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whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month ago

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snooze - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 4.1k words)

summary Your man works harder than anyone you know, and you couldn’t love him more for it, but some mornings you just want to hold on to him a little longer…

content fluff/smut, mutual mast., p in v, 18+ minors do not interact

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

Rafe’s alarm rings through the large bedroom like a blaring siren, jerking you violently from the sweet sleep you were just wrapped in. He doesn’t hear it at first, still sound asleep next to you, snores rumbling through his bare chest.

You blink your eyes open, the room is still dark, though the first golden rays of the sunrise creep in through the small crack in the curtains. You twist your body towards Rafe, snuggling your head into his neck, an attempt to both shield your eyes from the sunlight and get his attention, desperate for him to silence the loud alarm.

After a few seconds, he still hasn’t heard it, so you reach up and gently tap his cheek.

“Baby,” you groan, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too loud.”

Rafe takes a deep breath in, eyes still closed as he reaches his bedside table, tapping his phone screen clumsily until the sound subsides.

He settles back in, placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head as he pulls you into his side. You sigh happily, running your nails softly up and down his chest and stomach, drawing little hearts and stars on his skin. He shivers when you graze over the soft skin of his lower stomach, following his happy trail down to his waistband. You fully plan on dipping your hand below it, where he’s already twitching and firming up for you under his sweatpants, but you get distracted by the delicious deep V lines on either side of his waist. You dip your pointer finger into the valley of muscle and trace the shape down, switching to the other side and drawing back up.

He stirs when you angle your finger to scratch lightly with your manicured nail, lingering just above the band of his Calvins that peeks out from his sweats.

“That’s so nice, baby,” he mumbles in his deep, crackling morning voice, “I love these hands.”

Rafe laces his fingers in yours with one hand, his other arm sliding under your neck and wrapping around your shoulders. He pulls you close so he can drop a sloppy kiss on your temple.

You sigh and lift your intertwined hands to place a kiss on each of his knuckles.

“Maybe you should stay home,” you suggest between kisses. “Then you can enjoy these hands all day long.”

He smiles knowingly, still not opening his eyes. You play this game every morning, trying to find ways to convince him to play hooky from work, though they never succeed. He’s always showered and out the door by sunrise, leaving you with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a quick kiss as you drift back to sleep.

“Sounds perfect, but I have an 8 a.m. with a potential investor,” he explains.

In the quiet, Rafe starts to drift off again. You continue to stroke his chest and think of all the many enticing reasons for him to stay, but before you can list them for him, his alarm blares from his phone again.

You lean over him, reaching to the phone on his nightstand. He takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your waist and slide it under his big t-shirt you're wearing. His hands feel so nice on your lower back, you pause, almost forgetting what you were reaching for in the first place, until the alarm rings out again, making you both wince with its volume. You tap the screen desperately until it’s silenced.

“Just hitting snooze so we can have five more minutes,” you say, settling down over him and resting your cheek on his chest.

“Liar,” he says with a sleepy smirk. “You turned it off.”

You fake an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of such deception, Rafe Cameron.”

“So when five minutes go by and the alarm doesn’t go off again, what are you gonna say then?”

“I was hoping you’d fall back to sleep by then,” you confess with a giggle, laying a soft kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

“I knew it.”

He sits up in bed, causing you to fall back onto the pillows, immediately missing his warmth. You paw at his arm as he reaches over to check the time on his phone.

“Nooo,” you whine. “Don’t go yet.”

He smiles down at you, leaning over to place loving kisses on the edge of your jaw and up your face, touching his lips to your temple one final time before standing from the bed.

Your vision is still fuzzy from sleep and the darkness of the room, but you follow the general shape of him as he walks to the wall of windows on the other side of the room. He’s shirtless, the lower half of his body covered in soft gray sweats. You squirm a little under the comforter as you take him in. You didn’t know it was possible to be this attracted to someone, but it’s like every day you’re with him, your body craves him more, and it makes it that much more painful when he leaves.

Rafe interrupts your reverie by lifting his arms and throwing the curtains wide open. You flinch at the bright sunlight that pours through the windows like it’s burning you.

“Too bright, Rafe!” You protest.

He just turns with a smug smile, his tall silhouette casting a shadow over the bed, blocking you from the blinding sun.

“I’ll make you some coffee before I go,” he promises as he leaves you alone in the bedroom, pulling a pillow over your face to shield yourself from the daylight.

It’s silly to complain when his hard work is the whole reason you can lay in this comfortable bed so late into the morning. When he’s not with you, he’s at the office, earning you all this comfort, but it still seems unfair when you want him this badly.

You used to be an early riser, but the way he lays you down every night when he gets home, fucking you hard and slow until you fall asleep clinging to him, it’s made you a whole new person. You’d pay him twice his salary if you had it just to get him to stick around a little longer, make you feel that good again.

A devious idea comes to your brain, and you pull the covers from yourself quickly, making fast moves before he gets back.

When Rafe comes back into the room a few minutes later, he nearly spills your hot coffee all over himself at the sight that greets him.

The comforter is bundled at the end of the bed, nothing covering your body as you stretch out on the mattress. You’ve switched out his t-shirt and your baggy sweats for a silky pair of boy-short panties and a lacy bra. You're facing away from him, laying on your side, the curve of your hips and peekaboo view of your ass casting a scandalous shadow on the wall. The fabric of your panties is so flimsy, it climbs up the curve of your ass, revealing you to him as if they’re barely there at all.

“Nice try,” he shakes his head, though the small crack in his voice betrays his defiance. You know you’ve got him hard and frazzled.

“Hmmm?” You don’t turn to look at him, instead bending your knee and sliding one leg up higher to give him an even better angle of your ass.

“It’s not gonna work…” he insists, setting your coffee down, fully intending to turn and make his way to the walk-in closet to get dressed, yet somehow finding himself completely immobile.

“What’s not going to work?” You echo, feigning cluelessness in a way you know is gonna drive him mad.

“I really do have a meeting,” he continues his one-sided argument, trying desperately to convince himself. “I can’t be late, it’s important.”

“Okay! Have a good day, baby,” you yawn, shifting on the sheets as if you’re just getting comfortable, hoping he doesn’t see the smile you’re hiding in your pillow, obsessed with the strain in his voice that reveals his resolve is cracking.

The mattress sinks slowly under his weight, and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches your skin. His hand slides up your leg, from your ankle all the way up to your thigh, where he pauses to squeeze your flesh.

“You’re gonna be late,” you let your mouth twist into a cheeky smile.

He huffs a defeated laugh, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder in frustration, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You giggle, arching your back and giving him a better glimpse at the other side of you, your nipples already pebbling in anticipation, clearly visible through your see through bra.

Rafe responds by saying your name, so low and needy it’s almost inaudible. You twist your torso just enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t respond with words, just a piercing gaze. His blue eyes are blown wide with lust as he takes you in, dragging over your body helplessly, fighting an internal battle as he plots his next move. Filthy thoughts are etched on his face, you know him well enough by now to see the gears turn behind his eyes, imagining all the things he could do to you if he stayed.

“Can I at least have a kiss before you go?” You ask, hoping the taste of your lips will tip the scales in your favor.

He can’t deny you a kiss, he never does, so he leans in and meets your lips with a nod, his hand rising to softly cradle your jaw. You run your tongue so gently across his lower lip that he wonders if he imagined it. When you part your lips for him and release a small sigh, the game is over.

With another squeeze of your thigh, he pulls back from you just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand. You watch with a victorious grin as he types out a quick message, surely to his secretary, and tosses the phone somewhere on the bed.

“Bought us an hour,” he tells you.

“Only an hour?” You pout.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teases you, shuffling behind you so he can spoon you, placing a dozen quick kisses up your arm, making you giggle in delight.

Rafe’s hand slides from your thigh to your waist, dipping to splay over your stomach so he can pull you flush against him. You sigh dreamily as he begins to suckle on your neck, leaving little pink marks everywhere his lips touch.

“Wasn’t that kind of an important meeting?” You ask, feeling a little guilty for potentially making him miss out on a good opportunity.

“Nothing’s more important than this,” he assures you.

You let out a little whimper at his sweet words, igniting a fire in him. His hand drifts up your stomach until his palm is settled over your breast, kneading gently.

“Oh,” you gasp. “That feels good.”

“Yeah?” He drawls with a crooked grin, pausing to drag the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Just needed a little attention today?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Needed you.”

His hand leaves you for a minute to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You lift your arms up so he can slide it off and toss it somewhere on the floor of the massive master suite.

The rough skin of his palm comes back to rest over your hard nipple, the sensation is so sweet that your whole body hums with pleasure.

“God you’re so soft,” he breathes over the wet spot he’s just left on your skin, “love these tits so much.”

With that confession, he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, the pain lasting only a second before he smoothes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“Rafe!” You squeak out at the sting.

He shushes you gently, lowering his mouth to pull your earlobe between his teeth, the pressure strong, but not strong enough to pull your mind from the way his hand is dropping lower on your torso towards your panties. A pool of silky arousal gathered between your legs, you rub your thighs together in search of friction as his hand continues to move maddeningly slow.

“Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “gonna take good care of you like I always do.”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets in preparation when he finally reaches the band of your panties, lifting them to slide his hand in.

“You always take such good care of me, Rafe,” you agree.

He places his other arm under your head for support, allowing you to look down at the outline of his big hand wriggling under the damp cloth of your panties. His fingers find your entrance easily, pausing outside to swirl in your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he praises. “Always so ready for me.”

After a few more swirls, he’s satisfied with the coating, dragging his fingers back up to your clit. He hits it right away, he could find it in a hurricane. He runs his fingers over you at the perfect angle, starting with delicate figure eights.

Your head falls forward in ecstasy, unable to form words. Rafe bends his arm at the elbow, laying his hand flat against your forehead to pull your head back into his chest, your neck arching with the stretch. The pink spots he’s left on your exposed throat have darkened nicely, giving him a chance to appreciate his handiwork. He reattaches his lips, desperate to claim you as many times as he can, hungry for you.

The sweetest, breathiest moans fall from your puffy lips, and he basks in them like the sunlight that’s bleeding through the curtains. He’s nibbling on your shoulder like it’s his breakfast as his fingers pick up speed on your clit.

Between circles and flicks, he stops to tap quickly with the tip of his middle finger, the rhythmic pressure and release has the sensitive bud pulsing. You chase his fingers pathetically with the roll of your hips, needing more.

As you writhe, his cloth covered cock slots between the valley of your ass, each wave of your hips grinding perfectly against his shaft. You shut your eyes tight, picturing his perfect length and the gorgeous noises he makes when he comes. You need to hear those sounds like you need air.

Your hand releases from the sheets, reaching behind you to rub the hard ridge of his dick over his sweatpants. Rafe clenches his jaw, a throaty groan vibrating through his chest and straight into your body.

“This what you wanted, angel?” He asks, his tone dominant and desperate all at the same time. The perfect balance of ownership and a genuine urgency to please you.

“Just wanted you,” you confirm through labored pants, grinding yourself into his hand, “all I ever want is you.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

No further instruction needed, your hand finally dips below his waistband, immediately finding his pulsing cock.

“Shi-ii-t,” he shudders as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly and reveling in how hard you’ve made him.

You notice goosebumps rush up the arm that’s disappearing into your panties, you realize your hands must be cold. You know he’d never complain, but you don’t just want him to feel good, you want him to feel as amazing as he makes you feel.

You draw your hand back from his boxers, and he groans at your absence, nearly protesting until he sees what you’re doing. You dip your hand into your underwear, gently nudging his out of the way, and collect some of your wetness onto your own fingers. Your hand glistens in the morning sunlight when you pull it out, displaying it for him before returning your grip to his cock.

He’s speechless. Eyes rolling back at how fucking sexy that was, desperate to ground himself before he comes too quickly in your hand. He moves his palm down from your forehead to cup your throat, not too much pressure to hurt, but enough to remind you how strong he is. You whimper, swallowing hard under his broad palm.

“Jesus christ, baby,” he sputters, “you’re my fucking dream girl.”

You fall in sync, Rafe rubbing tight, firm circles over your clit, while you slide your hand up and down his shaft, pausing at the tip with each stroke to swirl your thumb in the precum he’s leaking. His knuckles flex in response to each flick of your thumb, pads of his fingers holding and releasing your neck in steady pulses.

You squeeze his cock as he squeezes your throat, so perfectly aligned in your drunken pleasure that you both chuckle at how unbelievable it feels. But if you’re laughing, then surely he’s not doing a good enough job.

He draws your clit between his fingers, rolling over and over, not pinching too hard, but just hard enough to set every nerve ending in your body on fire. You draw your knees up, your hand slowing involuntarily on his cock as you feel the familiar coil tighten in your tummy, seconds from snapping.

“I can’t believe you’re real, you’re so perfect,” Rafe whispers into your shoulder, kissing you over and over.

“Gonna make me come talking like that, baby,” you warn him.

“You want that? You want me to make you come in my hand?”

“Not yet,” you choke out, so close that you’re already dreading coming down from your high. It’s too soon, it’s not enough. No amount of him will ever be enough, but you at least need him closer. “Want you inside, need you in me.”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he swears as he pulls his hand from your core to rip your panties down your legs. You pull them off over your feet and toss them away as he removes his pants and boxers behind you.

The fabric finally out of the way, his dick spears into your back, somehow always so much bigger and more powerful than you remember. You pray he doesn’t make you wait any longer, wriggling back onto your side so your soaked pussy is perfectly exposed to him.

In the soft morning light, he finally gets a good view of your slick folds, nearly busting all over your back at the sight. He’s filled this new condo with the most expensive art he could find, but nothing comes close to the masterpiece in front of him. To him, you’re fucking priceless.

He wastes no more time, tucking a hand under your knee to angle your leg up. You take his cue, understanding each other without words as always, and brace your foot flat against his calf, propping yourself open for him.

A combination of the angle and his picture perfect memory of your walls has his tip hitting your g-spot on the very first thrust. He stretches you so sweetly, the tight fit making your brain go foggy and your mouth fall open, gasping helplessly.

“Like this?” He asks, not taunting but not really asking either, already knowing the answer to “this how you want it?”

“Not quite,” you whisper.

He freezes with confusion before you reach behind you to find the hand he has braced on your hip, pulling it up and placing it back around your neck.

“There,” you say, “now it’s perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Rafe stammers, hips jerking forward, slamming into you a little too hard, lost in his infatuation with you.

At first he worries it’s too hard, but a dreamy moan rises from your throat and you encourage, “yes, yes, like that, please.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at his pure fucking luck in finding you, he obeys your plea, pulling back slow before thrusting in hard again. The hand that’s not on your throat pushes into the mattress beneath your head, lifting himself up for leverage. He continues to fuck into you hard, pausing after each stroke to hit as deep as he can possibly get. You’re a mess, crying out with each slap of his hips against your ass, blabbering incoherently as you clench around him.

