queen-of-never-monster

[queen-of-never-monster]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — deadpool & wolverine

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[queen-of-never-monster]

Damian: crushes are the worst

y/n: right? i tend to act stupid around mine

Jason: you always act stupid

y/n: yeah, don't think too hard about that

[queen-of-never-monster]

Jason deserves to be someone's no. 1 superhero.

(Art by Victioria Palomino)

Red Hood was many things for many people. A criminal, a nuisance, and a threat. Most treated him with disdain, and few tolerated him. But no one claimed to be a fan of him. Not in a sense Superman or Wonder Woman have fans.

You kept your opinion on the man strictly neutral, hoping you'll never find yourself in the same room as him, not out of hatred, but simply a sense of self-preservation.

Until one day, you find yourself unwillingly in the crossfire of Gotham's latest criminal and it's the day you meet your unlikely savior. He's no less imposing or terrifying even as he sets you on the pavement in one of the alleyways.

"I'm not going to bite off your head if that makes you so jumpy."

"Ah! I...uh...sorry. It's just that you're..."

"'S fine, I'm used to that."

At that moment you felt really scummy. There he was risking his life for you and you were acting like has rabies. As you watched him run towards the explosions you promised yourself that you'll thank him properly next time you see him.

That opportunity comes fairly soon. Every day in Gotham is a new threat, this time in the form of sentient crawling vines with razor-sharp thorns. One of them nicks your cheek and others would probably do much worse, but a few well-aimed bullets make them fall limply on the pavement. It's your red-hooded savior and he's sporting several deep gashes as well as a cracked mask.

He barks at you to run so you do, but you linger in the safe distance, hoping to catch one more glimpse of him. When all is said and done, you see a flash of his red hood ducking behind a garbage container. You carefully sidestep the fallen debris and find him sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, clutching his shoulder.

You realize it's not the best time to talk to him, that gets affirmed by the glare he shoots you from underneath the torn hood. The fear makes your heart thump and your tongue gets stuck to the roof of your mouth. Still, you step closer, slowly, ready to back away at any second, as if you're approaching a wild animal backed into a corner, and you might as well.

"Go away." He growls, teeth flashing from the crack in his mask and you visibly shiver. Despite your fear, you crouch right next to him and pull out a couple of bandaids you always have in your mind. With trembling hands, you start to bandage up the feared vigilante. You keep his face for last, just to ignore the intense unflinching stare that's burning into you the whole time.

"The hell are you doing?" He asks, without any bite this time.

You swallow the knot in your throat.

"I...I never got a chance to...thank you." You say, voice getting smaller and smaller with each word.

"Thank me?" He says incredulously.

You meet his gaze for the first time.

"Yes, for saving me."

He lets you finish your work without another word. When you mention the shoulder. He gets up and slams it against the wall, popping the bone back in the socket as you watch in horror. He doesn't even whimper. He thanks you for the bandages and in a moment he's gone again.

Later that night, Jason Todd is lying in bed in his safe base. Staring at the colorful bandaids covering his arm.

Meanwhile, you start to unconsciously pay more attention to this masked vigilante. Whenever you see him in a newspaper, you clip out the part, when you hear his name on TV you pull the volume up. You search his name on the internet, getting what's undoubtedly some really cool shots of him on his motorcycle. Yeah, he's really a badass, the killings and questionable morals notwithstanding.

You're getting more intrigued by the day. Who is he? What made him pick up the guns and the red half-face mask? What's his relation to Batman if he's wearing a version of his symbol on his chest? Does he admire him, or hate him? Is he aware of his reputation? Is he deluded into thinking everything he's doing is ultimately good, or is he brutally self-aware and just doesn't care? His morals are what intrigued you the most. You often wonder if violence is maybe sometimes the answer, considering how many times you and your close ones got hurt or traumatized by Gotham's villains.

You start to wear a black T-shirt with a red bat-like symbol on it. You don't flaunt it, but there is undeniable giddiness when you hold it in your hands, fresh out of transfer press. You had to make it yourself because there's no official Red Hood merch, shame really. Soon a mug and a bracelet follow.

Next time you meet Red Hood, you're the one who saves him. His bike is damaged, and he's running away from cops when you grab him by the hand and pull him to the place you work at. Thankfully, no one of your coworkers is there that day so you don't have to explain to them why there's a masked man armed to teeth in the breakroom. You offer him some tea and biscuits before the coast is clear and he can leave again.

Before he leaves, Red Hood compliments your t-shirt. You look down and realize it's the one you made. You have to duck behind the front desk to hide an explosion of blush on your face, listening to his quiet chuckles. For the rest of the day Red Hood is smiling.

You heard that he is in the neighborhood. You ponder it for a long time before you book it out of the door. When you find him, you stutteringly ask for an autograph. Red Hood stares at you as if you'd gone crazy. He takes the white sharpie and scribbles his name on your back. You take the pen from his limp hand and thank him with a beaming smile. It's then Jason realizes he has a real-life fan.

The next time he sees you, he asks only half-joking if you want to take a photo with him. Your eyes widen at that.

"Y-you're sure?? I don't want to bother..."

"Just look here."

He says as he bends down to put his face next to his. You're too flustered by his proximity to react fast enough as his phone flashes in your eyes. By means unknown to you, the photo is in your phone several hours later. You look like a moron. Wide-eyed, red-faced, and gaping into the camera, but you keep it. It's a selfie with your favorite Gotham knight, after all.

When he saves you this time, he escorts you all the way to the rooftop of your apartment building. Red Hood asks how are you gonna repay him this time. Teasingly backing you up against the wall with one hand pressed to the wall behind you. You're once again reminded how big he is, but this time it does not make you fearful, it makes you flustered. You duck under his arm and tell him to wait. You hand him a plastic container, and he raises a brow at you. You explain to him it's your homemade enchiladas. What you didn't know at the time is that you'll have a hungry vigilante waiting on the rooftop for his next lunch like a stray cat.

With time, the scary vigilante became what you dared to call a friend of yours. You eat together, you talk, sometimes you patch him up and in return, he gives extra care to make your neighborhood safe. You learn a lot about him in several months and yet, you've never seen his face.

It's the end of the year, and you haven't heard from Red Hood for some time. He must be busy. It's not like he owes you anything. He probably has a life outside of vigilante work. Still, you do miss him. You don't hear from him until that fateful fight with Barman. You barely hear the news reporter over the blood rushing in your ears as you watch Red Hood get slammed into through the window of a run-down factory. Without thinking it through, you rush to the location the news reporter mentioned.

You never saw Red Hood so...defeated. He was always so big in your eyes, bigger than life. And now he is slowly bleeding from the neck while shards of glass are littered around him, with Gotham's so-called hero standing over him. You shout you're not exactly sure what, but it makes the Dark Knight freeze. You don't even spare him a glance as you kneel over your hero. His mask is even more cracked than the first time you met him. You can see the black eye and the split lip, but it's the resignation in the healthy eye that makes you unreasonably angry.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!"

You shock yourself with the force of that angry roar. Batman takes a step back, arms held up in defeat. Eyes confused, searching but mostly...sad, that surprises you the most. You don't have time to dwell on it as you feel Red behind you trying to get up. Deciding you'll ignore the Bat indefinitely, you support the Hood with your weight. The rest is a blur, police escort you out of the scene, giving you a lecture about civilian safety you barely listen to.

He let him escape. Batman let Red Hood escape the scene. You heard him giving an explanation to the police, lying from under his black mask. You were more perplexed than ever by their relationship.

For the next few days, you barely sleep. Worried sick about Red Hood. He might as well be dead and you wouldn't even know. That thought brings tears to your eyes.

One snowy afternoon, you walk up the stairs from your apartment to the rooftop. You haven't been there for a long time, avoiding that place. Just so you don't have to wait for him, only for him to never come again. When you open the door, you almost pass out. He's there, on your rooftop, flesh and blood. His huge back is facing you, red hood back on.

"Red?" the inaudible croak of his name is carried away by the harsh wind, and yet, he turns around. Only this time he's not wearing a mask. There's a white streak in his hair, a jagged scar runs from his lip all the way to his hairline, and his eyes, unflinching, are fixed on you.

You have never seen such vibrant green.

[queen-of-never-monster]

(POLY) WWE’s Himbo BFs when your dads find out

Kevin Owens has been like a father figure to you ever since you joined WWE. When Randy Orton made a return, he had also taken up the same role.

Both of them were there when you needed anything and somehow always managed to show up when you were in trouble to help.

It was comforting at first, but then you got worried when you started dating both Grayson Waller and Austin Theory.

Both duos were constantly head to head.

The boys knew how close you were to Kevin and Randy. They honestly thought it was funny that no one knew about you three being together.

It was a good few months before anyone found out. It was Bianca Belair who had seen you with Austin. She congratulated you two and went on her way, promising to keep it quiet.

Until she saw you two days later with Grayson. Then she was a little confused. She asked you about it the following day, and you had to expose your secret.

Again, she promised to keep quiet and soon Naomi knew. It wasn’t a big deal, you three were just a little worried.

Austin and Grayson knew they would be dead if Randy and Kevin found out.

Majority of the roster knew that if you got hurt in any way, those two would burn the place down.

You sat at the table across from Kevin and Randy. They had invited you for dinner after your victory in the ring. Luckily, it was late so the restaurant was not packed and no one seemed to recognize any of you.

"So..." Randy put his fork down on his plate and folded his hands on the table. "I've been hearing some rumors that you have been seeing someone?"

You choked on your drink. "Oh really?" You nervously laughed. "What's the details on that...?"

Kevin looked between you two. His eyes narrowed like he knew you had a secret. How he always knew was a surprise to you. "Someone Kevin and I are all too familiar with..." Randy stared at you. His eyes burning a hole through you. "Someone named... Grayson Waller."

You find interest in the wood grain of the table. You could hear Kevin abruptly stand up. His chair fell back onto the floor. A few patrons looked over to observe the scene. "Waller!? You're dating Waller!?"

You held your hands out to Kevin, trying to get him back into his seat. "Please calm down! I promise it's not as bad as it seems."

Kevin stormed off, presumably to the bathroom to run some water over his face. You held your head in your hands. "Why did you have to say that, Randy?"

Randy chortled. "It had to come out one way or another."

"But here? Really?" You ran your hands down you face. "This couldn't have been a private conversation?"

It was another ten minutes before Kevin returned to the table. His face was no longer red and he seemed much more calm. It surprised you how fast he was able to calm himself after hearing the news.

He sat back in his chair that Randy had picked up earlier. He put his hands together and looked at you before saying, "I may have overreacted, I apologize. We can talk about this later." He forced a smile and finished eating. The table was silent the rest of the night.

A few days after the dinner, you still have not spoken to Kevin or Randy about your relationship with Grayson.

You immediately told both boys, which resulted in Grayson almost fainting.

"How did he know?? I'm gonna die!"

You had to reassure Grayson he would be fine, and that Kevin wouldn't actually kill him.

The night of the next show, Grayson and Austin were with you backstage.

Grayson ran off to grab some drinks from catering while Austin stayed in the quiet corner of backstage with you. You three would always find the most desolate spot before interacting with each other. So far, it worked in keeping your relationship concealed.

Austin held both of your hands in his while you two talked. The boys had a match later and wanted you to see it. They've been wanting you to come out to the ring with them ever since you all started dating, but it was discussed that it would be better if you didn't.

"You don't think Randy or Kevin are going to go out there, right?" Austin asked. Even though he wasn't caught, he was still worried. Kevin and Randy could both be extremely unhinged.

"No, I doubt it. If you're that scared, I'll distract them during your match." You smiled.

Austin playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared, babe. Just don't want them to interfere with our match." Austin leaned down to give you a kiss. When your lips met his, you heard familiar voices.

"There you are." Randy called out your name. "I brought you some-"

Randy paused and Austin slowly pulled away from you. Austin and you stared at Randy, who looked like he was about to drop the plate of cake he had in his hands. "Ok, I'm scared." Austin whispered.

Moments after, with all three of you still frozen, Kevin came around the corner. Kevin stopped, and you gave him a pitiful smile. "Please don't freak out." You pleaded.

Kevin pointed to both you and Austin, jaw dropped." What is going on here? Why are your hands on her hands?"

"Because... we are dating..." Austin managed to stumble out.

Kevin looked at Randy with confusion. "I thought you said she was dating Waller, not Theory."

"I thought she was, too!" Randy and Kevin started arguing. Kevin blaming Randy for giving him false information and Randy trying to defend himself.

You and Austin slowly started backing up while they were distracted with each other. Your stealthy get away was foiled when Grayson had finally returned. "Hey, babe, they didn't have the gatorade flavor you like so I just got you water."

Grayson was too busy struggling to hold a bunch of drinks and snacks in his arms to notice Kevin and Randy. Both older men had stopped arguing and their necks snapped to look at Grayson.

