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roosterforme · 1 month ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Although Bradley wasn't usually one for big gestures, he supposed he was when it came to you. Now he wanted the wife and the wedding and the honeymoon and all of it. Preferably sooner than later.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley had never been a big gesture kind of guy. He never really saw the point in it. He always figured it was easier to tell how much someone cared about you through their day-to-day interactions instead of the occasional over the top displays.

He knew Natasha had his back by the way she simply helped him prepare for tonight by taking you out for drinks without asking too many questions. And he hoped she knew that the steady friendship he built with her was strong even though their birthday steak dinners and weekend morning runs weren't flashy. He felt similarly about Maverick, thankful that he knew where he stood with him once again without having to prove it.

But Bradley wanted you to know that he was going to love you forever by the way he treated you when you were alone together, and by the way he couldn't help but occasionally show off his romantic side. He knew you didn't need words written in the sky when he would prefer to pour his heart out to you in letters and emails, but he didn't want to simply propose by handing you his mother's ring either.

That's why he got your students to fold up the paper planes. Because he just couldn't help but both ask you to marry him and show you how much those letters changed his life at the same time.

"Bradley?" Your voice was breathy as he watched your eyes flick to the wall and then back to his face. "Paper planes?"

He smiled. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He gestured toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you whispered as he closed the distance to you before getting down on one knee.

"They did," he confirmed, looking up at your beautiful face as tears filled your eyes. "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up the engagement ring that he remembered from his childhood but thought had been long ago buried with Carole. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern. Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping." He knew he was rambling, but now that it was time to say the most important words, his nerves were taking over. "I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly with emotion as a tear streaked down your cheek. "Are you serious?"

He was serious. He was in love. He wanted this forever. "Will you marry me?"

You didn't make him wait long to see your beautiful smile and hear your calming voice. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Bradley."

You started to drop down to your knees, and he caught you along the way as your lips met his. He could feel you everywhere. Your arms around his neck were familiar, and so was your soft laughter and your kisses. But your words promising forever were new.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he swore between kisses. "I fucking love you, Baby."

"I love you, too," you whispered, cupping his face in both of your hands and kissing him.

Bradley realized he was holding the ring tight in his hand and loosened his grip so you could really take a look. "Let me put it on your finger? Make it official?"

You nodded in excitement, and then Bradley had to blindly slide it into place as you kissed him relentlessly.

---------------------------------

Each of the paper planes taped to the wall was familiar to you. After so many months, you could tell which of your students had written the notes based on the handwriting. As you ran your fingers along the letters, you recognized your own handwriting there as well. The flickering candle light shone on the paper planes as well as the ring on your finger.

This was all so romantic. You never dreamed you'd be so thoroughly loved, but here you were with Bradley's lips on the side of your neck as he stood behind you, letting you inspect the message he hung up on the wall.

MARRY ME?

"In an abundance of detail, please explain to me how you managed to get my students to fold all of these up during Career Day without me noticing."

His deep rumble of laughter sent goosebumps along your skin. "You have to know by now who my regular accomplice is."

You spun around in his arms and kissed him as his big hands settled low on your hips. "Natasha can't be trusted," you whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair. "She's too loyal to you. But I know your strategy now."

"That's okay. I don't need her to be sneaky on my behalf anymore. Proposing to you was my main objective."

"Bradley," you whispered, smiling so much your face hurt. You examined the ring as you dragged your fingers through his hair. Part of you was still surprised by how the evening turned out, but he had been promising you from the very start that he was serious about you. "Bradley, you just gave me your mom's ring."

"Yeah," he grunted, running his nose along your cheek and ear. His breath was warm against your skin as he said, "We can pick out something else if you don't like it. The diamond is pretty small, because my parents got married when they were twenty-four. I think that's all my dad could afford, and-"

You silenced him with your lips on his. "It's perfect. Like you. I don't want anything else. Or anyone else."

Those big hands were on your butt now, and his body was snug up against yours as he kissed you so hard, you moaned. The living room smelled like all of the different candles at one time, and the lighting was kind of magical. And you realized you were engaged to the man you started to fall in love with before you even kissed him for the first time.

As soon as you took one small step toward the bedroom, Bradley followed your lead. You could tell he was excited as he scooped you up into his arms, and you kept yourself snug against him as he grew harder for you. Just as you ran your lips along his scars while he carried you through the bedroom doorway, his stomach growled so loudly, you started to laugh.

"You didn't eat dinner," you whispered, kissing him softly, trying to hold back the desire you felt.

"Baby, I have a whole plan," he replied, all smiles as you nipped at his lips until you landed on your back on the bed. "Dinner at Salvatore's is happening, but not until I fuck my fiancée."

You whined softly as he dragged your leggings slowly down, and you arched your back so he could remove your shirt. Then you watched him struggle to get undressed with his erection as you touched yourself. "You're taking me out for an engagement dinner?" you asked, running your fingers between your breasts and down your belly. He stumbled out of his jeans, eyes fixed on your body as you circled your clit with your middle finger.

"Well... maybe not," he grunted. "I should have thought this through a little better. Now I just want to keep you in bed."

The words were taken from your mouth and turned into a moan as he spread your legs apart and kissed you where you were touching yourself. "Bradley." Your fingers went to his hair as he teased and kissed his way up your body, letting you taste yourself on his lips and mustache.

"I love you, Gorgeous," he crooned, guiding the tip of his cock through your wetness until you were clenching with need. When you were ready for him, all you had to do was roll your hips up. When you were ready for more, he filled you up and didn't stop until you came.

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"I should probably just try to get us a standing reservation," Bradley murmured, making you laugh as you were led to your table at Salvatore's. The two of you just finished a bottle of the overpriced wine you liked so much at the bar, and now you were looking up at him like you'd rather just go back home for round two of engagement sex instead of dinner. But he knew he wouldn't make it to that point until he ate something.

"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, grinning as you sat down when the waiter pulled out your chair.

As soon as you and he were both seated, you asked, "How exactly would you like me to look at my future husband?"

Your words left him a little breathless as he reached for your left hand which now displayed the ring that told everyone else you were going to be his wife. He couldn't stop touching you, and you were just as bad as your legs tangled with his beneath the table. "Maybe we should have made sandwiches at home."

Even mentioning food out loud made his stomach growl louder as he inhaled the delicious scent of pasta. "We'll be back home soon," you told him. "In the meantime, while we take a break from our engagement sex marathon, why don't we talk about our summer wedding?"

Bradley nodded as he laced his fingers with yours. "You know, I always wanted to try running a marathon, but I think I like this type even better."

"You can use the sex marathon as part of your training regimen."

The smile on his lips wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Maybe it was the same smile that had been there since the first time he looked at your photo. "Are you really going to agree to a summer wedding?"

"You told my students that's what you wanted," you replied immediately.

"I owe your kiddos so much. If they didn't think I was cool as hell, I'd have gotten nowhere with their teacher. We should invite them to our wedding."

You laughed as Bradley waved down the waiter and ordered three entrees. He was still holding your hand as he told the guy, "And you may as well just bring some to-go containers out along with the food. We've been engaged for about two hours, so I'm getting a little antsy to get back home again. I'm sure you can understand."

"Congratulations," he murmured as you cradled your forehead in your right hand.

"Bradley," you half groaned and half laughed.

"What?" he replied, downing half of his glass of water. "He took one look at you and knows exactly why I can't wait to go home. Now can we talk more about wedding plans?"

You looked beyond amused and very pleased with yourself as you asked, "Do you really want a summer wedding?"

"Absolutely, Gorgeous Girl," he confirmed. "This year. Please don't make me wait."

You bit your lip for a few seconds before you said, "It's already February. That doesn't give us a lot of time. Unless..." Then the waiter returned with some bread, and you asked him, "Do you have a catering menu?"

He nodded. "I'll bring one out with your food and the containers."

Now you were the one tugging on Bradley's hand. "I have a great idea! What if we don't really have a wedding at all?"

His face fell as his lips parted silently. None of this really mattered before he met you, but now that he was here, he could clearly picture the day in his mind. "Baby, I want us to have a wedding day. A white dress and my uniform and flowers and wedding photos and all that shit."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrenching your hand free so you could drag your chair closer to his at the small table. Your palm was on his cheek, tilting his face so you could kiss him while you stroked his scars. "I didn't mean it like that." You kissed him again. "You give me these butterflies, and I swear I can't handle it," you whispered, running your nose along the side of his. "What if we have a simple wedding where we can invite my students? We can still do the dress and the uniform and as many photos as we want. But I think I know the best spot where we can have it all. And then we could go big on our honeymoon."

The wedding, the fourth graders, the honeymoon, the wife. Now he was smiling again. "Tell me more, Gorgeous. In an abundance of detail."

--------------------------------

If anyone saw the two of you, it would have been comical. It was dark out, and you were holding the bag of food containers and trying to unlock the door while Bradley held onto you.

"I think it's a little bit early to be carrying me into the house like this. Pretty sure that's for after the wedding."

"You can't blame me for being excited."

You pushed the door open, and even in the nearly dark house, you could still see the paper airplanes on the wall spelling out his proposal. "Are we keeping that romantic display where it is?" you asked as Bradley took you to the kitchen.

He glanced back over his shoulder. "For now. But I don't want them to get faded or anything like that. I'll flatten the letters out again eventually and find somewhere to store them."

You gasped as you unpacked the food containers and found something at the bottom of the bag. "They gave us an entire cheesecake!" It said Congratulations written in chocolate, and you bounced around in place as Bradley's arm wrapped around you. "That was so sweet of them."

He chuckled and whispered, "They know what they're doing. They have a loyal customer in my wife who always orders the expensive wine."

His fingertips brushed your neck before you felt his mustache there. "You already know I ordered it by accident the first time," you gasped as he sucked gently on the sensitive spot below your ear. "And I'm not your wife yet."

"Based on our tentative plans, you will be in a few short months," he murmured. "Now why don't we put the food away and go back to bed until Monday morning?"

"Monday morning?" you moaned. "You feeling ambitious?"

Bradley practically threw the food into the refrigerator. "My belly is full, you look hot, we're getting married, and we can take a break for cheesecake in a few hours. So yes, I'm feeling very ambitious, Gorgeous."

Your smile was coy, and your voice was low. "A few hours without a break?"

Bradley kissed your parted lips before tasting your tongue. "I want to get some practice in before our honeymoon. Isn't Paris the city of sex?" he asked with a smirk.

"The city of love!" you said, bursting into laughter as he hauled you toward the bedroom again.

"We'll make it both. I want to practice both."

It was always both when you were with him. He was sexy and sweet, his voice close to your ear as you had each other for the third time today. You already knew that all it took was the diamond on your finger to make you go a little wilder for each other. A deployment that ended with an engagement ring? You never wanted this feeling to stop.

The diamond sparkled on your finger as you tugged at his hair. He was so methodical with you. There was a sweet precision to everything he did which felt like the embodiment of his written letters. His voice was familiar and raw with emotion next to your ear as he filled you in every way. His lips were everywhere, praising you and drawing out your orgasm. Calling you the love of his life.

"I need this forever, Gorgeous," he panted, fucking you harder. "I need you."

You were clinging to him, kissing his scars as you came. Then the two of you snuggled in bed and discussed your plans for the perfect wedding.

Although there were more breaks for food and the cheesecake, he did in fact keep you very busy until Monday morning. You went to work exhausted, but you made a quick stop to ask your school administrator if your wedding idea was even feasible. The answer surprised you. Then you got yourself settled in your classroom where eighteen kids soon arrived, and Violet set off a ripple effect as soon as she gasped and asked, "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw give you a wedding ring?"

Jayden and Nia both came running over to your desk to see it. Henry shouted, "She got married! Knew it!" Jackie screamed into her hands about how the magical paper planes worked, and you had to stand and try to calm everyone down.

"I didn't get married! Yet. But Lieutenant Bradshaw asked me to marry him this summer, and I said yes, so I guess the magical paper airplanes did work."

Your classroom erupted into cheers and shouting as you smiled. Thank goodness you went out on a limb and decided to write to a US Naval Aviator. Thank goodness it was Bradley who answered.

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Wedding and honeymoon up next? Then the epilogue? We're almost there! Anyone think they know where they'll have their wedding? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 28

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hi Jade! I’ve been on my criminal minds rerun and it made me come up with this Spencer request if you’re taking them right now! Something along the lines of the reader and Spencer being together and she becomes pregnant but he pieces it together before she does!

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok♡ 1k

cw fem!reader has a positive attitude towards her pregnancy. vaguely adult theme

"I really don't think I can go," you say, flopping down on the bed.

Spencer laughs and shakes out the shirt in his hands, hoping the creases from the dryer will iron themselves before dinner tonight. "You always say that."

"I really mean it this time. I miss Hotch, I do, and I'm glad he's out of WITSEC, but thinking about the restaurant is making me queasy."

"Really? I looked it up, it's a nice place. They have their Grade A, it should be spotless in there. I'm pretty sure they almost got a Michelin star."

You groan, turning onto your side. "I looked too. The entire menu is seafood," you whine.

"What's wrong with that?" Spencer asks, giving you a quizzical look.

"The smell." You rub your nose against his pillow and sigh. "I don't feel good. Didn't rough me up in my sleep, did you?"

"I would never do that," he says, putting the last of the laundry aside to sit by your hip. His hand rests naturally against the slight curve of your side, fingertips pushing the hem of your shirt up enough to steal a glance at your back.

He wouldn't say this aloud and it doesn't matter, but you've gained a little weight recently. Actually, it does matter in that he thinks it's adorable, but he knows that telling your partner they've gained weight is a faux pas. He likes it, anyhow. It's happy weight.

Things are so serious now but they don't feel serious. There's no solemness in your relationship, just comfort. He's putting on weight in tandem.

"You really don't want to go?" Spencer asks. The earlier he lets Hotch know the better.

You wrap an arm around your stomach. "Sorry, Spence. I'm so sorry, I've felt sick all day and I think it'll just be a repeat of yesterday morning." You puked before breakfast, the smell of eggs too much to bear.

Spencer feels it click into place then and there. The weight, the puking, your changing taste. Your sore chest and lower back, your sensitivity.

He pushes you gently, a hand on your hip to encourage you down. Careful, he lays down next to you, propping his head on the pillow as he brings hand up to hold you. He can't know for sure… but if you're pregnant as he suspects, it fits. And more than that, it's insane. He doesn't know how to handle this besides wrapping you up in his arms. He'll keep you forever, if he can.

"Don't be sorry," he says, his voice faraway. You relax completely in his arms, sliding your leg over his to lock him in. "Does your back still hurt?"

"My chest, Spence," you lament, "it feels like I'm winded. I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe you shouldn't be near me."

"In that case, I'm staying right here."

You laugh softly, the warmth of it a circle on his shoulder. "I can call Hotch myself and say sorry. I'll feel better in a few days, and we'll reschedule, and I'll pay even if he tries to."

Spencer draws a line up your back. Now or never.

He steels his nerves, the beginning of a hypothesis hesitating on his tongue. Your symptoms in addition to your irregular period and your regular sex lives points toward pregnancy. How does he say that? How should he say it? Should he even bring it up? Perhaps he should wait until you discover it yourself. And you aren't definitely pregnant, it's just a possibility. Maybe you're simply sick—

"Hey, earth to handsome," you whisper, cupping his cheek in your soft palm. You smile as he snaps out of his thoughts. "Hey. I lost you for a few seconds, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere. I'm here."

Your smile gets impossibly fond. It's not dissimilar to how you usually look at him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I love you."

"I love you," you say.

There's something about you now, this gaussian blur to you. Sunlight seeps in lazily through the blinds thick as honey, a golden kiss to your skin where you lay face to face with him, and your I love you makes him want to cry. This is all ridiculous and amazing and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to make his mouth move into the right words.

"What is it?" you ask. You know him better than anyone.

"I think you're pregnant." Spencer winces, though he can't beat his smile into submission. "I mean. You could be pregnant."

"Why do you think that?" you ask, visibly startled.

"Your sensitivity to strong smells, your soreness, your late period, to name the more obvious. That's not factoring in your worsening low iron lately, and your headaches." You make a strange sound he doesn't like. "What?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm late," you say into yourself, looking past him as you puzzle it over.

"It's a good thing, if you are. I mean, it's an amazing thing if you want it to be. I'm saying everything wrong. It's only amazing if you want it to be, I want it to be. But I'm on your side no matter what." He grimaces into his hands, rubbing his face with both palms.

You sit as he panics. He clicks his neck looking up, racing to follow you, alarmed as you shimmy down the bed toward the ensuite bathroom.

"What are you–"

"I'm gonna take a test."