“Ohhh my god you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth. “‘I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that. You gonna let me come inside?”

Your eyes fly open as an invisible light bulb goes off above your head, you twist to meet his eyes, his lids low and irises completely blown out with lust.

“If I do, will you stay home?” you proposition him.

He scoffs, shaking his head in pure amusement and adoration, tongue digging into the side of his cheek in the cocky way you love. From this angle, the sharp features of his perfect face hover just inches from yours. The sheer attraction you feel makes your walls flutter around his cock, a tease of his reward if he promises to stay.

Rafe screws his eyes shut, his head falling back as you pulse around him repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes, I promise, I promise,” he cries out as he continues thrusting into you sloppily, “I’ll do anything. I’ll sell my house, I’ll change my fucking name. Just ask me and I’ll do it.”

His theatrics delight you, bubbly giggles rising from your stomach as he loses himself in you. You can’t remember ever loving anyone as much as you love him at this moment.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, completely enamored with the man inside you.

Without a thought, he slips the hand on your throat to the back of your neck, kneading your skin as he pulls your mouth to his. It’s not gentle, like his typical good morning kisses, it’s messy and wet and hard and completely mind numbing. You bite on his bottom lip, almost accidentally, losing your mind at the taste of him.

“B-baby,” he stutters, his hips doing the same, “can’t - fuck - can’t wait any longer. Tell me where you want it.”

“Mmmph, inside, please! Please fill me up, Rafe.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he buries himself deeper than he’s ever been.

“Come with me?” he pleads.

You’re so close, you can’t even find words, nodding rapidly. He hits your g-spot one final time and you slip off the edge of the earth into uncut ecstasy.

Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Both trembling, his arm gives out and he slumps down, curled around you. Sweaty and satisfied, you catch your breath together, Rafe still buried deep.

He plants wet kisses on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and blowing gently to cool you down. You see only bright white behind your closed eyes, floating in a perfect pleasure you didn’t know was possible until you met this man.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, he starts to pull out. Your hips chase his defiantly, refusing to lose his warmth again.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, reaching back to grab his hip and hold him in place. “You promised.”

“I also promised to change my name, you gonna make me do that, too?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna call me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “How about daddy?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, Rafe twitching inside you, already hardening again. He knows you’re just playing with him, but his mind spirals out of control at the pet name. He’s so in love he thinks it might kill him.

Settling back into you, he reaches around the bed until his hand finds his discarded cell phone.

Your lips twist into a smirk as you hear him dial, still buried in your heat.

The dial tone rings a few times and he says, “yeah, gonna need you to clear my whole day. Something came up.”

He thanks the voice on the other line, hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere in the mountain of blankets on the floor.

“A whole day?” You ask, nestling back into his chest. “Aren’t you gonna lose the money from those investors?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, laying more slow kisses on your shoulder. “Worth every fucking cent.”

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

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ceruark · 3 months ago

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wanna hear your mother tongue

[gn! reader x dan heng, jing yuan, blade, jiaoqiu, ratio, aventurine, sunday, & boothill (separate)]

Thinking about how some of the HSR men would react to you calling them a term of endearment in a different language/your native language when you two are NOT an established couple... (for me it would be something along the lines of “cariño” or “mi vida,” but of course you’re welcome to imagine any term from any language that suits you best!)

DAN HENG is confused the first few times you use the nickname. His brow will furrow and he may even adorably tilt his head a bit. He knows by your affectionate tone that it’s not anything bad, but of course, it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know exactly what it means.

He’ll turn to the data bank to look into the term’s origin and meaning, which causes him to fall down a rabbit hole of learning other terms of endearment from your language. You can expect him to shyly call you an endearment back the next time you use one on him, and he’s certainly blushing all the while.

JING YUAN’s smirk and the sparkle in his eyes the first time you let the term of endearment fall from your lips are indicators that you’ve made a terrible mistake. Whether or not you’re familiar with the dialect of the Alliance, he’ll fire a nickname from his own mother tongue right back at you, trying to gain the upper hand by flustering you instead.

And by Lan, does he succeed; you’ll keep the name-calling private and save it for when you two are alone, but he has no qualms about showering you with affection in front of a fleet of Cloud Knights, or even in front of the esteemed Fu Xuan. Good luck trying it on this one— you’ll find yourself in a full-scale flirting war, and this is a battle you can’t win.

BLADE isn’t the most emotive guy out there (when he’s not mara-struck), so it’s hard to gauge his reaction, at first. His blank expression makes it seem like the nicknames just roll off his back, so after a while, you stop using them under the presumption that they make him uncomfortable.

This has the opposite effect, of course, and he starts being a bit clingier than usual and following you around with what is most definitely not a pout on his face. It’s only when Kafka unsubtly points out that you’ve stopped calling him those “cute nicknames” that you put two and two together, and you immediately work to make things right. He may not be the best with words, but he’s happy to show his contentment with your endearments by holding you close to him.

JIAOQIU is flustered the first time, flushing red and ears twitching as he tries to compose himself after being caught off guard. Every time after that, though, he grins and graces you with those gorgeous golden eyes when he hears it. His tail may even start swishing from happiness, but you’ll never comment on it aloud, fearing that he’ll consciously stop it from happening.

His reaction is enough on its own to encourage you to keep calling him those sweet names, but you’re certainly not complaining about the delicious food that he starts bringing you in droves. (It doesn’t have anything to do with your little nicknames, don’t be silly.)

VERITAS most certainly knows what the term means, and that causes him to be even more flustered the first time you use it on him. He’s flushed from head to toe, and whatever tangent he was about to go on is completely lost to him, instead replaced by his silence as he hurriedly leaves wherever you’ve decided to pull this over on him.

He’s prepared the next time you do it, though. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the endearment, but he does continue the conversation in your language, speaking it flawlessly. Now it’s your turn to be flustered as you realize you enjoy hearing him speak in your mother tongue more than you care to admit. If there’s a slight smirk on his face from your reaction, neither of you acknowledge it.

AVENTURINE’s reaction is the reverse of how you would expect someone to react: flirt first, get flustered later. He doesn’t need any encouragement to be flirtatious with you, so when he hears the unfamiliar endearment for the first time, he assumes it’s just a normal part of this little game you two have been playing with each other. It’s easy for him to respond with endearments he’d heard older Avgins using growing up, and he even feels a bit giddy being able to use them on you.

Of course, he’s looking up meanings every time a new term pops up in your vocabulary, and his behavior takes a turn when he realizes you’ve started using more intimate endearments— ones typically reserved for spouses instead of those used for casual flirting. You think Aventurine looks good in any color, but you’re definitely partial to the light pink that graces his cheeks when he gets shy.

SUNDAY has been trained to remain carefully composed at all times, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He’s another one that I think would actually know what the endearment means, so he’s immediately blushing and hiding behind his wings— a futile effort, since they’re fluttering far too much to properly serve as a curtain for his flushed face. Once he gathers his bearings, he continues your conversation and acts like it never happened.

He reacts this way the first few times, but as you persist in your efforts, he decides to start playing along. He’s not one to flirt back verbally— he couldn’t possibly make his intentions too obvious— but he does take pleasure in the fact that he can have the same effect on you. If you try to comment on the way that he stands and sits much closer to you now or that his hands linger on your skin far longer than usual, an expression of innocence and casual deflection is all you’re met with. And don’t you dare try to take the endearments back from him now— he’ll only fluster you more until you start calling him those pretty names again.

BOOTHILL takes a few seconds to realize exactly what’s happening, but once he does, you’re in danger. His confusion at the word almost distracts him from the tone you used while saying it, but he catches on quickly and is grinning widely when he does, all sharp teeth and adoration. He returns the favor in kind, and from that point forward you can expect to exclusively be referred to as “sweetheart,” “sugar,” “beau,” and the like.

He can’t get enough of the way the words roll off your tongue, and the sound of it gets him more drunk than any whiskey ever could. Keep things up, and you might find yourself being pulled toward him by the waist as he puts his hat on your head, finally making his feelings for you crystal clear.

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potatoesandsunshine · 1 year ago

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this new max trevelyan situation is sooooooooo. it is so. what if you were trapped in amber (stolen away to the circle) and remain a Pure & Good Soul in the eyes of your generation of the family because you weren't involved in the cutthroat succession fight they all had (because, again, you were trapped in the circle dealing with The Situation In There) and when you finally got out like half your cousins were dead and the other half were a little bit too devoted to the idea that a piece of their childhood remains Untainted in you so you kind of fell into this peacemaker role but right as you finally got everyone talking to each other again you became the center of a religious movement that clearly does not have your best interests at heart. so now those same cousins are sat around a table in a secret basement somewhere trying to decide if they can kidnap you out of it. like on one hand: bonding experience successful! on the other hand if you don't fold them into the inquisition somehow they will be crushed under the boot of it.

#all of these trevelyan cousins are willing to cause a LOT of problems in the haven era #it's a well connected family! what do you mean your trade caravans aren't arriving? how funny!#until max is like cousin varn cousin matthias cousin daphne. please stop cutting our supply lines.#it's very like 'he's supposed to be OUR ray of sunshine. don't fucking look at him.' which. they're a bit insane about it.#i don't have a tag for him yet but i DO know multiple people in the inquisition have decided his family is Too Big A Risk #the war table missions surrounding them are INSANE until they succeed in getting cousin althea placed in haven to spy directly #althea trevelyan in haven: wow this is insane. i respect literally none of you people. except for josephine.#josephine can ask me about a trade dispute in nevarra over tea and i'll tell her everything she wants to know #max 'helen of troy' trevelyan

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salemlunaa · 4 months ago

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✰ FOR YOU TO TAP IN, THE VOID MUST BE THE ONLY OUTCOME ✰

your subconscious doubt is why you “fail” constantly

To succeed in the void you must do one thing, know. That’s it. You must have the intent to shift. And i know you’ve heard that a million times and you’re gonna be like “yeah i live in the end and it still doesn’t work”, and sure, let’s say you do that, but do you wanna know the one problem? It’s that you don’t see the void as the final outcome. You say you’re gonna get in and affirm all day, but in the back of your mind you say “what if i don’t get in”, “i’ll do this tomorrow, just in case i don’t get in tonight”.

That constant “just in case i fail” is what makes you miss out on all your desires. You treat the void like some lottery that MIGHT be successful if you “try hard enough”, or you “just happen to try the right method”. DO I NEED TO REMIND YOU WHO YOU ARE? YOURE A GOD, and the void is IN you, you don’t need to “try” for something that’s inside of you, like at all.

You should KNOW that the void is the final outcome for you.

That the void is the end of the line for you.

That there will be no other possible outcomes of the day except that you get in the void

That there is no “just in case i don’t” or “if not now i’ll try again tonight”

That there is no other outcome, the void WILL happen no matter how much you doubt or no matter what you say.

That there is nothing else that will happen today.

This is the REAL mentality of knowing, not repeating the same affirmations each day, that you don’t even 100% believe, with a “just in case i don’t make it” in the back of your mind. The REAL knowing is knowing that this is your last day in this shitty reality. And i know it sounds like hard work but it’s not. You can affirm it sure, but make sure you know it, truly.

You can’t “try” or “fail” at something that is INSIDE of you, you can’t “try” or “fail”at something that IS you, and lastly you can’t “try” or “fail” at anything because you’re a god, you just do. There is no such thing as “trial and error” for a god, you just are, you just be

TODAY IS THE END OF THE LINE FOR YOU IN THIS OLD REALITY, THE VOID IS THE ONLY POSSIBLE OUTCOME OF TODAY. 🎀💋

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dadvans · 1 month ago

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i love you hockey season i love you hockey narratives i love you old dogs senior sanctuary players in their 30s trying to make it count i love you rookies failing and fumbling and loving the game anyway with the weight of the world on your shoulders i love you soulmates on the same line for years who can find each other blind i love you old men who succeed out of spite for the sake of each other i love you young guns who have fun and win to say fuck you to the old guard who want fighting and killing i love you guys who are fewer now but still resort to fighting and killing so it means the new face of the franchise doesn't get fought and killed i love you man with no teeth and all heart i love you goalie helmet kisses i love you freakass weird goalies with your blair witch omens built on broken hockey sticks hanging from your posts i love you wes mccauley even though you're on thin fucking ice i love you fans rooting for your shitty teams with worse management i love you people booing gary bettman i love you guys who find such a weird fucking loophole midgame that they have to make a new rule that you can't do that and they cite you by name i love you goalie interference whatever you are i love you intricate rituals i love you i love you i love you

#hockey #we're so back

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apartmentsmoke · 3 months ago

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Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #jee yun buckley han #my fic #smoke.txt #dailykinley

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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it is totally okay to be hurt and tired and fed up with the american schooling system but i need you to understand that we need to be better about loudly and routinely defending public education.

yes, many teachers suck, many schools utterly suck. i also got bullied and was absolutely not given the right support for my needs. i am not defending public education because it was kind to me. i am defending it because it needs to exist.

right-wing republicans do not want an educated population. they want kids to be homeschooled or in private school. there is a huge religious undertone to this.

the most common argument is that despite high costs, the "result" is not "good" enough. they point to failing schools as proof that public education is just never going to work out. there will be arguments made here that you actually agree with: that teachers can be bullies, that we taught online for 2 years and still charged the same amount of tuition, that we have no recourse for students to actually have agency or a voice, and that schools are now unsafe for kids due to risk of illness and gun violence.

these are all placing the blame in a fraudulent way, one intended to get your parents to homeschool you. the less kids in a school, the less federally-awarded funding for that school, the less any school succeeds. they will not mention the fact it is their legislation that takes away important funding opportunities, that teachers are living at or below the poverty line, that buildings are not kept up to code, that administration is overpaid and forces specific curriculums, that corporations like (my personal enemy) Pearson Education control certain classroom goals because teachers can't afford other options. they pretend to be ignorant of the gun violence and say "oh just get a gun" - but these are the same people who will be sending their child to a private school with a bulletproof backpack. they don't care if your kid dies, though. they "don't believe" in covid, but they did get their kid vaccinated, because of course they did.

it is a closed loop. conservative parents hear the fearmongering and remove children from the system. frequently these parents are also deeply religious. the kids are raised without access to other media & learn to parrot their parents. you have now created a new generation of conservatives. additionally, one of the parents/caregivers must stay home and homeschool the children, usually for free. i will give you 1 guess which parent tends to stay home to homeschool the children. these parents are encouraged to have many, many children. those children are most likely not getting access to safe sex ed.