Austin had called to Grayson through gritted teeth. Grayson finally looked up and you thought you saw his soul leave his body. "Oh no." He squeaked.

"Did you just call her 'babe'?" Kevin's eyes were wide with ferocity. You couldn't tell if it was from surprise or the intent to murder.

"Ok, let's just all calm down." Randy put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "We can talk this out, we don't need any blood."

Austin still stood next to you, holding one of your hands. Grayson was a bit off to the side of you, frozen in fear with little baggies of snacks threatening to fall from his grip. Kevin's breathing increased and you were certain that if Randy didn't have a hold on him, he'd be charging one of your boys through the cement walls.

"So, which one of them are you actually dating? Or is this all just an elaborate... rebellion prank or something?" Randy tried to get his thoughts out.

"Randy, uh..." You struggled to find the way to express your relationship with both of the boys in a way Randy and Kevin could understand. "I'm with both."

Kevin looked at you with his jaw tight and his eyes wide. "Like... a throuple?" Randy questioned.

You nodded. Austin had shuffled behind you, getting increasingly uneasy with Kevin's expressions. Randy looked between you three, as did Kevin.

"Well, I was prepared for one of them, but not both." Randy laughed.

Kevin gave Randy a look. "You're just fine with this? I wasn't even prepared for Waller!"

"Hey, if they're happy, who am I to get between it." Randy guided Kevin to the side, ushering him to leave. Randy handed you the plate he was holding that whole time. "Here's that cake I got for you. Be good, kids!"

Once Kevin and Randy were out of ear shot, Grayson dropped to his knees and let out the breath he seemed to be holding that entire time. "That went better than I thought." Austin said.

"I thought I was going to die..." Grayson mumbled.

"You're so dramatic, get up." You pulled Grayson back up with a small laugh. You pat his back and took a few things from his arms, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "You guys need to get ready for your match."

[queen-of-never-monster]

Girlfriend

Grayson Waller x F! Wrestler! Reader

Summary: Grayson keeps flirting with you in front of everyone.

“How’s it going, beautiful?” Grayson smirked at you when he walked past. “That ring gear fits you well. I love—”

“Waller, if you don’t shut the hell up, I’ll make you!” Naomi, who was walking with you, shouted at the Australian flirt.

Grayson raised his hands in mock surrendering. “What, a guy can compliment a hot girl?” He laughed and strutted away, but not before giving you a wink.

You giggled into your hand. He was always flirting with you at work and the girls were getting overprotective of you.

Naomi rolled her eyes. “I’ll kick his ass in the ring if you want me to, boo. I don’t like how he talks to you.”

You smiled at Naomi. She’s been one of your closest friends since starting on Smackdown. She’s also been the one most protective of you since she heard of Grayson Waller flirting with you every time he sees you. “It’s all good. Honestly, I just tune it out.”

—

Grayson was getting ready for his tag team match with Austin when he saw you standing backstage with Charlotte Flair. If there was one woman on the roster he was too scared to flirt with you in front of, it was Charlotte. He knew she wouldn’t hesitate to pummel him as soon as she noticed any discomfort from you.

It was already established between you two that his flirting at work was fine. However, none of the company knew you two were a thing, and have been for many years.

“Stare any longer and Charlotte might come over here and beat your ass.” Austin said. He found it funny how obsessed his friend was with you.

“Can’t help it, mate. She’s gorgeous. If I had to guess she’s got a thing for me, too.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming buddy.” Grayson laughed. He can’t wait to see the look on Austin’s face when he realizes he already had you.

—

You were chatting with Charlotte about her upcoming match tonight. She kept a peering off behind you, like she was lost in thought.

“What do you keep looking at?” You turned around to match her gaze. You saw Grayson, staring at you with those eyes you love. When your eyes met, he winked. Austin groaned and tugged him away from your sight.

Charlotte frowned. “I always catch him staring at you. Do not notice this? It’s literally every night. No matter what arena we are at, he finds you.”

You laughed. “He does, doesn’t he. Almost like he’s obsessed with me.”

Charlotte sighed. “Honey, if he makes you uncomfortable, we can talk to someone about it.”

“No, no. It’s ok, I don’t mind it all that much.” You waved her off.

—

After Grayson ironically lost another match, he sat back in medical. They had to check up on him since he missed a move and bashed his elbow pretty hard onto the canvas.

“There he is,” Grayson looked up from his chair to see you walk in. “how’s that elbow feeling?”

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Better now that I get to actually talk to you tonight.” He mumbled.

“Awe, I’m sorry. The girls have been getting pretty protective lately.”

“Pretty sure Charlotte was going to burn me alive earlier.” He whined. “I’m convinced she just hates me.”

You pulled a chair up next to him. You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned against you. “No, I don’t think she hates you. They don’t know we’re together, so they assume the worst.”

“Maybe it’s time to tell them. I want to flirt with my girlfriend without the feeling that I’m going to get murdered at every corner.” He took your face in his hand. “I also want to be able to kiss you.”

He smirked and leaned in for a kiss. The motion was quickly halted when the door to medical burst open.

Still in his ring gear, Randy Orton stood tall, holding his lower back with his hand. He winced as he took a step in but stopped when he saw you two.

He pointed at Grayson, then you, then back to Grayson. “What do you think you’re doing, Waller?” Randy almost yelled.

“What do you think you’re doing interrupting my time with my girlfriend?” Grayson matched Randy’s energy.

Randy looked back and forth between you two again. “Girlfriend?” He was extremely confused. “As far as I’m aware, she’s not interested in you.”

“What—!”

“Uh, Randy. We have been together for a while.” You cut Grayson off before he could continue to argue. “We’ve just never told anybody so it didn’t go public.”

Randy stood confused for a few more minutes. Grayson was pouting in his chair. “Well you could’ve just said so, kid.” Randy started laughing. He winced and grasped at his back again. “You should probably start telling the girls soon. If they hear about… this whole things before hearing about the whole… dating thing, that boy’s dead.”

“Will do. Now get that back checked out, you’re looking a little rough.” You smiled.

You grabbed Grayson’s hand and started to tug him out of the medical room so Randy could lay down.

“And you thought she was out of my league.” Grayson stuck his tongue out at Randy. The older man rolled his eyes and waved Grayson away.

—

Grayson has changed out of his ring attire. He was hanging out around catering with Austin towards the end of the night.

He spotted you walking in with Naomi, both of you also no longer in wrestling gear. Austin spotted Grayson’s eyes light up when he saw you. “Grayson, don’t!” Austin tried to reach for Grayson’s hand to keep him from walking off but he didn’t have time.

In order to save his friend from the wrath of Naomi, Austin trailed after Grayson.

Grayson leaned up against the wall near you. “Hey, babe.” He started.

“Absolutely not.” Naomi used her body to block the view of you from Grayson. She continued to chat with you about next week’s plans.

Frustrated, Grayson tried to get around Naomi but every way he went, she blocked his path. You were having a hard time keeping in your laughter.

“Naomi, I have something important to tell you.” You said.

“Of course, let’s get away from him first.” She pointed her thumb behind her, right at Grayson.

“Oh, it’s actually about him.” Naomi looked puzzled. “We’re a thing.”

She suddenly turned around to face Grayson. “You better not be blackmailing her or something!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.

Grayson threw his arms up. “Why does everyone think I’m doing something bad to her. We’re fucking married! She’s my wife!”

Austin stood behind Grayson, shocked. “Married!?”

You laughed. “Yeah, sorry guys. We never told anyone because we didn’t want it to be public. Public relationships are a hassle.”

“Is that why you never minded when he horribly flirted with you?” Naomi asked.

You nodded. “Sorry for never telling you guys.”

“Girl, you have nothing to apologize for.” Naomi laughed. “I’m just glad you didn’t have some creep chasing after you!”

Grayson frowned. “I’m not a creep…”

Austin shrugged. “No, but with how much you stared at her I’m was almost convinced you were a serial killer.”

[queen-of-never-monster]

(POLY) WWE’s Himbo BFs when your dads find out

Kevin Owens has been like a father figure to you ever since you joined WWE. When Randy Orton made a return, he had also taken up the same role.

Both of them were there when you needed anything and somehow always managed to show up when you were in trouble to help.

It was comforting at first, but then you got worried when you started dating both Grayson Waller and Austin Theory.

Both duos were constantly head to head.

The boys knew how close you were to Kevin and Randy. They honestly thought it was funny that no one knew about you three being together.

It was a good few months before anyone found out. It was Bianca Belair who had seen you with Austin. She congratulated you two and went on her way, promising to keep it quiet.

Until she saw you two days later with Grayson. Then she was a little confused. She asked you about it the following day, and you had to expose your secret.

Again, she promised to keep quiet and soon Naomi knew. It wasn’t a big deal, you three were just a little worried.

Austin and Grayson knew they would be dead if Randy and Kevin found out.

Majority of the roster knew that if you got hurt in any way, those two would burn the place down.

You sat at the table across from Kevin and Randy. They had invited you for dinner after your victory in the ring. Luckily, it was late so the restaurant was not packed and no one seemed to recognize any of you.

"So..." Randy put his fork down on his plate and folded his hands on the table. "I've been hearing some rumors that you have been seeing someone?"

You choked on your drink. "Oh really?" You nervously laughed. "What's the details on that...?"

Kevin looked between you two. His eyes narrowed like he knew you had a secret. How he always knew was a surprise to you. "Someone Kevin and I are all too familiar with..." Randy stared at you. His eyes burning a hole through you. "Someone named... Grayson Waller."

You find interest in the wood grain of the table. You could hear Kevin abruptly stand up. His chair fell back onto the floor. A few patrons looked over to observe the scene. "Waller!? You're dating Waller!?"

You held your hands out to Kevin, trying to get him back into his seat. "Please calm down! I promise it's not as bad as it seems."

Kevin stormed off, presumably to the bathroom to run some water over his face. You held your head in your hands. "Why did you have to say that, Randy?"

Randy chortled. "It had to come out one way or another."

"But here? Really?" You ran your hands down you face. "This couldn't have been a private conversation?"

It was another ten minutes before Kevin returned to the table. His face was no longer red and he seemed much more calm. It surprised you how fast he was able to calm himself after hearing the news.

He sat back in his chair that Randy had picked up earlier. He put his hands together and looked at you before saying, "I may have overreacted, I apologize. We can talk about this later." He forced a smile and finished eating. The table was silent the rest of the night.

A few days after the dinner, you still have not spoken to Kevin or Randy about your relationship with Grayson.

You immediately told both boys, which resulted in Grayson almost fainting.

"How did he know?? I'm gonna die!"

You had to reassure Grayson he would be fine, and that Kevin wouldn't actually kill him.

The night of the next show, Grayson and Austin were with you backstage.

Grayson ran off to grab some drinks from catering while Austin stayed in the quiet corner of backstage with you. You three would always find the most desolate spot before interacting with each other. So far, it worked in keeping your relationship concealed.

Austin held both of your hands in his while you two talked. The boys had a match later and wanted you to see it. They've been wanting you to come out to the ring with them ever since you all started dating, but it was discussed that it would be better if you didn't.

"You don't think Randy or Kevin are going to go out there, right?" Austin asked. Even though he wasn't caught, he was still worried. Kevin and Randy could both be extremely unhinged.

"No, I doubt it. If you're that scared, I'll distract them during your match." You smiled.

Austin playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared, babe. Just don't want them to interfere with our match." Austin leaned down to give you a kiss. When your lips met his, you heard familiar voices.

"There you are." Randy called out your name. "I brought you some-"

Randy paused and Austin slowly pulled away from you. Austin and you stared at Randy, who looked like he was about to drop the plate of cake he had in his hands. "Ok, I'm scared." Austin whispered.

Moments after, with all three of you still frozen, Kevin came around the corner. Kevin stopped, and you gave him a pitiful smile. "Please don't freak out." You pleaded.

Kevin pointed to both you and Austin, jaw dropped." What is going on here? Why are your hands on her hands?"

"Because... we are dating..." Austin managed to stumble out.

Kevin looked at Randy with confusion. "I thought you said she was dating Waller, not Theory."

"I thought she was, too!" Randy and Kevin started arguing. Kevin blaming Randy for giving him false information and Randy trying to defend himself.

You and Austin slowly started backing up while they were distracted with each other. Your stealthy get away was foiled when Grayson had finally returned. "Hey, babe, they didn't have the gatorade flavor you like so I just got you water."

Grayson was too busy struggling to hold a bunch of drinks and snacks in his arms to notice Kevin and Randy. Both older men had stopped arguing and their necks snapped to look at Grayson.

Austin had called to Grayson through gritted teeth. Grayson finally looked up and you thought you saw his soul leave his body. "Oh no." He squeaked.

"Did you just call her 'babe'?" Kevin's eyes were wide with ferocity. You couldn't tell if it was from surprise or the intent to murder.