"Wait a second." Spencer catches your hands before you can get too far, pulling you back to the end of the bed to sit down. "Wait. Is it– is it bad? If you are?"

You look down at your stomach briefly. Anyone else might miss it, but Spencer can't not follow your behaviour, and the way you're acting now makes him think he got it wrong. That you won't be happy.

You grab Spencer's hand. "You know, it's not funny. All our friends are gonna ask how I found out, and I'm gonna have to admit that you noticed it first." Your eyes track up his face almost shyly, and soon your smile is as blistering as his.

Spencer bends under your weight as you jump up, throwing your arms behind his neck, your lips smashed to his ear. "I love you," you whisper urgently, "so much. This is good, right? This is really good."

"Are you kidding?" he asks incredulously.

Spencer takes your face into two hands and kisses you as hard as he ever has. He realises a second in that he'd much rather be squeezing you, caging you into the circle of his arms unrepentant.

"We have a really good excuse to miss dinner," Spencer says.

He sounds close to tears. You're worse, laughing wetly as you pull him into the bathroom to take your test.

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dinogoofymutated · 2 months ago

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Nightcrawler/GN!Reader The first Fic of the season is here!!! I'll go ahead an outright say that the other fic will NOT be this long and this in-depth. This one took me literally the whole month of september when it was only supposed to take me two weeks. I'm going to do my best to make sure that the other fics come out on time, but please have a little patience with me ;-; Also, This fic has not been beta read bc it is an absolute beast at 8k words (at least for me), so if anything seems off, or the ending was too abrupts, don't be mean lol.

You've recently moved into an old, spooky mansion that your great-aunt left you in her will. It's been uninhabited for years but is strangely well-kept. You're sure you live here alone, but every once in a while you can't shake the feeling of being watched…

Tws: Demons, stereotypical witchcraft, Alcohol consumption, Graphic depictions of blood and wounds for a minute, I'll add more if I can think of any.

When the keys are plopped carelessly into your hands, they’re cold. They’re still cold, two weeks later when you finish moving in. It wasn't a fancy affair, no movers or big trucks, just some friends and the van they borrowed from the school. Truthfully, you didn’t really have a lot anyway. Most of them had honestly only shown up to offer their condolences for your loss.

Your groceries feel heavier than normal when you set them on the kitchen counter, stepping back with a sigh. Never in your wildest dreams would you have even imagined of living in a place like this. You’d never even visited Aunt Maude’s house- Your, house. Sure, you and the rest of the family all knew she was well-off, but no one had a clue that when the will was read she had left you a Victorian-era mansion along with her estate. Even you hadn’t until you googled her address after the lawyer gave you the keys.

As surprising as it was, it was definitely your Great-Aunt Maude’s house. Every bathroom, bedroom, living space, You could see her in all of it. She was kooky and eclectic, with a love for all things strange and unusual. It was comforting, almost. To be wrapped in a house filled with the remnants of your aunt. Your eyes sting as you begin to fill up the long empty fridge, organizing it to your liking. You close the door and see your graduation photos stuck to it, along with a photo strip from the photo booth she dragged you into at your sweet sixteen. You suck in a shakey sob, tears welling in your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. You’re sad, and exhausted, and you haven't even unpacked yet, most of your belongings set in boxes in the Sitting room and Hallway. But you just… couldn’t bring yourself to bother. Everything that was cold was already put in the fridge, so you decided the rest can wait till the morning.

You trudge up the stairs with as much energy as you can muster, and when you finally make it to the master bedroom, you’re ready to pass out. The room is decorated in a way that feels much more like you than it felt like your Aunt, and you notice that the quilt on the bed was one she had shown you at Christmas one year. One you told her you very much envied. It was like she had made the room your own before she even stepped foot into the nursing home. The thought is enough to choke you up again. You crawl underneath the soft covers in a pretty pitiful manner, falling asleep almost immediately.

It’s only when you wake up the next morning that you start to notice something strange about this house.

The kitchen is a somewhat long walk from the upstares bedroom, and you’re basically starving by the time you get downstairs. You yawn as you grab the milk out of the fridge, still feeling half asleep as you turn around to grab the cereal off the counter only to find it… gone. In fact, all of the groceries you had left on the counter yesterday were gone.

The realization is like a shot of ice through your veins. What the fuck?… You must have put them away last night, right? But you knew they were on the counter when you went to bed. You feel like you’re going to throw up, thinking about the chance that a burglar had broken in last night and you hadn’t heard it because you were upstairs. You sprint to the sitting room taking note of all your boxes and things, making sure to double-check that your TV was actually there and not a figment of your imagination, but it was definitely solid. You cautiously walk back to the kitchen, staring at the pantry door for an anxious moment before biting the bullet and swiftly opening it.

All your groceries were in place. All are organized neatly exactly where you would have preferred them to be. Strange. You must have woken up last night and done it. Right? It wouldn’t be too absurd to assume you had put the groceries away half-asleep and forgotten about it. That had to be it. It’s not like someone broke in last night just to put your groceries away. Now that was just plain ridiculous.

From then on out, The strange things only seemed to continue.

Sure, a house this old wasn’t without a general peculiarity about it, but after being told it hadn’t been inhabited since Aunt Maude put herself into inpatient care, it should be dusty, right? A home of this size, cluttered with the many odds and ends she had collected over the years? You’d never heard of a house that could dust itself. Your hands wander more than ever as you traverse the mansion, they run down the banister, across the pretty wallpaper, even taking a swipe at a shelf or two, and still, they’re clean. Not a smudge or spec of dirt on your fingers.

Strange, but not unexplainable. Maybe she had scheduled a cleaning service to take place after her death or something. You didn’t know. But a week goes by. Then two and then three, and everything is still spotless. And that was the least of it. Lights seemed to turn off by themselves at night. Things that you’re sure you heard fall were placed upright. If you forgot to turn the oven off, it would already be cool by the time you ran back into the kitchen- and the house constantly smelled like sulfur and brimstone. At this point, you’ve called the fire department so many times worried about a gas leak that they think you’ve gone crazy.

You just felt… Uneasy. Like you were being watched.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind, Jean.” You watch as the redhead tries to hide a smile on the other side of the Facetime call, and you can’t help but pout a little when she inevitably laughs. Your little image on the top part of the camera must look rather ridiculous, hands tangled in some string lights you had found in the closet. As strangely organized and spotless as everything was, it seems that the Christmas lights in the back of the closet weren’t so lucky. Yay for you.

“Look, you’re just overthinking things. Don’t stress out about it.” Jean says, ever the voice of reason. You know she’s probably right. “Besides, you’ve been through a lot lately. It’s not abnormal for stress to do weird things to the mind.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mumble. Detangling these lights is beginning to be a bit trickier than you first expected them to be. Each tangle and loop seems to be interconnected, and no matter how gently or firmly you are with the cords, another knot seems to form with every probable success. You sigh in annoyance, and Jean raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do I need to ask about the Christmas lights?” You’re about ready to give up on them when she asks, dramatically dropping them in your lap.

“Well, remember how I was gonna throw that big Halloween party this year?” Jean hums in response. “Well, turns out that all the decorations I had for the apartment only cover like, an eighth of the house. I’ve been rummaging around in the closets all day to try and find something that might work and all I’ve been able to find is this.” You hold up the old, tangled lights for her to see.

“That’s weird. With what I know about your Aunt, you’d think that she’d have a ton of decorations.” Jean mentions. You groan loudly, pressing your palms into the round edges of your eyesockets in frustration.

“Exactly! She loved Halloween, and with a house like this, there’s no way she’d just leave it bare. I’ve raided practically every closet and storage room in the house and haven’t found anything at all.” You almost shout the words, exasperated at this point. You knew for a fact Aunt Maude had to have something. It didn’t matter if it was even one of those awful animatronic jumping spiders at this point, you’d take anything if it meant you wouldn’t have to tap into your inheritance to decorate this big ass house (because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to decorate, you’d never disgrace your Aunt’s memory like that.). Jean is quiet for a moment, looking sympathetic through the screen. To be honest, as much as you value Jean’s advice, you’re beginning to think she’s got nothing to help you until-

“Are you sure there’s not an attic or anything?”

The thought makes you pause.

“Oh my god, I’m an actual idiot.” You practically shriek the words, quickly standing from the floor and shoving the Christmas lights to the side as you run to get some shoes on. The attic! God, you feel so stupid for not thinking of it before! All you had to do was find the access hatch!

“Just be careful though! Even though the house is renovated, that doesn’t mean-”

“I’ll call you later, Okay? I’m gonna go look upstairs!”

“No no no, don’t-”

It takes you forever to find that damn attic. You’d think that it would be easy to find, seeing that it’s sort of an important structure in this house, but nooo. It’s been almost a month since you moved in, and yet you still feel like you’re lost while you wander around the third floor. How hard could it be to find a simple hatch? You feel like you’re looking in all the wrong places, and you know you probably are. You’re pacing around one of the third-floor bedrooms looking at the ceiling when a noise from the billiards room across the hall makes you freeze.

Were those footsteps?

No, you were home alone. It couldn’t be.

Still, the sound leaves you on edge. You stalk across the hallway, stopping at the door to the other room as you briefly debate on how to open it. A small shuffle from the ceiling makes you jump a little, and you quickly decide, Fuck it. We ball.

You swing the door open with a bit more force than necessary and find the room… empty. Right. Of course, it was. You sigh in relief, running a stressed hand through your scalp as you take in the sight of the room for the first time since your original walk-through of the home.

In your brief scan of the room, you manage to spot a small string hanging right above the pool table, swinging back and forth. You slowly look up, and there it is. The fucking attic hatch.

“Oh god damn it. Was it really that easy to find?” You mumble to yourself, wondering if you really were just that stupid.

It doesn’t take a lot of time to move the pool table over so that you can open the latch and pull the rickety old ladder down. It looked more modern than most of the house, but it was easy to tell it was about as old as you were. You take a moment to just stare into the black hole in the ceiling, wondering if all this was really worth it. Well, you already spent all this time looking for the thing, so…

You’re a little extra careful as you climb the ladder up into the attic, using the flashlight in your phone to light the way the further you go. The attic is a little bit dustier than the rest of the house, but to be honest, it was cleaner than you were expecting. It's dark and cramped, but once you fully enter you find that you can at least stand up to your full height. The excitement of finding the place has begun to wear off, and you start to feel a little flighty as you look around and the light from your flashlight shifts. This is okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe she had lights installed, right? You look up at the roof and are thankful to see those long, industrial fluorescent lights screwed to the ceiling. Thank god.

It takes a minute of stumbling and carefully following the wires to a corner of the attic, doing your best not to trip over anything along the way, and you find a small light switch in the corner of the room. You breathe a sigh of relief as you flick it on, and the lights overhead blink and light up. That’s a bit better!

You find that Aunt Maude’s attic is cluttered with various random items, some older, others a bit more modern. The exercise bike and the Zumba tapes made you laugh a little as you passed them by, while some older cloth dolls and bunnies just made you uncomfortable. You’re not really sure where to start the search, so you just walk around for a minute. One of the lights overhead is starting to flicker a little, and you’re inwardly hoping that there’s no faulty wiring or anything that might start a fire when your foot catches on something.

“Oh Shit!”

There’s not a lot of time for you to catch yourself when you fall, eating absolute shit as you fall face-first into a stack of boxes. You smash your nose into something particularly hard when you land, and there’s a variety of shapes sticking into your sides that have sprouted from the smashed boxes below you. Ow, ow ow! God damnit! This is what you get for not listening to Jean. You feel a little dizzy as you sit up amongst the boxes, holding your nose tightly while you wonder if you just broke it. Your eyes are blurry from the pain, and it takes a second for you to fully come to.

“What the hell did I just fall into?” You’re blinking away the blurriness as the sight in front of you finally starts to clear, A bunch of broken boxes now greeting you. Boxes that now had a bunch of plastic bones sticking out of the torn sides. You make a fairly embarrassing noise of excitement when you realize you had found exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The Halloween decorations!! Thank god! You were so unbelievably happy to find them that you couldn’t help but reach forward and look through the boxes immediately.

After thoroughly inspecting the contents, you realize that there were about eight large boxes of Halloween decorations in total. Motherfucking eight! This was perfect! The only thing was that there was still one little issue: getting them downstairs. You try not to think about those rickety ladders too hard as you move each box to a place a little easier to get to. Your back is already aching when you’re done for the moment, so you decide to sit down on the floor and lean back a little, catching your breath while looking at those eight, somewhat heavy boxes you were gonna have to fool around with in just a moment. Your foot nudges something as you do so. Hm.

Sitting up a little bit, you can see that it’s a floorboard, just sticking out a little bit. Oh! Guess that’s what you tripped over earlier. You try and press it back down with your foot, and that definitely doesn't work. Damn. Hopefully, you could find a hammer or something to tack it back down. You scoot over to get a better look when you notice that there’s something underneath, a dark blue color just faintly catching your eye. Curious, you lift the board a little, and after a tug or two, it gives way.

You find an old, leatherbound book underneath. It’s got no clear name on the cover or the spine, simply a rune or emblem of sorts burned into the upper left corner. Finding it a bit strange, you flip open the cover, thinking that it must be a diary or something left by the original owners as a time capsule of sorts- but it’s not. Every page in the book is blank except for the very last one. This book is not what it has been. When the Veil strains thin will the ink be seen.

Weird, but okay. You assume it’s a novelty or a trick or something, but it looks spooky enough, so you gently set it in one of the more empty boxes of Halloween decorations. Now it was time for the hard part.

You drag one box at a time to the ladder, and looking at the size of them vs. the skinny steps below you, you wonder just how the hell Aunt Maude got these up here in the first place. Just thinking about getting these downstairs is intimidating, but you were never a quitter. One by one, you carefully take each box down, making sure to never carry more than you can handle and to keep a good grip on the ladder no matter what. After about 20 minutes, you get about halfway through. Four boxes down, four to go. Your arms are getting a bit tired and you’re a bit sweaty from the lack of AC in the attic, but you think you’ve got it.

On the fifth box of decorations, your foot slips. You gasp in shock, your stomach flipping as you fall backward- a split second of absolute terror as you fall. You’re terrified that you’re gonna die, and that Jean will never forgive you and you’d never get to throw that stupid party you were doing all this work for in the first place.

The air is knocked from your lungs from something that felt much more like a catch than it did the floor. You don't know what’s going on for a moment, eyes shut tight as the shock begins to wear off and you realize that you’re fine… Wait. Hold on. Someone had definitely caught you, and unless Jean had snuck in…

To be honest, whatever you were expecting when you opened your eyes was very, very much wrong. Your heart is beating a million times a minute, a chill running through you when you finally register who is above you. Or what, rather. The first thing you see are his eyes. Yellow from pupil to scelera, almost glowing in the low light of the billiards room. He’s more fuzz than skin, blue in color, with devilishly sharp canine teeth he reveals with a sheepish smile.

“Hallo?”

He flinches when you shriek, doing his best not to drop you as you squirm out of his arms. Your knees give out the moment your feet hit the floor, and you scramble back, grabbing the first box you can and throwing anything you can find at him.

“Sorry- Sorry! I had not mean to scare you!” He holds his arms up to block each decoration you throw at him. A few plastic spiders, a zip lock of polyester faux webbing, and a little floral crow or two. You can hardly even think at the moment.

“Stop! Please stop! I didn't want to let you fall!” He flinches at each item although none of them are very heavy. You’re running out of things to throw, stalling for a moment as you debate lunging for one of the other boxes.

“WHAT ARE YOU?!” You shriek again. He opens his mouth to speak as he takes a step back, and you flinch as you see something move in the corner of your eye- a tail. A spaded fucking demon tail. You had to be losing it. Having hallucinations or a nightmare or something- but as it turns out, you are definitely a fight-over-freeze kind of person, and your body kicks in before your brain has caught up. The box of bones was next to go. A hand, and then two small rib cages and a slightly heavy bundle of newspaper fly through the air.

“Careful!” He flat-out ignores the other items, going wide-eyed at the ball of newspaper and lunging to catch it in time. He takes an audible sigh of relief when he does, and says something that makes you pause from pelting him with any more Halloween shit.

“You’re certainly Maude’s kin, but I doubt she’d appreciate you throwing her breakables.” He halfheartedly jokes, an awkward smile on his face. You’re mid-throw with another bone, hand frozen in the air with a range of emotions going on in your head.

“Excuse me?” You ask, possibly a little overdramatic at the moment. He goes to move, probably to set the wad of newspaper down, but you raise your hand again as if to throw, making a face at him that’s a little more goofy than it was intimidating. He hands the newspaper off to his tail, raising his hands to show that he means no harm.

“Maude? The woman who lived here before?”