we might laugh at fox news suggesting teachers are forcing children to use kitty litter but: first of all, there is kitty litter in the classroom. it's part of an emergency kit in case children are locked in due to a shooter. so that's fucking dystopian, and the fact they've completely reimagined the scenario to somehow make the teachers look bad when it's instead a fucking huge symbol of our failure as a country to protect our children.... it feels a little intentional.

secondly: don't just dismiss the situation. because, yeah, obviously, no teacher is encouraging kids to be a catboy. but the actual undertone that fox news is trying to sew is an outright distrust of teachers and of public education. they rely on the dehumanization of trans people as a common touchstone to hide the fact they're pushing two agendas at once. (which is ironic. because the thing they accuse teachers of. is pushing. an agenda.)

whenever someone tells you they want you to read less, you should be suspicious of that. when someone tries to separate you and your education, you should be suspicious of that. i don't even like incel rhetoric nor would i want my kids exposed to it - but i would not take away my child's (age-appropriate) access to the internet. i would just provide more educational materials, not less. the difference here is that i believe we can resolve ignorance with knowledge; whereas conservatives believe that ignorance is bliss.

they misappropriate funding and demonize teachers. they pull the same trick each time - the same thing we are seeing with anti-trans rhetoric. they do not want you to have access to safe sex ed, so they act horrified, claim sex ed teaches you how to thrust deep, claim that we have no idea what "age-appropriate" means. since the mid-nineties, the united states has spent at least 2 billion dollars on abstinence-only education, even though to quote the above link: "a preponderance of studies has found no effect of abstinence education at reducing adolescent pregnancy". conservatives want you to think less of any person struggling with addiction so they can continue their racist "war on drugs", so they spend up to $750 million dollars a year on the DARE program which has absolutely no effect. acting like teachers "must" be "grooming" children is just the same thing - so they can demand that funding either goes to their causes or the funding doesn't "exist" ("i'm not paying for our kids to learn that thing!")

and they want you to feel uncaring about this. they are aware that you will hate some parts of your school experience. pretty much everyone does. they want to lean into the parts that you hate so that you don't put up a fight about it when they take it away for not being "good enough."

i know i maybe sound like a conspiracy theorist. but truly. truly. it is beneficial for conservatives to reduce your faith in the american public schooling system.

one of the explicitly stated campaign promises of the conservative party: to axe the Department of Education in 2024.

i know we are all tired and burnt out and there is so much else wrong with their entire platform. but maybe just - pay attention to this one.

#i can't believe i have to say this #the conservative party is legit like ''is it anything good? okay we hate it.''#''lets kill lgbt people and ummmmm school children shouldnt be able to read they should be at home watching jordan peterson :)"#the fact that it's like all related is. wild.#like it's wild bc if u start being like. actually making it impossible to afford housing is part of how they keep the nuclear family.....#it's just like lines connecting to lines. EXCEPT ITS OBVIOUS?#what's wild to me about most conspiracy theorists is that they're like . ohhhh the govt is hiding shit!!!!!!! they don't want u to know!!!#and im like. this old man literally got up on stage and said he hates public education and will let our kids die before taking away ak-47s #and ppl are like: lol thats just bob's sense of humor he didn't mean it literally uwu

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lailols · 1 month ago

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TXT when you call them by their name

Soobin

- sassy, pouty, isn’t moving an inch until you get his name right

“Soobin!” You say shaking so you jostle him from how you’re cuddling, “Look at this video.”

He does the exact opposite. Sitting up and shifting to the end of the bed so you’re not touching without saying a word.

“Soobin?” You call out and crawl over to him, sprawling yourself on top of him, “What’s wrong? Look at this video.”

He hmphs and flips over so you fall off of him.

“Helloooooooo” You start shaking him. “Why are you doing this? Did I do something?”

“I don’t know angel, did you?”

“No? Soobin, we’ve been sitting here watching TikTok’s for like an hour.”

“Hm, I guess not darling.” He says standing up.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, love, probably somewhere that I’m loved and appreciated”

“Um?” You stand as well, “What are you talking about, Soobin?”

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose!” He pouts ans stomps his foot.

“Doing what?”

“Calling me that name.” He spits the words like a curse.

“Soobin? Baby, that’s your name!” You say cradling his cheeks.

“Nope, not to you.” He shakes his head, “Calling me that is basically saying you want me to never succeed in life and die.”

“I didn’t realize calling you by the name your parents gave you was a crime”

“It is when it’s you”

“Okay, I’m so sorry my sugarplum gumdrop lovemuffin pumpkin sweetie pie.” You say peppering kisses over his face.

“I’d rather my name to that monstrosity”

“Beggars can’t be choosers”

Yeonjun

- he’d rather you just kill him, actually

“Yeonjun, look at this!” You go to run up to the display but are stopped by the horrified gasp that leaves your boyfriend’s lips.

Yeonjun falls to his knees in the middle of the mall, clutching his heart, “I think I might be dying.”

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?” You kneel next to him and while scanning his body trying to see whats hurting him.

“You calling me Yeonjun must’ve taken ten years off my lifespan.” He cries dramatically, curled in on himself, “I can feel the cold, clammy hands of death already.”

“I thought you were hurt, asshole.” You slap his shoulder and stand up to walk away.

“Noooooooo” his whines follow you as he scrambles to catch up, draping himself on top of you “baby, you were supposed to give me the kiss of life and call me by my name”

“Me calling you by your name is how we got into this situation.” you say with an eye roll.

“Not that name, the name only you can call me!”

“I call you a lot of names, which one should I pick?”

“The one that you think fits me the best!”

“Oh, okay, idiot”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!” You say with a shrug.

“That’s not romantic at all!”

“You didn’t say it had to be romantic!”

“It was implied!

“Fine! My idiot~”

“That’s works too.” He says with a grin.

Beomgyu

- fights fire with fire, don’t play with him

“Beomgyu, can you zip my top please?” You ask watching him through the mirror.

“Sure, y/n, I can do that, y/n” he says, stepping up to zip you.

Your brows furrow, “…oooookay, thank you?”

“What’s wrong, y/n? I thought you wanted me to zip up your top, y/n?” He says with a shit eating grin.

“Why are you saying my government name so much?”

“Oh, I thought that that’s what we were doing, y/n.” He cocks his head at you .

“No? Gyu, why would we do that?”

“You literally called me Beomgyu five minutes ago!”

“I wasn’t doing it to be mean, I was doing it because it’s your name genius.”

“Well, then I’m just doing the same thing, y/n”

“Gyuuuuuuuu, stop I don’t like it”

“Are you sure, y/n? Because if my name slips out so naturally, you must like it, y/n. And if you like my government name, y/n, isn’t it fair to assume that you like your government name as well, y/n?”

“No, actually, it is not, Beomgyu”

“It seems like it is, y/n, because here you are, continuing to call me that.”

“You’ve called my name at least 100 times in the last five minutes”

“I had a point to prove and my honor on the line.”

“I’m so sure.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

Taehyun

- realizes and is vv confused

Taehyun! Can you grab some food on your way home? I don’t feel like cooking🥺

He had to read the text five times to make sure he wasn’t crazy.

Were you upset he wasn’t home yet? He told you he’d be at the gym late tonight but maybe you wanted to spend some time together before bed.

Did you want him to cook? Should he have telepathically sensed that you weren’t in the mood to cook and stayed home to make you your dinner?

Obviously he doesn’t actually believe any of this, but his name being in the text message instead of babe, love, hyun, or even tyun is very worrying.

He decides to cut his workout short and grab something to cook for you.

He even brings it up to the room so you don’t have to move to eat.

“Oh? What’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing…. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby, I’m fine.” You say grabbing the bowl. “How was the gym? You’re back pretty early”

“The gym was good, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes??? Tae, why do you keep asking?” You ask with a laugh.

He mumble something and then says again louder, “You called me Taehyun when you texted me and I was worried you were upset about something.”

“Oh! No, love, I’m not upset.” You chuckle, “I just realized that a lot of my nicknames for you are parts of your name so I just wanted to test out the full thing to see if it sticks.”

“And… did it stick?”

“Not really. It feels too formal to call you by your name.”

He lets out the breath he was holding, “That’s good, I didn’t really like it either.”

Kai

- pouty but doesn’t want you to realize

“….Hueningkai?”

His head whips around to you like he was struck. He looks you up and down to gauge your emotions but you’re just standing over the pot as serene as ever. It’s fine, he’ll play it cool and act completely natural to see if you’re upset.

“Ye-ah?” Shit, his voice cracked.

“Can you pass me the salt?”

“Sure, babe.” He grabs the salt and goes to hand it to you.

“Thanks, Hueningkai.” You try to take the salt from him, but he doesn’t let it go, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He lets go of the salt like it’s on fire.

You add the salt in and put the pot cover on so it could simmer and then turn around to find Kai sulking in front of the fridge.

“Kai?…. Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! What’s up?” He jumps up and leans against the fridge in an attempt to look natural (he doesn’t).

You eye him for a bit before continuing, “Why are you standing all the way over there? We usually cling to each other while we cook.”

“Oh, I just wanted to be ready incase you needed something else.”

You eye him again, “If I needed something else, we could’ve just walked over there and gotten it. You don’t have to wait like I’ll kill you if you don’t bring it fast enough”

“Yeah, but…” he trails off

“But, what?”

“Does it not annoy you when I don’t give it right away?”

“I mean, not really? And if it did, I’d just grab it myself”

“Hm…” he pouts and looks away from you

“What made you think I was annoyed, baby?”

“Well… you called me by my full name when I took too long to pass the salt.”

“Honey, I was just trying to get your attention. When I called you the first few times, you didn’t respond.”

“Oh…”

#txt x reader #txt #tomorrow x together #soobin x reader #soobin #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #taehyun x reader #txt taehyun #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai

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smutallyouwant · 2 months ago

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Twice One-Shot World chp.4

Are You Satisfied Sir?

Word Count: approx. 1.5k words

Momo x Reader Dahyun x Reader

You're a working man that's in need of relaxation after a heavy work. And you tried the newly opened body massage spa with discounts for their opening.

After working in your minimum wage paying work you chose to walk to your home as it's less than 2 km away. You've walked by many food shops but only one shop caught your eye. It's not a food store but a body massage salon. It had crazy discounts that a minimum wage earner like you could afford. You think that your body needs this so you quickly enter and get greeted by a beautiful girl wearing a pink top, a robe, and a short white skirt.

" Hey boy, looking for relaxation? " She said.

" Yes, are the signs outside true? I mean your discounts "you answered

" Yes sir, I'm Momo and let me assist you "

" Our full body massage is only $6.99, and I'm the one who will be making it for you" Momo added.

" That's great, I'll avail that one "

" Okay sir, let me just get your name and your payment "

Momo talked to the cashier and made you fill up some papers. Then she guided you to a room with one bed, a pillow, and a table with some things for massage.

" I'll wait here sir, please remove all your clothes and put it in the box right there. Lie down on the bed with a cover on your buttocks and call me when you're done " Momo instructed.

" It's okay now you can come in "

" Okay, I'll start now sir "

Momo tapped your shoulders and back first, and then rubbed oil on them. Her touch sends shivers in your spine as every gentle thrust of her hand cools your muscle down.

" You know our spa did not have success on its opening so we are forced to have crazy discounts " Momo said.

She's trying to have small talks while she massages your back and shoulders.

" Oh is that so, but thanks to that I can relax after a full load of work. But I hope your business will succeed in the future "

" We're trying different approaches for customers now, so they will be regulars. Do you want to try it sir? " Momo said near your ear whispering.

Her airy breath made your skin cold.

" Does it come with additional payment? " You asked.

" Of course not, we just want to make sure that you're satisfied and relaxed " Momo said before licking your ears.

Momo licks your ears as she massages your shoulders. This causes you to moan gently. She sucked your earlobes and her hands are slowly sliding to your bottom. She removed the towel and slid her hand to your shaft.

" This is quite a big dick you got there sir, would you mind changing your positions? "

As you lay back in bed, you saw her lowering a strap of her top revealing a nice big tit. She made you suckle into it while she put oil on your dick.

" Here, suck my breast sir. Use it as a stress reliever. You can reach onto the other tit if you want "

With that said, you fondled her other tit while sucking into the other like a baby. Momo started stroking your dick and moaning gently.

" Can I kiss you? " You said.

Without hesitation, Momo leaned over with mouth open and her tongue exposed. You sucked her tongue and made out with her sloppily. This made you so horny that you came on her hands.

" Mmmmhh, that's a lot of cum sir. Are you satisfied? "

" Not yet " you answered.

Momo then removed her shorts and underwear leaving her skirt on and an exposed pussy. She leaned on the other table and spread her legs looking at you seductively. You quickly got up and lined your shaft to her pussy, thrusting as deep and as hard as you could.

" Ughh,ughh, ugh you're so big sir "

Her top was still hanging onto her chest, that makes her look so hot. Her make up is a mess and you can't stop fucking this beautiful masseuse.

" So you're ready to be a slut for your business? I'll advertise your business in exchange you'll be my personal slut okay? "

" Yeshhh shhiuur "

Her words are muffled as you hold her mouth with your big hands. You're near cumming so you rammed as hard as you can, things fell off the tables and Momo starts shaking.

" Ughh! shiirrr I..I..I.m cuosmming "

You planted your dick deep and creampied the masseuse as she trembled with pleasure. Momo laid down on the floor as her pussy is still squirting and oozing with your cum. You sat down on the bed and rested.

As you rest, the curtains opened and a masseuse with crazy slim body wearing pink tube and skirt appeared.

" Hello sir, are your sessions over? Can we clean this room now? " she said.

" No, I'm not satisfied yet "

" Well I'm Dahyun sir, can I help you with that? " She said while closing the curtains.

She held her hands on your neck and looked at you with a smile .

" Of course you could be of any help " you said before pulling Dahyun for a kiss.

Dahyun replied, not shy with using her tongue. Your hands automatically roam her breast and the other just slides on her silky smooth skin feeling her crazy curve.

" Fuck you have the sexiest body I've seen " you blatantly said.

" Then use my body to satisfy yourself sir "

You kissed and licked every inch of her body removing her tube bra. You sucked her neck, her shoulders, licked her underarms, her tummy, her hips, and suckled on her tits. You made her face the table revealing her silky smooth white back. Dahyun moaned as you licked her back and kissed it while playing with your dick.

You smacked her butt, repeatedly causing her to moan.

" Ughh! Sir don't hit me hard "

This just caused you to hit harder as Dahyun bit her lips every hit. It left a red mark, you lined your shaft now and started thrusting inside her pink pussy.

Dahyun looks at you with your mouth open as you ram her from behind. You smack her butt repeatedly so that the red mark won't disappear. You can see in her face that she was pleased with every hit you make. Her hourglass body was so crazy that you can use it as leverage with only one hand. Your other hand goes pulling her pony tail.