"Ok, let's just all calm down." Randy put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "We can talk this out, we don't need any blood."

Austin still stood next to you, holding one of your hands. Grayson was a bit off to the side of you, frozen in fear with little baggies of snacks threatening to fall from his grip. Kevin's breathing increased and you were certain that if Randy didn't have a hold on him, he'd be charging one of your boys through the cement walls.

"So, which one of them are you actually dating? Or is this all just an elaborate... rebellion prank or something?" Randy tried to get his thoughts out.

"Randy, uh..." You struggled to find the way to express your relationship with both of the boys in a way Randy and Kevin could understand. "I'm with both."

Kevin looked at you with his jaw tight and his eyes wide. "Like... a throuple?" Randy questioned.

You nodded. Austin had shuffled behind you, getting increasingly uneasy with Kevin's expressions. Randy looked between you three, as did Kevin.

"Well, I was prepared for one of them, but not both." Randy laughed.

Kevin gave Randy a look. "You're just fine with this? I wasn't even prepared for Waller!"

"Hey, if they're happy, who am I to get between it." Randy guided Kevin to the side, ushering him to leave. Randy handed you the plate he was holding that whole time. "Here's that cake I got for you. Be good, kids!"

Once Kevin and Randy were out of ear shot, Grayson dropped to his knees and let out the breath he seemed to be holding that entire time. "That went better than I thought." Austin said.

"I thought I was going to die..." Grayson mumbled.

"You're so dramatic, get up." You pulled Grayson back up with a small laugh. You pat his back and took a few things from his arms, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "You guys need to get ready for your match."

[queen-of-never-monster]

●El Phantasmo x Reader● 18+

_________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

As the lights go dark and ELP's music hits, I put on his light up glasses and fix his vest on my shoulders smirking. I do his entrance, acting just like him as I walk to the ring. I slide into the ring, crawl to the middle and lay down on my stomach kicking my feet back and forth. The lights come back on and the camera is right in my face as I smile wide waving my fingers at the camera. I take the glasses putting them ontop of my head as the camera man hands me a microphone. I continue laying there smiling at the camera.

"Ooohhh EL Phantasmoooooooo!"

I giggle looking into the camera kicking my feet.

"Looking for something?"

His music hits again and he comes walking out from the back looking confused. He climbs into the ring and I get on my knees looking up at him smiling really big. I slowly hand the microphone to him still staring at him as I slowly stand up.

"Y/N. Why do you have my stuff? Why have you been following me around for the past few weeks? What is going on?"

I walk closer to him pulling a hotel card out of my pocket.

"Well. I wanted to get your attention because I wanted to speak some business with you."

I run the hotel card down his chest than slide it into the top of his pants. I bite my lip looking up at him. He looks at me slightly shaking his head.

"Meet me at my hotel. I got a good business opportunity for you."

I giggle, wave at him and roll out of the ring taking his vest and glasses with me. I walk to the back as he stands in the ring looking down at the hotel card in his pants.

_________________________________________

*later on in the night*

There is a knock on the door as I sit up looking at the door.

"Come in!"

The door opens revealing Riley with a cameraman behind him. I am wearing just his vest covering my breasts and a thong with some lace thigh high stockings. Riley gasps, looks wide eyed at me than at the cameraman. I smirk, getting up holding the vest over my breasts and start pushing the cameraman out of the room.

"Sorry dude but we have business to discuss."

I close the door on him, turn around and see Riley sitting on the end of the bed. I walk back over to him putting my hand on his shoulder and he looks up at me.

"Thank you for letting me use your vest and glasses for that. Let me go get changed and you can have them back."

He grabs my waist and throws me down on the bed. He starts crawling over me as I look up at him shocked.

"I want to hear that business opportunity though."

He smirks and starts kissing my neck making me moan a little. He starts moving down to my breasts pushing the vest out of the way. I let out a little moan sigh as he takes my right nipple into his mouth swirling it with his tongue. He rolls the left one in his fingers while continuously swirling his tongue around the right one. I switches back and forth causing me to buck my hips into him making him moan. He stops completely and hovers over me looking down at me.

"Am I going to hear about this business opportunity or what?"

I bite my lip looking up at him. He smirks looking down at me.

"You didn't have one. Well I got one."

He leans down and bites down on my neck causing me to whimper. He stands up, takes off his pants and boxers, rips his shirt over his head and I stare down at his cock which is rock hard. I gulp as he crawls back ontop of me looking down at me.

"How about this....."

He quickly sticks two of his fingers inside my heat causing me to yelp. He doesn't move them still looking at me.

"I help you. You help me. I'll fuck your brains out any day of the week that you would like. If you accompany me to the ring every week. Help me during my matches. Help me win a title maybe. We got a deal?"

I shake my head yes and he doesn't move his fingers inside me.

"Do we have a deal? I won't move until you say it."

"We have a deal."

As soon as I say that, he starts fingering me so fast that I am basically screaming and arching my back off the bed. He moves down still going fast and starts slowly licking my clit. I grip the bed still moaning and screaming feeling my orgasm coming fast. It washes over me so fast as I try to clamp my legs together around his head. He pulls his fingers out of me and cleans me up with his tongue. He slowly crawls over top of me and smirks. I am breathing heavy looking up at him slightly smiling. He rubs his cock against my heat making me jump a little. He leans down, bites my shoulder, slowly sliding inside me. I dig my nails into his shoulders moaning loudly. He bottoms out inside me not moving, just letting me adjust to him. He slowly starts pulling out still looking into my eyes. He slams back into me causing my mouth to open and moan really loud. He keeps doing it just watching my reaction.

"More. Please. More."

He puts one of his hands around my neck, gets himself comfortable and starts drilling into me. My one hand is on his shoulder digging my nails into him and the other hand is gripping the sheets really hard as I am a screaming and moaning mess. He runs his hand down my stomach to my clit and starts rubbing circles making me buck my hips into him. He keeps up his pace while continuing rubbing circles on my clit. I can feel another orgasm coming quickly as I grip the sheets harder basically ripping them. As it washes through me, I feel his thrusts get sloppy. He slams into me and groans. I watch his reaction while he fills me with his seed. He stays there just looking into my eyes and look back trying to slow my breathing.

"Riley. I want this to be more than just a deal. I want you and only you."

"You dont know how long I've been waiting to hear that."

He slowly pulls out of me, leans down and kisses me hard. I kiss him back wrapping my arms around his neck. He pulls back, pulls his head out from my arms and plops down next to me. I take off his vest, tosses it off the bed and he grabs my waist pulling my back to his chest. He snuggles his face into my neck and I smile trying to snuggle into him more.

"Time for sleep baby. We got a busy day tomorrow."

I smile hearing him call me baby and snuggle into him more slowly falling asleep.

The End.

[queen-of-never-monster]

Secret Admirer

Pairing: slytherin boys x reader

Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Masterlist

note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)

✰  ✰  ✰

“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted. 

You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.

“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”

You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”

“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate. 

“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”

“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”

“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”

Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”

“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”

“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”

Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.

“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up. 

“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.

“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”

Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”

“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”

“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”

You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside. 

“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse. 

“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”

You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter. 

“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned. 

“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”

“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”

“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter. 

You complied, and passed the note to him. 

“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”

“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.

“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”

You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”

“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”

“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”

“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said. 

“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”

“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.” 

You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class. 

“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”

“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well. 

You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.” 

“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked. 

“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”

On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them. 

✰  ✰  ✰

In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning. 

“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”

She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”

You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.” 

“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”

You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.

Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it. 

“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”

“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.” 

“You think so?” 

“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”

As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment. 

You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter. 

✰  ✰  ✰

Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches. 

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”

You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”

“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.” 

You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.” 

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”

Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”

“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”

You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”

She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”

You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows. 

You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk. 

“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.” 

Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

✰  ✰  ✰

The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast. 

“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice. 

You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”

Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning. 

Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”

You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate. 

“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate. 

Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk. 

You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”

Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate. 

Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist. 

“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”

Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”

You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked. 

Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”

Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.” 

“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.” 

Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you. 

Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”

You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note. 

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts. 

You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”

“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”

“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.” 

“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”

“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”

“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”

You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”

Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”

You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.” 

The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be. 

✰  ✰  ✰

“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl. 

You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends. 

You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise. 

Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them. 

“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”

Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too. 

“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.” 

You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now. 

“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.” 

“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly. 

“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said. 

Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”

Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate. 

“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.” 

You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”

Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased. 

You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”

“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”

“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”

You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it. 

It had a clue. 

“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read. 

“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table. 

Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”

“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow. 

“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.” 

“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes. 

“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.” 

“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.” 

“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered. 

You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off. 

Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him. 

As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork. 

You lightly kicked his leg under the table. 

Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy. 

His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips. 

You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.”

Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.” 

Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal. 

“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”

He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.” 

Your heart beat like crazy. 

“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”

Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.” 

The bell rang. 

Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”

As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back. 

His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal. 

“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”

Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”

You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”

Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”

“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”

Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. 

You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests. 

Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”

You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”

He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material. 

“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”

Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”

Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”

Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”

Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous. 

“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did. 

“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”

Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake. 

Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light. 

“(Y/N)?” Theo called. 

You looked up into his eyes. 

Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you. 

“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes. 

Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).” 

You stared at him in shock. 

No way. 

“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?” 

He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”

“What?” you exclaimed. 

He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”

You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”

You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”

He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”

You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said,  “I really like you, Theo.”

Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. 

You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist. 

You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss. 

“I really like you, Theodore.”

He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”

[queen-of-never-monster]

get him back! / theodore nott

PAIRING  theodore nott x fem!reader

SUMMARY  after playboy mattheo riddle dumps you for another girl, your best friend motivates you to get the best revenge - be the girl he would always want, but could never have. you take things to the extreme when theodore nott offers you a deal you can't say no to.

TAGS  theodore nott x fem!reader, past!mattheo riddle x fem!reader, modern!au, university!au, ginny is your best friend, fake dating, college parties, gluna / linny, part 2?

QUOTE  "yeah i pour my little heart out, / but as i'm hitting send, / i picture all the faces of my dissappointed friends, / because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do, / he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," - get him back! by olivia rodrigo

WORD COUNT 2.2K

WRITTEN  12.15.2023

hey, mattheo, how are you? i know it's been a while but i thought i'd -

No. What the hell are you doing? You hold the backspace, watching as the words you had just typed out disappeared. This was ridiculous - you couldn't keep doing this. Ginny would be so dissappointed in you. He had cheated on you, multiple times. He had spent all his time flirting with other girls. He lied to you and then his apologies were just fancy, elaborate gifts soaked in wealth and champagne. How could you still want him, need him, so viscerally?

"What are you doing?" You threw your phone over to your bed and turned around to face Ginny with a sickeningly-sweet grin.

"What? Nothing," you responded innocently. She narrowed her eyes at you in suspicion and made her way over to your bed, picking up your phone and glancing at the screen. You had forgotten to turn it off. Shit.

"Oh come on, seriously? Riddle? That douchebag?" She asked incredulously, sending you one of her famous looks of dissappointment. You got up and snatched your phone from her hand, only to crash on your bed.

"I know, I know," you responded with whine. "And I hate him too . . . but I miss him." You snatched one of your pillows and planted your face into it. The muffled scream was still louder than it ought to be, making Ginny cringe, but still rather satisfying. You let out a huff of breath. "I don't know what to do. I want to punch him in the face but at the same time . . . I want to kiss his stupid fucking face. That piece of shit."

You stared at his picture and let out a sigh. He was so damn complicated.

Ginny snatched your phone from you yet again. "All right, here's what we're going to do. We're going to come up with a plan to make Mattheo Riddle the most jealous man on the planet and in the process, find you someone new and much better. All right?"

You groaned. The thought of it sounded exhausted, but even you had to admit that there was a certain appeal to showing up at some party he was at, dressed to the nines, and bringing home another guy all while he watched. You sat up and stared at Ginny, before hesitantly saying, ". . . Go on."

-

"I know darling it's upsetting, darling, but . . . you're just not my kind of girl."

The words rang out in your head as you stood before a large mansion belonging to one of the many wealthy students at your campus. Cars were parked around the enormous driveway and the music from inside was booming so loudly that your could feel your bones vibrate with the beat.

Ginny slipped her arm through yours and flashed you one of her adventurous smiles. "Cheer up - you're going to be the prettiest girl they ever did see," Ginny said mockingly, pinching your cheeks. You barked out a laugh, playfully shoving her arm away.

"You sound like some posh grandma."

"But I'm your posh grandma," Ginny responded with a pout as you two began to climb the stone steps to the completely open front door. (I mean, seriously, who leaves the door to their house open? It's like they're asking to be robbed.)

The music steadily became louder upon approach, making it almost impossible to hear your own voice as you entered. The sleek wooden floors were bathed in a variety of disco lights, an odd contrast in comparison to the lovely home that looked like it belonged to some stuffy old Oxford professor.