“Yeah, I got that part!” You cry out, hands shaking a bit from adrenaline. “How do you know my Aunt Maude? And what are you!? Why are you here!?” The rapid-fire questions seem to interrupt him every time he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to lose his patience with you. He very calmly places the wad of newspaper on top of a box that happens to be near, and you eye him suspiciously as he does. He sits down next to it, the tip of his tail swaying just slightly.

“Maybe we should take a step back, Ja? I can explain everything, I promise.” He says, patting the space next to him. “Herkommen. It might be better to sit for this.” His smile is polite, and if this situation were any different, you might find his kind demeanor charming. But the situation isn’t different. He was a stranger in your house. A blue, possible-demon stranger, with a tail and what you think looks like small, pointed horns sticking out from the thick curls that cover his hairline. You eye him suspiciously, halfway wondering if this was a trick of sorts. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to sit. Eventually, you do, but not next to him, definitely not. You sit down right where you are, hesitant and fidgety as he begins to speak.

Of course, it would be your Aunt to summon a demon to aid her with her ridiculous (lovely) house in her failing health, instead of hiring a fucking nurse, or an assistant, or just selling the damn thing. Of course, it would be your Aunt to leave you the house with said demon in it, and not tell you. OF COURSE, It would be your aunt to tell him to take it slow while introducing himself so he wouldn't freak you out, and OF-FREAKING-COURSE, it would be you who almost killed yourself on accident and completely derail that plan. Jesus, what was worse? The fact that your aunt was apparently an actual witch who summoned demons in her elderly years, or that she didn’t explain any of this to you before leaving you the house. You didn't know how to unpack all of this, hell, you weren’t even done unpacking all of your things.

Well, It’s not like you could (or would) kick him out really, but in the coming weeks, you notice that Kurt is really more of a butler than a roommate.

He’s been cleaning even before you knew he existed, but now that the grand reveal was over, you see him around the house much more often. He helps you with groceries, cooks for you when you’re exhausted, he takes the trash out sometimes too, when the sun goes down. He doesn’t go outside in the front yard very much to avoid being seen, but every once in a while, he’ll take a walk with you in the backyard. You were hesitant of him for a good bit, but you’d be a liar if you said he didn’t have a way of worming his way into your good graces. He’s… sweet. And easy to get along with. He effortlessly fits into your life, and you find yourself excited to see him when you wake up every day. You get along so well that it makes you wonder if your aunt had known that you would when she summoned him, or… you know what, probably not.

You learn more about him as the weeks go by. His past, his hopes for the future. You learn that his father is a demon lord of some sort, and his mothers are a bit more complicated. All three are dangerous, and all three are trying to find him.

“Is that why you took the pact with my Aunt?” You ask, late one night. Both of you have drinks in hand, leaning back on a pile of pillows and cushions you found in the tower room. It’s comfortable, if a bit warm. The two of you are a little flushed, words surprisingly clear as you speak. Despite being a demon, you find that Kurt is a bit of a lightweight. An accident on your part, having poured the drinks a little stronger thinking that he had a bit more tolerance.

“Mostly.” Kurt hums. He’s fully leaning against you, head resting snugly against your own with his tail curled around your abdomen. His horns are resting against your temple in a rather uncomfortable manner, but you don’t mention it. He takes another drink.

“I don’t know how she knew. Or if she knew, really. Magic is specific to each demon, like a fingerprint of sorts, just a bit easier to track. When a demon makes a pact, their magic is filtered through the pact-bearer- which creates a different kind of magic. I needed a place to hide, she was offering me a home. It was easy.” His words slur a little where his accent tends to come out a bit stronger.

“Was that all she offered you? A place to stay?”

“That and…” He trails off for a quick moment, clearing his throat to change the subject. “Well, anyway. I was desperate, and she seemed kind, so I agreed.” You nod as you think it over yourself. You can’t tell if he’s just drunk or it's a sensitive subject, but he can’t just have accepted the many tasks of cleaning and caring for an old woman for something less in return. Was it that easy for demons to make pacts like that? Surely, she wouldn’t have offered him her soul or anything.

You open your mouth to ask him more questions, but when a light snore reaches your ears, you know he’s fallen asleep. You can't help but smile, a warmth in your chest that you don’t really think is from the alcohol.

A few days later, it’s Saturday, October 31st. After some long weekends and late nights, you finally have the whole house decorated, inside and out! You were so beyond excited. The whole place looked like it had come straight out of a Halloween catalog! You were so proud of how amazing it looked, but you could never have taken all the credit. Kurt was a big help, both with the placement and creativity of the many decorations. Everything that had to be put outside had to be done so at night so that Kurt wouldn’t be seen, and sure, sometimes you would wake up and see a few things were crooked, but at least it was fun! You’ve never felt so invigorated and filled with Halloween spirit, especially now, a few hours before the party. You’re shaking some full-sized candy bars into a big-ass plastic cauldron, and Kurt walks in with his arms full of Party favors for tonight.

“You know, I’m not sure you could give away all of these if you tried!” Kurt laughs, setting them all down on the coffee table in the sitting room. It's a bunch of plastic spider rings, vampire teeth, squishy skeletons, slap bracelets, and more. All sorted into their own neat ziplock bags. The apartment complex you used to live at never really got any trick-or-treaters, so you had a lot of leftover goodies you were happy to finally use. You let out an excited giggle, taking one of the bags and emptying it into the cauldron.

“You’ll be surprised! With the neighborhood that’s just around the corner, I know for a fact that we’ll have plenty of kids come by!” You almost sing. Kurt smiles at you, taking a bag of his own to empty.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Schatz. It’s an old building, and rather scary from afar. Maude never really had a lot of visitors on Halloween.” You pout at his words, before tilting your head like you’re considering them as you continue to fill the cauldron.

“True, but Aunt Maude never tried posting on neighborhood Facebook groups and hyping up PTA moms before. Besides, the house is scary, but that's what the lights are for!” Kurt shakes his head, laughing as you voice the thought. You mayyy have gone overboard this year. A few extra strands of lights, blow-ups, and animatronics never hurt anybody, right? I mean, with most of your expenses taken care of due to the paid-off mansion you live in, you were able to spend a little bit more of your personal spending money on Halloween. Your new home was a whole-ass Halloween attraction, and a good bit of the neighborhood thought so too! After posting online, you were pleasantly surprised with the positive feedback from the surrounding neighborhoods, and had even personally met a few kind neighbors since!

Kurt however, couldn’t risk being seen, and had to hide every time. Most people would freak out, just like you did, and the attention isn’t really a good thing for him. The thought sends you on the same spiral that you had been on for the past week, and the smile slowly slips off your face as Kurt takes the pot from you and begins to mix the goodies all together.

“...You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” You ask, vulnerability shining through your voice. Kurt looks up from the task, brow furrowed. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then looks back down again.

“I don’t want to scare anyone.” He says softly, making your frown deepen.

“You won’t! I promise you won’t. None of my friends scare easily- and besides! It’s Halloween. Everyone will just think you’re in a costume!” You try to make the last bit of the plea happy and convincing, but it doesn’t seem to work very well. Kurt doesn’t look at you until he’s done with the pot, placing it back on the coffee table. When he does, his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes,

“I’ll be fine, Schatz. I promise. It will be easier for me to just hide. I can easily enjoy the party from a distance.” The words aren’t very convincing, but before you can say anything else, the doorbell rings. Kurt dusts himself off as he stands, tail swaying as he pulls you to your feet.

“Looks like your guests are early. Make sure to have fun tonight, Ja? I’ll see you later.” Kurt squeezes your hands, and you try not to look too disappointed. After all, it was his decision, and you don’t want him to feel forced to show himself when so much could go wrong. You give him a moment to head back upstairs, disappearing like he used to do back in the beginning. You can’t help but sigh a little, but there’s a hesitant knock on the door instead of the doorbell this time, and you know you can’t just stand here and ignore it.

You don’t really know who is going to be on the other side of the door, with it being mid-afternoon and still a hot minute before the party actually starts, but the bloody, red-haired Carrie on the other side of the door brightens your spirits the moment you see her.

“Jean!” You cheer, rushing to give her a hug that she warmly returns.

“Happy Halloween!” Jean says before pulling away. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought I’d come by a little early to help you set up.”

“Are you kidding? I have a whole ass kitchen of food I still need to plate.” You step aside to let Jean in as she laughs. You were originally to do most of the prep with Kurt, and although Jean is technically interrupting, you try not to let it get you down. This is the first time you’ve seen her in a long while, and you were already rather lucky that Halloween was falling on a Saturday this year- most of your friends/guests all working at the prep school nearby.

“Am I the first one here?” Jean asks as you lead her to the kitchen, and you hum in response.

“Yup, It’s been just me all day.” You’ve never been the best liar, but you think you’re a little convincing at least.

“Funny, I could have sworn I heard a man’s voice when I rang the doorbell.” Jean’s smug tone almost makes you stop in place. If you were even a little convinced that some of this house was soundproof, those hopes were dashed instantly. You smile nervously, trying to play it off as you pass the sitting room, the TV giving you an idea.

“Whaaaattt? No. I mean- I’ve had the TV in the sitting room running all day, so maybe that’s what you heard.” You say, trying to wave her off. Unfortunately, Jean had the ungodly ability to pick up your anxiety like a goddamn bloodhound.

“Really? There’s not some mystery boyfriend you’re not telling me about?” Jean teases. You get stiff and quiet immediately, biting your lip as you reach the kitchen. She takes the silence as an affirmative answer, and she’s not exactly far off. Jean cocks an eyebrow at your nervous stance, chuckling at the sweat that practically beads at your brow. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks by busying yourself with setting out different snack foods to organize and avoiding her eyes, but it doesn’t work.

“Oh come on, I’m not blind. You’re over there blushing like a student. Who’s the lucky guy?” Jean asks, helping you with the task. You begin to open a back of chips, looking away from Jean’s knowing gaze.

“I- We’re- We’re not really a thing. He’s just a friend.” You say, heart thundering in your chest as you pray Kurt isn’t lurking nearby. You’re struggling with the bag still, and Jean holds her hands out as an offer. You hand it to her without a second thought, and she opens the bag easily.

“And is this friend coming to the party tonight?” She asks. You stall for a moment. All you can hear are the soft clinks of the chips hitting the inside of one of the bowls you had set out. You’re not quite sure what to say to that, or even if you had anything to say. Your hesitance makes her frown, looking up at you cautiously. When she puts the bag back down, she reaches out to take your hand.

“Well, if he does stop by, I’ll be glad to meet him.” Her tone is reassuring, and you muster a small smile for her. Tonight was supposed to be fun, so you’d do your best to enjoy it.

The night goes by busier than you ever would have expected. Everyone comes dressed to the absolute nines in their costumes, and although a few were lacking in imagination in your opinion- Logan specifically- everyone looked amazing. You quickly realize that It’s harder to be a good hostess in this big ass house than you would think. Between the food, trying to catch up with friends, and the doorbell constantly ringing with practically a line down your driveway of more trick-or-treaters than you’ve ever seen, you were constantly busy. Lucky for you, you had good people around you. Logan and Scott thankfully took over cooking hamburgers and hotdogs- and Jean promised to keep them from butting heads. Ororo and Xavier happily volunteered to hand out the candy when you couldn’t, and you had Jubilee to count on when it came to the music. The house was busy, people were smiling, and overall, everything was going really well.

The only downside was that you hadn’t seen Kurt since Jean arrived. Sure, it was busy, but every time you managed to pry yourself away from the crowd and look for him in his usual hidey-spots, you never found him. He’s good at being sneaky, I mean he has to be, right? Being blue and all, but his consistent absence makes you a little nervous. He’s probably just being extra cautious, and you can’t blame him for that.

After a few drinks have been had, spirits are high, and some different party games you had planned were finished, it was time to vote for best costume. Almost everyone had gone outside, enjoying the yard and the house in all its festive glory, but you stayed inside to count the votes. Kitty and Illiyana had volunteered to help you, and it takes a surprising amount of time to count the various strips of colored construction paper. In the end, it seems like it was really more of a “most ridiculous” costume contest instead. Jubilee, dressed as the one in only Kool-aide-man in the biggest plastic fishbowl you’d ever seen, won best costume by a single point, with Kevin’s fantastic costume of Professor Xavier himself a single point behind. You try your best not to laugh, knowing that they are not going to be too happy about that. You had bought a light up-sash and a plastic crown for the winner, stopping to grab them before stepping outside to try and find the teen.

Somehow, you can’t find her. I mean, You think it would be easy to find a huge red bowl with a face on it, but she’s not outside at all. When you ask Hank, he says he’s pretty sure she went back inside, so inside you go. You’re starting to get a little anxious at this point, not finding her on the first, or second floor. The third floor is completely dark, aside from the colorful light coming from the windows. You call out her name with no response, and then thinking that Kurt may have seen her, you call out his name next. Nothing. He’s never done that before. Sure, there was a lot going on, but normally he’d at least try to answer you. You creep from door to door upstairs, without any luck, when a muffled sound from the tower room falls on your ears. It makes you pause for a moment. It might be nothing, but you remember telling Jubilee about the room earlier, so you figure it wouldn’t hurt to check.

You’re hesitant, but then there's another muffled cry, and this time, you know it’s him. You slowly creep up over to the door, and then up the stairs to the room. Minutes feel like hours, and when you finally get there, you find Kurt, on his knees and doubled over in pain with his hands pressed to his chest.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” You cry out, running over to him. His face is scrunched up in a wince, his eyes shooting open when you try to help him sit up.

“No, no- You can't be here- You need to go,” Kurt’s voice comes out between heaving breaths. Your hands are shaking, panicked as you spot the blood seeping through his shirt. He hisses in pain when you touch the spot, as if he’s been burned, and when his hands quickly tug your wrist away- his neckline shifts. There’s a brand over his heart. Etched into him as if it were carved with a scalpel.

“What happened? What's happening?” The words come out faster than your brain can catch up. His nails are elongated, razor-sharp points almost digging into the skin of your wrist as hold hold shifts. The brand glows as another wave of pain washes over him. Those small points that normally hide in his curly hair have grown, too. His horns sweep over his head, prominent and black at the very tips. He cries out, slumping forward onto your shoulder as the pain passes.

“You need to go. Bitte- I need you to leave.” Kurt almost whimpers, practically limp against you as he tries to catch his breath. “It’s Azazel, my Vater. He’s found me. He’s using the brand to track me down. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.” He stiffens as another wave of pain hits him, and you do your best to keep upright. There’s so much running through your head, concern, confusion. You don't know how to help him besides holding up up and it's killing you to see him like this.

“I don’t understand- I thought he couldn’t find you unless you used magic?” Kurt looks ashamed when you ask the question, tucking his head further into your shoulder. It's only then that you actually take a look at the room around you. There's an open book on the ground, runes and lettering you don't understand scatter the pages, along with a diagram of a devil that seemingly shifts into something more human and back at every shift of your eye. When you see the worn cover, you recognize it as the book beneath the floorboards- and you finally understand that it's a spellbook.

“I… I wanted to join you.” Kurt whispers, unable to look you in the eye. “My Mutter was skilled in transmutation so I…” He trails off, shaking his head and wincing when another sharp pain shoots through him.

“It was stupid. I’m sorry. I should never have touched it without a pact.”

“If you make one now, will the brand disappear?”

Kurt visibly pauses. Sitting up as best he can to get a look at your face. You're still panicking, but overall you feel mortified. Ashamed. Did you do this? Were you so instant that he came tonight that he would risk everything just to do so? What was wrong with you- and why on God's green earth would he actually try to go through with it? You're beginning to tear up, swallowing down your thoughts as you offer the only thing you can think of. Kurt doesn't answer you at first, his yellow eyes wide with shock as he stares at you.

“If you make a new pact, will you be able to dispel the tracker?” You repeat, trying so hard to seem confident and self-assured through your shaky voice. Kurt’s face shifts into something you can't quite place, and he shakes his head.

“I can’t ask that of you-”

“Kurt, just answer me!” You’re too stubborn to let it go. A trait that you and Maude often shared. Kurt takes your hands into his own, squeezing them, and shakes his head. He's insistent in his own right, conveying his worry and fears- not for his own future, but yours.

“This isn’t the way you want to gain a pact! Maude had made preparations. She had charms and protections and rules in place! There’s no time for us to do the same. If you make a pact with me now with nothing? It would bind your soul to mine for eternity. You would have no rest, no peace- no Heaven. I won’t-”

“I love you!” Kurt sucks in a sharp breath at your exclamation. Tears have started to roll down your face no matter how hard you were trying to blink them away.

“I don’t care about eternity, or rest- or any of that. I love you. Fuck- I know I haven’t even known you three months- I just…” You trail off, looking away from him in embarrassment that all of this had to come out in such bullshit circumstances.