" Urrgh, uggrh, urrgh "

Dahyun moans with pleasure as you fuck her like a wild animal. You pulled her closer and slapped her many times. Dahyun likes it and smiles every slap. This made you cum inside her in an accident. You cannot hold it longer so your cum spurted inside her.

" Uughh, heheh hehe "

Dahyun giggles as she trembles in pleasure.

You ended up fucking her again in another room. Violating her more as she likes. After satisfying the masseuse. Momo greeted you goodbye with a gift.

A lifetime 50% off for the spa in exchange for advertising the business in the company you work on.

From then on their business had customers with some regulars. Momo and Dahyun become your personal prostitutes every time you visit the spa. Sometimes Dahyun likes to ' train ' new masseuses with you and you ended up fucking every new recruits they had.

#twice imagines #twice smut #twice x reader #kpop smut #twice #momo smut #dahyun #dahyun x reader #momo x reader

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hellodropbear · 2 months ago

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take me back

alexia putellas x reader

angst

neither of you had anticipated a career-ending injury.

neither of you realised what it would mean

~~~~~~

Alexia Putellas is an expert.

An expert of football, of family, of friends. An expert of cooking, of driving, an expert of making people laugh.

An expert of having a girlfriend, of making you the happiest person in the world.

She is an expert and she prides herself on her unique ability to master anything that she sets her mind to.

You think that might be why she has taken this so hard. Why she can’t seem to come to terms with the reality no matter how hard you try to tell her that fighting this is futile.

But this is something that you pray she will never be able to master.

Because a career ending injury for you felt like the end of the world, but for her, for Alexia Putellas - the two time Ballon d’Or winner who had dedicated every minute of her life to this, her career, the end of her career would mean the end of her.

She lived for the chants of her name that echoed around camp nou, the three syllables sending uncontrollable shivers down her spine, her hands shaking and heart racing as she fought those emotions that threatened to explode out of her.

Running out onto that pitch with what felt like the world on her shoulders, those times where adrenaline kicked in and would be able to do anything she wanted.

When the ball struck the goal, rippling the net and sending the stadium into a frenzy, loud as she celebrated with her teammates, with the crowd.

Celebrating because in those moments everything made sense, it was worth everything she had ever sacrificed, everything she put in.

It was what she lived for, those moments on the field were irreplaceable.

The pride, happiness, excitement.

The sadness and longing as well, for times when she was the one cheering out her favourite players name as she sat in her fathers lap, their seats never vacant in the large stadium.

Football, for Alexia, is everything.

Her entire life. Her happiness and sadness, her excitement and fear. It makes her so incredibly carefree even when she feels like one wrong move would cause the colossal weight she carried around with her drop and crush her to the ground.

But she is an expert of walking that line between triumph and failure, aware that at any point she could be harshly shoved in either direction. But she is so determined that she will succeed, that her team will succeed.

It was something that connected her to her father, something that she could share with her friends and family who didn’t play. Playing football for Barcelona ran deep in her veins, a passion she can feel running through her all the time.

Even after the games, as the tiredness caught up with her, as she crashed from the overwhelming adrenaline that had been pumping through her for the past 90 minutes. After the games she could celebrate with her family, smile and laugh with them as they clapped her on the back, hugging her and kissing her, proud and content.

Because football was everything, to Alexia and to her family. They were connected by those powerful chants, the red, yellow and blue stripes that emblazoned their hearts.

But for you, football wasn’t everything.

Football was what made you happy, of course. It was what connected you with your teammates, with other players from around the world.

It was where you felt the most carefree, where you felt you could let loose and forget about all of your problems.

It was what gave you Alexia, the love of your life.

But that was all football really was for you.

There was no real connection, no family for you to celebrate with.

No expectations and no pride either.

There was no weight on your shoulders that told you that success was the only option, no trophies in your apartment that held your name on shiny plates.

It was just you and a football, your friends and your girlfriend.

It was where you were happiest, of course it was, but it wasn’t your entire being.

You could live without it.

At least that’s what you told yourself as the physios spoke, as they relayed the news that you had been waiting to hear for what felt like years.

It had only been a year since it all began to fall apart, but it had been so much longer since you had realised that maybe your career wouldn’t be all trophies and happiness, all those rainbows and sunshine that you had wished for as you kicked around a ball with the boys in the school yard.

~~~~~~

1 year earlier

The back pains were nothing new. It wasn’t a sudden aggravation that had you worried, it was a constant dull ache in the base of your back that you had gotten used to in your early teenage years. The aggravations and flare ups were just something you lived with.

You didn’t think it was related to the tingling in your legs or the weakness that would overcome you after training sometimes. You had thought those symptoms were just fatigue, overuse. Issues that could be managed and fixed with appropriate recovery.

But you have had back pains for as long as you can remember and you adjusted your life to keep them at bay back when you were a teenager. All the seats in your apartment were lined with cushions, your washing machine and dryer were both up on the wall so you don’t have to bend forward and load or unload your washing.

You had become a master of using your feet to open and close cupboards and drawers, often using your football techniques to pick objects up off the floor without having to bend forward.

You were a well oiled machine, the actions all in your subconscious as you tried to live your life free of pain.

But then one day you’d have to do weights in the gym and the pains would come flooding back, leaving you sore and stiff for the next few days, unable to even lie in bed without immense pain radiating through you.

You thought it was normal, that the back pains were just some muscle aches that came from bad technique in the gym.

You would tell yourself that you’d ask a trainer to check your technique. But you never did.

Part of you knew that it wasn’t nothing, that a pain that was nothing didn’t last this long. But it was scary, you didn’t want something to be wrong. You didn’t want anyone to know that there was anything wrong.

So you continued to live your life with your adjustments, ignoring the brief frown Alexia would shoot you as you performed yet another daily task in an adjusted way.

She would ask you about it, why you flinched when she pulled you towards her in bed. Why you picked everything up with your feet, always crouching down to the ground whenever you had to reach to the floor.

But you used the same response each time. It was a habit, all of it. You had moved like that all your life, there was no reason to change it.

Part of you wanted to believe that yourself, you’d try and tell yourself that nothing was wrong, it was all just a habit.

All just fatigue, overuse.

You never actually told yourself that there was something wrong because that was just like manifesting something you didn’t want into reality.

Doctors through your childhood had told you it was nothing, they told you it was growing pains and overuse, that if you iced your back and rested for a few weeks it would go away.

It never worked, but you would tell yourself you were fine and go back to football anyway.

Your parents wouldn’t even know, not when they were so busy with work.

~~~~~~

It had been a few weeks before the match that your back had been hurting more again. It was exhausting, the pain. Hiding the pain from Alexia, from your team. Pushing through the pain even when it felt like your back could simply collapse from all the pressure.

But you had done it before and you were sure you’d have to do it again. It was nothing new.

That thought didn’t help the hammering in your chest and the pulsating pain in your back as you sat in the locker room before the game.

It was like you knew something was going to go wrong, the way your hands shook as you tried to tie up your laces, accepting Alexia’s help as you struggled to tie your hair back.

“You feel so tense, my love. What’s going on in your head?”

She looked at you curiously, her facial expression soft.

“Just the usual nerves,” you had replied, your voice shaking.

She could hear in your voice that there was something wrong but knew better than to push further in the locker room, so exposed, so vulnerable. She would ask you later, she thought, instead just pulling you into a hug, holding you close to maintain pressure and trying to ease some of your nerves.

It had worked, you thought, your nerves calm as you walked out, breaths even as you lined up, as you posed for the photo and as you jogged over to your starting position.

It was an easy game against Seville, a constant flow of goals flying into the back of the neck.

But it was a gruelling one, with the increasingly frustrated opposition becoming more and more physical with every goal conceded.

You found yourself on the floor over and over again but you had been able to break your fall with your arms, easing yourself onto the ground to avoid the searing pains that would shoot up and down your back and legs if you aggravated it.

But this tackle had come out of nowhere, you hadn’t even seen them coming.

The ball was barely in your vicinity, but she barged into the side of you, easily knocking you off your fatigued and lethargic legs and onto the floor with a loud thump.

And as soon as you hit the floor, you felt it like you had never felt it before.

You were lying on your stomach so able to rest your face in the ground as you groaned in pain, whacking the floor with your hand and writhing in pain as you struggled to move your legs.

You could barely hear the commotion above you, you could barely feel Alexia’s soft hand on her cheek as she knelt beside you and tried to wipe away some of your tears.

“It’ll be alright, my love. You’re going to be ok.”

You could only wince, your breath hitching as physios began to poke and prod at you, eventually flipping you over and lying you down on the stretcher.

It was then that the pain became unbearable, it was then that you let out an ear piercing scream, agony radiating through your body. It was when you were in the back rooms that everything became too much, too overwhelming for your weakened body.

It was in the back rooms that everything turned dark.

~~~~~~

“What do you mean, long term?”

Alexia’s voice was harsh but you could hear how anxious she was. You could feel her hand on your arm, clammy and shaking as the doctors hesitated.

But your eyes opened before they could speak and she was immediately moving closer, cupping your face in her hand.

You could see the tears in her eyes, the fear in her face.

You had never seen her like this before.

“Ale.”

She smiled, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Amor. Hey.”

She brushed your hair out of her face with her spare hand, closing her eyes and sighing quietly.

“They’re saying they think you’ve been in pain for a while. Long term.”

You nod. There was no point in trying to keep that brave face, not when the doctors were right there.

“It’s been a while.”

She frowns, subconsciously grabbing your arm and squeezing it.

“How long? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug.

“It’s been a while, Ale. I just sort of forgot about it, I didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

She let out an uncontrolled exhale, shaking her head as if wishing this was all just a dream.

“I’m sorry, Ale.” You reached up to stroke her cheek with your hand. “I thought I was fine. I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”

She continued to shake her head.

“No, I should have known.”

One of the doctors took a step forward.

“We want to run some tests. We want to know if there’s anything else that’s been bothering you, if you’ve had any pain other than that in your back.”

You nod hesitantly, biting your lip.

“Sometimes, in my legs. I didn’t think it was related but sometimes they’ll go numb, or just really sore. They feel so heavy and tired when I walk and then I’ll get pins and needles, or shooting pains down my legs.”

I hear Alexia’s heavy breathing but I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with her, not after lying to her for all this time.

“And your back, what’s that pain like?”

You nod, taking a deep breath before answering.

“It’s always there, like a pulse. But sometimes if I go too hard in the gym it’ll flare up. Sometimes it’ll get worse if I just bend forward to pick something up. It’s been worse recently, I was going to tell someone.”

The doctor nods.

“We’ll take you for those tests. You’ll be fine, Miss. It’s good that we know now.”

~~~~~~

Severely herniated discs is what they told you. Only three of them, but apparently that was enough to damage your nerves that travelled all down your legs.

They had told you that if you ever wanted to play football again, surgery was necessary. They would have to remove portions of your vertebral discs and hope that it didn’t damage the pathology of your back.

They couldn’t promise anything.

All they said was it was a severe case.

You were silent as Alexia drove you home, she was silent too. You didn’t even notice you had pulled up in the car park until she had opened your door for you, right there in front of you and wiping away your tears.

“It’s going to be ok, my love. They’ll cut out some of your back and then you’ll go through rehab but you’ll be ok. You’ll be good.”

You nodded absentmindedly, taking her hand to ease yourself out of the car.

They had told you that they couldn’t be worsened by walking, by engaging in everyday activities like sitting and sleeping. But you felt like you could make it worse. It was like you had lost trust in your back, something so vital in allowing you to do anything, something so vital in your simple existence as a human being.

“Ale…”

She shook your head.

“You don’t have to apologise. I should have done something. I knew something… I saw you wincing all the time, I noticed you never bent forward. I never did anything, even when I noticed. I should have done something, I should have told someone.”

“No, Alexia. No.” You shook your head, grabbing her hands that rested on your face.

“It’s not your fault. I could have said something but I didn’t. Even if you said something, I wouldn’t have admitted it. I didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

She nods, her eyes watering.

“I just feel… so guilty. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

You shake your head, chuckling dryly.

“You speak like I’m dying, Ale. You speak like I fell off the side of a cliff and you were the one who pushed me. It’s just a back. It can be fixed.”

You watch as she nods, dropping your hands to wipe at her eyes.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt. That’s all.”

~~~~~~

You spend the next few days in bed, laying on a mountain of cushions as Alexia waits on your hand and foot. She’s careful, all the time. Cautious not to jolt you, lying down motionless beside you, arms and legs by her side like she’s in a coffin.

She will take your hand sometimes, but you don’t know how to tell her that all you really want is her comfort. Something to take away the pain that radiates through you.

You just wanted her.

You wanted her to smile more, to stop walking around looking like the world was coming to an end.

But you realised, eventually, that if she was in your shoes, it would be her world coming to an end.

You and Alexia had been together for years. You had met after you moved to Barcelona from Menorca when you were 15, following your father’s work opportunities.

It worked out for you, finally given some opportunities to progress in the sport that you had discovered you were good at, able to trial for the prestigious La Masia, to play in front of scouts when you got in.

You didn’t board, yet you were new to Barcelona. You couldn’t speak a word of Catalan and fit in with the other day girls, yet you didn’t have the bonding experience in the dormitories with the other girls who were from elsewhere in Spain.

You were lonely, isolated. You spent your lunchtimes in the toilets, you sat alone at the back of your classes and alone on the bus between the school and the training campus.

But one day, you were assigned partners in a maths class and you were paired up with Alexia Putellas.

You were terrified, to put it simply. She was like the queen of the school, despite only being in the first year. She was popular, confident, talented. Not the sort of person to befriend the lonely girl from Menorca.

But you were partnered together and despite expecting the maths to be awkward and tense, you actually enjoyed it. You laughed with her like you hadn’t laughed with someone since moving across the country. She spoke in Spanish without a complaint, telling you that she would help you with your Catalan, that some people in your grade were just too snobby.

You always thought she was the ringleader of them, but as you got to know her, sat together in maths class, you realised she was quite the opposite to what you thought.

She was kind, funny. She always had a witty comeback at the ready, something to make you laugh. She wasn’t great at maths, but she didn’t let you pull her through it, insistent on learning the concepts, of mastering them like she did everything else.

She loved her friends, her family. You thought that maybe one day you would be real friends with her too, not just someone she sat with in maths class in that first year of La Masia.

But eventually she wondered why she never saw you in the cafeteria during lunch, why you were always by yourself at the front of the bus when everyone else was loud and rowdy with their friends.

It was a soft topic for you, self conscious of your severe lack of friends, especially in front of Alexia Putellas - likely the most popular and respected person in your year.