"Hello ladies," said a jubilant man leaning against the doorframe leading to the foyer. He looked Ginny up and down before pushing himself off the wall and approaching Ginny. "Lovely to see you again." He sent a wink Ginny's way, which she responded to with a playful roll of her eyes. You finally recognized him - he was a sports major, friends with some of her older brothers. Lee, you remembered his name was. He was a flirt - he had tried with you once, when you were with Mattheo. It didn't end so well for him.

"I'm glad to see your nose is doing better, Jordan," you spoked with a friendly smile.

He pinched it and then looked down at his hand. "Good as new, I suppose, but there's still a scar on my heart," he claimed dramatically, walking wistfully away with the expression of a lovelorn, heartbroken lead in a Victorian drama. You and Ginny giggled and delved further into the lion's den. Numerous people greeted you, but especially Ginny (she had always been the popular one). A paticular boy, Harry, had his eye on her for quite some time. You wouldn't be one to say he was unattractive - he was fairly pretty. He was a Criminal Justice major and a pretty nice guy from your understanding. But you knew Ginny wasn't interested.

When Ginny stopped walking, you did too, as your arms were intertwined. You followed her line of sight and smirked at what - well, who - she was staring at. A wistfully odd girl with pale blonde hair down to her waist and an odd sort of dress adorning her body. People gave her odd looks, whispering to their friends. Why is she here? No one likes her.

You nudged Ginny multiple times to grab her attention once more. "Hey, you can go on without me. I'll be fine."

"What? No! I'm not abandoning you, you're my best friend and -"

"Go," you insisted. "I promise, I'll be fine."

She looked rather torn, glancing between the two of you before stomping her feet and letting out a groan. "I hate you," she whined.

"I hate you too," you responded with a grin. You turned her around, your hands on her shoulders, and pushed in her in the general direction of one eccentric Luna Lovegood. "Now go! Don't worry about me, we've been planning this for days!"

"Good luck!" She shouted at you before she disappeared into the sea of people. A few moments later, after much difficultly trying to see her, you saw her chatting up the girl. All right, my turn, you thought.

You scoured the room - you wouldn't say you were the most introverted person in the world, but you definitely weren't the most outgoing either. You needed to find someone who would really pull at Mattheo's nerves, make those prominent veins pop out of his head. You wanted him to feel the anger and the pain that you felt. You wanted to get him back!

There was no one on the bottom floor that caught your eye, so you climbed the stairs to where the more . . . elegant students were. (Rich, more like.)

They weren't anymore sophisticated than the people downstairs, but there was still that air of refinement that made you feel slightly out of place. You wandered around the many rooms for a bit before you found a kitchen (they had one upstairs and downstairs?) Grabbing a drink, you wandered around some more, making friendly conversations with some of your peers. As you were talking with Neville, a very kind boy from one of your general education courses, someone in paticular caught your eye and everything clicked.

Theodore Nott. He was the son to a rather rich Italian man, the CEO of one of the most well-known designer shoe brands in Europe. His mother died rather unfortunately of illness at a young age. He's been very prominent, especially in recent years. He's been a model for his father's company, he was in the top 5% of your class, and he's - well - he's known as the most handsome boy in your year.

You definitely weren't going to deny that - he was drop-dead gorgeous. His eyes were so . . . alluring. Dark and sexy, a pool of emotions shrouded by mystery. Okay, so maybe you were going far too overboard with your description of him, but for the love of God, was he attractive.

Somehow, he could feel your gaze upon him. He had been sitting on a couch, telling a story to a tight-knit group of friends, Mattheo included you noticed, that you had taken your eyes off of him. You felt embarrassed, pretended to look around the room, and then turned your attention back towards Neville with an encouraging smile that pretended that you had been listening to him rant all along.

"Excuse me," you heard Nott say, standing up from the couch. The champagne flute in his hand was rather empty so you deduced that he was probably going to go fill it. An educated guess, but an incorrect one. He did something you never expected. He approached you.

"Longbottom, I hear Greengrass has a question about a Geo-sci class you two share. She seemed rather distressed by it. I'm sure she'd appreciate your help," Theo told Neville - you glanced at Daphne Greengrass. She looked nowhere near distressed, but Neville perked up in excitement.

"R-really?" He asked nervously, wringing his hands. He gave you a sheepish smile. "Talk to you later, I've got to go help Daphne."

"Yeah, see you later Nev," you replied. Nott looked down at you for a moment before raising his glass.

"It seems we're both in need of a refill. Care to join me?" His expression was nothing more than emotionless, except perhaps the tiniest smirk that remained upon those rose-dusted lips. You shrugged nonchalantly, only just noticing the vacancy in your glass.

"Sure, why not?"

You followed a quite Theodore Nott to the kitchen again, where he poured himself champagne from a very specialized fridge unit filled with distinguished bottles of liquor - merlot and pinot noir and all those fancy alcohols you would have assumed people like him drank. He silently offered you some by tipping the bottle towards you. You offered him your glass, which he poured a fair amount in, not too much, not too little. Just right.

"I'm suprised to see you here."

You arched a brow in response as he took a light sip from the flute resting in a delicate balance between his two fingers. Precariously, a smile dained your face. "And why is that?"

"Your Riddle's ex-girl, aren't you?"

He asked in such a way that seemed as though he didn't care much at all.

The smile from your face disappeared, replaced by something much more bitter. You shrugged, but the action was much more passive-agressive than you had intended it to be. "So what? Does that mean something to you?"

He placed the flute down, the glass clinking against the marble countertop. "Riddle and I have a . . . complicated relationship."

"You mean, your dear old daddies are both relevant, rival shoe designers?" You said it so innocently. Nott smirked at you.

"Yeah, something like that. Listen," he leaned in close to you, leaning his arms against the counter in an attempt to lower himself to your level. He was rather lanky and tall, which you supposed was good for a model, but hard for when you want to actually talk to him. "You and I both want something from him."

"And what's that, Nott?" You asked with mock curiosity, placing your chin in the palm of your hands with a tilt of your head.

"Well, let's just say you didn't come here tonight, dressed like that, in the hopes that he would fuck you," he responded, quite bluntly. Well, you supposed that sort of honesty was an inherited trait. "Everyone knows what went down between you two - he aired out your dirty laundry for all to see. No, you came back here to get revenge."

"Astute," you said with a tone of disdain. Taking a sip of your champagne, you found that it actually had a much more delightful taste than any other alcohol you had. You smacked down the glass on the countertop. "Really, Nott, thanks for that." You began to leave but Theo grabbed you by the arm.

"Wait! Just . . . listen," he said, panting slightly. His brows were scrunchdd together in frustration - he seemed genuinely distressed. The only reason you stayed was because you realized something rather odd.

You turned towards him with furrowed brows. "Is Theodore Nott . . . desperate for something?" You asked with a disbelieving scoff. At the sight of his jaw clenching, his eyes avoiding yours, you let out a shocked laugh.

"Shut it," he muttered, sending you a dark glare.

"Now that's certainly out of character," you said, slugging off his iron grip. "All right, you've got my attention. What is it?"

"My father's been trying to score one over Riddle for years. Rumor is Mattheo's father wants him to marry a good woman, someone that won't tarnish his son's so-called good reputation. And well, you . . . slipped through his fingers like sand. Stealing him from you would make my father more . . . proud."

You crinkled up your nose. "You're not proposing to me, are you? Cause the answer is no."

"No, no. I'm just asking you to date me, at least for a bit."

The sound of it seemed ridiculous, but then you thought - you were both getting something out of it. It was nothing more than a partnership, and a good one at that. Either way, you'd be pulling one over Mattheo and that would be good enough for you.

"How much is 'for a bit'?"

-

"Everyone." Theo had walked back into the room, you snuggled comfortably into his arms. He had tapped a fork against his glass, gathering the attention of his friends. Mattheo's jaw dropped, the hand swung around some girl you had seen around slithering it's way back to his side. "I want to introduce you to my girlfriend."

That's right, you smug snake. I win.

part two coming soon . . . <3

[queen-of-never-monster]

Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.” 

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page. 

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces. 

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more. 

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another. 

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering. 

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board. 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips. 

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging. 

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned. 

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again. 

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead. 

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat. 

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks. 

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them. 

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?” 

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade. 

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner. 

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.” 

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder. 

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men. 

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers. 

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses. 

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.” 

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter. 

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware. 

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.” 

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him. 

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. 

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering. 

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck. 

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain. 

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves. 

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck. 

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder. 

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt. 

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach. 

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.” 

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister. 

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase. 

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail. 

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place. 

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush. 

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice. 

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window. 

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.” 

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute. 

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?” 

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act. 

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?” 

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth. 

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem. 

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook. 

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?” 

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?” 

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low. 

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket. 

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.” 

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request. 

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you. 

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.” 

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?” 

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” 

“Do you?” 

“Fine, yes.” 

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables. 

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes. 

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone. 

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together. 

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles. 

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?” 

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing. 

“You.” It comes out as a breath. 

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark. 

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.” 

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.” 

“None?” 

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.” 

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. 

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair. 

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his. 

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.” 

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger. 

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands. 

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling. 

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine. 

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.” 

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading. 

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump. 

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly. 

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk. 

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.” 

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric. 

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip. 

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath. 

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat. 

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit. 

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand. 

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need. 

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit. 

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?” 

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl. 

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table. 

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally. 

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses. 

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric, 

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child. 

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you. 

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud. 

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit. 

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers. 

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open. 

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment. 

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?” 

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance. 

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.” 

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down. 

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.” 

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock. 

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?” 

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately. 

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release. 

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release. 

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair. 

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin. 

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things. 

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.” 

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down. 

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat. 

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air. 

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[queen-of-never-monster]

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

It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around.

You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

And there's something about the way Oliver Quick thinks and talks that you almost recognise. The others call him a toy but the look in his eyes says he's capable of so much more than that. Oliver Quick is not one to be tossed aside either, and you'll do all you can to make Felix see that too.

The three of you; head, heart, hand.

Oliver thinks. Felix feels. You do.

Need to Know: established fwb!Felix/reader, there will be smut, Oliver is a weird obsessive perv and reader recognises and is pretty into it, obviously manipulation, AU with a happy poly ending

[ IN PROGRESS ]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

[ PLUS + ]

Reader's Family History of Wealth

a long way down to the bottom of the river - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU (angst / one-shot)

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had) - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU 2 (Oliver/Reader / fluff / one-shot)

seen and not heard - Felix & Reader's First Meeting (fluff / one-shot)

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

[queen-of-never-monster]

The Arranged Marriage - f.c

hey honeys! here is my small mini series for Felix, enjoy reading 🩰 my taglist

one🩰

two🩰

three🩰 coming soon..

[queen-of-never-monster]

a long way down to the bottom of the river

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

Summary: In which Felix can't be talked around to forgiving Oliver, and you become one of Elspeth's last remnants of her children. (Or; in an alternate universe, canon happens and the reader is there to suffer through it with the rest of the Catton family.)

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: SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; death, grief, murder, implied/referenced suicide, funerals, drinking, implied overdose, Oliver Quick being a bastard behind the scenes. You die at the end (heavily implied, not graphic). Angst without a happy ending.

A/N: 3604 words. had to write this to get it out of my head, im so emotional about the catton family i love them all very much. THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

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

----

Its Elspeth who finds him, who screams bloody murder in the mid-morning sun. The others are quick to join them, Venetia and Farleigh still sopping from searching the lake. Venetia collapses and Farleigh alongside her, and Sir James is quick to attend his son, denial on his strained voice. Oliver is next, slow moving as if in a haze, and finally, footsteps and shouts -

"What is it, is he -?" Your voice rings out, but Elspeth cuts you off sharply.

"Stop right there, pet." Voice surprisingly authoritative, you're still amongst the high walls of the maze, but can see the clearing open up ahead. However, you still obligingly stop.

"What's wrong, Elspeth, what's happened to-?"

But Elspeth is approaching you, the faintest glimmer of tears in her eyes. Something is terribly wrong, you note, as she wraps you up in the tightest hug you can remember.

"I don't," her voice trembles, barely audible, "want you to see this."

"No," you whisper as it begins to hit you.

"Darling-"

"No," you struggle, already feeling panic and dread well up inside of you. Elspeth tries to hold you tighter, quietly sobbing as she tries to keep you in her embrace, but you break free, running for the centre of the maze.

"Let me see my Felix!"

There are no words in the English language that will ever come close to describing the noise of absolute, distraught anguish that claws its way from your throat at the sight of Felix on the grass, unmoving.

Venetia sobs louder.

The minute you start to crumble, to fall, Oliver is by your side, holding you tight, holding you close. He's wearing Felix's robe, but it's a comfort in this moment. The sobs that escape you make your whole body ache, but you just don't understand how this could happen, how it all went so fucking wrong, how he looks so peaceful in the morning light.