“Please just make the pact.”

Kurt’s eyes soften, almost scanning your own as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth. He uses the back of his hand to wipe the tears from your face, careful of his claws, and then suddenly, he kisses you. It’s easy for you to melt into his desperate kiss, a hand coming up to cup his face as he pulls you closer with his tail. The strong limb pulls you into a straddle across his lap as he takes your free hand in his own. When he breaks the kiss, he does so with a mumbled apology as he takes your free hand. You feel a sudden stinging pain as a careful claw slices across your palm, and he apologizes again as he presses it over his heart, directly against the bleeding brand. Both of you hiss at the sudden, blinding pain as his hand continues to press your palm tightly to the wound.

There’s an energy that begins to fill your body, like an electric current that links the two of you together. Your skin is buzzing, your head spinning as you fall against his shoulder in a mirror of his own position earlier. Kurt’s new claws dig into his own skin, and he grits his teeth as the pain from the brand grows more and more- before everything stops.

You wish you could say there was some spark, or spoken words, or something, but it all ends almost anti-climatically. Everything stops. Everything is quiet- almost too quiet. Whatever vertigo you are feeling begins to wear off, and when you feel like you can finally lift your head, you look at Kurt.

He’s smiling at you, horns reduced, fingernails shortened, with your hand still pressed over his heart- the brand gone and the skin healed on both of you

“Is it over?”

“It’s over.” He confirms, and you sigh in relief, pressing your forehead against his own. Kurt doesn't take long before he’s pressing kisses all over your face, holding you still as you giggle and squirm. You know there’s more to be said between you, but it’s been one hell of a night, and right now you’re enjoying the comfortable silence between Kurt’s fluttering kisses- until someone calls your name from the tower stairs.

“Hey, You in there?” Jean’s voice echoes through the space, and you sit straight up, heart given a jumpstart as Jean comes into view- you don’t have time to move before she gets there.

“You’ll never guess where we found Jube….” She trails off when she sees you and Kurt. “Oh?” Your face is as red as it can get, panic shooting through you at the realization that she’s seen the actual demon living in your home. All he does though is smile and wave, although a bit nervously. Jean raises an eyebrow, beginning to smile just as you realize the position the two of you are in.

“Nice costume,” Jean says, and after a moment of confusion, you realize she’s talking to Kurt. Kurt looks relieved, shoulders relaxing underneath you, and you clear your throat.

“Jean, this is Kurt.”

The air settles in the Tower room once it’s empty, the sound of the party downstairs is muffled through the floorboards, but still present nonetheless. There’s almost a giggle in the air, and the book flips from page to page before it closes shut, and the ink fades as the grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes midnight. A pact is completed, and the energy in the air begins to fade. After all, a soul can’t leave the mortal plane until its final business has been finished, and Maude had not promised her own soul to the friendly blue devil, but no one said she couldn’t offer something else- a soulmate.

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balsee · 2 months ago

Note

Hear me out? What if reader gave Sanji an apron that says “Kiss The Chef” she got it as ‘a joke’ and now, any time he makes/cooks something for the crew he only puts it on just for her and asks for a kiss before he gives her a plate of food. 🤣

I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR! <33

It started as a joke.

It's nearly lunchtime on the Thousand Sunny, and you innocently make your way from your bedroom onto the deck, holding your purchase behind your back. The rest of your crew was so wrapped up in their own leisurely pleasures that you walk by them, completely unnoticed, and make a beeline for the kitchen. Upon entering, you see Sanji putting together a plate of finger sandwiches, and he doesn't even notice as you walk up to him; he's much too focused on putting little garnishes on the plate. (Cucumber roses, you notice. You could die on the spot it's so cute).

You clear your throat. "Sanji?"

He glances up from his work, and immediately breaks out into a grin. You'll never get over that, how easy it is for Sanji to smile at the sight of you. It's as if your mere presence alone was enough to make him happy, and while you were never the self-deprecating type, never did you think that you would have that sort of affect on someone.

"Yes, darling?" He asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Lunch is almost ready, but if you're hungry now, I can give you a small plate of fruit salad until it's time to eat."

You smile. "No, thank you, Sanji. Actually, I have something for you."

At this, Sanji blinks. "You do?"

"Yup!" you're starting to fidget, unable to tamper down a giddy, goofy smile, and he notices.

"What is it, love?" he asks with a laugh, and you bounce on the balls of your feet before you pull your hands from behind your back in a dramatic flourish.

It's a pink apron, with the words, "Kiss the Cook" in black cursive printed across the front; a red kiss mark replacing the dot of the letter 'i.' "Ta-da!" you sing, brandishing the apron. "Do you like it?"

Sanji seems at a loss for words, and whatever he's currently feeling, he manages to mask. "Where did you get this?"

"At that spring island we left yesterday," you explain. "I saw it in a window when I was shopping with Nami, and I thought it was perfect for you."

"F-for me?"

"Yes, silly, it's a gift!"

You're expecting Sanji to get embarrassed, or to take it in a way that clearly shows he's forcing himself to like it; but to your surprise, he positively melts.

"You got me a gift?" his voice is almost awed, and before you can say anything, he takes the apron from you. "Thank you, darling, really." You're a little taken aback, he's so sincere that you laugh.

"It was a joke, Sanji. A gag gift. I don't expect you to wear it."

"Of course I'm going to wear it!" he insists, and his usual lovesick enthusiasm comes back. "A beautiful, enchanting lady bought it for me! How could I deny such a heartfelt display from you?" and then to prove his point, he puts the apron on. "See? It's perfect."

***

You soon realize that the apron poses a problem. Sanji isn't embarrassed to be seen with it on, far from it, actually. But when Zoro made some crack about him being 'whipped' one evening in regards to the apron, Sanji had kicked him out of the kitchen after dinner was over, claiming that the "empty-headed, brain-dead" swordsman was too stupid to understand the importance of such a gift. And while you were happy Sanji ended up liking your little joke, a new problem starts to surface.

He'll put the apron on only for you, and tries to get a kiss.

"Y'know, for a simple kiss, I can sneak you another slice of cake." he said one night, when the dishes were cleaned and he was piping frosting along a pound cake.

"In your dreams, Sanji." you sing, and swipe a finger of icing before heading to the door.

He had tried several times after that, so sly and genuine that you almost felt bad for shooting him down. On his fourth attempt, he begs outright, completely and utterly shameless.

"Can't you see what you're doing to me, Mon coeur?" he asks, a steaming plate of paella in one hand yet to be given to you. "A kiss from you would mean the world to me, there's nothing else that would compare." he leans in ever so slightly, slightly pink-faced and pleading; there's a ruined look on his face that has your blood spiking dangerously. "What more do I have to do, sweet thing?"

You scrutinize him closely. Seconds tick by.

Sanji starts to compose himself, an easy smile on his face, as if he hadn't just made a fool of himself mere seconds ago, and his voice is soft. "Ah, don't worry, I'm just teasing. Perhaps another time--"

Before you can back out, you lean forward and kiss him, true and sweet. Time stops in a moment of pure perfection before it resumes. In a flash you pull away, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours remains. "There you go!" you smile at him, as cheerful as ever, and quickly take the paella from his hands before heading to the door. Normally, you don't eat food on the deck aside from sweets, but you want to hide your shaking hands and the incredible blush rising to your face.

As the door swings shut behind you, Sanji all but collapses onto the counter, and thinks that he's never been more grateful for a joke.

#gosh i'm a sucker for ideas like this #I'AM KISSING HIM SILLY!#I hope this is good I swear I don't write fic #but thank you for the suggestion! it made me happy to write this!!#sanji x reader

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roll-of-royces · 10 months ago

Text

HC: How They Respond To Someone Flirting With You

At first he is subtle about his jealousy, his jaw tightens, he shifts a little closer. He makes an off-handed remark to whoever is causing the jealousy ("Yes, my partner and I went out for breakfast yesterday. We enjoyed it.").

If the stranger persists so does Zayne. Now it's an arm lightly curling around your waist. It's a kiss to the top of your head, a rare display of affection despite others nearby. The statements become more claiming, like "I am lucky to call them mine."

And if still whoever is the culprit does not get the hint, Zayne's passive-aggressiveness grows. He all out disengages from the situation entirely, "If you'll excuse us." Guiding you away with a hand firmly in the small of your back.

He doesn't blame you, he expects it. After all what he said is true, he knows he's lucky to have you. The night ends early, as he takes you back to his apartment. When you're alone, he's clingy. Hands on your face, then your hips. He kisses you more than usual, muttering compliments like curses, "I should have known with you being so beautiful." or "Let me show you how perfect you are."

Needless to say, you don't get much sleep.

It takes Xavier a moment to realize what is going on, but after he puts the pieces together his stance changes. His normally casual slouched posture straightens. His eyes, blinking away in errant contented sleepy thought a moment ago, are now sharp. He takes your hand.

If that is not enough his astonishment grows. He doesn't understand why someone would flirt with you when he is right there, holding your hand. And now you're starting to look uncomfortable. He fixes the stranger with a harsh glare.

And when that is ignored, he falls into the strong tone of a legendary Deepspace Hunter, who doesn't share his paramour with anyone. "We'll be leaving now." He pulls you away, grip tight on your hand not caring if he has come off as rude.

The two of you head off together, stopping at one of your favorite sweets shops as you do. Xavier is red in the face, and keeps glancing at you. He apologizes, saying "I could have handled that better." But his tenseness loosens when you kiss him, because at the end of the day you're going home together.

Despite his casualness, Rafayel notices the moment the first flirtatious comment leaves the stranger's mouth. It instantly becomes a competition, because Rafayel knows all of your favorite things. He's learned them happily over your time together.

So each attempt at flirting is met with his own more dramatic attempt. The stranger compliments your hair, so he wraps it around his fingers and brings it to his mouth with a wink. The stranger says you look pretty, so Rafayel exclaims you are the most beautiful muse he has and will ever have.

The two of you end up making a bit of a game of it, until eventually the stranger gives up and leaves. When he's gone Rafayel laughs, "Did he actually think he had a chance?"

You laugh, and happily kiss him. It doesn't matter that you're at a party. You're with your love, and Rafayel is happy, smiling wide, grinning too often and never leaving your side.

#l&ds #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads #I want to watch Zayne hit someone

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woso-dreamzzz · 10 months ago

Text

Breakfast IV

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: The trip to the Maldives

"You can smile, you know," Mamma says," It won't hurt."

You don't give her the satisfaction, shovelling more food into your mouth.

"Oh? Giving me the silent treatment but now smile? Come on. Smile." Mamma pokes at your cheeks until the corners of your mouth lift up begrudgingly. "There's my beautiful girl. What's got you so grumpy?"

"It's hot," You complain.

Mamma laughs. "Well, maybe you would be less hot if you didn't insist on sleeping with me and Ellie last night."

"Should have kicked Ellie out. You've had me longer," You mutter but Mamma keeps laughing and presses a soft kiss to your hairline. You look behind you. "Is Ellie up yet? I'm bored."

"I thought you were hot."

"Mamma! I can be both!"

"Ellie's still sleeping," Mamma says," How about we head out and grab some ice cream if you're so hot?"

You look at Mamma suspiciously for a moment but then run to get your shoes before she changes her mind.

It's Christmas break and you're in the Maldives with Mamma and Ellie. You don't really like it much. It's too hot and the ocean makes your hair go all weird and Ellie's being extra annoying.

You made your truce in France so you don't really think it applies here.

Ellie's being extra annoying because of the heat, you think, because she threw you in the sea yesterday when you weren't ready all because you ate some of the snacks from Australia she'd brought with her.

You thought that was kind of mean because Ellie's an adult and you're only little and Mamma always says sharing is caring. Ellie should have acted like an adult and not thrown you in the sea.

You're good at swimming though so it didn't matter and you kicked her in the shin when you got back to shore and Mamma didn't even tell you off for it.

You get ice cream with Mamma and immediately beeline to her bedroom as soon as you're back.

"Ew! Why are your fingers sticky?!" Ellie demands as she wakes up.

You shovel more ice cream into your mouth, wiping off your hands against her arm.

"You got ice cream without me? Daan, how could you?!"

You knew she's joking around now and you've sufficiently annoyed her for today so you skip back to the lounge to watch some tv.

You know that Mamma and Ellie are kissing and being gross because you can hear them giggling and you know that's what they do when they kiss because you walked in on them once.

"Mamma! Ellie's being mean again!" You exclaim when they finally come back in and Ellie gives you a noogie on your head.

"Ellie! Leave her alone!"

"Daan! Your pipsqueak is trying to bite me again!"

"Y/N! Be nice!"

You stick your tongue out but keep your teeth to yourself as Ellie laces up her shoes and throws your own at you.

There's something about you that Ellie can admit that she'll never get. You're slightly feral at times. It shouldn't be endearing but it is and Ellie hopes that never changes even as you try to shove her off the boardwalk and into the ocean.

You're pushing with all your miniscule might but Ellie's refusing to budge. In an impressive show of strength, she picks you up and throws you over her shoulder as she walks to the oceanside bar that's nearby.

"If you're going to give me alcohol, Mamma will be mad," You say as she comes back from ordering drinks, having dropped you off at an empty table.

"I'm not giving you alcohol," Ellie says, dipping her hand into her purse a bit nervously.

"Unless it's in ice cream," You reply," Mamma lets me have ice cream that's got champagne in it when we go to the theatre. Can we get ice cream?"

"You've already had ice cream today, pipsqueak," Ellie reminds you, rolling something around her fingers.

"But you wanted ice cream earlier. I won't tell Mamma if you let me have some."

Ellie rolls her eyes fondly at you before suddenly turning serious.

You notice the switch instantly and it's like you immediately put your walls back up. You go stiff and rigid and look at her as suspiciously as the first time she slept around. One of her hands comes up to take yours but you pull away.

"Pipsqueak," She says gently," It's okay."

You shake your head. "Is something bad happening?" You ask, eyes darting around," Ellie, you're being weird. Stop it."

It's clear that you're panicking now but still rooted to your seat. You look like you're going to bolt at any moment and Ellie doesn't know if she has the wherewithal to catch you before you disappear.

It's now or never.

She slides you what she had hidden in one of her hands.

You stop breathing and suddenly it's Ellie's turn to panic now.

"I..." You say, staring down at what is now cradled in your palm," I...I don't understand."

"I want to marry your Mamma," Ellie says to you. She reaches out for you again.

You let her.

"I don't want to be temporary in your or her lives. I really want to marry your Mamma."

You pop open the box to look at the ring.

"And I know we have a truce but I don't think it covers this. So, I need to ask. Are you okay with this? Is this alright with you?"

You're still not looking at her. "But...But why? I'm mean to you all the time. I get you all sticky with ice cream and I know you don't like walking to school with me when we can just drive. Why are you staying?"

"I love your Mamma, pipsqueak," Ellie says," Can I tell you a secret?"

She moves to sit on your side of the table, gently bringing you closer in case any sudden move will startle you.

"I love you too."

Your eyes starting stinging with tears.

"And I promise that I don't actually care if you put your sticky ice cream hands on my skin or make me walk half an hour in the rain when the car journey is basically ten minutes. I want all of that with you and your Mamma but only if you want that too."

You look up at Ellie and clamber onto her lap, curling up so you can press your ear against her chest and listen to the beating of her heart.

When you come back to the villa, Daan knows that you're acting weird. You're a little jumpy and you can't seem to make eye contact.

Ellie's no help, telling her nothing of what you've done to waste almost three hours together. She just shrugs and shepherds you into their room for your usual afternoon nap.

"You know how she is," Ellie says after getting you settled," The heat's getting to her a bit." She offers up no other explanation but that one before heading out again.

Daan's left to stew in her own worries for a few hours before familiar feet draw her attention.

"Did you have a good nap?"

She cranes her head back to look at you, brow furrowing as she does so.

You've changed out of what you were wearing earlier, with your shoes already on and holding hers in your hand.

"Have we got plans?" She teases when you force her into her shoes and drag her out the door.

You don't answer, holding your Mamma's hand tightly. You pull her along the walkway to the beach, weaving through the sparse trees to where Ellie's waiting for you both.

"What are you two troublemakers doing?" Daan asks," Wearing the same clothes now? What have you planned?"

You drop her hand to stand next to Ellie, who leans down to whisper something in your ear. You giggle before going to grab something out of Ellie's bag.

Ellie smiles.

She steps closer.

She gets on one knee.

Daan says yes before she even asks.

You throw confetti into the air.

