lips. “Remember the stargazing?"

"Not really,” Sarah scrunches her face in concentration. “But it might be fun."

"It's gonna be a blast."

Joel shares a glance with you, both of you secretly reveling in the joy that Sarah's excitement brings.

He has no idea how long he’s been staring, but he knows it’s been for a while now.

Sarah walked up to her room pretty quickly when they arrived home, Joel wasn’t happy about the way she practically ran away from having a discussion, however he also figured he learned from the best—which was himself.

He takes a deep inhale, feels the way his chest expands, and exhales all of it from his lungs. He can do this. He can talk.

Joel knocks three times with his heart in his throat. He never felt more relieved in his life when he heard the faint permission to enter the room.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he says, leaving the door open. “I think we might have some things we need to discuss.”

“Is this about Kimberly?” Sarah sighs and closes the book she was reading. She sits up on her bed, pulling her skinny knees up to her chest, she stares at her dad. “I’ve already delt with that. We’re fine. And I’ll never do it ever again,” she raises her hand as if she was pledging herself to the American flag. “Promise.”

“You know that’s not why I’m here. There’s more we need to talk about and you know it.”

“I know you don’t like talking about her, dad,” she sighs. “I’m sorry I tackled Kimberly. She just got on my nerves. I don’t even know where it came from.”

Joel decides not to tell her that she did good tackling her classmate and that he’s proud. No one gets to bully his daughter, and he’s glad she knows how to defend herself. But it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t encourage it.

“I don’t mind talkin’ about it,” he says instead. “What do you wanna know?”

Sarah blinks, “Why’d she leave?”

The second time today Joel is indescribably gutted. It was a question he didn’t know the answer quite himself. He hated calling Sarah an accident—but if he had to keep it blunt that was what it was. They were young when they got married, and eager to be with one another. Joel still remembers the night. The creaking of his old truck as rain fell upon them. At the time he would’ve called it romantic. Jessica had just left work, Joel was waiting for her right in the parking lot. He didn’t want her to get soaked under the rain. She was upset at something that happened at work and searched for relief in his mouth. He remembers the way her curls tickled his face, how eager she was to mark his neck—

That was the first time he came inside her. She said she would take a pill the next day. Three weeks later they were pregnant. Joel, despite their crippling finances, was excited. A baby—what else could he have wanted? Sure he had to make some adjustments to his career but that didn’t matter to him.

Jessica left as soon as Sarah didn’t need to breastfeed anymore. She didn’t even leave a note. Her family was out of state and technology wasn’t as savvy as it was now. He couldn’t track her down. He’s also ashamed to admit he didn’t really try. He was hurt. Heartbroken. He thought they had something special, that having Sarah was both of their dreams.

But apparently, it was only his.

All he can feel is pain as he takes a seat next to Sarah on the bed. He wants to console her, tell her some solid truth that would ease her pain. But he can think of none.

“I don’t know, baby,” he says barely above a whisper. “She didn’t leave a note when she left and I could never track her down.” Sarah’s eyes shine with coming tears. He can’t handle it anymore, he pulls her to his chest, hugs her tight. “I’m sorry baby girl. None of this is your fault. I—I wish I could be better. I know I have shortcomings but I’m gettin’ there promise. And. . . And if you want we can. . .” A knot forms in his throat. He can barely speak. “We can track her down. Ask her for the truth. Because I swear sweetheart I don’t know. Maybe I did something to run her off,” Sarah stiffens under his hold but he continues. A faint sniffling reaches his ears. “I was workin’ day and night at the time. Tryin’ to get the business goin’. It’s possible I wasn’t attentive as much as I wanted to be—I might’ve—”

“Dad.” Sarah’s voice comes out harsh as she peels herself away from Joel’s embrace. He sees the fire in her eyes but also the pain, her sweet cheeks wet. Her brows are furrowed much like his and he can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing. “Her leaving isn’t your fault,” she then says, taking him by surprise. “I don’t know what you did—or if you did anything— but she lost all credibility when she just got up and left. Both. . . both of you were dealing with something huge. That burden can’t just be yours.”

Joel blinks rapidly. His eyes sting when he does, he takes a sharp inhale and refuses to wipe his eyes. He’s not crying. He’s not emotional. It’s just the remains of the damn perfume Sarah likes to spray so much of.

“And sure, we might have some problems, but that happens in every family. I love what we have. You’re the best dad a girl can ask for.”

“You think so?” Joel chokes out. Sarah quickly nods, her own eyes suddenly wetter than before. With a smile, he shakes his head and pulls her in for another embrace. “For what it’s worth you’re the best daughter a dad could ask for,” he murmurs. “And I ain’t mad at you for tacklin’ that Kimberly girl. She deserved it.”

Sarah’s laugh comes out muffled, “Dad. . . you’re not supposed to say that.”

“I don’t care.”

They hold on to each other with no urgency of breaking apart. He doesn’t care about the others. About the other families and their children. All he cares about is his daughter’s wellbeing. His own family that he built from jack squat.

The rest of the world can eat shit for all he cares. As long as his little girl is safe, his brother doing alright and you in his life, he doesn’t care about the Kimberlys of the world.

“So everything went alright with Sarah?”

Settling beside Joel, a bowl of popcorn rests comfortably on your lap. The DVD menu is on, faint music of the movie he popped in echoing from the speakers. You were a bit hesitant to come over after today. And you were surprised to hear that Sarah went out to stay with her friends. You’d expected the two to have a long talk, maybe even share a pint of ice cream. But Sarah was Joel’s daughter after all, just like his father she probably cut it short, told her how she felt and they both moved on.

You can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. However, as long as they’re both happy you don’t care all that much about how they get there.

“It went fine,” Joel responds, throwing an arm over your shoulder. “Just like you said, I was honest and she understood. I’m tryin’ to figure out where to go from here. I think there are a bunch of old pictures in the garage, including Jessica and Sarah as a baby. I don’t know if she would wanna see those though.”

“Yeah. . .” Your eyes shift to the screen, sadly, you don’t really have an answer to that. It’s not like Sarah thinks of her mother fondly and would want to see pictures. Your brain and heart are both worn out from everything that happened today. Both organs scrambled and twisted. You let out a soft sigh—a sigh so soft that it barely parts your lips, but he hears you.

“I haven’t asked how you were feelin’ about all this,” he squeezes your shoulder. “How have ya been? This wasn’t all too much for you was it?”

You smile. After all this time you’re still not used to being looked out after.

“I’m okay. I just. . .” You think of Tommy and the look he gave you right before giving all his attention to Sarah. The hurt look in his eyes. The suspicion. “I need you to promise me something—I need you to swear on it.”

His brows furrow, the deep crease between them making your heart clench. You chew on the inside of your cheek, your stomach suddenly full of knots. “I need you to swear you’ll tell Tommy soon. We—We can do it together if you want but I can’t handle seeing him almost every day and just lying—”

“You’re—We’re not lyin’—”

“Swear.”

He turns to you now. The soft light of the TV illuminating his face, making it appear softer. More innocent and full of hurt. His eyes grow kind, understanding. Your eyes widen slightly. Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart plummets. You don’t think there’s a man out there capable of better understanding you than Joel Miller. He’s everything. And he makes you feel like everything.

“On my life.”

we're entering the vacation arc babes 🚗🌲🏞️

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