Elspeth calls everyone away for lunch, voice forcibly level, but immediately you disagree.

"Don't make me leave him," you hear yourself say in a rush. For a long moment, Elspeth frowns at you, not angry, just concerned.

"Let his pet stay with him," Sir James says with a strained kind of fondness, "I think letting him have company is a good idea."

After a moment, Elspeth approaches you, takes you out of Oliver's arms, holds your face steady, and you try to repress your tears for the moment.

"Come right back when, well," she falters, just for a moment, "I'll have Duncan call the police -"

"I'll be good, I'll be good," bubbles from your lips as tears continue to trail down your cheeks. Softly, weakly, Elspeth smiles.

"I know you will be, pet, then you come right back inside for lunch with us, okay?"

"Yes," and you, desperate for this connection in this moment, call her something usually only ever used by Felix and Venetia, "mum." Elspeth's gaze softens, eyes suddenly glossy with new tears, and she quickly kisses your forehead.

"Good pet," and she lets you go, leading the way from the maze, and leaving you to finally, tragically approach the body of your best friend.

Like a distraught lover, a dog desperately waiting for a master who will never wake up, you take your place by Felix's side. He is perfect, looking like an angel, looking like he was sleeping; Sir James' reaction still breaks your heart when you think about it, if only because it makes too much sense for a parent in denial.

Everything is a blur, all pain and love and a childish desperation for this all to be a bad dream. When you talk to him, amid sniffles and hiccupping sobs, you don't even register what you're saying; for the first time in your life, Felix is cold to the touch. He's always run warm, this isn't right, this can't be real - when reality hits you again, it hits you hard, laying, curled up by his side, head on his chest. There's no steady rise and fall of his breathing, no warmth, no heartbeat that you know better than your own. Felix, perfect, angelic Felix, is not sleeping.

When the paramedics and police find you, gardener in tow to help them through the maze, you've lost your words. All you can do is sob, wracked with grief, by his side.

It's the gardener who manages to pull you away, a kindly, greying gentleman who's been working for the family for many years. He speaks softly and kindly when he tells you that Elspeth is waiting for you, that lunch is served.

Unlike the others, you've had no time to change, no time to clean yourself up. You are a mess, looking the way every single one of them feels.

There's a chair pulled up right next to Elspeth, way out of formation from the others, an plate of food sat there too. Somehow you know it's for you. When you sit, she gives you a tight, sad smile, and reaches out.

"Eat up, pet," she insists, giving your hand a squeeze when you take hers, "we've all got to keep up our strength." The mince and pie on the plate in front of you is cold. All you can do is cast a helpless gaze around the table to the others. Farleigh sits across from you, unable to look up, unable to touch his food, unable to move. Venetia is at the other end of the table, hand shaking on the wine bottle as she appears to contemplate pouring herself another glass; she looks distraught, looks a mess, god you wish you could go hug her. Oliver is observing you all, as he always does, desperately trying to cling to a sense of normalcy despite the way the air all around you seems to be rotting as you sat there.

And there's a gaping hole in the family, at the table, Felix's chair empty, and your regular one beside it. It means something. Means everything. Beneath the table, Elspeth has lowered your joined hands but hasn't let go. You can feel her trembling. With one hand she tries to eat her lunch with a fork, but Duncan interrupts with a request to close the curtains, to shield the family from witnessing Felix's body being taken away.

Still, everything goes to hell as those curtain bathe the room in red light. Despair is the sound of Farleigh sobbing and screaming and Venetia drinking wine until she's all but drowning in it, and Sir James casting Farleigh out after Oliver rats him out for the cocaine at last night's party. It's all set to the squeak of the gurney just outside, heavy with the weight of your best friend's body. Elspeth tries to act like she can't hear it, but her hand in yours is painfully tight, and she can't keep her food down in that moment.

The curtains open, the world is light again, and you still haven't touched your food.

"May I be excused?" You voice is weak as you turn to a still riled up Sir James. There's a tick in his jaw.

"No."

"Please, he's family."

"He's not coming back here, not now, not ever," there was no room for argument in his voice, but you persisted.

"Please let me say goodbye."

Sir James seems to soften, just for a moment, and he casts his gaze to his wife beside you. When you look to Elspeth, she does hesitate, her grip on your hand still tight, but she finally lets go with a dejected nod.

Immediately you're scrambling away, standing so fast from the table that your chair clatters to the ground in your haste, bolting from the room to find Farleigh.

In the foyer, waiting, Duncan standing guard over him a few feet away, Farleigh is sobbing into his hands. When you pull him into a hug, he crumples against you. There are no words in this moment, just a harmony of anguish and despair, the two of you on the pristine marble floor, holding each other for dear life.

There is no coming back from this. Your world has been irrevocably changed, has gotten a little smaller.

That night you curl up in Felix's bed, like you always do. Your world will never be the same.

"Can I come in?" Venetia sounds like she's been crying, and all you can do is nod. Curling up next to you, Venetia is the little spoon, whole body shaking with silent sobs as you hold her tightly. You join her, until your cries become audible, clinging together in your misery.

"Oh, my darlings," from the doorway you hear Elspeth, and immediately Venetia's crying becomes louder, gesturing like a child for her mother to join your all. Shuffling over, you let Elspeth settle herself in the middle, under the duvet, tears in her eyes as you both curl into the only show of genuine connection she's offered all day. Venetia begs her mother to make it stop, to tell her it isn't real, and all Elspeth can do is apologise.

"He's gone, mummy he's gone, how the fuck could this happen to us?!"

Elspeth has no answer.

All three of you sleep uneasily.

During the days that follow, lead up to Felix's funeral, Elspeth requests your company more and more, whilst Sir James seems to have decided that your input, as Felix's closest friend, was necessary for the funeral arrangements. It's taxing to accommodate them all and not break down. Thankfully, during the nights, Venetia doesn't seem to mind if you cry. The two of you take to sharing Felix's bed, like children having a sleep over, holding each other close for comfort, trying to talk when the pain of his absence isn't unbearable.

In between it all you try and make time for Oliver. He watches the way you're stretching yourself thin, always asks how you are, if you need a break or time to yourself. Time to yourself is the last thing you need, you tell him, and he can see the sadness in your smile.

On the day of the funeral, it is you and Sir James who give speeches. When the idea was suggested, you immediately tried to refute it, insisting that Elspeth or Venetia should be the ones to go up, but Venetia gives a sad smile and points out that you knew him better than she did. Elspeth knows she could never make it through even a sentence.

Still, Venetia comes up with you for support, her arm tucked in yours as you read through the carefully prepared documents. Farleigh's in the crowd with red-rimmed eyes; at least Sir James had the good grace to invite him, even if he wasn't allowed to attend the actual burial or wake.

Halfway through your speech, the paper gets blurry and tears cloud your vision and your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment.

"It's okay," Venetia whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, though she's crying too, "it's okay."

"Felix Catton," you decided to fold up your carefully prepared script, looking out at all attending, all who'd loved him, "was an irreplaceable bright light. Everything about him made the world want to bask in his warmth; I know everyone here knows what I'm talking about," taking a deep breath, looking around to see more than a few nodding heads in the crowd, "Fi was love, and joy, and spontaneity, and he refused to compromise himself for others," and you looked down, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as the ache in your chest began to overwhelm you, "he was unapologetically himself," another shaky breath in before admitting, "he was my whole world," trying to get past the lump in your throat, "and I'm going to miss him for the rest of my life."

It's Venetia who throws Felix's rock into the river, and your turn to support her, holding her tightly as she flinches away from the sound of the rock hitting the water. She cries in your arms until you all make your way back to Saltburn.

"Felix's darling," is what Elspeth has taken to calling you in the past few days. It's clunky to hear, and would be a mouthful to say, but you're not going to protest.

"Yes, mum?" It's what you've taken to calling Elspeth; she hasn't protested that either.

"Of course you're free to say no, but I-" desperately trying to keep up a brave face, it falters slightly when her voice catches, "I'd be very grateful for your company in one of our spare bedrooms. Nothing untoward -" she's quick to clarify, "like a sleepover, when you children were small. I'll get Duncan to bring some kind of snacks, perhaps a charcuterie board? And wine?" She gives a hopeful smile. Never in your life had you heard a request quite like this from Elspeth. But these aren't exactly usual circumstances; who were you to deny a grieving mother?

Elspeth tells you stories from Felix and Venetia's childhood from before you knew them, often with a hint of guilt that it was relayed to her by one of the maid, or footmen, or chefs, or gardeners. Still, it's comforting to you both to hear these stories on such a tragic night. The wine is immaculate and the cheese is, of course, award winning, and if Elspeth is crying quietly while she tries to sleep, holding you close like you're a child again, you don't say anything. There's tears in your eyes too.

But you can't get to sleep. When you see the sky turning pale behind the curtains you ease yourself out of her grip, exhausted in every way possible, as you head to the other side of the estate, back to a more familiar bed.

When you finally get back to Felix's room, you're hit by the overwhelming smell of blood. Dread and nausea wells up in your stomach, the scent growing stronger with each step you take towards the bathroom.

Blonde hair and a blood-filled bathtub. Razor blades and Venetia's blood on the tiles. You think you're going to be sick.

"Ven- Ven!" You're screaming at the top of your lungs, it's barely even dawn. You don't care if you wake Oliver in the next room, god there's horror in the idea that he'd slept just feet away without even knowing.

"Venetia!" You climb in the deep tub, bloody water splashing, overflowing as you pull the plug and try and sit her up higher, sit her mouth and nose out of the water. It's too late, logically you know this, but you're panicking - this can't be happening again. Oliver stumbles in, horror on his face, in his eyes, as he takes in the scene, and you beg him to fetch Duncan, to call and ambulance, sobbing through your adrenaline and fear.

You won't let her be seen in this state, you realise, so you pull her from the bath, wrap her up in a spare robe from her brother's closet, and you sit with her. Your back against the wall you sit her in between your legs, back firm against your chest, propped up, even as her head lolls to the side. All you can do is cry, whispering apologies into the damp ends of her hair, begging her forgiveness. Your pyjamas are soaked with her blood from the bathtub, but you can't even begin to care.

Elspeth becomes reluctant to let you go.

"Tell me about your adventures with them," she'd ask softly, sitting neatly and cross-legged in the spare bedroom next to the master bedroom where Sir James still spends his nights. Like her daughter before her, she's started requesting that you braid her hair after she's showered for the night. You always oblige her request.

She becomes anxious, it seems, without you around, as if afraid that you'll do something similar to Venetia. You are not yourself around her, you are a remnant of her children, but for the time being she gives you purpose, so you cave to her requests every time. All your clothes are moved into the spare bedroom, and in the quiet of night, Elspeth sounds so sad when she recounts that she stopped Felix and Venetia from crawling into her bed after a nightmare far earlier in their lives than she wishes she had. She always wakes up before you, and never talks about it during the day, but there's something in it for you too. Every night she kisses your forehead, and something aches in your chest at her quiet, loving words;

"I love you, my darling, I'm so proud of you." And you know you're not the child she so desperately wishes she was talking to. But you realise you needed to hear them anyways.

Oliver is still around, quiet, skulking, not quite sure what to do with himself. A lot of the time he joins yourself and Elspeth in whatever activity she had chosen; reading, art, strolling the grounds.

"Isn't he wonderful," Elspeth would say, fondness in her voice, "of course you and our darling Felix love him so, how beautiful he is." Elspeth held fast to you and Oliver, all she had left of her children, though in time it grew almost to the point of suffocation.

"It's because she's worried you'll do something drastic," Oliver tells you softly, the two of you sitting on Felix's balcony, looking out over the lake. Sir James and Elspeth are attending a gala, and Elspeth had been wringing her hands about not having you by her side for the night, but her husband had reminded her that this was the one gala you really couldn't attend, and ordered Duncan to always have you in line of sight.

"Like Venetia?" You'd asked, wine drunk and indulging in your night of freedom. Oliver is very quiet, but you know he's thinking the same thing. When you look over your shoulder, you see Duncan, stoic as ever, behind the glass doors, giving your conversation privacy but still always watching. You implore him to get another bottle of wine, and promise you won't make any rash or sudden moves. Oliver snorts into his own bottle, but Duncan seems less than impressed. Still, he obliges, and for a few moments you and Oliver are entirely alone.

"Is it like Farleigh?" Oliver finally asks, before shaking his head with a frown, back tracking, "no, forget I said -"

"Is what like Farleigh?" Intrigued and feeling indulgent, you lean your head against him, the two of you on the wicker sofa. For another few beats, Oliver is still quiet.

"Are they paying for you?" He murmurs, "is that why you stay?" You make a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat, shifting a little.

"Is that what you think of me, Ollie?"