#woso x reader #ellie carpenter x reader #ellie carpenter #danielle van de donk x reader #danielle van de donk #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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manicpixiefelix · 11 months ago

Text

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

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

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

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

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

----

Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

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

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joelmillerisapunk · 7 months ago

Text

Beach Daddy II. Jet skis and the ocean breeze

Rich daddy!Joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist • Masterlist

Wordcount: 8,173

Summary: You and Joel have some alone time.

Warnings: 18+, some cute reader and Joel moments, mentions of cheating and parental loss, falling into the water and struggling.

Notes: Welcome back babes 😘 hope you enjoy. Comments and any feedback are always so welcome. Thanks for reading ily.

You wake up the next morning, feeling refreshed and excited about your first day on the ocean. Sometime during the early morning hours, someone slipped an itinerary under your door. As you read it, you can't help the pang of dread you feel when you see that Sarah has planned the whole day out for you, and you will be spending all day with Todd.

At least you have a few hours before you are expected at the poolside brunch starting at 10:00. So you call down for coffee to be sent to your room, and as you wait, you go to the sliding door to the balcony and open it to let the sound of the waves take over your room.

You get dressed in a pair of shorts and your favorite top. Before you have time to finish your makeup, there is a knock at your door announcing your coffee has arrived.

"Good morning, Miss," says the pool boy Sarah had snapped at the day before. He’s carrying a coffee tray holding a glass coffee decanter, cream and sugar, and a plate full of fruit. You love that each time you've called down for something simple, the staff adds something extra.

"Good morning; I don't think I caught your name yesterday," you say.

"It's Derek, Miss. Where would you like me to put this?"

"If you could put it on the balcony for me, I would really appreciate it. It looks amazing."

"Of course," Derek says as he makes his way onto the balcony. You don't think you will ever get used to this level of service.

"Thank you so much, Derek," you say, and he responds with a smile. You don't think the staff is used to Sarah's guests calling them by name.

You quickly finish getting ready for the day and make your way to the small breakfast table before your coffee gets too cold. In the light of the morning, you can see the ocean rather than just hear it like the night before. You watch the water closely as you take your time, sipping your coffee and enjoying the sweetest fruits you have ever tasted. You hope, at some point on the trip, you will be able to catch a glimpse of a dolphin. You've always thought they were beautiful creatures.

Five minutes before 10:00, you accept your fate, slip on your sandals, and make your way out to the pool deck. Smaller tables are set up around the pool, each only allowing two to four occupants. You sit at an empty table, happy that you don't have to make small talk.

You place your order with a waiter and sit in silence, watching the rest of the group. Many of them are clearly very hung over from the night before.

The blond, Hudson, has his head resting on the table, not responding to Megan, who is talking to him nonstop. A girl with short black hair sits next to them, carefully working on an omelet, shooting dirty looks at Megan, who must have been talking too loudly.

The group must have stayed at the dinner party drinking until the early hours of the morning. You're happy you were able to slip away. Even though you had that awkward run-in with Mr. Miller, your night ended up a lot better once you were alone in your room.

As soon as your mango mimosa is set on the table, the chair next to you is pulled out. You look up and are surprised to see Todd sitting next to you.

"So, Sarah tells me that you two lived together at NYU. What did you study there?" Todd says, continuing his game.

You look around for Sarah and shoot a glare at Todd when you notice she isn't on the deck yet. "You know exactly what I studied, Todd."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says with a wicked glint in his eyes. Why had you never seen past his fake smile before now?

Todd leans over and whispers, "You look good, babe. That’s always been your color.”

You could have slapped him, and you might have if Sarah hadn't walked up right at that moment and sat on the other side of Todd. She looks flawless, like always, in a perfectly fitted sundress.

"Hey! You really missed out on a great party last night. Adrian nearly fell into the pool in her dress," Sarah says.

"Wow, it really does sound like I missed out. I had a headache, so I snuck out early, but I won't miss a thing today," you say and take a big sip of your drink.

"Daddy, come sit with us!" Sarah squeals. You nearly choke on your drink, but luckily, you have time to compose yourself as Mr. Miller makes his way to your table.

"This is my old roommate from NYU. Unfortunately, you didn't get to meet her last night."

"Nice to meet you, darlin’," Mr. Miller says with a smirk sneaking onto his lips. He raises one eyebrow playfully. "I hope everything and everyone on the ship has been to your liking."

"Everything has been wonderful, thank you," you say. You wish you could hide under the table instead.

"Mr. Miller, what do you think of the new design of aircraft that AmeriAir just revealed?" Todd says, breaking Mr. Miller's eye contact with you. You look over at Todd and realize that he has witnessed the strange moment between you and Sarah's dad.

"It seems like it will be a great little plane. I'm interested to see how it does in this market," Mr. Miller says, and the conversation steers towards his new airline.

Of course, you know that he's wealthy, but as breakfast continues, you quickly realize that his kind of wealth is more than you can even imagine. You try not to look impressed as he talks because you keep catching the look Todd is giving you out of the corner of your eye. Even in front of Sarah, he can't control himself.

It's hard not to be impressed by Sarah's father. Not only is he wealthy, but he is extremely attractive. You could have watched the way his lips moved all morning. Sarah would catch you making googly eyes at her father if you didn't get yourself out of there. You scan the deck for an escape route when you notice Reggie sitting alone at one of the tables.

You slide your chair back and stand as casually as you can manage while saying excuse me to the table. You quickly take a seat next to him, and he looks up from his breakfast.

"Hey, Reggie. Can I ask you for a huge favor?"

"Of course. What do you need?" he asks.

"Is there somewhere quiet the rest of the guests don't know about?"

"I know the perfect place," Reggie smiles and quickly gives you directions. You stand, ready to go to this secret spot before anyone notices you are gone.

"Where are you going?"

You turn to find Sarah walking over to you. "We're all heading to the sauna."

“That sounds great, Sarah. I’ll head back to my room and change.” This is the perfect opportunity to slip away from the group for a while.

Sarah smiles. "I'm headed that way, too. When you're done, the Sauna is on B deck towards the front of the ship."

—

You enter your room and change into a swimsuit. You throw your shorts back on overtop and grab a book from your luggage. You quickly make your way out of your room, ensuring you don't run into Sarah.

You carefully avoid the sauna and head to the very back of the ship, just as Reggie suggested. You enter the dining room and step out onto the balcony. The balcony leads to a secluded deck with two lounge chairs. On the table between the two chairs is a pitcher full of lemonade and a couple of glasses.

Reggie must have arranged for this to be brought here for you.

You make yourself comfortable and try to read the book you've brought with you, but the sound of the waves at the back of the boat is so loud. You have a hard time keeping your eyes open, so you set the book down on your chest and let the sun warm your face.

Just as you're about to drift off to sleep, a shadow blocks the sun from your face.

"Seems like you found my hiding place. You must've had the same idea," a deep voice says, and you open your eyes.

"Mr. Miller!" You sit up, fully awake.

He sits down on the lounge chair next to you, leans back, and places his hands behind his head.

"Call me Joel.”

—

As Joel rounds the corner, he's surprised to see your hair flowing off the back of the lounge chair. You look so relaxed that he feels guilty invading your solace, but he can't leave now. If you notice him leaving, he'd make an even bigger fool of himself than he'd done the night before.

"Mr. Miller, I don't know if -" You start.

"Please, I insist," Joel says before you can finish.

"Alright," you answer with a small smile. "I am so sorry if I took your hiding spot. I needed some time to myself, so your intern, Reggie, told me how to get here."

"You can stay as long as you'd like, darlin. Do you mind if I hide out here with you, though?" Joel asks.

You laugh lightly, "It is your boat - Joel."

"True, but finders keepers, right," Joel says, looking over at you and winking. Then, you laugh a real laugh, making him want to say anything to hear you laugh again.

"It would be nice to have some company. Reggie sent out some lemonade. Would you like some?" You ask as you sit up and start filling the two glasses.

Reggie told Joel about his run-in with you the night before and how he'd tried to smooth over his terrible blunder. He made sure he helped you back to your room, and now he was helping you find all the best spots on the ship. He was really going out of his way for you. Joel couldn't help wondering if the boy had a crush on you.

You hand Joel a glass, and he has to stop himself from staring at you in your swimsuit. Reggie would be crazy if he didn't have a bit of a crush on you.

"So you and Sarah met at NYU?" Joel asks.

"Yeah, we were roommates during our undergrad. After that, I stayed to get my master's degree in political science. I just graduated, so this trip came at the perfect time."

"Wow, congratulations. Do you know what you’re gonna do with your degree yet?" Joel is impressed. He had begged Sarah to continue school, even bribing her with a new convertible, but she flat out refused.

"I was actually accepted into Harvard Law. I’ll be starting this upcoming fall semester," you answer rather sheepishly.

You are unlike Sarah's other friends, most of whom live off of trust funds.

"That's real impressive, darlin. My father pushed me to get my degrees in finance, but had I chosen for myself, I like to think I would’ve gone to law school," Joel says. "I don't know if I woulda been able to do it, though. It takes a lot of effort and determination to become a lawyer."

You sigh a little, "I do spend most of my time studying, but one day, it will be worth it."

"I couldn't agree more. That just means you'll have to take every second you can before your next semester to relax, " Joel says.

"That's the idea. It's really why I said yes to Sarah's invitation. I just hope I can find time to relax between everything she has scheduled. I can't really keep up with the partying her friends are used to."

"Now that you mention it, how is it that you and Sarah became friends? You two don't seem to have very similar interests," Joel says.

You laugh again, and Joel can't help but smile.

"Sarah and I did spend our free time very differently, but she knew how to get me to get out and have fun. So I guess she really helped me find a balance between school and having a life."

It's nice to hear someone talk so positively about Sarah. Joel hopes that during this trip, if his daughter spends more time with you, he will get to see more of that side of her. The kind side that Sarah often hides in favor of popularity.

"Well, I'm real glad Sarah invited you to join us."

You quickly return to your glass of lemonade, feeling almost embarrassed, and you sit in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"So, what do you think of Todd?" Joel asks. "It's unlike Sarah to bring a guy to meet me, so this relationship must be important to her."

You're taking a long time to respond, so Joel figures you haven't heard him. He turns to look at you, but you're looking down, purposely not meeting his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You ignore his second question and say, "Um, he seems to make Sarah very happy." You still refuse to meet his gaze as you get to your feet and grab your book off of the table.

Joel is confused by the sudden shift in the conversation, and he hopes he hasn't made another blunder.

"I think I'm going to go back to my room and lay down before the party. Thank you again for sharing your hideout with me," you say.

"Of course. Please, use it any time you want."

Finally, you look at him and, with a weak smile, say, "I will. I enjoyed talking with you, Joel."

"I enjoyed talkin’ with you too. I’ll see you later darlin," Joel says.

You nod and walk away, clutching your book to your chest.

Joel can't help but to watch you as you walk away. There’s something different about you that is intriguing.

He’s not used to women who are beautiful, reserved, and kind. Usually, when a woman he’s talking with finds out how much money he has, it's all he can do to escape from them. Not being able to find someone genuine is the main reason he never dated anyone long-term. There is nothing he hates more than someone trying to get to know him for access to his wealth. Sarah’s mother was the first and only woman to fool Joel into thinking she was someone she wasn't because she wanted him for his money.

Joel closes his eyes and leans back in the lounge chair. He’s positive that the conversation he had with you was genuine. He gets the feeling that there is nothing about you that isn't one hundred percent genuine.

Lost in thought, Joel doesn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"Oh, hello, sir."

Joel turns to see Reggie standing behind the two lounge chairs, looking confused.

"Reggie, I need to thank you for looking after Sarah's guests. You really have gone above and beyond what is expected. You’re doing a remarkable job."

"No problem, sir," he says with a sheepish grin.

"That reminds me to show you those sales reports from last quarter. If you could email Pam, she will get those sent over. Oh, sorry, is there somethin’ you need from me?" Joel asks.

"No, sir, I was just looking for - never mind. I will go get those reports ready. Please excuse me." Reggie says and turns to go.

Joel is confused by the interaction until he looks down at the pitcher of lemonade and the two glasses. You did say that Reggie sent up the lemonade for you, but he sent you two glasses. Joel realizes he had probably intruded on a moment Reggie set up. The thought that Reggie wants your attention shouldn't bother Joel, but it does. It bothers Joel more than he cares to admit.

He remains on the lounge chair, replaying his conversation with you over again in his head.

Finally, after an hour, he decides its probably time he rejoins the guests. Sarah is planning a cocktail party for that evening, and Joel needs to check with the staff that everything is running smoothly. Sarah had ordered an ice sculpture to be made in her image, and she told Joel she would 'die of embarrassment' if it didn't turn out. Joel plans to go check it before she can. That way, if there is a problem, Joel will be the one to deal with it, and Sarah won't get a chance to terrorize his staff.

As Joel exits the dining room on his way to the kitchen, he hears his name being called from the other end of the hall.

"Mr. Miller! I've been looking for you," Todd says.

Joel turns towards him, wondering what you aren't telling him about Todd.

"I was hoping I could have a word with you, sir. Alone.”

—

You wake up on the fourth day of the trip to a fantastic view. Wrapping a robe around yourself, you make your way to the balcony. The yacht is no longer moving; it must have come into port sometime during the night. You're docked at a tropical island with white sand beaches lined with palm trees.

A squeal of excitement threatens to escape you. Sarah told you yesterday that you'd be going on a private luxury catamaran dolphin tour. You've always wanted to see a dolphin in the wild. Even being stuck on a smaller boat with Todd all day seems worth it.

You've become quite creative in finding ways to avoid Todd each day. You still attend every planned activity but manage to sneak away and spend some time relaxing. On a few occasions, Reggie saves you from talking to the other members of the group.

You've had a few decent conversations with Alison, the woman in your group with short black hair. You like her far better than Megan, who's caught up in impressing Hudson. Megan is one of those people who puts others down to get a laugh. Unfortunately, you've been the subject of too many of her jokes for you to want to get to know her any better.

But no conversation could match up to the one you had with Sarah's father, Joel. It was also the only conversation you kept thinking about; you have to be careful whenever he's around not to stare too much. Joel, like you, usually joins the group for a while but slips away as soon as he knows he won't be missed.

Quickly getting dressed in shorts and T-shirt over the top of your bikini, you head to the dining room for breakfast before you board the catamaran.

You're the first one there, as you should have remembered that to Sarah and her friends, on time is actually early.

You sit next to one of the windows overlooking the island and place your breakfast order. Each meal is prepared by a private chef who makes the best food you've ever tasted.

The waiter brings over your latte while you wait for your lobster frittata.

You sip at your drink and watch the tropical birds flying over the ocean. Joel fills the chair across from you, breaking your trance. You look over and smile at him.

"Mornin, darlin," Joel says, returning your smile. Your stomach does a small flip as his eyes meet yours.

"Good morning," you say, glad that you picked one of the smaller tables that only has room for two.

"This has got to be my favorite place to stop. It's a quiet little island between Florida and the Bahamas. The locals are amazing, and the restaurants are to die for."

"It is absolutely beautiful," you say wistfully.

"So, what does Sarah have planned for you today?" Joel asks.

"She has a private catamaran dolphin tour planned," you say, and your tone conveys how badly you're looking forward to it.

"Oh, that will be an enjoyable day. You seem excited about the dolphins."

"I have loved dolphins ever since I was little. My parents even bought me a little stuffed animal dolphin that I carried everywhere with me. I named it Dolly," you say and then quickly stop talking.

The memory of the loss of your parents still stings, and you do your best not to talk about it.

"Have you ever gotten to see one in real life?" Joel asks you with a slightly amused look on his face, probably imagining you with the little dolphin doll.

"No. There is a pod that lives year-round off the coast of Maine where my grandpa lives, but he doesn't get out much. So I never got the chance." You're not quite as happy now as you were before as thoughts of how much you miss your family fill your mind.

Joel remains quiet. You hope he won't ask why your parents never took you. You don't want to explain about them passing away. However, you're saved when your food arrives, which gives you time to change the subject before he can ask. "You'll have to help me spot the dolphins while we are on the catamaran today," you say, hoping to sound innocent.

Joel's face falls, "I'm afraid I have some business that I really have to attend to. I won't be able to make it."

"Oh," you say, trying not to sound disappointed. You had been hoping to spend some more time with him. He's one of the only people here you like to talk to.

"I'd love to hear about your first dolphin sighting when you get back, though," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll make sure I get some good pictures," you respond with a small smile. You would love the opportunity to speak to him again, and that would be the perfect excuse.

Your conversation continues as more members of the group finally turn up. When you finish your meal, Joel excuses himself and heads to his private office on the yacht.

You're sad to see him go but fight the urge to watch him walk away. Instead, you focus your eyes on the ocean, imagining what it would be like to see a dolphin leap out of the water.