But she understood when you told her you didn’t really have a group and said that you were more than welcome to sit with her and her friends.

You smiled, thanking her, but you knew you would not accept her offer. It was one thing to have no friends, but another thing entirely to go over to the group of popular girls as Alexia Putellas’ charity case.

Another few weeks went by and she brought it up again, wondering why you were still sitting in the toilets. She made a joke about it, you blushed and the rest of the maths lesson was awkward, neither of you quite knowing what to say.

But at lunch time that day, you walked into the toilets and found them occupied, Alexia sat on the bench and munching on her lunch.

“This is so unhygienic,” she had remarked. “I promise, it’s so much nicer outside.”

It was the start of something that quickly became your whole life. Alexia Putellas became your whole world. You were inseparable, Eli became another mother, Jaume another father and Alba became the younger sister that you had wished for your whole life.

You were 13 when you met, 13 when you became friends.

You never stopped being friends, but somewhere along the way, sometime when the pair of you moved into the B team she had kissed you. It was short, experimental. It was both of your first kisses, and quite quickly you both realised that neither of you ever wanted to kiss anyone else.

You were 18 when she kissed you, 18 when she asked you to be her girlfriend.

Neither of you had ever looked back.

Even when you were sent away from each other on loans, you struggled through long distance together.

When Jaume died you both moved back to Barcelona, both grieving the death of the vivacious man.

You supported her throughout it all, you were her rock when she was so busy being the rock for her mother and for Alba.

She always said that she never could have gotten through that time without you, she wouldn’t be where she is today if you weren’t there with her all those years ago.

It might be why she feels so guilty now, because she didn’t think she was there for you like you were for her. Because if she was there, really there, you surely would have told her that something was wrong.

But she didn’t know that it had been a problem since before you’d met, since you lived in Menorca, not even aware of each other’s existences.

“Ale. Please.” You look over at her longingly as she once again eases herself onto your bed, settling uncomfortably on top of the sheets.

She gives you a look, confused and uncertain.

“What do you need?”

You sigh.

“I need you.”

She frowns, biting her lip as if assessing her options. She can either stay where she is, not moving you at all but likely disappointing you or she can move into your space, pleasing you but potentially aggravating your back

But before she can make her own decision, you do it for her, reaching out and pulling her towards you, into your arms. She rests her head gingerly on your chest and you feel her exhale, tension quickly leaving her body as your arms wrap around her.

“You can breathe now, Ale. I’m alright. I just need you to be alright too.”

She nods, her eyes closed. She inhales a deep breath, releasing it out onto you.

“I love you. I just want you to be ok.”

You nod, feeling her becoming more stressed again.

“I will be. It’ll be one surgery and then rehab. I’ll be back out there before you know it. Can’t let you get that much better than me, can I?”

She chuckles dryly, shaking her head.

“No, never.”

She hesitates and a comfortable silence settles upon you. It’s easy to read her, after knowing her for so long. You know when she’s sad, happy, angry. You can read the deeper emotions too and you can easily tell when she’s hiding behind those more superficial ones.

And right now you can tell she has more to say, which is why you aren’t surprised when she breaks the silence.

“I will be here for you, every single day.”

It’s a reassurance you didn’t need. You knew she would always be here for you.

“And I’m going to be the person you talk to, the person you cry to and the person you yell at. There may be times where you don’t want to do it any more, when it’s just all so hard that you want to give up… I won’t let you and you will hate me for it. I just want you to always remember that I am going to help you because I love you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

You wipe away the tears that slipped down her cheeks, smiling softly and planting a kiss on her head.

“I know. I know it all comes from that big heart of yours. And I love you too, of course. Even if I tell you I don’t, I do. Even when I’m yelling, begging you to let me stop, I love you.”

She nods, another silence falling upon you.

It was necessary that night. A new territory that you entered when she tore her ACL, but not one that’s ever been this way round.

You’d never even had a serious injury before.

~~~~~~

The year passed and you were good. You went through rehab, you made your comeback in a full stadium for the last 5 minutes of a champions league quarter final.

Your back was pain free and you had been thriving. Better than ever, completely happy.

But then you felt a twinge. A small twinge but one that was overwhelmingly and terrifyingly familiar.

For a couple of days, you pretended that it wasn’t there. You fought off its existence, praying that it was nothing big, praying that it was a… phantom pain or something.

Your surgeons had told you that there was a small chance that the remaining parts of the discs they cut up could do the same thing, would herniate again. It was unlikely, but there was a possibility that you’d have to go through the whole thing again.

They had stressed how unlikely that was, put so much emphasis on how the surgery was a success and they expected you to have a full recovery.

But as you sat at home, waiting for Alexia to return, you knew that wasn’t the case.

The injury was something you were familiar with and you knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore it for any longer. You had herniated discs again, or something, and you knew they couldn’t keep doing the same thing - they couldn’t take out more of your discs like last time.

You allowed the tears to fall freely, a complete feeling of helplessness washing over you. You had done everything right, you were sure, yet it came back.

It wasn’t fair.

Alexia found you like that, in tears on the sofa and she was quick to rush to your side as soon as she opened the door.

“It’s back, Ale.”

You had broken down then, sobbing into her chest as her arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

You could tell by the way that she tensed that she knew what you meant. You could tell by the shaking of her voice that she was just as scared as you were.

“What’s back, my love?”

You looked up at her, tears in your eyes and a look passed between you. One of understanding, of care. She knew what you meant, she just needed to hear it from you to really believe it.

“The pain.”

~~~~~~

This time was different to last time. Instead of waiting until the pain was so unbearable that you had to be carried off a pitch in a stretcher, you were waiting in the physios office two weeks later, Alexia beside you. You’d visited them already and they told you to go to the hospital. You had scans, MRIs. Massages too. But they didn’t give you the results, instead sending them straight back to the club.

The physios at the club knew you best, they knew what you could and couldn’t do and they knew exactly what you needed to be able to continue at this level.

They could tell you that it was completely fine. Or they could tell you that it is the end of your career.

Alexia knew that, which explained why her hands were shaking more than yours, why you had to put in headphones to block out the sound of her foot tapping on the cold and hard floor. Her nerves were more superficial than yours, easier to identify.

Yours were hidden deep within you, as if they had been pinched and were being held back by your false display of confidence.

But Alexia could read you and she didn’t have to look twice to understand that you were anxious. That the next ten minutes could either change the trajectory of your life or mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Neither of you were naive, you both were aware that this injury wasn’t something to be played through, your nerves and spinal cord were not something you could mess around with now and worry about once your career had finished.

But all she could really do was squeeze your hand reassuringly when it fell into hers, leading you blindly into the office as the physios told you they were ready for you.

As they spoke, you realised that you’d spent the last year preparing yourself for this moment, for the words that were spilling out of their mouths.

Alexia’s hand tensed around yours, her breathing hitching as they finished.

But you were frozen in your spot.

“They can chop up your back over and over again but eventually they’ll run out of things to cut out. It’s in your best interest to stop now, to stop while you're ahead.”

“So she has to retire?”

They discussed other options, therapies that could ease your pain. Surgeries that would take out different parts of your spine, trying to relieve it from the pressure that the herniated discs were putting on it.

But they weren’t confident, not like last time. Last time they would tell you it was just a bump in the road, but this appointment feels like you’ve already reached the very end. Their lack of confidence, the frowns that are carried by the creases in their foreheads, it tells you all you need to know.

Your realisation was immediate. You realised that you’ll be alright because even though this could very well be the end of your road at Barcelona, it’s not the end of everything. It’s not the end of you.

Alexia is close to tears as you leave, her hand gripping yours so tight that you’d be surprised if there was still blood circulating in your fingers by the time you reached the car.

“They mentioned therapies, you can try it. And the laminectomy? It’s completely different to the discectomy that you had last year. You’ll be alright, my love, you’ll be back on the pitch. It’s not the end, I promise.”

You smile, eyes watering. Surprisingly, it’s not because you’re upset about the potential retirement, but more because of Alexia’s clear distress.

“It’s alright, Ale. I just need to have a think about it all, think about what the best options are moving forward.”

She frowns, but you can tell she’s biting her tongue.

You can understand why as well, because if Alexia was in your shoes it wouldn’t be something she’d have to think about. She’d put her body through anything if it meant she could play.

It didn’t matter what consequences it could have on the future, it didn’t matter how brutal recovery could be.

Anything to be part of something so much bigger than herself, anything to experience that pure bliss, to feel on top of the world.

She would do it, no questions asked and no thoughts needed.

The end of her road at Barcelona would be the end of her.

But you’re different to Alexia, in more ways than one. You’re a defender, she’s a midfielder.

You are more approachable, but she is better at bonding with younger players.

She’s funnier, but you are more kind.

You don’t have the confidence that the most popular girl in school would, but she does because she was the most popular girl in school.

You don’t carry that same passion as her, you wouldn’t die for your sport like she would.

You love football, of course you do. Right now a world with football seems so meaningless, like the one thing that you love is being stolen from you.

But unlike Alexia, you know you will be able to move on from that. You will find a new career, you may study to become something different.

Alexia would never be anything other than a footballer. It’s in her DNA, her entire identity. It’s what gets her out of bed in the mornings, what forces her to eat, to charge her body and to put herself through so much pain and so much strain.

It’s who she is.

It’s who she thinks you are too because for her, football is everything.

It’s when you get back home that she speaks, her words even and clearly thought out. A script, of sorts, one that you are sure she had been planning since the moment you told her you needed to think.

“It’s not the end, my love. You heard them, they told you there are surgeries, different ones. There are different therapies that can make it hurt less, maybe to even fix it. You can’t let those stupid vertebral discs win this fight. You can come back, I know you and I know you can do this. Because you’re the strongest person I have ever met, you can do anything.”

She takes a deep breath and you shake your head. She doesn’t let you speak though, not yet.

“I know it’s hard, it’s not what you wanted to hear. It doesn’t feel like something you can fix either, not when you tried less than a year ago and it’s already bad again. I know that. I know how it feels because I had the same thing with my knee. But I had the second surgery, I got better and I trained, I rehabbed and I put in so many hours. It was all worth it though because now I get to run out every week and play the sport I love. I get to run out onto the pitch every week with the girl I love right by my side. You have to give this a go, please. If not for yourself, give it a go for me.”

You sigh, biting your lip as she finishes.

“Ale… it’s not the same. It’s a spinal cord injury, it’s not something that I can play around with. I don’t want to do this now and then by the time I’m 40 have crippling arthritis in my back or have chronic pain that’s worse than when it all started. I know they said therapies, I know they suggested surgeries but I don’t want any more surgeons poking around in my back. I don’t want them to chop off half of the bones in my back because even then they can’t promise I’d ever be match fit again.”

“But you would be! I’m sure of it! You would get better, you would be able to fight against it.”

You shake your head, reaching out and letting your hand rest on your shoulder.

“I can’t do it, Alexia, I can’t. We’re different, you and me. I don’t want to mess up my body forever for football. I’ve had a brilliant career, it’s alright if it’s ove-”

“Stop! Don’t say that!” Her eyes began to water, shaking your hand off her and standing up. “You can’t just… quit! It’s not who you are, it’s not what you do. You’re not a quitter, amor! You’re a fighter, stronger than me. You have to fight for what you love. There’s a chance that you’ll be fine and if you don’t even try you’ll spend your life not knowing whether you should have given it a go or not.”

“I’d rather that than spend my life regretting having the surgery, in pain and stuck in a broken body.”

“I don’t want to say something I regret.”

She shakes her head, walking away.

You know what she wanted to say. You know how desperate she was to yell, to tell you that you should try. That giving up now was the worst thing you could possibly choose to do. She wanted to tell you that your life would mean nothing without football, that you would have nothing left.

Because for her, that is true. It is what she believes.

Her passion is something you admire, but sometimes, it is like poison.

It’s when she shuts the door behind her that you let the tears spill out. Because of course you’re upset, of course you don’t want it to be the end.

You would much rather keep playing, stay where you are with your friends, with your girlfriend.

But sometimes it’s not that easy. Sometimes you have to learn to say goodbye to the things you love.

You make your decision two weeks later, taking it upon yourself to talk to the club, only mentioning to Alexia that you’re not going to have the surgery.

She doesn’t take it well when you tell her you’re going to announce your retirement in the coming days, collapsing into tears but refusing your comfort.

“You don’t understand what I’m thinking, mi amor. If you did, you wouldn’t have chosen this.”

You want to tell her that you do understand, that you know exactly what she’s thinking. You want to tell her that you’re not choosing anything, that you’re completely devastated that this is the end.

But she doesn’t stay to listen, instead escaping and driving away again, you assume to Eli’s. She went to see Alba last time but she had quickly sent her sister back, scolding her for being so naive.

Alexia had no idea what her younger sister was talking about.

A week after telling Alexia, you head into the club. They told everyone it was a mandatory film session to prepare them for the upcoming game. You were the only one who knew the true reason for the random session, although upon arriving you realise Alexia also knows.

There’s no way she’d miss a film session so important.

It’s alright for her to miss you announcing your retirement.

But you think everyone sort of can understand where the meeting is going as soon as you stand out the front, biting your lip with a soft smile on your face.

You knew not to beat around the bush, you knew that if you started by telling them what was wrong you would likely break down into tears and become unable to say what you wanted to.

You refused to admit to yourself how upset you really were, unable to deal with all the sadness that would come with the end of your career.

You refused to reminisce on the past, on joining La Masia, debuting for your club. The euphoria that came with finally signing that piece of paper, the pride that came with finally being called up for the senior national team.

It had all felt so surreal then, just a little girl from Menorca, taking the big stage and representing your country.

Sometimes you still felt like that little girl from Menorca, so naive, so innocent.

But you couldn’t think about any of that now, not without breaking down in front of all of your teammates. Ex teammates.

So you were straightforward, maybe even a little harsh.

“You’re not here for a film session today. You’re here because I’ve made the decision to retire from professional football. I didn’t want to have to make this decision, but there comes a time where you have to look at your priorities. I will miss you all so much and I am so grateful to each and every one of you for shaping my time here. You’re all so important and I can’t wait to see you smash it in the future.”

The room was silent. People’s mouths had fallen open, Mapi was clearly biting back tears.

There was surprise written over all of their faces, anticipation as if waiting for you to tell them that this was some harsh joke, that you’d sit down and Pere would be able to press play on the film.

But that wasn’t the case so you instead endured the hugs, the pats on the back and the reassurances that you wouldn’t be alone, that they’d always be there for you.

You hadn’t ever doubted that, but it wasn’t them that you wanted.