"I don't know," he admits, "no-one really talks about why you're here."

"I don't think anyone thought it mattered; I'm here because Felix is my best friend and the others don't mind me being here," you sit up, gesturing broadly out to the grounds with a wide smile and open hand, "I could be anything I want, anywhere I want, and I chose Saltburn." Sitting back down, you settle against him, and thank Duncan as he slithers back into your view with a fresh bottle of wine.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Oliver sounds almost a little rueful as he says it, but all you can do is snort with laughter, unsurprised that he doesn't believe you.

"Do you think I wasn't allowed at this gala tonight because I was, what, too poor?" He doesn't exactly have an answer for you, so you continue on anyways, "Ollie, my parents were hosting it; they just hate being reminded that they have a kid." It's the way you have nothing, nothing, nothing that loves you other than these memories, these two broken parents, that makes you bark a humourless laugh, "funny, isn't it?" Your eyes start misting over, and you can't look at Oliver for your thoughts and the grief as it wells up inside of you, "how I got the family I always wanted," a wide, ugly smile stretches across your face as the tears begin to pour, as it really, truly hits you, "all it cost me was fucking everything else."

("You should have let them go to the gala," years later he will tell a comatose Elspeth, barely clinging to life as he watches over her and the machines keeping her breathing, "you should have known they'd do something drastic." He takes an inhale, faint smile quirking at the edge of his mouth as he considers, but can't bring himself to look at Elspeth during these moments of his confessional.

"You had everything you needed in them; the ghost of your selfish children calling their best friend home, haunting us all even when they were gone. I admit, I was selfish, you didn't need me. No," he reconsiders, shaking his head with a frown, "they were selfish; they could have had the world and yet they chose to haunt you, haunt us."

"They were cute with Felix though, weren't they? Best friend. Soulmate. Dog. Says he was their everything, and I think Felix thought that about them too. Always tangled up in each other, weren't they? Something very Romeo and Juliet about them; romantic," he tried not to give a wicked grin at the thought, "that they'd kill themselves the same way he'd died."

"You never did ask why I was so sure Farleigh still had cocaine in his room after the party.")

[queen-of-never-monster]

Fake boyfriend - p4

Pairing - soft!Rafe Cameron x virgin!reader

Summary - you lie to your best friend about having a boyfriend.

Warnings - Public Fingering (18+)

Part three ( sorry its a short chapter x )

“Do you want- do you want me to touch you?”

“Please”

The look in his eyes is something you'll never forget, his stunning blue eyes darkened over, almost a midnight blue. He flexed his jaw, eyes flickering between yours and your lips. Subconsciously you licked your own, he stirred underneath you.

Everything fell silent around you, you momentarily forgot everyone else around you. His dark eyes studied yours for what felt like hours, the sound of splashing brought you both back to reality. His fingers squeezed the backs of your thighs, you silently begged for him.

“Are you sure?”

Your head is nodding furiously, you're almost embarrassed how fast it’s moving. He let out a soft chuckle, his lips hovered for a brief moment as his eyes searched yours before pressing firmly again against you, his lips were needy and sloppy, his tongue was everywhere tasting every inch of you, the breath you desperately needed to take was pushed further down your throat until he pulled away.

Your lips red and cheeks flushed, his hand slid up the length of your waist. Your heart paused as his fingers slipped under the material of your top, your nipples hardened under his touch. He pulled you slightly out of the water, eyes dropping towards your breasts. You could feel him hardening, pressing against your ass.

You let out a breath when his hand palmed you breast, dropping his head just slightly whilst simultaneously bringing you up onto the step. His lips enveloped your nipple, sucking and licking the small nub. Your body shuddered against his touch, arching your back against the wall. “You have to stay quiet okay?”.

Nodding your head as his other hands left your thigh, drifting until he reached between your thighs. Your eyes searched the pool but closed as he slipped the material of your bottoms away from your skin, your body nervously clenched before he even touched you.

He must have sensed the hesitation as he pulled away from your breast and looked up at you, his hair was disheveled but he still looked beautiful. “Sorry… I don’t know why I did that” you whispered, you were ready. You wanted him to touch you, but you were nervous, nervous at the idea of his fingers inside of you. “Don’t apologize… you tell me to stop whenever, I will not be hurt.” He states, the sincerity behind his eyes has the butterflies swarming your belly. Biting your lower lip you nod, spreading your legs a bit more for him. “I’m asking one more time… are you sure you want this?”.

“Yes”

An almost electricity-like shockwave hits you, his thumb pressed delicately against your clit. Moving in motions you had never tried before, his forefingers ran through your folds, nudging at your tight hole. You have to bite down on your tongue when his finger slips inside, your walls clench around his digit. “Shit” he groans, his own head felt dizzy at the feeling of your tight cunt sucking him in, the heat from the pool had you both sweating. “How many fingers do you usually use?”

“Only 2”

“Think you can take 2 of mine?”

“Yes.. oh god yes please”

“Shh sweet girl, we don’t want anyone noticing” Another chuckle slips from his mouth, he dips a second finger into you. A slight burning sensation floods you but it’s gone before you can think, the pressure of his thumb almost shocks you. “Is this okay?”

“Rafe.. I- I’m not going to last long, oh god it hurts”

His movement stops in worry, you're quick to grind your hand against him. You wouldn’t let that feeling diminish. “Hurts good.. oh good so good! Oh fuck”

Your head falls back, mouth open. His eyes glisten over in lust, his cock fully hard in his shorts. He can’t believe how fucking good you looked riding his hand, he never thought anyone could look this good chasing their orgasm.

Your eyes search behind him briefly, clocking that everyone was still swimming and playing games. No one had noticed the two of you.

“Fuck… your so tight” he groans, you can feel the tips of his fingers pressing your sweet spot, almost tickling it. “So fucking pretty when your riding my fingers”

The tips of your ears turn red, you're almost too turned on from the way he was speaking. He muffles your cries with his lips, tears prick at your eyelids.

Your orgasm strikes you, flooding every inch of your body with goosebumps. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as you shake around his fingers, he’s slow to pull out from you. Pulling you against his chest once more, legs wrapped around his waist.

“You did so well”

He holds you tight, drawing circles in your lower back. Your pussy pulsated behind the material of your swimmers, breath labored and body sweaty. “I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard before”

You bite your lip at your statement and hide your head in the crook of his neck, you can feel his chest move from under you as he chuckles. He begins moving your bikini back into place but doesn’t move you away from him.

“Oi! Love birds, Topper needs to get home”.

Your body too blissed out to respond, you hear him acknowledge whoever spoke and he begins walking both of you out of the pool, you expect him to put you on the step but he doesn’t let go until your both stood on your back deck, he’s quick to grab you a towel and wrap it around your body.

You're silent as you watch him wrap one around his waist, his arms are around you again and he’s pulling you up against his chest, holding you like you were a toddler.

“You don’t-”

“I’m going to stop you there… I want to carry you”

You hide your blushing cheeks into the crook of his neck and enjoy the feeling of his arms around you, his body is warm against your own. A feeling of comfort and safeness settles in your lower belly, your arms tighten around his neck.

“I have to go now since I’m Topper's ride but, I was hoping you might be free to be my fake girlfriend for a work function tomorrow?”

“Me? Are you sure? I mean I’m nothing spec-”

Your words are cut short again by the way his face screws up, annoyance painted on his features. “Don’t even think about finishing that, you're special. So please, if you're free join me?”

“Okay”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek and quickly walks out of the door towards the car, he looks back and waves before he steps in and drives off. “Y/n?” A voice calls from a room within your house.

Closing the door quickly, you walk towards where your friend lay in your bed dressed in her pjs already. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You never have to ask”.

A shower later you're in bed with your best friend, she is fast asleep before you can tell her about the function with Rafe. You pull your phone from the bedside table when the light illuminates against your ceiling.

-Hey, it’s Rafe. Tomorrow's function is business casual, just in case you need to plan an outfit. Night x

The corners of your lips twitch into a smile, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. You shouldn’t be getting so excited about being his fake girlfriend, but there was something in your gut that maybe he didn’t exactly see you as a fake girlfriend, sure the two of you hadn’t spoken prior to the party but you’ve always said when you know you know. And right now your heart was telling you he saw you differently.

-thank you, I was wondering what to wear. Good night Rafe x

You turn your phone off and place it face down, turning to cuddle into Kelsie. You were buzzing, you wanted to tell your best friend what happened in the pool, tell her you finally felt comfortable enough to let someone touch you. But you couldn’t, she thought you were already having sex.

So instead you closed your eyes and went back over everything that happened and tried to remember the way his lips felt on yours and the way his fingers moved inside of you.

Tag list - @rafemotherfuckingcameron @rafegirly @prentissesredtanktop @maybankslover @vigilanteshitposting @drewstarkeyslut @emotionsmgcbabe @ijustwanttoreadlols @uraesthete @drewstarkeyswifehoe @aysha4life @yeosxxx @ailee-celeste @aaronhotchswife @watersquirtpewpewboomm @bbadiehoe @dream-pink @unbearableblog @blhemmings

[queen-of-never-monster]

i loved him. i loved him. i loved him.

prints + merch + commission info

[queen-of-never-monster]

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: topper's virginity kink - stop that, he's a gentleman about it ffs, he takes the best care of you , p in v sex of the protected variety, swearing, biting/marking, dirty talk, a little tearing up, kissing/saliva exchanged. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt four- virginity

character | fandom - topper thornton | outer banks

reader | original character - female reader, pogue!john b's sister & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 6.3k

tagging - &lt;taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . you've been dancing around the way you feel about him for a while now, but a Halloween bonfire at the boneyard + a few drinks might just change all that..✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You couldn't stare at Topper Thornton any harder if you tried. Your eyes are glued to him like magnets as he tosses a football back and forth with some other Kooks down the shore. Staring is all you're ever gonna get. Might as well enjoy it. - the thought has you frowning to yourself and you bite your bottom lip as you watch the way he peels off a long sleeve shirt and tosses it at the sand.

Your brother John B happens to notice that you're distracted and you haven't paid attention to a single thing he’s been saying so he clears his throat and when that doesn't work, he bounces a green grape off your forehead.

Kiara snickers quietly. Sarah raises a brow and Kiara gets her off to the side, explaining what she was just laughing at.

❝ Wait.. she likes Top?❞ Sarah glances at you and John B, a brow raised. She groans to herself as she catches the tail end of yet another argument between the two of you. 

❝ She’s in love with him, actually.❞ Kiara shrugs as the argument between you and John B kicks into high gear.

John B glares at you. ❝ We discussed this. I don't even want that prick Thornton breathing your air, sis. He's not a good guy.❞

❝ We didn’t discuss anything, JB. You dictated, like always and I agreed just to shut you up.❞ you snipe, glaring at your older brother. ❝ I'm not involved in this stupid Kooks versus Pogue bullshit. And, ❞ you pause, a hand on your hip, ❝ You don’t know the guy.❞

❝I know him one hell of a lot better than you do, little bit. So what he saved you from drowning and he just happened to be there that time you took the Twinkie out and th' tire blew. Just because he felt like being a nice guy two times doesn't make him a good person. Stay away from th' guy. I'm being serious, lil bit. ❞ John B argues. 

His firm warning is met with a roll of your eyes as you decide you'd rather chew glass than keep arguing with the brick wall known as your older brother. 

❝ Would you fucking relax, dumbass? Its not like I'm gonna screw or marry the guy.❞ you yell, probably a little louder than you should have. Your face is on fire as soon as you realize just how many people your angry outburst has staring at you.

As you're storming away, you happen to crash right into Topper, the unaware subject of the entire fight you've just had with John B. He gazes at you in concern as his hands rest against your upper arms. ❝ You look upset.❞

You swallow hard. And naturally, the thought comes, bitterly, I'm gonna go all weird and quiet now. Just like every other time I'm near Topper.

❝ Y-yeah.❞ you finally murmur, ❝ Johns just bein an asshole…Again.❞ and you're staring up, lost in the multi-toned warmth of his eyes. You can feel your brother and the rest of his friends staring and you sigh a little. But Topper hasn't let go of your arms yet and if the look in his eyes is anything to go by, he doesn't buy what you're saying at all.

❝ Yeah, that tracks.❞ Topper finally mumbles as he reluctantly releases the hold on you, instantly missing the softness of your skin under his hands as soon as its gone. He gives John B and the other Pogues a dirty look and it's fleeting, he's quick to turn his attention back to you. 

❝ I'm gonna get going...❞ you reluctantly step away, instantly wishing you hadn't, ❝ Before he busts a vein.❞

Topper chuckles. And he'll tell himself that the only reason he does what he winds up doing next is solely to cause that, its just to get your very overprotective big brother all riled up, maybe it is. But as much as that's the honest to God's truth, there's a deeper reason he invites you to the Halloween bonfire tonight at the boneyard. 

He wants to see you again. He's like an addict, he needs his fix. 