Sarah is the last to arrive at breakfast, wearing another glamorous bikini with a matching sheer coverup.

She spends a few minutes sitting near Megan chatting away while she eats. Then, she says the words you've been waiting for. "The catamaran is waiting!" Sarah squeals, lifting her mimosa into the air.

With a smile, you hop up, finally eager to take part in one of the activities.

—

A man dressed in a light blue polo hands you a glass of champagne as you board the catamaran. As the captain sets sail, you quickly find a spot next to the railing.

Sarah and Todd immediately find the net forming a hammock between the two hulls and claim it for themselves. You drain your glass of champagne and turn your eyes to the ocean, constantly scanning for any movement.

The party continues on around you, and Sarah and Todd are getting more and more handsy as the cruise continues. The crew members have turned on music, and the group is dancing, drinking, and enjoying themselves.

You keep your focus on the water and try your best to ignore your ex with his tongue down your friend's throat. You grab another glass of champagne as one of the servers walks by and sample some of the hors d'oeuvres until you accidentally eat a dip that turns out to be caviar. You're not a fan.

After a while, you notice that you've turned around and are on a reef not far from the yacht. Your heart sinks as the captain stops the boat. Hudson and Todd jump into the water and try to get the girls to jump in.

"Excuse me," you say to get the attention of the man in the blue polo.

"Yes, miss? Can I get you another glass of champagne?" he answers.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I was just wondering if you could let me know when we will start looking for the dolphin pod again?" You ask.

"I'm sorry, but Miss Miller is getting bored of looking for the dolphins and has ordered the captain to stop so everyone can do some snorkeling and swimming. We can't resume our tour until Miss Miller gives us the go-ahead. This area is great for snorkeling, though; you can see a lot of wildlife swimming in the coral," he says with a sympathetic smile.

"I see. Thank you," you say, turning away from the man, trying to keep the tears of disappointment from welling up in your eyes.

You had been so close, and the thought of leaving without seeing a single dolphin is heartbreaking.

You hear screams of excitement behind you, and you head to the swim deck and dangle your feet in the water. Todd has convinced Sarah to jump in the water, and he is now kissing her while they are both treading water. He'd never been that romantic when he was dating you; you guess he was too busy cheating on you to show you that kind of attention.

You know you probably should have given up on your hope of seeing a dolphin, but you continue to scan the surrounding water. You notice a jet ski in the distance, and it comes closer and closer to the catamaran. As the rider gets closer, you realize it’s Joel. He pulls his jet ski next to you.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, we couldn't find the dolphins, though," you try but fail to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"Really?" Joel says, watching you closely.

"No, everyone was getting bored of looking, so Sarah had the captain stop so we could snorkel over the reef," you say while you watch your feet kick back and forth in the water. You look over at the group, all swimming on the reef, and notice Todd watching your interaction closely.

"I bet we could find them. There's a cove not far from here that I know the dolphins have been spotted in before. We could ride over there together."

You look up at him with a bit of hope in your eyes. "Are you sure?" you ask, shocked at his offer.

"Darlin, I don't want you to miss out on seeing the dolphins. Come with me," Joel says, holding out his hand to you.

So, you reach out and grab his hand with a smile on your face. He helps you off of the swim deck and onto the back of the jet ski.

"Let's go find those dolphins," he says.

You take off, and you have to grab around Joel's waist to stay on the jet ski. You nearly jump when his skin meets yours. It's only then that you realize Joel is shirtless. You instinctively want to slide closer to him, to press your body against his muscular back. You constantly have to work to fight that urge. He’s your friend's dad, you scream at yourself internally. You switch your attention back to the water. The water is crystal clear and calm. Looking off the side of the jet ski, you can see to the bottom in some places. You pass over colorful sea life that is so captivating that it almost takes your mind off of Joel's muscular back.

Almost.

"There's a cove just up here where the dolphins are known to spend time. A boat would have a hard time getting back there, especially one the size of the catamaran, but this jet ski will be a perfect fit," Joel yells over the sound of the running jet ski.

"I can't thank you enough for trying to help me. It really means a lot."

You continue at a fast pace in the direction of the cove until you get close enough that you can see the narrow inlet. Joel slows the jet ski, and you coast into the cove. The circular cove is surrounded on all sides by beaches that ease into cliff faces. The cove is completely cut off from everything; you understand why the dolphins would find this place appealing. Joel cuts the engine, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore takes over.

"I have never seen anything like this," you say, staring around. "The water is so - blue."

"I stumbled upon it when I was a teenager. My dad was teaching me how to sail. He thought the best way for me to learn was to figure it out by myself." Joel chuckles under his breath. "He sent me out on a small sailboat all alone, and I got caught in a current and pushed in here," Joel says, a bit more seriously.

"That must have been terrifying," you say.

"It was. I sat on the boat for a long time, using every curse word I knew, and aimed them all at my father. After that, my anger started to turn to panic; I had no idea how I was going to get back or if anyone would be able to find me in this cove. Then I noticed the water rippling next to me," he says. "It was a big group of dolphins, and I watched them play and forgot about my problems. After they swam away, I was calm enough to figure out how to get myself back to the dock," Joel says, staring into the water.

"That’s an amazing story," you say, watching the creases on his brow relax. It seems as though the memory is very bitter sweet for him.

"It was a big turning point for me. I watched my parents be unhappy with each other for years, and their unhappiness trickled down to how they treated me," he says with a sigh. "The dolphins seemed so happy and were so in tune with each other. I swore to myself I would have a different kind of marriage and family life than my parents did."

You sit quietly for a long time, the sound of the soft waves lapping against the side of the jet ski. You find yourself still pressed against him, though you let your arms drop. You catch yourself constantly looking at him. It's undeniable at this point, you want Joel. You can't help but wonder if that is why he isn't with Sarah's mom, but you don't dare ask.

"My parents tried to take me to see dolphins in the wild. They planned an amazing trip for my sixteenth birthday. They were going to take me to San Diego, and we were going to stay in this cute little beach house."

"But you didn't get to go?" Joel asks.

"They were going to surprise me with it, but they never got the chance. They got in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on their way home from picking up takeout. I found the tickets and travel plans in an envelope in my mom's nightstand," you say. You feel comfortable sharing part of your past after Joel was so open with you. A very small number of people knew about your parents passing, but you feel safe with him.

"Baby girl I'm so sorry," Joel says and then pauses, clearly not knowing what to say.

"Thank you. It was a few years ago, but I still miss them every day," you say. The silence returns as you continue to scan the water. "Joel, look!" You nearly throw yourself backward off of the jet ski because you see a ripple of green-grey under the water.

"It looks like you are going to get your wish, darlin," he says with a huge smile on his face. It seems as though he is enjoying your excitement more than watching the dolphins.

A large pod has entered the cove and is swimming all around the jet ski. The water is so clear that you can see each dolphin individually. Some are playing a game of chase with each other. There are mamas with their babies swimming close to them. Others are even brave enough to come close to the jet ski, investigating what you are.

"They are common bottlenose dolphins. Oh, look over there, Joel!" You squeal in delight as two younger dolphins that are racing each other jump out of the water. "I so badly want to get in and swim with them, but I am afraid it will scare them away," you say.

"Their beauty is best observed from a distance. If you try to move too fast, it can ruin what's happening in the now," he responds quietly.

He says it so quietly that you wonder if you weren't supposed to hear him.

You sit and watch the dolphins play for almost an hour until they are ready to go, and they make their way out of the cove. "That was the most incredible thing I've seen in my entire life," you say breathlessly.

"I was thinking the same thing," Joel responds, but he is staring at you.

"I don't know if I've ever been this happy before. I'm so happy I could kiss you," the words escape your mouth before you can stop them.

Joel laughs, "Don't get my hopes up."

You smile but quickly look away. Your face feels like it's on fire. Joel kindly gives you a few minutes to recover and for your face to stop burning.

"Would it be horrible if I said I'm not ready to go back and join the rest of the group yet?" you ask.

Joel laughs, "It might be, but I agree with you."

He starts the engine again, but instead of heading out of the cove, he takes you to the beach at the far end of the cove.

He takes your hand and helps you down into the water. It's up to your waist when you jump down, and you wade to the beach while Joel anchors the jet ski.

You let your feet sink into the hot sand. It clings to your feet and legs as you sit down and rest your weight on your elbows. Joel walks over to join you and stretches out next to you. You both sit in silence and let the waves hit your feet.

"Did you ever go sailing again after what happened when you found the cove?" you ask.

"I didn't sail again for a long time. I resented my dad, so I purposely hated everything he loved. He loved to sail, so I refused to do it," he says with a small smile. "That's actually why I started my own business ventures in air travel. Flying always terrified my father, so I picked a business he would have no interest in."

"But you did sail again, right?"

"I did in my late twenties, only when my dad was out of town. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right," he answers.

You laugh lightly with Joel and return your attention to the cove. You want to take a mental picture of everything. You hope that when you look back on today, you will be able to remember exactly how you felt.

"I don't know how I will ever repay you for such a perfect day," you say.

"You don't owe me anything. I'm just glad you’re enjoying yourself."

"I will find a way," you say defiantly with a smirk.

"You are not what I expected, darlin," he says.

You laugh, "I hope that's a good thing."

Joel slides his hand toward yours and brushes your pinky finger with his. A jolt of hope rushes through you. You want to grab his hand but settle for the brief touch of your fingers against each other.

"It’s a very good thing. To be completely honest, I was dreading this trip after Sarah invited all of her friends. But, my time getting to know you has been well worth it," Joel says.

You slowly slide your hand away from his after he mentions Sarah. It's so easy to forget that Joel is Sarah's dad when you're alone together. However, that doesn't change reality. Are you awful for finding him so irresistible?

"It's probably best if we head back. We're all having dinner together at one of my favorite restaurants on the island. I think you're gonna love it," Joel says while getting to his feet. "Do you want to drive the jet ski back? I’d be happy to teach you if you'd like," he says with a hint of mischief behind his smile.

"I don't know. I've never driven anything like that before. Are you sure you trust me not to tip us both in the ocean?" you say with a shy grin.

"I trust you. Plus, I'm a strong swimmer," he says with a wink. He reaches his hand down to help you to your feet.

Before grabbing his hand, you pick up a small pink shell sitting next to you on the beach and slip it into your cover-up. You want something to remind you of the day and seeing the dolphins.

—

"This lever here is the gas, and you steer just like you would with the handlebars on a bike," Joel says from behind you on the jet ski. "Just take it nice and slow out of the cove. You can get up to a higher speed when we get to open water, and you feel more comfortable," he continues.

You can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck, and it sends goosebumps all across your body. You imagine his lips pressing to your neck where his breath is warming. You wonder what his hands would feel like on your body -

"Ready?"

"Oh, um, sorry, what?" You say, pulling yourself out of your daydream.

"Are you ready to go?" Joel says with a small chuckle. You're glad he's sitting behind you, so he can't see your face.

"Yes, I think so," you say with slight hesitation.

"Don't worry, I'm right here," he assures you. "Just take it slow."

You ease your thumb on the throttle, and slowly, you start moving. You remain at a snail-like pace until you're completely out of the cove and a bit beyond.

"Try givin’ it a bit more gas," Joel says softly next to your ear.

You aren't prepared for your stomach fluttering at Joel's closeness and not thinking clearly you hit the throttle way too hard. Your hand slips from the throttle, and with a rush of air beneath you, you go sailing through the air. A moment after you hit the ocean, you hear a second splash and know you've thrown Joel off of the jet ski, too.

As you sink into the water, you begin to panic. You can't tell which way the surface is. You fight to swim to the surface, disoriented and fighting for air. With a gasp, you emerge from the water and look around frantically for Joel. He pops out of the water next to you.

"Joel, I am so sorry! Are you okay?" You ask.

Joel's mouth breaks into a giant smile, and he starts laughing. He laughs one of those deep, uncontrollable laughs; he has finally relaxed enough to truly let go. You can't help but start laughing, too.

"See, that's why you have to wear the kill cord on your wrist. That way, if you fall off, the jet ski doesn't keep going without you," he says and starts swimming over to the empty jet ski.

You start swimming after him and watch him as he pulls himself back onto the jet ski. His back muscles flex as he gets back on, and the water droplets dripping down his body emphasize the definition between each muscle. You can't help but imagine running your hands down his back as he hovers over the top of you.

Joel reaches his hand down to pull you back on the watercraft. You have to catch your imagination before you let it wander off too far. He pulls you up effortlessly, and you sit down behind him.

"I think I'm going to let you drive us back now."

"Are you sure you don't want to take the reins again?" he says, gesturing to the handlebars.

"I think it'll be safer if I let you take over. It seems like I only have two speeds," you say with a small chuckle.

"Fine, but we're going to have you driving one of these like a pro before this vacation is over," Joel says with a small smile. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he sets off.

As Joel drives, you replay watching the dolphins swim in the cove. You're so distracted that it isn't until he stops the jet ski that you realize he hasn't gone back to the same dock where the yacht is waiting for you. Instead, you're at the edge of a small coastal town, where each side of the streets is lined with the glowing lights of shops and restaurants.

"Oh, I thought we would go back to the yacht before dinner. I can't exactly go to dinner dressed like this," you say, gesturing to your very wet swimsuit that is clinging to your body.

Joel looks you up and down and smiles, "I don't think you would hear many complaints, but don't worry, we can stop at one of the shops and get you something dry."

Your heart sinks. You have very limited funds, and getting new clothes is definitely not in your budget. Not wanting to admit this, you nod your head and follow Joel down the street. You'll have to pay him back because you haven't brought any money with you.

Joel leads the way into a boutique called, AmoreBelle, and you can already tell from the window displays that the store is way out of your price range.

The smell of fresh lavender drifts out through the door as soon as it opens. The walls and floors are the brightest white, so all of the customer's attention is drawn to the glamorous dresses hanging on the racks. You feel so out of place in your simple and very wet clothes. You pray that you won't drip on their floors.

"Well, hello, welcome back," says a saleswoman as she comes to greet you. She smiles at Joel, clearly recognizing him.

"Jane, s’good to see you still work here. This is my friend," Joel says, introducing you. "I need you to help her find some new outfits. As you can see, we need to get her out of these wet clothes."

"Anything for you. I already have some great pieces in mind that will go perfectly with her hair. I will go get you a room started, hun," Jane says and walks away.

"I'm going to head over to the men's store next door, but I think you should try this one," he says as he grabs a cocktail dress in a deep midnight blue and hands it to you.

"Your room is right this way," Jane says and gestures for you to follow her.

"I'll see you soon," Joel says and turns to leave, but before walking out the door, he stops to talk to one of the other women on the sales floor. She immediately starts gathering dresses off of the racks.

You walk around the corner, and there is a pedestal in the middle of the room surrounded by mirrors and changing room doors. You've watched TV shows where women try on wedding dresses in a setting similar to this, but you never imagined yourself in a place like this.

"I put some things for you to try in the first room on the right. Can I get you anything? Champagne?" the woman asks.

“That sounds lovely,” you say while trying to hide your shaking hands. You turn and shut the door of your changing room as soon as the saleswoman leaves. The changing room is already lined with outfits for you to try on. You take a deep breath before looking at the price tag on the dress Joel had handed you. You could have cried and probably would have had it not been for a soft knock on the door. You open the door, and the saleswoman Joel spoke to before leaving is standing there, with her arms full of elegant dresses.

"Mr. Miller asked me to make sure you leave in a semi-formal dress. I brought some great options. My name is McKenzie." she says as she starts hanging up the dresses on the hooks in the dressing room.

"Thanks," you answer. You consider running out the door and waiting by the jet ski until Joel returns, but you know you will have to explain eventually.

"Well, please let me know if you need anything."

"Actually, McKenzie. I have something to confess," you say nervously.

McKenzie looks confused but lets you continue.

"Everything in this dressing room is way out of my price range. Honestly, I probably couldn't afford a pair of underwear."

McKenzie smiles and giggles a little. Your face drops; you can't believe she is laughing at you for being broke.

"I am so sorry. I am not laughing at you; I totally understand your concern. I just figured you already knew. You don't have to be able to afford anything here."

"What do you mean?" You ask, still confused.

"Joel already has everything covered. He told me I am not allowed to let you leave this store until you have found a dress and at least ten new outfits," McKenzie says, amused with the shocked look on your face.

"I can't possibly go along with this," you say, your voice cracking.

"You have to. If you don't, we won't earn any commission." McKenzie leans closer and whispers, "I can't afford the underwear here either."

You are uncomfortable with the idea of Joel spending so much money on you, but you refuse to be the reason that these women miss out on a huge commission. You immediately feel better, knowing you have much in common with McKenzie and possibly Jane.