It was Alexia, more than anyone. But she was the only one who wasn’t there.

~~~~~~

She returned home a day later, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, her posture defeated.

“Amor…”

She took a deep breath, staring at the back of your head. You couldn’t see her but you knew what she would look like, you knew how deep her breath was.

“I spoke to Mami. She said I was acting like a child. I agree with her.”

You close your eyes, unaware if she’s moving or if she’s just stood by the door.

“I am here for you. I am supposed to support you through your decisions, to tell you that the things you want are the right things.”

You nod and take a deep breath.

“I know we’re different, Ale.” You know she has heard the tears in your voice by the way she is quickly moving towards you, her presence immediately warming you up.

“I know you would have made a different decision than what I did. But football isn’t everything to me like it is to you. I love it a lot, but I can live without it.”

She wraps an arm around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“You are passionate, Alexia. You are so determined and football is almost your entire being. You love it more than anything else in this world and I understand that, I appreciate it and it’s one of the many things I love about you. I know what your decision would be, but I need you to know that we are different. My decision is different to yours. I can live without it. I can live with myself knowing that I chose this, knowing that I’m doing this to save myself from pain, from endless surgeries and rehab.”

You can feel her nod, carding a hand through your hair.

“I am so confident about this. It’s the right thing. I know it is and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise. I’ve had a great career. I’ve won the champions league, the world cup. I’ve achieved all my goals for myself and now I just get to watch you achieve yours. As long as you’re by my side, I’ll be happy.”

She inhales shakily.

“I was wrong, to tell you that you had to have the surgery. I was manipulative, telling you that you would be quitting. Because you’re not. It’s not quitting. I’m proud that you made this decision, really. I’m proud that you could stop yourself while you were ahead, that you could put aside what you really want to what is best for you. I am so sorry that I told you otherwise.”

Her words were exactly what you needed to hear. She knew you better than anyone, you realise. She knows exactly what you need, exactly how to make you feel better.

Because you collapse into sobs, mourning what you have lost.

But you’re certain that she knows that while you’re sad now, you’ll be alright soon. It will take some getting used to, but you will find your new normal. You’ll find what you need.

“And you’re wrong, my love.”

Between cries, you look up at her, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Football isn’t what I love more than anything in this world. It’s you.”

~~~~~~

3 years later…

It was pure luck that your placement was in the area that you were hoping to work in.

They could have sent you anywhere, geriatrics, paediatrics. You could have gone to the psych ward in the hospital, you could have been sent to the clinic down the road.

But you had been put on a sports physio placement, in the workplace that you were hoping to work in once you graduated that year.

The Barcelona physio team were a familiar group, people you had worked with before, people who knew everything about you, why you had decided to study physio after such a successful career in football.

It was an added bonus that you were able to watch your wife play, your friends alongside her.

It was weird, being on the other side of the fence. Being on the staff bus, surrounded by people you were so familiar with yet in a completely unfamiliar role, a completely unfamiliar setting.

But you loved it, like you had loved every minute of your course so far.

It was something so different, learning so much about how the body works. Learning about how people are impacted by it, physically and mentally. You had learnt so much in what felt like such a short amount of time but realised just how rewarding it was.

To help people who feel like they have hit rock bottom. Reassuring them that their lives won’t be altered forever, that they would be able to move on from their injuries, to find something that suits them.

It was good for you, you had realised. Because you were in that position not long ago. You could relate, you knew how hard it could be.

“I knew you wouldn’t stay away from football.”

Alexia chuckled, her voice slightly muffled over the phone line.

“I wouldn’t have been able to, Ale. Not in a million years.”