❝ Hey!❞ he stops you in your tracks, ❝ There's a bonfire tonight..to celebrate Halloween, I guess. You should come..I mean, unless you're scared it's gonna make big brother mad.❞

You can feel the rage and frustration as it rolls off your brother when JJ nudges him so he doesn't miss what's unfolding.

You know you should turn him down, every part of you insists that going anywhere near that damned bonfire tonight is not only a bad idea, it's possibly the worst one you've ever had and yet.. when you open your mouth to do the right thing, the smart thing, and gently tell him no, ❝ Maybe I will, Thornton. Maybe I will.❞

You hurry away after answering, mostly because you know if you don't do that, John will come over and restart the argument you two were having that made you storm away and collide with Topper just now in the first place. 

Sarah and Kiara exchange looks.

❝ Tell me you were picking up on the way Topper was with her just now. Tell me I'm not reading into what we both just saw way too much.❞ Kiara asks after a few seconds. Sarah laughs softly and shakes her head. ❝ I think I have an idea. C'mon.❞ she starts to walk towards where you happen to be standing on the boardwalk as she glances back at Kiara and Cleo, ❝ We can wait for permission now or beg for forgiveness later.❞

❝ Wait, hold on!❞ Kiara rushes to catch Sarah, ❝What are we even doing?❞

❝ When I was dating Top...❞ she trails off and watches Topper as he's watching you, ❝ I used to be so jealous of her. I used to think that he wanted her more. I'm starting to realize I was right… and if she likes him back, I mean…❞ Sarah trails off, speaking up a few seconds later, ❝ Top is a good guy.. He deserves to be happy too, Kie.❞

❝ You do realize John isn't gonna see it that way...❞ 

❝ And we'll cross that bridge when we're there. What I do know is I owe him.❞

❝ Okay, so what are we thinking?❞ Kiara asks, watching as you watch Topper throwing the football around, further down the shore. 

❝ Everybody is gonna be in costume tonight.. well, most everybody.❞ Sarah muses, gazing from you to Topper as she formulates her plan. 

Cleo and Pope wander up to you as you finish your cigarette and thump its remains at the pavement.

❝ John is just being protective..❞ Pope speaks up after a few seconds. You nod, exhaling the last plume of smoke into the afternoon air. ❝ I know, Pope. I just don't get it.. Topper has actually helped out when we asked. Of the rest, he's the least biggest asshole. And I can't help who I.. nevermind..❞ you laugh softly and shake your head, ❝ He’s probably right, its not like a guy like that,❞ you nod in Topper's direction, ❝ Is even interested in me in the first place.❞

Cleo happens to look over where you were just staring right as you make yourself stop staring and Topper starts staring at you.

❝ I think you’re wrong.❞ Cleo muses, nudging Pope to get him looking in Topper's direction. Pope rubs his chin thoughtfully, tuning back into your continued rant just in time to hear you going off on a tangent about the way John B is engaged to Sarah and its kind of stupid to be an ass about Topper based solely on that. 

❝ I mean,  if he obviously liked me to begin with, he's totally a hypocrite for continuing to be an ass about this.❞ you go quiet.

Cleo snickers softly. ❝ There's one way to find out.. Go to the bonfire tonight. He did invite you.❞ she's challenging you, daring you to do something because she's gotten to know you well enough at this point to know that challenging you or daring you is a surefire way to get you to do something, quick, fast and in a hurry. 

You mull it over. You were already planning to go, you were going to hang out with Cleo and Pope. If things seemed off you could bail and you wouldn't be stuck by yourself because Cleo is your best friend and she'll be there.

❝ Come with me.❞ Sarah butts in, ❝ We're going costume shopping.❞

You raise your brow. Laugh softly. ❝ Now why am I gonna do that, hm?❞ you ask, shuffling your feet against worn wood.

Sarah grumbles. Then she sees the stern look she's getting from both you and Cleo so she launches into this long-winded ramble about just wanting to have a little fun, pointing out that you did promise your brother you would at least attempt to give her a chance. ❝ Everybody is gonna be in costume tonight.. well, most everybody. I thought it'd be fun..❞

You laugh. ❝Okay, fine. But I probably won't buy one. I'm a little too old for dress up games.❞ you're kind of scoffing, thinking to yourself that it figures the Kook princess would be into dressing up.

Cleo gives you a gentle nudge and you manage a tight smile at Sarah Cameron.

❝ I've got an hour to waste til my shift at the bar. No lingerie or cutesy animal themed stuff, got it?❞

Sarah laughs. ❝Fine. But you have to let me do your makeup and hair if you pick one.❞

You snort in laughter. ❝ How about you just be happy I agreed to tag along with you two..❞ you nod to Kiara as she leans against the railing around the pier, ❝ And leave me to my own devices with hair and makeup, huh?❞

❝ This is a bad idea, Sare.❞ Kiara gives you a dirty look and you roll your eyes right back at her. Cleo laughs quietly and shakes her head.❝ Alright, you three. Behave. If we’re going, we should go.❞

❝What's wrong with me doing your hair and makeup, anyway?❞ Sarah asks and you laugh. ❝It’s fine for you..I'm just not into the whole princess vibe.❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

You're lingering hesitantly with your brother and his friends, infinitely regretting your spur-of-the-moment decision to buy the form fitting little white tank style dress and the veil and garter, but in your defense, Cleo dared you. And you're nothing if not petty, so given that you're going to the bonfire tonight just to see Topper and you know what your brother's always saying, you chose the petty road and tonight's costume is you, making a point. The thrifted dress had been longer 3 hours ago but all the tulle and fluff had been torn away from the rest of the dress, leaving you with a form fitting white dress that stopped just about the tops of your thighs. It's the shortest thing you've ever worn out in public but when you also found a garter and an old veil that you could use to form your own shorter veil, you took it to be a sign from the petty gods.

When you'd told Cleo this earlier, she nearly doubled over laughing.

❝ The flannel and combat boots are throwing off the whole costume.❞ Sarah clucks her tongue as she says it, giving you a once-over. ❝ I don't get why you had to destroy a perfectly good wedding dress either...❞

You shrug. ❝Deal with it, Sarah.❞

Sarah spots Topper as his Jeep pulls to a stop next to the Audi Kelce drives. 

Cleo nudges you but you shake your head. ❝ Not right now..❞

Sarah and Kiara have spotted your brother and JJ so they're gone with quickness and it's now only you, Cleo and Pope standing near the coolers and kegs waiting to be tapped. Cleo nudges you and nods at Topper.

You happen to look up just in time to lock eyes with him. You figure he's going to look down first so you're surprised when he smiles and gives a little wave. You pour yourself a drink and take a sip, almost immediately spitting it out.

❝ You are officially on your own, girl. Me and Pope are going somewhere a little more…private.❞ and now Cleo and Pope are gone, leaving you all by yourself. You shuffle your combat boots against the sand awkwardly and you're just about to head over to play a hand of cards with your friends Jesse and Alec, but just as you take a step in the direction of Jesse's tailgate, you're tapped on the shoulder.

❝ You’re here.❞ Topper's breath is minty against your neck and your thighs clamp together in seconds. ❝ I didn't think you'd show up.❞

You turn to face him, head tilted slightly to look up at him. He towers over you easily and you swallow hard, blowing at a strand of fallen hair. All you can do is shrug as words fail you yet again.

Topper chuckles, the sound is husky, quiet. A crowd racing past you both forces you to step into his body and as the wind picks up a little, you hug your flannel shirt tighter against your body. Topper notices this and with a chuckle, he pulls off the jacket he's wearing and holds it out to you. You glance at it, then up at him. He pushes it at you and when you don't immediately take it, he slips it around your shoulders. 

You can feel the exact second both JJ Maybank and your brother have caught onto it but you honestly couldn’t care less. Topper smiles down at you and because of the height difference between you two, he has to bend down just a little when he whispers ❝ I’m glad you came tonight. Kelce, he’s uh.. Been after me to just do something already but I.. Forget it.❞ he laughs quietly, ❝ It’s dumb.❞

You take a sip from the orange plastic cup in your hand and stare up at him quietly, nodding. Your cheeks feel a little warm, a little flushed and you can’t decide whether it’s from the watered down 80 proof in the cup you hold in your hand or if it’s from being around Topper Thornton, like usual.

Every time the two of you have a little run-in, you come away flustered then too.

Duh, you reflect on it, I'm always getting myself into weird and dangerous positions that somehow, he always manages to be close enough to save me from. And I wanna feel bad about that but it puts me in his path and I'm fine with that.

❝ I figured it was the least I could do, Top. I uh...❞ you shift your feet in the sand a little as you laugh at yourself and the sheer lack of ability to form words you’re suffering currently, ❝ I kind of owe you my life.. Three thousand times over, actually.❞

Topper snickers for a few seconds, falling silent again. By now you’ve migrated to a little bonfire further down the shore from the bigger one that everybody’s crowded around. He slips an arm around you and this pulls you straight into his side. Against him. You’re so close that the scent of his cologne envelopes you. As the two of you settle down in a spot on the sand, he speaks up again, gazing into the fire. ❝ I wasn’t keeping score. Y’know, you’re kind of a trouble slash danger magnet, right?❞ he chuckles as he looks over to see you pouting at him. You lightly swat his arm. ❝ Hey! That’s not fair! It’s not like I try to get myself in weird or dangerous situations, Top.❞

❝ Yeah.❞ he laughs, giving you that dimpled grin. You’re trying to resist, but the urge to be closer is driving you crazy. You lean against his side a little, your head resting against his bicep.

Topper’s breath hangs.

❝I always love t’ come out here and look at the stars.❞ you mutter quietly. Topper nods. ❝ Yeah, but the view at the lighthouse is prettier. Go all the way to the top and you can see everything..❞

❝ I’ve always wanted to go there..❞ you muse. He pulls himself up off the sand and holds out his hand to you. And that stupid, sexy, dimpled smile is back. You gaze at the hand he holds out and swallow hard. He’s grinning ear to ear. ❝ C’mon. We can slip away, nobody will ever know. I only come to this shit anymore because Kelce drags me.❞ Topper admits, conveniently leaving out the part where he mostly comes to be as close to you as he dares to get, lest he invoke the wrath of your overprotective big brother, John B.

But he’s got a foot in the door tonight. One chance to be even closer to you than he typically dares to get -aside from the times he happened to be in the right place at just the right time and he managed to keep you alive and safe.

He’s determined to take it.

You take hold of his hand. Biting your lip as you’re pulled off the sand and straight into his body. You’re only half teasing when you say it, ❝ Bet you take all the girls up there, huh? You being a ladies man and all..❞

He shakes his head. ❝ Nope. It’s somewhere I go alone, actually.❞

And you’d never own up to it but when he tells you that, you’re falling even more in love with him and you were just starting to think that couldn’t be possible.

❝ We’re gonna have to speed-walk to the Jeep.❞ you say it and through laughter, the two of you make a beeline for the Jeep. You practically dive into his passenger seat and he backs out of the spot he parked in as fast as he can, his arm around the back of your seat as he turns his head slightly, looking back over his shoulder.

You can feel those butterflies in your stomach, for sure. You know what you’re about to do, sneaking away with a Kook, is at best, a mere bad idea.. But for a bad idea, it feels so good.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･ ｡ﾟ ───

The stars glitter and glisten through floor to ceiling panes as you step into the little room atop the lighthouse. Your gasp makes him smile because he’d been hoping you might actually appreciate the view if he ever managed to be lucky enough to get you up here with him.

You turn to him in a rush, your chest presses against his as one of your hands finds purchase in the front of his favorite denim jacket, the one lined with wool. ❝ Top,❞ there it is, that sweet and sultry little purr that haunts his dreams, asleep or awake. He’s staring down at you, dazed. Because the moon is hitting your face just right and your skin is soft and dewy. You’re staring right back up at him, your grip on the front of his jacket tightens just a slip. When you realize just how close you’re pressed against him, your breath catches, a quiet gasp leaving your slightly parted lips.

He leans down, his face into yours just a little. A hand raises and cups your face after he’s brushed some loose strands of hair out of your eyes. ❝ What’s up?❞ he asks finally, the silence is too much for him.

❝ It’s so beautiful up here.❞ you mutter, raising one leg slightly, bent at the knee. He chuckles. The sound is soft. A little husky. Deep as the sound rose up from the very bottom of his soul. It gives you another little tummy flutter. For just a split second, you wonder if this is how awestruck Sarah Cameron had to feel when he looked at her the way he’s looking at you right now. And then in the next breath you’re doing all you can to mentally gaslight yourself that no, he’s definitely not looking at you like that.