"Okay, where do we start?" you say with a small sigh of defeat.

"Let's start with the everyday outfits and move on to the gowns after," she says and then adds, "Oh, we can also spend some time looking at the underwear if you'd like."

That's when you realize how this must look to these saleswomen and how it would look to anyone. You start to wonder how many other women he's done this for; the saleswomen seem used to this type of thing. You quickly push the thought out of your mind. It doesn't matter what this looks like; Joel is just a kind person. Plus, there is no way he would be interested in someone like you.

After many outfit changes and finding more new clothes than you've bought for yourself in an entire year, all that is left to pick out is a dress. McKenzie and Jane have outdone themselves in giving you beautiful options. You try on every single one and are met with many compliments from the sales team as you model them on the platform in the center of the dressing rooms.

Jane refills your glass of champagne and asks, "Have you decided which one you want to go with?"

"I have one more left to try on before I decide," you say and slip back into the changing room.

As soon as you put on Joel's choice, you know it is the one. The midnight blue silk slides over every inch of your body like it is molded specifically for you. The dress brushes the floor, but a slit up one side makes it easy to move in.

"Wow," two voices behind you say in unison.

"I'll take this one.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #joel miller smut

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paleprincessturtle · 11 months ago

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i heard you’re taking requests for harvey specter and angst with him would be so good !!!! i just finished reading the sorrow of tomorrow and you write him so well like i can’t wait for the next part, your writing is awesome. so i was wondering if you could write some sort of angst with a happy ending with him, like maybe they get into an argument and harvey being harvey says something to take it too far but they make up later somehow. just a suggestion, u don’t need to write it if you don’t want to!!

Thank you so much for the kind words and the request! Hope you enjoy this one 😊 And bear with me, this is a looooong one. I seriously got carried away writing this.

GETAWAY HOUSE

She marched towards Harvey's office, her face red with anger. "Mike, get out," she ordered a visibly surprised Mike. "But we are in the middle of..." she lifted her hand, "in the middle of a meeting, I know. But please, get out. I need to speak with Harvey." She looked at Harvey, and the two stared at each other. Mike left the room after realizing the obvious tension in the room and not wanting to stand in the way of a woman who looked like she might breathe fire.

She looked over her shoulder until she was sure that Mike had closed the door. "I will give you a good 5 minutes to explain why the hell is Pharma Pro insisting on settling," she folded both arms in front of her. Harvey didn't even look at her. He looked busy writing something on a paper in front of him. "You tell me, they're your client," Harvey gave her a quick glance before he looked back down at the paper. "Don't give me that shit, Harvey. They received a memo. It was signed "Specter" on the memo. I never signed my name like that on a memo. The only Specter who knows this case is you." Harvey put down his pen and said, "You are another Specter who not only knows but is handling this case." She gaped. "Harvey, I have to spend my morning explaining why there is a memo under my surname that they have to settle after just yesterday I told them to go to court." Harvey watched her for a few seconds. She looked pissed, and most of all, there was betrayal in the eyes he loved the most. "Yes, it was me." She took a sharp breath and sat in front of him. "Why?" she asked quietly, her eyes glued to the black desk in front of her. "You won't win in court," Harvey said simply. She heard no trace of guilt or remorse in the voice she knew very well. "You don't trust me?" Her voice was just above a whisper. She was on the verge of crying. The thought of her own husband not trusting her judgment in her own case... And he had to interfere. Basically, embarrassing her in front of her biggest client. "We just got this firm back on its feet, and I am the new managing partner. If you lose Pharma Pro, it won't look good on us. I don't trust your call, so I had to step up," Harvey said as his voice softened at the sight of his wife, who looked like she was about to burst into tears. Harvey knew she had been through a lot to be where she was right now, but not once did Harvey ever see her cry, at least not over some work. "But you could've come to me and discussed it with me. You are my husband, yes. But I will never overrule you here in the office." Harvey scoffed. "If we discuss this, you will still proceed to court." She pulled her hand out of Harvey's grasp. "Yes! Because they are my client, and I know them better than you." She stood so fast that she almost knocked over the chair she was sitting on. Harvey looked up at her wife, seething with anger. Harvey's jaw tightened. "You think you would still sign with Pharma Pro if it weren't for my last name being yours?" She gasped as both her hands flew to cover her mouth. She grabbed the edge of the chair; she felt like Harvey had just slapped her. The second the words got out of his mouth, he knew it was a total mistake. "Sunny, I..." she interrupted him by lifting her hand. She took a deep breath and tried so hard to compose herself. "You know what, Harvey? I thought I would bring this secret to the grave, but three months before we got married, I got a senior partner offer from Skadden. Skadden, Harvey. Not just any firm. Skadden. No, I wasn't using your name then. I turned them down because I love this firm. And the thought of working side by side with my husband was so heavenly back then. The thought of how we could always support each other..." She trailed off, her voice shaking. "I turned that offer down even though I knew Jessica wouldn't mind. And you know what they said after I turned them down? They said the offer will firmly stand if I want to take it in the future. But again, Harvey, I think you know me better than whoever it was at Skadden. And no, it wasn't your name that got me to sign Pharma Pro. I slept with Russell Whitmore. Is that the truth you want to hear?" Her words cut through Harvey, even though he knew she was lying. She stormed out of his office as he tried to catch up with her. He grabbed his arm, and she sharply looked back at him and said, "Don't you fucking dare follow me, Harvey." Harvey stood there, frozen in place, as he saw his wife fade away from view.

It was 15 minutes before midnight. Harvey stood at the doorway to Mike's office. Harvey didn't go after his wife earlier today. But when he (most definitely on purpose) walked past his wife's office, he found it empty. And it wasn't even 5. "Are you just going to stand there, Harvey? You creep me out," Mike said as he flipped over a file. Harvey snapped out of it. "I want to ask if you know where my wife is," Harvey asked carefully. "I don't know, Harvey. She's your wife," Mike shrugged. "Didn't Rachel tell you if she was with her?" Mike finally looked at Harvey. Mike has to admit that Harvey looked very stressed. "Again. I don't know, Harvey. Maybe if you stopped being a certified douchebag, you would know the whereabouts of your wife." Mike looked sharply at Harvey, whose shoulders slumped at Mike's answer. As much as Mike wanted to help Harvey out, it wasn't his place. "I took it you heard about the fight?" Mike let out a sarcastic laugh. "Donna saw your wife crying in the toilet. Donna told Rachel, and Rachel told me. In the process of Rachel telling me, Louis heard. Yeah, everyone knew. And before you asked, yes, everyone sided with your wife." Harvey let out a defeated sigh as he rubbed his forehead. "Give her time, Harvey." Harvey nodded at Mike's advice before going back to his office.

Harvey was deep in thought, listening to his father's record while nursing a glass of whisky. "I very much don't want to see your face, but Gretchen already went home, and I need you to sign this fast." Harvey closed his eyes at the voice of Louis. The last thing he needs now is Louis chewing on his ass. "What is it, Louis?" Harvey turned away from the window as he walked to his desk. Louis didn't say a thing; he just pointed at the document he brought. Harvey nodded as he sat down and started skimming the document. "If I didn't promise your wife I wouldn't beat the shit out of you, I would've beaten the shit out of you," Louis said quickly, his face red. Harvey looked up slowly at Louis for the sudden outburst. "When she got married to you, she asked me to walk her down the aisle. We aren't even related, but she chose to come to me. She is like a ..." Louis choked on his own words. "She is like a daughter to me. And what you said to her, Harvey... And if you don't make this right, I swear to God, Harvey, I will make your life a living hell. I would gladly be her attorney if she chose to divorce." Harvey nodded as he handed Louis the document.

Harvey got home just a little after 3. After he made sure that his wife wasn't home, he chose not to be home at any cost. But at the same time, he longed to be home. Harvey poured himself another glass of whisky. He watched the fire as he laughed to himself. His wife would've scolded him if she knew he poured himself yet another glass of whisky at this hour. But his wife wasn't here, and his heart heaved. He checked his phone. Nothing. He left him 7 voicemails and more than 10 texts; all of them sat cold. Then he realized that he hadn't seen Donna all day in the office today. He quickly grabbed his phone and called Donna. She didn't pick up, considering the time, but he tried again. "Harvey, if the firm isn't on fire, I would hang up right now," came Donna's hoarse voice at the other line. "Donna, I'm sorry; please don't hang up. Is my wife there?" Harvey asked, a glimmer of hope apparent in his voice. Silent. "Donna?" Another silent. Harvey checked his phone just in case the phone abruptly ended. "She is here." Harvey sighed in relief. "Okay, I'm going there now," Harvey said as he stood up. "Harvey, no," Donna said firmly. "No?" Harvey stopped in his tracks. "Give her time, Harvey. You really hurt her." Harvey's turned to stay silent. "Harvey, remember how many times she got to cut you some slacks? How many times has she stood by your side, no matter what? How many times did she get back to you after you hurt her and you only gave her a simple apology? How many times, Harvey?" Harvey bit his lip, forcing him to hold a sob. "Will she come back, Donna? I'll give her all the time in the world; just tell me, Donna. Will she come back?" Donna closed her eyes as she heard the hoarseness of Harvey's voice. "I don't know, Harvey. I don't know," Donna said truthfully.

Harvey didn't sleep that night. He got back to the office early in the morning. He saw Donna, who smiled curtly at him. He didn't expect to see his wife in her office when he walked past her office. She wasn't there. But to Harvey's surprise, there she was. Sat gracefully in the conference room, holding a meeting with Pharma Pro's execs. He caught her eye. Before he got the chance to smile at her, she turned her focus back to Russel Whitmore, the CEO of Pharma Pro. Harvey sighed and headed to the elevator. He himself had a meeting to attend.

Harvey got back to the office around 5. When he passed her wife's office, he saw her there. Her back faced him. A few folders opened in front of her. As much as Harvey wanted to go in and hold her, he knew he had to give her some time. He got to his office and fired up his laptop.

A few hours later, Harvey almost lost his mind. His wife was just a few offices away, yet he couldn't do anything. He brought some papers and stood up to leave his office. He prayed so hard so that her wife would still be in her office. An office before his wife's, Harvey stopped himself. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous. He was nervous when his wife told him that he should talk to Louis for her hand in marriage. They were close. Really close. She was so close that she considered Louis her own family. Since she had no immediate family. But this is different. He felt like his marriage was on the edge. And it was all because of him. He took another deep breath and finally knocked on his wife's door before opening the door. Harvey sighed a breath of relief. His wife was still there, buried in a lot of files. "Hey," Harvey said softly as he entered her office. "Hey," she answered shortly, not knowing what to do. She wanted to yell at Harvey and slap him. But dear God, the look on his face. She knew he hadn't slept. "Can I?" Harvey referred to the chair across from her. She only nodded. "I've been making this whole speech since last night about what I would say when we met. But seeing your face..." Harvey stopped himself. His hand itched to touch his wife. "I took you for granted. And I'm sorry, I really am." His wife looked at him stoically. "Here," Harvey showed her the papers he brought with him.

"A house in.. Hamptons? This is your way of saying sorry? Oh yeah, right. I couldn't afford a house in the Hamptons since I'm a low-degree lawyer." She scoffed, and Harvey shook his head. "Remember the second day of our honeymoon?" Harvey asked. How could she forget? They stayed in a beautiful villa in Como.

"We should buy a villa here," she said as she climbed on top of Harvey. Both of them were in bed, with the vast view of Lake Como at their disposal. Nothing was between them but a thin layer of white sheet. She propped herself up; they were face-to-face. "And why is that?" Harvey asked, smirking at his wife. "So whenever we are tired, we can always come here and get away from the world." Harvey marveled at the look of wonder in his wife's eyes. "In here, it's just us. You," she kissed his lips, "and me." Harvey caressed his wife's bare back. "You do realize we are in Italy, right?" She giggled at the fact that they were indeed a 10-hour flight away from home. "Then at the Hamptons! It wasn't far," she said excitedly. "I don't need a getaway house. I have my wife and my job all in one place; I wouldn't need anything else." She wanted to argue, but Harvey turned them over as she squealed.

"I told you I don't need a getaway house. I don't need to be away from all this," Harvey said as he gestured to whatever was around them. "But all this without you? The stress of this place has led me astray from you. I hurt you. If I could do anything to even just lessen the pain I caused you, I would do it. I won't waste another word saying how much I'm sorry, but I will make it up to you." Harvey took his wife's hands in his, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "If you let me, I will take you to our new house." Harvey's voice was laced with questions. "I know it is not Como. And we can always cancel this house if you don't want it. We could go there, and you can pick it yourself," Harvey rambled. Harvey stood up and moved his chair next to hers. "Please come with me. Let me fix this for us." Harvey put his hand on her cheek as she leaned into his warm hand. "Harvey, it's only Tuesday. I have my week full," she said, shaking her head. "If you agree, we can just leave first thing in the morning. I've cleared everything with Louis and Donna. Rachel and Mike will take on your clients. Just say yes," he said, closing the gap between them. His lips hovered over hers. She closed her eyes. "I'm still mad at you," she whispered. "I know, but let me prove to you that I want to be better; I'll make it up to you. Please, Sunny. This is my last chance, I swear to you. I love you more than life," he said, running his thumb across her lips. "I will drop everything here if that's what you nee..." Harvey didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Harvey closed his eyes as he felt his wife's lips on his. He wanted to cry, for he thought he would never be this close again with his wife. He held his wife close. She broke the kiss, their foreheads touched. "Take me home, Harvey."

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter fan fiction #suits harvey specter #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter x reader #suits tv #harvey specter suits #suits fics #harveyspecter

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starleska · 2 years ago

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Hello again!! I'm the anon from before (and I'm glad to hear you had a nice time yesterday!!!), and here's what I wrote.. I've been thinking a lot about the 'Wally eats with his eyes' idea, as many have been !!! I'm not sure how to warn for what this exactly so feel free to tag it with whatever you deem necessary. Wally just. Likes you a lot lol. i guess this is a little silly but i had a good time writing it haha

You are having a staring contest with your friend Wally.

You can't quite remember who started this, or why. Just that Wally had wanted to draw somewhere outside and you tagged along with him, until you were sitting somewhere in a field of flowers around the Neighbourhood.

Wally simply returns your gaze, unblinking, his hands folded over on top of his sketchbook. You think this has lasted long enough. What you want to do is crack a smile or a joke, but you find that your muscles are frozen stiff, and your tongue is so, so heavy.

His pupils expand.

You're supposed to panic about being this frozen up. Moving shouldn't be so difficult. But it's like your body feels like even stressing out about this is too much effort. You feel warm. Your eyelids tremble with the effort to blink. There is no movement, though your eyes don't burn either. You've held them open for so long that the world starts to gray out around you.

His pupils expand.

Wally leans his head to the side, little by little. You mirror his movements without thinking. The tips of your fingers are tingling, your feet feel numb as if fallen asleep. He smiles at you even more than usual. You think that this makes you happy. His lips part slowly, as if to speak, and-

"Hiya, guys!" Eddie calls out from the path to your right.

Your body jolts in surprise, and the spell is broken. By the time you whip your head around to look, Eddie has already continued his delivery route without waiting for a response.

Your returned awareness feels like breaking the surface after almost drowning. A weight disappears from your body, and you practically double over, gasping for air. Your shoulders are shaking, your eyes wide. When you squeeze them shut, it burns. You feel tired like you never have before.

"That was good," Wally says. For a moment, you are hesitant to turn your head back and look at him. You want to hide from his eyes. But you snuff that thought out as soon as it pops up, because that's just silly. You must've eaten something wrong, or have caught a cold. What else could explain this.

You look at Wally. He looks normal, and his eyes upon

"W-what did you say?"

"I asked: Are you feeling good?" Wally speaks even slower than he otherwise would, but his smile is as wide as ever. "You don't look good, friend."

"I don't… I'm a little out of it," you force out a laugh. "I think I'm getting sick."

Wally leans forward.

"You'll be okay," he says, and puts a hand on your knee. "Let's sit here until you feel better."

!!!!!! anon!!!! anon do you know how good this is?!?! oh my gosh!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭 honey, i cannot express how much i adore this fic. it's such a wonderful blend of terror and intimacy, so frightening and claustrophobic yet warm and safe in a way you can't understand...ugh, i'm in love 🥴 your descriptions are so vivid - i could really feel Your panic and nausea. some real Lovecraftian horror stuff going on in here. and oh my God the little detail of him saying, 'That was good' and then switching to 'Are you feeling good?' absolute chills!!! 😱😱 if you feel comfortable enough, you should absolutely post your writing somewhere!! you've got such a talent for writing, Wally in particular, and i'd love to read more of your stuff should you be inclined. i'll definitely be taking some tips from this awesome little fic going forward 😉 thank you so much for sharing 🥰

#all you eye-horror/hypno fans are gonna have a blast with this one wow #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling x you #starleskasks #tw: scopophobia

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kismets-barista · 11 months ago

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Hold onto your Stetson, @ohposhers; have I got some personal HickDory lore for you 😎💜🌟🫧

Excuse the insanity for those who don't feel compelled towards these two

SO!