But you also knew that there was always an answer. That you always had your people in your corner, no matter what.

~~~~~~ i don't know if i've ever said this on here but i have herniated discs in my back! it meant i had to quit football and dance but because i was nowhere near elite i didn't need any interventions. i know about this stuff because it was discussed at length :)

anyway let me know what you think and what you want to see!

unless i get any very good requests for part 2 this will very likely just be a oneshot :)

#woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso community

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perlelune · 10 months ago

Text

Cruel Summer | Felix Catton

Your mother's money issues make it hard for you to enjoy your summer at Saltburn. Thankfully your cousin is there to comfort you. But what happens when you realize his interest in you isn't just familial concern?

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Start! Reader, Incest, Secret Relationship, Manipulation, Corruption, Innocent Reader, Drugs, Smoking, Filming

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your eyes round as they absorb the massive castle and the vast, lush gardens surrounding it. As you drag your suitcase behind you, you can’t quell the urge to admire everything. Even the towering, perfectly symmetrical trees lining the path to the iron gates. It’s been years since you visited Saltburn, but you don’t remember it being so big or intimidating.

Still, you bask in the chirping of birds and the brightness of the sky above you. You’re compelled to admit it. The English countryside is lovely, a haven away from the pollution and noise of the city. A sharp contrast to the familiar chaos you’re used to back home. The uproar of traffic, from the honking to the shouting. The endless stream of people strutting down the streets. The gigantic ads and the skyscrapers that graze the stars.

A city that never rests or stops for anyone.

While this is home, it all can be so overwhelming. There never is time to just…breathe and be. Here, as you look at your surroundings, you figure it’s all there is to do. Breathe and be.

You push the small iron door on the side, astonished to find it ajar. Did they leave it open for you? You doubt it however. From what Mom told you, consideration for others isn’t one of your aunt and uncle’s strong suits. They’re too wrapped up in their “posh little world”. One your mom isn’t a part of anymore. And neither are you, as you’ve been raised overseas.

As for your brother…well he’s another matter. Shipped from school to school thanks to Uncle James’ “bottomless well of generosity”, he is a free spirit. Seas apart from you in every possible way.

Ever since you were young, the pressure to succeed has gripped you tight and never released you. When others partied and experimented, you were nose deep in your books, stressing over finishing every assignment on time and acing every test. It paid off. You were accepted into your school of choice this summer, with a scholarship no less.

Slacking off isn’t an option for you.

While your brother has a sort of safety net, you’re not so close with that side of your family. You’re their estranged American niece, one they haven’t seen in over a decade.

In fact, you’ve no idea how you’ll be received.

The long walk to the castle is harrowing but gives you time to comb through your memories. You were so little the last time you visited. Still, foggy remembrance floods your thoughts. You played with your cousins by the pond. Made up stories and ran around the fields. You even faintly recall skinning your knees when one of them dared you to try and climb all the way to the top of the stone stairs beneath the stained glass window. You slipped for a long time and wept on the floor, you think. Auntie Elspeth scolded her children and you for playing dangerous games.

Their cherubic faces flicker in your mind.

There were two of them.

A little boy with dark hair and a gummy smile. A blonde girl who giggled all the time. And of course, your brother.

When you’ve reached the castle’s front door, you suck in a wide breath. Before you can even knock on the tall, black doors, they swing open in front of you.

A surprised exhale spills from your throat.

Swallowing, you fall back.

Hands behind his back, a stern man in a suit runs his gaze over you. He is so still, for a minute, you wonder if he’s real.

But then he speaks. “Are you lost, miss?” he asks.

You shift, a surge of inadequacy filling you. Still, you clear your throat and give a tremulous answer.

“Hi. I…I’m here to visit my family.”

The man doesn’t budge, still pinning you with his unflinching stare. Sweat breaks out on your back. Are you at the right place?

“The Cattons,” you offer, an awkward smile stretching your lips. “My brother should already be here.” You start rummaging through your backpack to pull out a map. “This is Saltburn, right? Auntie Elspeth sent me the itinerary but perhaps I-”

He cuts you off, seeming almost annoyed with you.

“Right, you’re…earlier than we expected, Ms. Start.”

“I could come back later-”

“The gates aren’t open. We’d have sent someone to pick you up.”

You glance back, dumbfounded. The gates were definitely open, weren’t they? Or perhaps that little door wasn’t supposed to be crossed. Your cheeks flame. The elaborate rules your wealthy relatives abide by are already eluding you.

Your shoulders heave and fall.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t that long a walk.”

The man stiffly allows you in. You note the two black men standing by the door. They haven’t uttered a single word, blending into the background. Always seen but never heard. You believe your brother mentioned something like that in his sporadic texts and letters. Your gaze tears from them. The inside of Saltburn is even more majestic, a thing you didn’t think possible. Standing in a museum wouldn’t be much different, you suppose, between the antiques sitting on shelves, paintings hanging on the walls and crystal chandeliers hovering above you.

So, this is what generational wealth looks like.

When you were little, you didn’t notice this. You were too busy playing. Now, it’s all you can see.

“Just leave your bag there. Someone will get it for you,” the man says.

“Someone, as in…”

“Someone,” he repeats, staunchly refusing to elaborate.

The grip on the handle of your suitcase tightens.

“I really don’t need it. I can carry it myself.”

The man considers you, his face twitching as if you just spat in it. Your insides stir in confusion. All you’ve said is that you don’t mind carrying your own luggage.

The loud utterance of your name has your head snapping sideways.

Your mouth falls open when a towering, young man in a yellow shirt around your age strides in your direction.

He halts in front of the stern man, chiding him with a playful lilt in his tone.

“Really Duncan? You’re scaring the poor girl. Duncan, stop being so terrifying. She’s family.”

“Well, I shall try.”

You note the subtle warmth in the man’s tone as he addresses the newcomer.

He turns to you, beaming. Your stomach flutters. “Cousin, try not to be too terrified of Duncan.”

You’re taken aback when he grabs the hand gripping the suitcase. His large hand completely engulfs yours.

“I’ll show her to her room. Don’t worry,” he chimes. He pulls you away and you’re forced to keep up with his long, enthusiastic strides. He tosses you a glance, laughing when you sort of hop behind him. “Sorry about that. Duncan’s a bit odd, but he’s alright, you’ll see.”

“And you are…?”

Disappointment creeps on his face at your question. He spreads a hand over his chest.

“Felix, your cousin. Golly, you don’t remember me? Really? That kind of hurts.”

Your eyes grow. The picture in your mind was that of a chubby-cheeked, clumsy little boy. Your cousin definitely isn’t that anymore.

“Oh my god, yes! Felix. You don’t have a lisp anymore and…You’re like a giant now.”

A smug expression lights his features.

“Puberty.”

You laugh in response. “Yeah, I guess we all grew up.”

A strange glint fleets across his gaze as he gives you a quick once over.

“Clearly,” he says, his smile expanding.

He shows you around the estate. You can’t suppress your awe when he mentions Henry VIII, surprised Saltburn’s history stretches that far back. The library also radiates ancient and priceless, countless rare leather-bound books sitting on the shelves. A smile creeps on your face when Felix greets the ghost of your grandmother.

He takes you through a vertiginous amount of hallways until taking you to what will be your room. It’s apparently right next to Venetia’s. You glance around, expecting another long lost cousin to pop up perhaps. But it’s just you and Felix in the vast bedroom.

He leans against the doorjamb while you soak in the room and the massive bed, large enough to welcome three or four people. It’s nothing like your tiny bed at home or the one in your college dorm. This is something you never had, and that is just Felix and Venetia’s normal. It makes you speechless.

You drop your backpack on the floor at the foot of the bed.

The mattress bounces as you plop down on it. You let your fingers skim over the blissfully soft sheets.

Your contemplation is abbreviated by the ringing of your phone. You flip it open. The screen lights up, signaling a new message received. You type on the glowing arrows to find out it’s from Mom.

Remember to ask your aunt and uncle for what we talked about.

I really need you, sweetie.

You unleash a heavy breath. Your mom is the one who pressured you to go on this trip. Ever since her brother’s regular payments have dried up, your mother’s been relentless. She keeps claiming she wants her share of the trust and your uncle argues that she used all of it. First, she recruited Farleigh to speak on her behalf. Your brother’s attempts have met little success however. So your mother enlisted you.

You don’t know what more you can do that your brother couldn’t, but you can never say no to anything your mother asks.

“Is something wrong?” Felix inquires, making his way to your bed to sit near you. The scent of his pricey cologne tingles your nose.

“It's nothing,” you lie. “Just Mom asking if my arrival’s been smooth.”

Your cousin seems like the living embodiment of sunshine, just like you remember. If possible, you want to keep him out of the money issues between your mom and Uncle James.

Felix tilts his head as he studies you.

“It’s kinda funny.”

“What?”

“The way you say ‘mum’”

A laugh peals from your lips.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get used to my accent being made fun of.”

Felix shrugs. “My mum will think it’s exotic.”

You cringe inside. You never liked that word, how it makes you feel like an animal in a zoo.

Switching topics, you ask, “Is my brother around? I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Ah, Farleigh’s probably skulking about somewhere.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

Felix collects the book poking through the zipper of your backpack. He flips through the stained pages of your copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood prince. You accidentally spilled coffee on it during a late night study session.

“You could talk to him about this,” he offers, waving the book. “We’ve kind of been passing around Venetia’s copy. Although I tend to skip to the most interesting parts, but don’t tell everyone else.”

You smile.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you reply solemnly.

He watches you for a long time, long enough for your gaze to find the floor as your face heats.

“It’s really good having you here with us, cousin. I mean it.”

You fidget in your spot. “Thanks.”

Felix flashes you a mischievous grin.

“But I’ll need to make sure you remember me this time.”

The rest of the day is spent reconnecting with your other relatives. Everyone gathers in the library and you get to meet Venetia, realizing she too has changed a lot since you were kids.

Oliver, Felix’s friend from Oxford is also there. From your cousin’s broad explanations, it appears he’s grieving the loss of one of his parents, so he invited him to make sure he isn’t alone. It’s unbelievably kind. Besides, you’re guessing from Oliver’s lost puppy dog stares and awkward manners, that he’s as out of place as you are here. Instant sympathy blooms inside you when you’re introduced to him.

A woman named Pamela is also in attendance. She is Aunt Elpseth’s close friend, though it’d be hard to tell, the way she orders her around like a servant and exposes the long list of tragedies her love life has been to the entire room.

A saying about friends and enemies flutters through your mind as you witness their interactions. It’s such a bizarre spectacle, watching this red-haired woman, dead behind the eyes, bend over backwards for your aunt. You don’t remember Aunt Elspeth being this cold-blooded.

And naturally, there is your brother. Farleigh. Aloof in the back, apart from the Cattons, your eyes collide from across the room. He smiles at you. You smile back. Warmth flows through you.

It’ll be a while before you’re comfortable around each other again. It pains you to say, but you don’t know your own brother all that well anymore.

Dinner’s a strangely formal affair. Everyone’s dressed to the nines, giving the family gathering more of a cocktail party vibe than that of a family dinner. Venetia lends you a dress so you aren’t the odd one out. You thank her profusely. All you packed when you left America are jeans and a few pairs of shorts. It never occurred to you that you’d need any kind of formal wear since you figured you would be around family.

But you failed to take into account said family is also a part of British high society.

Awkwardness fills you as you hesitate over the utensils, the different kinds of knives and forks making you dizzy. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself on the first day. Seeming to grasp your predicament, Venetia nudges your elbow when you grip the right fork and knife.

You mutter a quiet ‘thanks’ and she winks at you.

Several courses are brought on silver platters, one after the other. The entire time, you focus on your plate, swallowing every bland, flavorless bite.

Stiff conversation is exchanged at the table, most of it centering on Aunt Elspeth’s dour-looking friend. Once more, compassion flutters through you.

It’s blatant to everyone at the table that Pamela isn’t wanted at Saltburn anymore.

It’s a relief when dinner concludes and you can return to your bedroom.

You sit by the large window in your room to admire the night sky. Between the skyscrapers and artificial lights, it’s hard finding a spot to look at the stars in New York. Here however, you can make out constellations and various other glittering shapes.

Venetia joins you on the windowsill. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows smoke on the window. She shoots you a cheeky smile.

“So, do you regret coming already?” she teases.

You fiddle with your hands.

“It’s fine. Everyone’s nice. It’s…kind of unreal being here.”

“Just remember this is your home too.”

You mull it over. It is becoming clear to you how much you don’t fit in with the Cattons, despite sharing blood with them. You wonder if it’s how your brother has felt all these years. Like an outsider amidst his own kin. Although, you have to admit he looked quite comfortable at dinner. Far more than you, definitely.

“I’ll…try to remember that.” You hesitate, gnawing on your lip before speaking again. “Is Pamela gonna be okay, you think?”

Venetia shrugs.

“I think she’ll be alright.”

Your lips purse. Who knows how that haunted woman will fare once she’s on her own in the world again? You’re not too hopeful. But it seems like Aunt Elspeth is done with her, so it cannot be helped you suppose.

“If you say so.” You tilt your head at your cousin, dropping casually. “Do you think Uncle James is still up?”

“At this hour, Daddy will be in his study.”

You nod and get to your feet. Wandering the halls of Saltburn at night is a peculiar experience. The shadows clinging to the walls seem to follow your every step. Dusty slices of moonlight spill from the windows, bringing the stern portraits of your distant relatives to life, the aged hues of the paintings shifting in the dim light. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you're being watched. The back of your neck tingles as the sound of your fearful steps echoes in the vast halls. A breeze of cool air seeps through your clothes. You tug on the cardigan Venetia let you borrow from her closet, hurrying your pace.

For a long time, you spin in circles, growing desperate to find your uncle’s study. Your spirits sour. You followed Venetia’s instructions to the letter yet you got lost. A left, a right, straight along the green room, then…another right?

You frown. Now you can’t remember. Why does every hallway look the same here?

Astray in your own mind, you carelessly bump into a hard object.

You lift your gaze. Your jaw drops.

“Felix,” you exclaim, placing a hand over your heaving chest. “You scared me.”

Mirth glints in his brown orbs.

“Lost, cousin?”

Avoiding his eyes, you scratch your am.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” you mumble.

Felix chuckles and seizes your arm.

“It’s not. It’s easy to get lost here.” You gasp as he pulls you alongside him. “Just tell me where you need to go and I’ll show you the way.”

Too dumbstruck by his abrupt appearance, you let Felix drag you through the somber hallways. The sharp twists and turns he takes make your head spin. There is no way you’d have found the study on your own.

He halts in front of two mahogany doors. Your feet bounce as your hand lingers on the brass handles.

Felix knocks on the door and your heart leaps.

“I’ll wait for you here, so you don’t get lost again,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” you squeak.

He leans over you and smiles.

“I insist, cousin. I have to prove to you not all of us are completely horrible…despite what you may have seen.”

Your face warms.

“T-Thank you.”

James’ voice rises from inside the room, giving you permission to enter. You nod at Felix and take shaky steps inside the study. The crackle of logs burning away reaches you. The swaying flames mingle with the shadows, casting a faint orange glow on the room.

“Uncle James, may I speak to you?” you bashfully inquire.

He lowers his round glasses and puts down the notebook in his hands.

“Of course. Anytime, love. Have a seat.”

“Is something troubling you, child?”

You gulp the lump stuck in your throat, staring at your lap for a while before you meet your uncle’s gaze again. You shift in your seat.

You don’t know how to ask or, more precisely, the appropriate way to ask. A wide lungful enters your lungs. Why delay the inevitable?

You elect to dive right into your reason to be here.

“My mother. Well, she was wondering…” Your nerves buzz as your uncle’s sharp eyes cut into you. You clear your throat before continuing. “We were wondering if there were issues on your side because she hasn’t…” Sweat blooms inside your palms as your voice dwindles to a whisper. “Well, you haven’t sent anything like you usually do and it’s been two months now.”

A heavy coat of silence falls over the study. After a while, your uncle unleashes a deep sigh.

“And she sent you to vouch for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. “Mom, she…She isn’t really good with money.” This is a massive understatement, and from the way Uncle James’ eyes bear into yours, it’s clear that he’s also aware of that fact. As much as you love your mom, she’s never been the most responsible with money, often squandering it on flashy things and pretty clothes. More than once growing up, she fell short on a bill and you couldn’t even shower before going to school. “If you could help this one time, then I’ll figure something out for her. I promise.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, young lady?” your uncle challenges.

“I…I’ll find a way. We always find a way.”

“You’re a very good daughter, which I can appreciate…” Your pulse races as you wait with bated breath. “But I’ve given your mother more than enough for her to get on her feet. Still, she always asks for more.”

Your heart plummets. The finality laced in his tone didn’t elude you. Why did you even think you could sway your uncle’s opinion in any way when your own brother, who has been around the Cattons for years, couldn’t accomplish that feat?

“She has issues…but I promise, uncle, she’ll get herself together this time,” you offer.

“I will give it some thought.”

He flashes you a sympathetic smile. You recognize its meaning right away. It’s strikingly similar to the one Aunt Elspeth gave her “friend” at the dinner table.

Understanding you are being dismissed, you get up from the chair and bid your uncle good night.

“Thank you for listening,” you say glumly before leaving.

As Felix escorts you back to your bedroom, you can’t help but notice that Uncle James never once referred to your mother as his sister.

You frankly doubt he will give what you said any semblance of thought. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that entire conversation vanished from his head the second you stepped out of his study.

The rest of the week goes smoothly. Lazy summer days with your cousins and brother fly by in a hazy blur. Hanging by the pond beneath the sizzling sun. Displaying your terrible tennis playing skills to the entire group. Scary movie nights with the whole family during which Venetia and Felix laugh at you because you watch most of the film through your fingers and hide your face in a pillow whenever the monster appears.

It’s nice. You start thinking that reuniting with your extended family for the summer wasn’t such a rotten idea.

You nearly forget your mother. Nearly.

Though with the daily messages you receive detailing the squalor she’s living in, it’s impossible to forget. Guilt grows within you each day.

“She’s been texting you too?” Farleigh asks as he sits at the edge of the tennis court next to you. He’s still in his tux while you’re still wearing one of Venetia’s sparkly dresses, as all of you decided to sneak out of Aunt Elspeth’s uptight dinner party to catch the sunset and play a game of tennis. One thing you’ve come to learn about your cousins. They do whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want. Part of you envies that. The carefree knowledge that whatever mess you make, someone will clean up behind you…discreetly and in silence at that.

You flip your phone shut and sigh.

“Nonstop.” You sag in the chair. “I’ve done all I can.”

“Yeah…Me too.”

“I feel awful.”

You’re taken aback when your brother says, “Don’t. This isn’t your fault.”

You tentatively reach over his armchair to squeeze his hand.

“It’s not yours either,” you assure softly. Your brother shocks you when his fingers wrap around yours. You don’t think you held hands like this since you were toddlers. You were always the clingy one, following after your big brother like a lost puppy.

You and your brother remain like this for a while, eyes trailing the downward race of the sun over the horizon.

When night falls, you’re surprised to find a tall, familiar form slipping through the wall of your bedroom.

“Felix!” He puts a finger over his lips as a sign to lower your voice. It instantly dips to a whisper. “How did you get here?”

Amusement paints Felix’s features at your flabbergasted expression. He clicks the door shut.

You blink. Once closed, the secret entrance blends seamlessly into the wall. There is no way you could have known this was here.

“Secret passageway. Old castles like Saltburn have plenty of them,” he explains, crawling over your bed.

“Oh.”

As your eyes drag over his frame and you note that Felix’s just in his shorts, fire creeps inside your cheeks. Of course, you’ve seen your cousin in trunks but usually, it’s around the entire group. For some reason, a sliver of discomfort pools within you. You look away and clear your throat.

“Is it…okay for you to be here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that…nothing.”