You almost manage to pull it off until he shatters the silence. ❝ What I’m lookin at right now is more beautiful.❞

You gulp. The minty clean warmth of his breath fans your face as his moves even closer and the hand that had been on your cheek just seconds before moves to the back of your head. Thick digits catch against your hair. You melt against him and you try not to do it, but your eyes flutter closed as your tongue drags over your bottom lip. The ripped piece of lace you’d stapled to a headband to make yourself a veil at the last minute is lifted, raised out of his way completely.

❝ I’m gonna kiss you.❞ he mumbles quietly, his free hand settled on your hip which he squeezes and uses his grip to pull you into him even closer, as if there was any space left between you both in the first place. ❝ You.. If you don’t want me to kiss you...❞ words are frustrating. He swears under his breath and takes a very shaky deep breath to try again. But you don’t want to wait a single second longer, maybe at least half of your brain is convinced that this is a daydream and you’re going to come out of it to find Cleo and Pope sitting across from you in your usual booth at the Wreck, laughing their asses off.

❝ Are you crazy?❞ you mumble soft, your lips bump right into his as you speak, ❝ I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were twelve.. When I almost drowned to death and you saved me?❞ 

Topper blinks. He’d honestly thought that given all previous interactions, you’d panic and bolt. Because that used to be what you did in any situation where you found yourself alone with him. ❝ You.. you really mean that...❞ he studies you, curious.

❝ I said it, Top.❞ you mumble quietly. You’re not good at making eye contact for too long. So when you try to stare a hole through the front of Topper’s denim jacket, he cups your jaw and makes you look up at him. The distance between your mouths begins to close again. Time all but freezes and finally, his thick tongue splits the barrier of your lips. You keep up with him as best as you can but it’s clumsy. A little needy and you’re melting into his body the more the kiss deepens. When your lips latch onto his bottom one, he groans against your mouth quietly and the hair his hand is so caught up in is given a slight little tug. 

The two of you are light-headed, racing hearts and breathing for each other when the kiss breaks and you reluctantly pull apart, a strand of saliva keeping just a small hint of connection between your mouths. ❝ Fuck.❞ - that’s both of you mumbling the word in unison because he’d imagined what kissing you might feel like for a while now but what he’s just done went above and beyond his wildest imagination. And he knows it won’t be enough because he’s already pulling you back against him and leaning himself down into you for another one.

Your hand raises and settles in his hair, giving it a tug as you climb up into his arms, your legs circling his waist. The ripped lace of the flimsy DIY veil falls down between both of your faces at one point and Topper’s hand catches against the dollar store headband and slips it off your head, letting it fall from his fingers to the wooden floor of the room. You’ve rubbed yourself against him at least two times by now and you keep making these cute little whiny sounds that are driving him to the brink of his restraint.

When your mouth strays from his, seeking out the side of his neck, he sucks in a sharp breath. Hands catch against your ass, squeezing a double handful through a skintight white tank dress. He growls into your neck, ❝ We.. we don’t have t’ do this.. This isn’t why I brought you up here, love.❞ and it’s so cute and sweet and when he calls you love it’s just such a gentleman’s choice of word. You pull away to stare up at him. ❝ I know, I just..❞ you take a deep breath, laugh at yourself because you know damn well you’re rushing into this but at this point, it just feels like you’ve waited longer than forever. Maybe even longer than an eternity.

❝ What? You can tell me, love.❞ Topper coaxes. You play with the front of his jacket as you try to will the words out. ❝ I promised myself if I ever got a chance.. With you.. I was going to do everything I could to make you mine.❞ you cringe a little, it has to sound needy. It has to sound crazy, after all, every previous interaction between you both involved you making a hasty retreat.

❝ You.. you did?❞ he’s puzzled. Because he’s never been anyone’s first choice. He’s never been the guy who gets kissed like you just kissed him. He’s the best friend. Comic relief. The one people turn to only when he can do something for their benefit.

❝ Topper,❞ you whine out as you try to rub against him as much as you can and cling to his body, ❝ I want you..❞

He’s gaping. Stunned. Speechless. Because not only is someone begging for him.. That someone is someone he’s actually had his eye on for a really long time. Secretly, of course.

❝ I… I didn’t say too much, did I?❞ you ask quietly when he’s still dazed a second or two later and you notice that he’s not really responding to anything you’re doing. You frown a little and you’re just about to climb down out of his arms but he takes a step back. You wind up sat on the circular metal railing that surrounds the circular room. ❝ No. No, love.. You didn’t. I just needed to process.❞ Topper explains as his hands leave your hips, skimming up the front of your body, squeezing and cupping your breasts through thin fabric. When you start to rock into him all over again, he bites back a growl and thrusts himself against you so you can feel how hard he is through the jeans he’s wearing. And then he’s staring at you, eyes burning, pupils blown with lust. ❝ You’re.. You’re sure, yeah? We don’t have t’ do this right now, love...❞ he’s melting back into you, his mouth against your neck, tongue dragging the length of your pulse before he takes a little nip of exposed skin.

The scent of vanilla, of you and that sugary sweet cheap perfume you always wear, that fills his awareness, permeates the air all around you both. When his hand slips up your dress and he feels the garter wrapped around your thigh, he inhales, resting his forehead against the top of your breasts. The clasp to the garter was tricky. It was frustrating for him, especially when the only thing he wanted was to strip everything away that kept your skin from touching his.

❝ I hate this damn thing.❞ he huffs out just two seconds before he finally just loses all patience with your tight and stubborn clothing and rips the garter away. Your thin flannel shirt goes next, followed by his denim jacket, both settling in a heap on the floor of the observation room. 

With shaking hands you reach down between your bodies to unbutton his jeans and they settle around his ankles. 

He’s sucking your neck as he works the short and tight little dress up your hips, relishing all your little whimpers and whines and the way you're just so damn responsive to every little touch or kiss. His hand slips between your thighs and your breath catches, your head fallen back against the floor to ceiling pane of glass at your back. He cups your wet sex, rubbing his hand against it until you're rocking yourself against his hand, moaning his name and he can feel you dripping against his palm.

❝ Have you ever..uh, have you done this before, love?❞ he asks the question both not expecting your answer and preparing himself to be at least a little jealous, more determined to erase anyone else you've ever been with from your memory. ❝ No.❞ you breathe out against his neck as you work his shirt up and out of the way. Topper is frozen again. Trying to process everything, from the first kiss to now, when you've just told him that he's going to be your first lover. Only, his mind corrects as he feels himself getting harder at the mere thought that he's going to be the first, only, boy to bury his cock inside you. He never thought that just finding out you are a virgin would drive him as crazy as it is.

❝ Okay, look at me, love..❞ he's trying to be the voice of reason, to slow things down before they go too far. He wants to make sure you really are ready. He cups your jaw, tilting your gaze up ❝Do you really want this? Are..are you sure?❞, he asks, trying to get you focused on the question.

 But you're begging and the way you keep kissing on him while clinging to him as much as you can melts him. He melts down into you after releasing his hold on your jaw, his face buried in your tits as his hands squeeze your ass. 

❝ I want you, Top. Nobody else. You.❞ you answer quietly, cupping his face to make him look up at you so he knows you mean it and you're not just in the heat of the moment. ❝ You.❞

It's everything he's always wanted to hear and given up on hearing. He's all over you after it sinks in, lips against soft skin, hands anywhere he can get them on you. ❝ I'm..fuck.❞ he breathes out against your mouth as he crashes his mouth against yours, ❝ I'm yours, okay?❞ he promises, melting into you so much that you're pressed back against the window.

Your fingers drag over his abdomen as you take in what he's promising. You weren't expecting it, you're blown away.

You whine out in need as you tug at the waistband of his boxers. He chuckles.

❝ Oh no. No, love, not until I get a taste of you first.❞ he mutters against the shell of your ear. Thick digits hook in the side of your panties, he works them down your legs and when they settle at your ankles, he gets down on his knees in front of you, gazing up. ❝ C'mon, love.. open those pretty legs for me. Let me see what I'm doing to you.❞ he murmurs, parting your legs with his hands. As he sets sights on your bare cunt -and how wet you are, he barely stops a groan at the sight. You fidget a little, squirming in his intent gaze because he's your first. This is all so very new to you. You’re afraid that he's going to change his mind. ❝ Relax, love. I swear to God I'm gonna take care of you,  baby.❞

His tongue drags over the outline of his lips as moonlight makes your skin glisten, you're dripping for him and he's barely done a thing. He takes a pause, a few seconds to wrap his head around the fact that this is real and its happening.. with him. He's the one you've chosen to give yourself to and he's determined not to make you regret it.

His tongue drags over the soft skin, tracing its way up your inner thighs. When you start to giggle because you discover you're ticklish on your inner thighs, he chuckles quietly. When his tongue drags a stripe right up the center of your dripping hot sex, your breath hangs in your throat. He groans at the taste of you as it fills his mouth and two fingers join his tongue, stretching you more than you're used to. Your hand catches in his hair and you tug as his fingers and tongue fuck your virgin cunt to prepare you to be full of him. He mutters against your skin  ❝ Pull harder, love. If it helps.❞ as he buries his tongue deep inside. Your free hand curls around cool metal and you whimper and whine. 

There's a white hot ache that's creeping in, settling in the pit of your stomach as Topper works his fingers and tongue inside you. ❝ Top…❞ you're moaning his name like a prayer as you try to move your hips, desperate for more.

❝ Good girl. Fuck. Fuck,❞ he groans out, the sound of his voice muffled by the way he's got his face buried between your thighs. He stops to breathe - and to watch the way your head falls back and your mouth is hanging open partially, begging him to fuck you. ❝ Such a good girl for me.❞

You're so close. He can feel you tense up. He starts to slow down and you cry out for him, frustrated tears shining in your eyes as he looks up at you, his tongue dragging over your throbbing clit. ❝ Too much, love?❞ he questions.

You nod. He pulls himself up off his knees and steps between your legs, his hands pinning your hands against the glass at your back as he lets his boxers fall to the floor and lines up his cock with your dripping hole. As he fucks into you for the first time, you clench around his cock and it's so tight. His breath catches and when he feels you tense up, he goes still. Kissing on you as he waits for you to get used to taking his cock.

❝ Is it.. are you okay now, love?❞ he asks, gently cupping your jaw as you nod and start trying to rock yourself into him. 

This feels so fucking good, - the thought comes as you clench tight around him and he groans against your neck, plowing into you slow and deep. 

❝ –oh God don't stop dontstop, baby you feel so good. So gooood.❞ you're in the heat of the moment and all he can do is watch as you come undone, the sexy little sounds you're making combined with the way you clench around his thick cock is almost enough to make him come undone. ❝ Easy, love.❞ he coaxes, driving into you at a new angle as he lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, picking you up to slam you down on his cock over and over. ❝ I'm…fuck…I wanna cum, princess. You feel so so good. So good.❞ he's begging for it and he doesn't care, he's got no shame at all. You’re clinging to him as your orgasm rips through you and leaves you a fucked out and needy mess. He's thrown into his own orgasm, your cunt squeezing his cock so perfectly that he can't hold it off. 

You feel him throbbing, hot seed painting your insides and he leans down into you, his forehead against your tits while he takes a few sloppy thrusts. His mouth crashes against yours in a kiss that's equal parts sloppy and sweet.

Down on shore, the festivities are still going, you can see the bonfire from where you are as you slip down from the rail, the two of you helping each other redress, stopping to steal kisses or melt into each other.

As he holds out your 'veil' to the costume, he turns it over in his hands and chuckles quietly. ❝ Tiffany..from Bride of Chucky, right?❞ he asks and you laugh softly.

❝ Nope. I am a bride though.. since my brother thinks that I'm gonna run off to marry you just because I really like you and I stare too much, I decided to prove him right.❞

Topper chuckles. Then it sinks in what you're admitting. He catches up to you as you're about to open the door to the room and he turns you around to face him. ❝ I kinda thought you hated me or that I scared you because you're always rushing off whenever we happen to be alone.. thats not true?❞

You laugh softly and shake your head. ❝ I didn’t want my idiot brother to come after you. If he hurt you, I..❞ you trail off, a hand raised to caress his cheek as you stare up at him. ❝ I'm not trying to scare you or anything but..❞ you lean against him, ❝ I think I could love you. That I have for a long time..❞

He's blown away. He cups your jaw to make you look up at him as he takes in what you've just said. ❝ D-do you mean that?❞

You smile softly and nod. He holds you tighter, his nose against the crown of your head. ❝ He doesn't scare me. And he won't stop me from being with you.❞ Topper promises, staring down at you. 

❝ Wanna go back down?❞ he asks after a few seconds. You laugh and shake your head no, telling him ❝ I only came tonight to be close to you.❞

The two of you do make your way out of the lighthouse but it's to sit on the deck, you caged in by his body as he holds you close and points out different stars in the sky.

[queen-of-never-monster]

Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

summary: You're charmingly spoiled. You're too kind for your own good. You're the princess of Figure 8 ...and you're way out of JJ Maybank's league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron's pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he's determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

➥ Prequel

➥ Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

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