A deep chuckle peals from his chest. The mattress bounces as Felix lets himself fall onto your sheets. He makes himself comfortable on the pillow near you, putting his hands behind his head as a lazy smile spreads on his lips.

“Don’t be silly. We’re family. It’s like when we were little and we’d all sleep in the same bed.”

You can’t help but smile at that. He’s right; you’re overreacting.

“Right. That was so fun.”

He lies on his side, elbow bent as he buries one hand in his tousled brown curls.

“You used to have nightmares so you’d always sneak into my bed or Farleigh’s.”

“Now that you’re saying it, I think I remember that.”

“You’re still as cute as I remember.” Felix’s brown eyes twinkle as he drinks you in. “No…Even cuter.”

“Thanks.”

He approaches you and starts playing with the hem of your cotton shorts, twiddling the fabric between his forefinger and thumb.

Brown eyes dive right into yours.

“I saw you with Farleigh today. You looked sad.”

You shake your head.

“It’s nothing…just got some stuff on my mind.”

Felix’s smile dies.

“You also looked sad when you left Dad’s office the other day.”

You bristle. “It’s nothing important, really.”

“Your mom?” he inquires. When you don’t reply, Felix’s knuckles sweep over your outer thigh, his deep timbre softening, “You can trust me, cousin.”

You unleash a sharp, audible breath, budding tears tickling your eyelids.

“It’s just a lot. She’s asking things from me that I don’t know if I can do much about.”

Felix collects one of your stray tears with his thumb. He then snatches your hands from your lap and clutches them in his. They completely swallow yours.

“She shouldn’t ask anything of you. It’s not fair. You’re her daughter. She should protect you. Not the other way around.”

You sniffle. “I don’t know. It’s just been me and my mom for so long. Especially after Farleigh decided to stay in England most of the time. So I feel like…I need to take care of her, you know? Because she always took care of me.”

He cups your cheek, wiping more of your tears.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good, cousin.”

Felix then sits up and conjures a lighter and a blunt from the back pocket of his shorts.

You gawk at him as he lights it in front of you, taking a deep drag before blowing smoke in your face.

Your stomach tingles when he offers it to you.

“I don’t know if I should…”

Felix’s timbre lowers seductively as he grabs your hand and slips the roll between your fingers. Even holding it doesn’t feel right.

“Come on, you’ll feel better. It’ll free your mind. No thoughts. No troubles. Just…light and happy.”

“That sounds amazing,” you mumble.

“Then try a puff.”

You bring the blunt to your mouth and immediately cough.

“You gotta go slow,” he chuckles. Once you’ve retrieved your breath, he nudges it against your mouth again. “Here, another.”

The room begins to swirl around you. You lie back, a heady, cotton-like sensation spreading from your head to your toes.

“Damn…” you whisper as your limbs slacken, the tension in your body slowly melting away.

Felix lies back next to you, his grin growing.

“See? That’s why you should always listen to me, cousin.”

It becomes a habit, Felix sneaking into your room and the two of you smoking in your bed every night. Him slipping through the secret door doesn’t even faze you anymore, and your reservations about getting high evaporate a little more with every puff you inhale. The serene sensation and warm tingles you get afterwards are entirely too pleasant.

It’s something you’ve never experienced. Letting go. For a few precious minutes, the burdens on your shoulders can vanish.

You don’t tell Venetia, or even Farleigh. You still remember him going full big brother mode that one day when you tried to join the rest of them when they hung out naked in the field. The Cattons siblings laughed as you were escorted away, burning from head to toe at the humiliation.

You don’t want a repeat of that. Always being the good girl is exhausting. Not that your brother would understand. He gets to live life on his own terms. Get kicked out from as many schools as he likes. Charm his way through the world. You don’t. For once, you want to revel in doing something…a little forbidden. Something the nerdy, party-avert, studious girl you forced yourself to be all these years would never do.

So the nightly meetups become you and Felix’s secret.

It’s all casual, harmless fun. Until, one night, everything changes. As your head lolls back on the pillows, your gaze fixated on the ceiling, your cousin’s fingers dance over your half-exposed belly.

“Feeling better?” he mutters, his voice low and secretive.

“Yeah.”

“I know a way you can feel even better.”

You don’t think much of it. Not even when he slithers across the sheets, finding his way between your legs. He tugs your shorts down, slowly, until you’re down to your panties in front of him. The rush of cool air on your skin makes you tremble.

“Felix, what are you doing?” you chuckle, high enough not to fully register what’s going on.

A playful smile ghosts over your cousin’s lips. He blows on your clothed center and the sensation draws a giggle from you, even as a faint layer of panic is trying to pierce through the haze.

“You seemed so stressed today. It’ll help you relax…” he promises, trailing sluggish kisses up your inner thigh. As his lips travel upward, your stomach clenches. He hooks two fingers inside your panties to push them aside.

Your cousin’s gaze darkens, his smile broadening, as he basks in the sight of your bare, shuddering folds. He licks his lips before kissing the center of you.

Your limbs tense as Felix starts unraveling you with his tongue. He licks a stripe over your folds, his tongue tarrying over your tender bud. The breath catches in your throat. He traces slow circles over your button, tearing a soft gasp from you everytime he suckles the sensitive spot between his lips.

Felix hums while his head bobs between your thighs.

A tingly, warm feeling starts blooming in your core, scattering to your entire body. Hot and irresistible. A wave of heat that slowly takes over your entire frame.

You clutch the sheets.

Your eyes rise to the heavens as heat pulses through your core.

“No, Felix, this is… this is wrong,” you wheeze out between aching breaths.

His devious laughter ripples through your core.

“I’m just trying to make you feel good. How can that be wrong, cousin?” he says innocently, before flicking his tongue over your folds. He spreads you even more, dipping in and out of you as quiet shouts rip from your throat. Your back curves over the sheets. Your lids flutter as you peer at the ceiling unseeingly.

His sinful baritone nudges you to your undoing.

“Just let go. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

You quake, the tense heat growing too much to bear. Your insides coil. Sparks erupt from your center, traveling outward. Your body goes limp as you collapse over the sheets, dazed and breathless. Tears of arousal trickle from your core and your cousin greedily savors every wayward drop. Shame scalds your insides as you feel him lap up your nectar, your wide gaze glued to the ceiling.

The next morning, panic rushes through you as your eyes snap open.

“Hey, hey, you don’t need to freak out,” Felix says lightly, pulling you against him from behind. His hand settles over your rapidly moving chest.

“Last night…” you say, choking on a sob as you recall bits and pieces. You were so damn high. Still, you’re pretty sure what you think happened…happened. Even in your own head, you can’t put it into words. You rub your thighs. Stickiness lingers there from Felix’s ravenous tongue. Shame burns in your gut.

As you try to climb off the bed, Felix yanks you back. He slams you down on your back. Your heart jumps as he looms over you, his broad body easily caging yours.

He frames your chin, drawing your attention to him.

“We just had some fun, you and I,” he says, thumb tracing your quivering lip. “That’s all. No one ever has to know.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you keep pulling on your tiny camisole, pathetically attempting to cover your nakedness. Felix chuckles.

“Gosh, you really need to stop being so uptight, pretty cousin.”

He drops a quick peck on your cheek before dragging his lips over your earshell.

“It’s okay. We’ll work on loosening you up.”

For a few days, Felix doesn’t visit your room again. You’re thankful for that. You can barely meet your cousin’s gaze now, the fear of someone finding out what happened eating you alive. You can’t imagine coming back after so many years only to cause havoc and drama.

Your mom would be so disappointed. Your brother would be livid.

So you do as Felix says. You keep your lips firmly sealed. It’s not like it’ll go further than that anyway. The two of you were high, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

None of this would have happened otherwise.

Unfortunately, your meticulously crafted wall of denial explodes when your cousin shows up again one night.

You tremble as your eyes rest on him. Felix smiles at you, pushing the secret door closed. You note the camera dangling from his neck. The entire day was spent snapping pictures to remember the summer. You took so many silly ones with Venetia and your brother. For a while, you let yourself forget. Felix took most of the pictures today, appearing in very few himself. You just didn’t expect him to still be wearing it this late.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply shyly.

“How are you feeling today?”

Your lips clamp shut. Today was awful. Apparently your mom might be getting evicted soon. She hasn’t stopped texting you about it the entire day, and even some of the night because of the time difference. You feel so dauntingly powerless…and awful. You’re staying in a literal castle while your mom might be homeless soon.

“I’m good.”

He takes lithe steps towards you, his handsome face twisting in sympathy as he plops down on your bed. He removes the camera from around his neck and tosses it over your pillows.

“No you’re not. You’re still worried about your mom. You were checking your phone all day today.”

You bring your knees close to your chest.

“It’s fine, Felix.”

Felix sighs, concern swimming in his brown gaze.

“No, it’s not fine.” His fingers roam over your ankle as he lies on his side. “You know…” Felix pauses, eyes holding yours. “I could talk to my dad if you want. He never refuses me anything.” He flashes a sunny grin. “After all, I’m his precious boy. His firstborn son.”

You gape at him.

“You really would do that for my mom?”

Felix sits up and closes the distance between the two of you. He bends over you, placing his large hands over your feet. You follow the stars tattoos etched atop his hand; his sister has the same ones if you recall.

His knees graze your ankles as he says, “Not for your mom. For you, cousin. So that frown on your face can finally…” He flicks your brow with his thumb and laughs. “...disappear. Like magic.”

You consider Felix, relief and awe storming through you.

Without giving it much thought, you toss your arms around his neck.

“Thank you so much,” you exclaim.

“Of course…” His fingers travel along your spine. “I’d just have a little favor to ask in return.”

“Sure, anything,” you answer easily.

He pulls back, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s not much.”

The heady scent of his cologne washes over you as he leans forward.

“I’ve been aching somewhere lately and I need you to make it better, cousin.”

“Oh, aching…where?”

“I think it’s best if I just show you.”

A foreboding inkling flares in your gut. Still, you don’t move as Felix “shows you”. He tugs on his shorts. He slowly pulls on the fabric, shimmying out of it as you hold your breath. When his length springs free, you unleash a small squeak. Your reaction drags a laugh out of Felix.

Though you don’t really want to, you can’t help but stare. It’s thick and long with veins running alongside the shaft. The tip points upward, glistening and red.

“I don’t know if I can help with…something like that,” you mumble, your voice wavering at the end.

“Sure you can.”

He lifts your chin, diving his eyes into yours.

“I just need somewhere warm, and soft, to slip the tip of my cock so it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Shock parts your lips.

“Felix…”

He hooks his thumb inside your open mouth, a lopsided grin stretching on his face.

“Come on, it’ll just be the tip, I promise. Then we never have to talk about it anymore. You won’t even feel it, I swear.”

“Just the…tip?” you say, your throat knotting as your gaze drifts down. You take in Felix’s size, swallowing thickly. It matches the rest of him, you suppose. You don’t even think it could fit, not fully. So just the tip is probably for the best. “Nothing more?”

“Just the tip. And I’ll talk to my dad first thing in the morning.” He strokes your cheek, uttering softly, “I bet your mom will be so happy for what you did for her.”

You heave out a deep, resigned breath. Right, your mom. While you’re not too comfortable with what Felix is asking for, if it means he’ll talk to Uncle James, you don’t have it in you to refuse. A favor for a favor. Then you’ll spend the rest of the summer forgetting it ever happened. You can do that.

You peer up at Felix.

“Okay then but don’t…stay too long.”

He beams at you.

“You’re amazing.”

Felix leans back. He removes his shorts fully, revealing himself in all his naked glory.

“Just lay back for me, cousin,” he instructs. He slants his head, satisfaction filling his gaze when you do as he says. “Open those perfect legs of yours.” His pupils swell with lust as you part your quivering thighs.

“Good girl,” he praises.

Felix crawls over you. You freeze. He grips the waistband of your pajama bottoms to slide them off your legs. He takes his time, agonizingly slow as he soaks in every tiny shift on your face. Horror curls your insides. You wish he’d just get it over with. But it’s clear Felix wishes to enjoy every mortifying second of this.

Your panties are next. Once again, he drags it out. Warmth blooms in your face as cool air hits your bare folds. It’s worse than last time, because there’s nothing to dull your senses, or pretend it isn’t happening.

“Don’t close your legs. I want to see everything,” he says when you try to hide from him. His throat bobs, hunger lurking in his eyes as he licks his lips. “You have a really pretty pussy, you know that, cousin?”

“Please, don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“B-Because it’s embarrassing.”

He smirks.

“You’re so fucking cute.”

Your cousin plucks the discarded camera and points it at your face. The blinding light sears your eyelids as he quickly snaps a series of pictures of you in the compromising position.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your pulse soaring.

“W-Why did you just take a picture?”

“Because I want to remember you like this.”

He chortles as you try to snatch the camera from his hands, keeping it out of your reach with ease with his long arm.

“Delete it, Felix,” you plead.

He tilts his head, his expression dripping with mischief.

“Sure, if you do everything I say, I’ll delete it.”

Tears brim beneath your lashes. You want to trust Felix. You really do. But he always asks for more. You wonder where it’ll end, if it ever will.

“You promise?”

“Of course. I’d never lie to you, cousin.”

He places the camera on the floor near the bed. If you thought you could get past him, destroy the camera, you would. However you’re beginning to realize something about Felix. He always gets his way.

He crawls his way to you. You don’t resist as Felix nudges you down, trapping you beneath him. The fitful drumming of your heart fills your ears.

He bends down, stealing your lips in a heated kiss. His lips sweep over yours, hungry, feverish. He cups the side of your face, moaning as he explores your mouth. His hands start wandering over your body. They feel everywhere at once, kneading and teasing your flesh. Felix pulls your top over your head so you’re in nothing but your bra.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue stealing your air and sanity. You melt beneath him.

The air is robbed from your lungs when he starts prodding at your entrance. Your fingers clench around the sheets. His thick tip stretches you so much already. You can barely take it.

His voice comes out hoarse and strained.

“You feel so bloody good.”

He pushes a bit more. You tense, your walls aching at his size. Your tearful gaze rises to the ceiling. Felix seizes your chin, pulling it so your eyes lock with his.

“Look at me,” he instructs.

He piledrives into you, sheathing himself inside you completely. Your vision flickers as he finds the hilt of you. Your lips part in a silent scream. Your chest heaves and falls quickly.

“Felix, you said…”

He shushes you, pinning both of your wrists above your head as he begins moving inside you. A wicked glow burns in Felix’s brown gaze. “I know what I said…but it feels too good inside you, cousin.”

“But you promised...” you sob.

He kisses away your tears, his voice mellowing.

“I’m sorry,” he says after thrusting inside you deeply. “I’m so sorry…” Your toes flex, stars creeping in your sight with each of your cousin’s vigorous thrusts. His pace doesn’t relent, even as you weep and plead him with your eyes. He almost seems to pluck joy from your quiet helplessness. His chest brushes over yours as his lips ghost over your earshell. “But I don’t think I can stop.”

Your breathing quickens. As Felix’s cock grazes along your sensitive spots, little whimpers spill from your throat. He drapes one hand over your mouth, still pounding inside you.

“Shh, be quiet for me, cousin. Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, right?”

“I think our uncle likes you better than me.”

You look at your brother through your sunglasses. You’re thankful for them. They’ve done a nice job concealing the puffiness of your eyes. You’ve been crying a lot lately. Too often. It started the night Felix snuck into your room and the flood hasn’t really stopped since. All of it turns your stomach. The lying, the sneaking around…the sick, twisted lies. His sick, twisted lies. It was supposed to just be one time.

Felix deceived you.

Every night since that one, your cousin found his way into your room, coaxing you to do things that make you hate yourself afterwards. It’s even slowly escalated to daily trysts. Felix would conjure excuses to steal you away while your other relatives are blissfully unaware. Having his way with you in a dark corner. Fingering you in the library. Cornering you in the maze to taste the nectar between your legs. Your cousin seems determined to make sure no inch of Saltburn isn’t tainted by his wicked desires.

This is a nightmare.

Your mom was so overjoyed on the phone after receiving Uncle James’ payment. And you’re glad you could help. But the cost…Did your mother’s happiness have to occur at your expense? You’re so exhausted, ashamed. You don’t know how long you can stand to be the vessel for your cousin’s lurid fantasies.

Even proper rest is denied to you now, the fear of someone figuring it out keeping you wide awake for hours every night.

“I doubt that,” you say, your lips curving in a stilted smile.

Farleigh leans back in his lounge chair, pushing his sunglasses over his nose.

“Still, good job, little sis.” A wide grin blooms on his face. “Guess being a goody two-shoes has its perks.”

Your chest clenches at your brother’s remark.

As Felix’s eyes find yours from across the pond, your blood freezes. He smiles at you. Goosebumps erupt on your skin. You shift, your attention returning to your brother.

“I-I don’t know about that.”

You thought the awfulness reached its peak. You were wrong. A new brand of twisted is introduced by Felix during breakfast with the entire family.

He sits next to you, smiling at you. You don’t think much of it. Why would you? He’s done this before. Taunt you. Tease you. Torment you. Even in front of the rest of them.

But what he does today, while Aunt Elspeth sits across from you and your brother is on your other side…it’s just ghastly. Impious.

Felix’s digits roam atop your thigh. You shoot him a glare. He pointedly ignores you, carrying a casual conversation with his mom while playing with the hem of your dress.

You focus on your plate. He caresses the inside of your thigh as you bring the fork to your lips.

He presses two fingers against your clothed center. Pushing, pressing and swirling around your tender bud. Your knees rub, heat gathering at the apex of your thighs.

The metal of the fork damn near shatters your teeth as you choke on a mouthful of eggs.

You apologize swiftly, shakily grabbing the glass of water near your plate. You take a long swig from it and clear your throat. Felix’s digits dip further inside you. Your breath hitches. He stops just shy of letting you come apart, bringing you to the cusp only to retreat at the very last second. A meticulously thought out torture.

It lasts for almost the entirety of breakfast, only reaching an end when Venetia rises from the table. You follow right after her, excusing yourself with a tense smile.

Hollow steps take you through an endless series of hallways. You can hardly even think, the enormity of what your cousin just did in front of his parents, in front of everyone, shocking you into numbness. Where will his depravity end? You long for summer to end so perhaps you can finally be free from your cousin.

You wind up in an empty room brimming with dusty books and antiques. You sit in a corner, knees against your chest, as you revel in a rare moment of respite. You don’t get these as often anymore. Not if your cousin has anything to say about it.

As usual, it doesn’t take long for Felix to find you a little later. Your heart skips a beat when his towering frame darkens the doorway, blocking any chance of an escape.

“Playing hide and seek, cousin?” he teases, amusement laced in his voice.

Tears swim in your eyes as you shoot him an accusing look.

“At breakfast, really? Someone could have seen, Felix. M-My brother, he could have seen.”

Rolling his eyes, he hops towards you to take a seat next to you. His rebuttal is disturbingly nonchalant.

“We’re not gonna get caught.”

“I think we should stop,” you sputter, your mouth wobbling.

His brows squeeze together, a mix of annoyance and confusion twisting his features.

“Why?”

You fiddle with the bottom of your dress, struggling to meet his irate stare.

“I’m grateful for everything you did, really, but this doesn’t feel right.”

His cheek pulses, a strange grin dragging his lips upward. Your stomach sinks.

“We’re just having fun, you and I, cousin.”

Your words warp into a watery croak.

“This isn’t fun, Felix.”

A weary sigh drops from his chest.

“It’s because you’re overthinking it,” he says, reaching out to cup your cheek. You turn your head. Frustration flickers in your cousin’s eyes. As you try to stand, he grabs you and shoves you on the floor.

“Felix, no…”

Ignoring your sniveling pleas, Felix hastily unzips his jeans and yanks your underwear down to your ankles.

A strangled sob flows from your lips as he nestles himself inside your wet heat in a single deep, cruel thrust.

You’re a whimpering mess on the floor as your cousin pounds into you from behind.

“Just stop fighting it,” he grunts. He twists his fist in your hair, your scalp singing in pain when he tugs at your roots. Tears stream down your face while your cousin snaps his pelvis into your ass.

“See? This is good.” His warm, heavy exhales tickle your nape. “Doesn’t my cock inside you feel good, cousin?”

“Yes…” you begrudgingly admit, loathing how every time he sinks into you, your toes curl and your eyes roll back on their own, warm tingles dancing through your core.

“Look outside.” You wince as he angles your chin towards the window, his other hand still tangled in your hair. You’re greeted with a beautiful sight of the lush gardens sprawling before the castle. His hot whisper grazes your temple. “Do you see all this? How beautiful Saltburn is…especially in the summer.” His smile carves into your skin.

“One day, all of this will be mine, cousin.” He plants a soft kiss on your cheek. Shivers course through your spine. “And it could be yours too… if you behave.”

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