Hickory and JD met a few good years before the events of the World Tour when Dory was traveling to find Lonesome Flats, got heatstroke and passed out in the desert. Wakes up to Hickory shadowed in the flickering light of a campfire beneath a canopy of the brightest stars he'd seen since the Neverglades, but it wouldn't be until QUITE a few months later until they really started developing crushes against each other. (Cowboy under the stars, you'd think he'd fall right then and there, right? 🌟)

Why was Hickory already in Lonesome Flats, you might ask? Where was Dickory?

In a glue trap, I say in response. Hickory came from Yodelsberg (is there a canonical name for this?) for international study and to learn about new music. He fell in love with country because yodeling and country music are actually quite gorgeous together. She Taught Me to Yodel, anyone?

Delta Dawn obviously didn't take to Dory showing up and around the town, but after some convincing by Hickory and lots of proving himself (plus a vulture attack that resulted in John Dory saving the very young niece of Delta Dawn- Clampers-) he 'earned' a place there and began to work around town.

It was weird for him.

He'd never quite settled down, until then.

(Now, the specific timeline, yearly I mean is a little muddled because I'm still crafting this, but I'll put them out about three years, now.)

John Dory was still living in Lonesome Flats, and he'd started a relationship with Hickory. They loved each other, as my cohort in crime @protagonist-art (CHECK OUT THEIR ART I LOVE THEM SM MUAH) has Hickory tell John when we get write them, "More than the moon loves the ocean." As surely as the tide pulls in and out, so the lovers return to each other.

So Via, what does Hickory think about BroZone?

Oh, my sweet star.

He doesn't know.

After returning to the devastated Troll Tree, John Dory lost a piece of his heart in the damaged pod they used to live in. It was the first time he went grey, and the memories of his brothers started shifting from what was, to what would never be again. He couldn't find it within himself to talk about them, and has his secrets.

But so does Hickory.

Girl wdym stop being so mysterious.

Heh. I know. It's just a glimpse into my dark mind /ref. Anyways, Hickory never told John Dory he was a Yodeler troll. (Another piece of lore that Quizzy and I worked on together and I think it's brilliant.)

Huh? Aren't they in a long-term relationship? Won't this cause issues later on if they don't share these things with each other?

Oh, they love every aspect of each other too much for their bond to truly be broken.

And yet.

One morning, years after just living and loving, John Dory wakes up with a massive headache and nausea.

"Maybe it's that horse that kicked me yesterday, could've gotten me harder than we both thought."

"Lemme check for a knot, Darlin'."

No knots, but there was an egg.

🌟 (Here I'll say that I'm massively in love with the headcanon that trolls conceive through true love- it isn't quite necessary for them to physically do anything unless they want to. Just them, wholeheartedly trusting and putting everything into their relationship and pouring their heart out to their partner.)

They were absolutely ECSTATIC, and rightfully terrified in their own ways. Neither of them were looking for children but not against it, and after resting for a few days they began to plan. A nursery in the house, baby books with millions of names scattered on the coffee table, toys and cute little baby clothes for when the little one hatched.

Wanna know two of the names John Dory had in mind? Rhonda and Dolly.

They were ecstatic until the night John Dory woke up absolutely ill and with a pit in his stomach.

They lost the egg, and it was the second time John Dory went grey in his life.

A week after this had happened, John Dory left a bundled lock of his hair at Hickory's nightstand and did what he knows how to do all too well. He ran.

Hickory never went too far out of Lonesome Flats in the hopes that John Dory would come back. He couldn't imagine what would happen if his love came back and didn't find him there.

The events of World Tour come about, Hickory meets Branch, and travels for the first time since John Dory left.

John Dory continued to travel, until the events of Band Together.

But don't worry, dear readers, for as surely as the tides come in, so will the lovers meet again. 🌟

Aaaand BOOM! That's it! 💜 I've got lore behind the names Rhonda and Dolly as well, and am SO down to answer any questions about them that anyone has. For you, Posh, thank you for asking and helping me to share a story I've been working on, and for everyone else that read this, thank you kindly! I hope that everyone who made it this far has quite a lovely day, or if you didn't, have a lovely day anyways!

Remember to take your meds, drink water, eat something, and stretch!

💜🌟🫧

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kallietell · 15 days ago

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I Made You Too Fat

*Gender neutral weight gain POV*

Hey babe, I've got to talk to you about something. And please don't say anything, I know you're gonna try and comfort me and make me feel better and stuff, but just let me get through this.

You know how much I love your body. I never thought I would meet someone who would let me do this to them, who would let me put all this weight on them, but you’re getting bigger than I ever thought you would. I mean I love it, I literally can’t look at you without wanting to tear your clothes off, but when you first agreed to gain weight for me you only had a little potbelly. You still ate normal-sized meals, you wore a medium. Then you saw what your overeating did to me and it was like flipping a switch. You started to get so fat so fast you could barely keep up. You started eating whatever I brought you and asking for more, started lounging around the apartment in all of your old skin-tight clothes because you knew it drove me crazy.

Your delivery orders kept getting bigger and bigger until even I couldn't believe it. Remember when you ordered so much pizza that the Doordash driver asked if we were having a party? But it was all for you. And you're so constantly stuffed and bloated with all the greasy fast food I buy you that it's hard to even tell how fat you're actually getting. Your belly is never empty, so I never know if all of this is you or if your tubby gut is just distended from the family-sized meals you let me force down your throat.

You know how much I want you bigger and fatter, you know how much watching you pile on mounds of blubber turns me on, but at this point, I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I feel like I'm taking this too far just for my own sick pleasure. I’m porking you up like a prize-winning pig and you’re just letting me, you keep opening your mouth for more like you're completely under my control. Even when you're so full you're panting and gasping because your stomach is too tight and swollen, even when you think you can't force down another bite, you still open up for me and let me feed you till I'm satisfied. It's so hot while I'm doing it, but I always have this tiny little glimmer of guilt because I know you like it too much to make me stop.

Watching you waddle around with your belly hang wobbling out of the bottom of your shirt and your chunky thighs packed in those tight workout shorts that are ripping at the seams makes me lose it, but also makes me think of when your clothes actually used to fit you. I mean, babe you actually used to workout in those shorts, and now if you bend over too far you can hear the seams pop.

You've just gotten so lazy and so greedy and it's all my fault. You can't even get on top anymore cause all your jiggling blubber has made you too massive for that much of a workout. I wasn't sure how to bring this up to you, I don't even want to bring this up to you, but after what happened yesterday, I just had to start this conversation. I can't believe you actually got big enough to get stuck in the living room chair. That chair could fit two of me, but you gorged yourself so full that your rounded hips were completely wedged between the arms…

*I hope you enjoyed this preview of my weight gain POV! You can find the full story on my Patreon. I love writing stories were I can directly tease and praise the reader, and I have a growing library of POV work available (I write at least one new POV story per week, sign up for the Avid Readers+ tier for immediate early access). This story is not EA and is currently posted for all tiers except Basic. Other than that, I have tons of wg fiction available including my most popular continuing series. Thanks so much for reading!*

patreon.com/KallieTell

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wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

Text

Housewife

Part - 7

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

It was the sleepover you never had. Although there was no pillow fights and a little too much Tom Cruise, you had the best time you've had in a while. "God you sound like Billy." Sydney laid back in her bed toying with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be hateful. It's not just scary movies either, you haven't seen any classics?" Tatum snickered throwing her stuffed animal in the air, catching it as it fell back down. "Well you haven't seen any new movies. It's like for the past 6 years you've been locked in grandmas basement."

"Maybe you're right." You sat on the floor organizing your bag. "Do you have any songs or movies you like that your dad or someone else in your family doesn't like?" Sydney asked genuinely curious. You thought about it for a second but your silence answered the question for them. "You've been totally brainwashed babe." Tatum quipped in a way that made you feel a little ashamed. "Y/n there's nothing wrong with liking the things you do, but you should be doing it because you like it and not because someone else does."

"Yeah you need to take notes from Syd here. She is thee feminist. Billy and her have been dating for over a year and she still hasn't slept with him." The brown haired girl looked upset at her friend's honesty. "What'd I say wrong? I wish I could do what you do. I know If I left Stu to his own devices he would just find someone else to help him out." You looked to the floor ready to throw up at a moments notice. That's what this was. You weren't special. Billy took an interest in you because he thought you would put out unlike his girlfriend. "Y/n?"

"I should break up with my boyfriend." You said flatly, all the moisture from your mouth disappeared at the realization. "Huh?" Sydney asked confused by the switch up but Tatum however was your number one cheerleader. "Hell yeah kick that bastard to the curb! What did he do?" Dylan wasn't even that good of a boyfriend back home you weren't sure why he wanted to keep things long distance. This whole discussion though made you want to change some things. "He still lives back home and I just really want to start over now."

You rang up your boyfriend and called it quits. The yelling on the phone was a surprise but Tatum quickly took the phone from you saying something you weren't really sure you were allowed to repeat. Sleeping in a house that wasn't your's was hard especially when you kept thinking about the two men you knew a little too well. Sunday morning was a blur, it consisted of cereal, the news going on about the murders, and school gossip. Eventually you and the girls made it back to Tatum bedroom.

"Hello you must be Y/n." The cop held out his hand for you to shake, which you did. "I'm Dewy." He said. His awkward presence was somehow comforting. "Ew dipshit don't flirt with my friends." Tatum complained making Sydney crack a smile. Red sprinkled his cheeks as he tried to defend himself. "You're fine. It's nice to meet you, Dewy. So you're a cop?" You point to the badge just trying to make conversation. "Here we go." Tatum whispered and Dewy smiled. "I'm actually a deputy." He tapped his badge with pride.

"He's just like Arnold Schwarzenegger... In kindergarten cop." Tatum made fun of him again almost making you crack a smile. "I think it's cool." He looked over at Sydney noticing her quietness. "How are you Syd?" She nodded with a fake smile. "Yesterday was hard so today has to be better." Dewy nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents." Tatum's brother looked at you as he spoke. The word "grandparents" made you look up. "Oh um... Thanks." You weren't quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "I'm going to use the bathroom." You excused yourself leaving the three of them together.

"Why would you bring that up?" Tatum scolded. "What happened to her grandparents?" Sydney asked. Dewy leaned on the door frame looking down the hallway making sure you were out of ear shot. "They committed suicide together. Both of them took a handful of sleeping pills, and she found them." The two girls felt bad hearing the information. Tatum remembered a commotion happening at the house down the street but she never knew what exactly had happened. Just that you moved in shortly after.

You walked back to the bedroom once you dried your face off from the water you threw onto your skin. "Well I've got to get going. Do you girls need anything?" He asked and everyone said no. Dewy left with a wave shutting the door behind him. "Sorry he's not very socially aware." Tatum apologized but you just nodded. "It's fine. Really." They didn't believe you but they dropped the discussion anyhow.

The day went on with Tatum doing your nails and trying on half the clothes you brought over. You offered Sydney to join in but she declined. Later on you and Sydney talked about what books you had read which Tatum was not interested in at all. It was much harder keeping them two entertained than it was with Billy and Stu. There didn't seem to be much common ground between the girls. You slept much easier than the night previous. Maybe you were finally settling in.

"Wake up girls." Tatum's mom beat on the door making everyone but Tatum jump up. You groaned as Sydney went to wake up her friend. You pulled a pair of bell-bottoms from your bag along with an old band shirt. It wasn't what you'd normally wear to school but you didn't have the time nor energy to doll yourself up. "I like the grunge look on you." You felt partially offended by Tatum's compliment because there was nothing "grunge" about your look. The outfit consisted of jeans, a shirt, no makeup, paired with hair you hadn't had the chance to fix.

"You look comfortable." Sydney chirped meaning well. Their back handed compliments made you want to crawl in a hole. You sat down with the girls in the kitchen, quickly eating breakfast before Dewy came to take you to school. You offered to just get your car but Dewy refused saying he was fine to drive. The thought about skipping the day completely had crossed your mind multiple times.

The moment the car stopped at school you said goodbye to your friends. "I've got to go grab some things from my locker I'll catch you at lunch." You didn't give them time to protest. Unfortunately for you Stu was at your locker waiting patiently for your appearance. "Yo Betty Crock- Pants?" You weren't in the mood for either one of their antics. "You look lovely today." He said like a kid with a crush. Stu swayed back and forth on his heels waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. "Did I do something wrong?" You slammed your locker shut making him jump.

"I'll take that as a yes." You turned to walk away but it never did any good with Stu. "I can't fix this if you don't tell me what's wrong." You stopped, looking at him with tears stinging your eyes. "We can't do this Stu." You pulled him to the side out of everyone's way. "You and Billy are my friends." The emphasis on friends made his heart shrink a little. "I would hope so after everything-" He tried to crack a joke to make you laugh but he didn't realize you felt like the joke was on you. "Would you just listen!" You cut him off grabbing the attention of some bystanders. You waited a moment for people to pass by before speaking.

"This cannot happen. Me, you, and Billy, can no longer happen. No more hanging out at my place, no more ambushing me in public bathrooms," He smiled at that not being able to take a single thing seriously. "No more hanging around at my locker. Tatum and Sydney are sweet girls who don't deserve what we did to them. As long as they are in the picture I'm not going to be, understand?" The bottom line was you weren't a plaything and you weren't a homewrecker. Stu however took it the way he wanted to.

"I understand. I'm sorry if we overstepped." You were ready for him to get on one knee and embarrass you into forgiving him. This was a nice change. "Thank you Stu." He smiled. "Will you still hang with us at lunch?" Damnit. "No Stu, I won't. I've got to make new friends. Since day one all I've known is you and Billy. And now that I've gotten to know Sydney and Tatum, I realized I need my own thing." The bell rung ending the conversation prematurely. "See ya Stu."

"Shit, Shit, Shit," Stu repeated the word over and over like a small prayer. He walked the halls quickly finding Billy's first period class. Stu waved like a mad man trying to get his friend's attention through the window. "May I go to the bathroom?" Billy asked already getting up from his seat. "You may Mr. Loomis." The boy wasn't too happy with the sudden distraction. "This better be good." Billy started walking towards the bathroom with Stu in tow.

"Y/n is dropping us." Billy stopped in his tracks at the confession. Calmly he took a breath saving his anger for a secluded spot. He picked of his feet once again heading towards the restroom. Stu was terrified not only of losing you but also of his friends short fuse. The moment the bathroom door was locked he exploded. "What the fuck do you mean?" Billy cursed as he pushed open each stall checking for anyone. "She said it was wrong what we were doing to Tatum and Syd and as long as they were in the picture she wasn't going to be." Billy grabbed Stu's shirt by the collar. "This shit wouldn't have happened if you didn't call Sydney the other night."

He pushed his friend backwards letting Stu's back hit the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it man?" Billy didn't believe him. Stu was always doing something he shouldn't be. "We'll go back to our plan. Do everything exactly the same way just a little later than we hoped." Billy breathed out thinking of how to pull this off. "Syd's mom's anniversary was Saturday."

"You think I don't know that dipshit?" He pointed in Stu's face. Running his hands through his hair he tried to calm down. "Neil killed Casey and Steve on Wednesday night. That's when he told Syd he was leaving town." Stu just nodded along listening to Billy. "With all the publicity of the murders he wasn't able to kill anyone's else so he calls his daughter Friday night."

"How does he know she's with Tatum?" Billy paced back and forth. "Neil's been stalking her because she's his next victim. He sees Syd leave his house with Tatum. Anyway he scares the shit out of his daughter Friday night laying low till Monday. Ghostface will make a guest appearance today to meet Syd. Himbry will have to close shop because of the killer. You'll tell everyone you're throwing a party to celebrate the break. Invite Syd and Tatum since Y/n is such good friends with them now she'll have to go with them."

It was like watching a genius at work. Stu really believed Billy could pull it off. "Neil kills Himbry. They went to school together back in the day it could be old revenge. At the party I'll take care of Tatum first but you'll have to send her to the garage and make sure no one goes with her." Billy looked at Stu waiting for him to promise to do his job. "Yes Sir." Billy looked at his boots piecing together the rest of the puzzle. "Neil kills Tatum after that I show up to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend. I'll take Syd up to your room that's where you'll have to "kill" me. You'll grab Sydney and bring her to the kitchen. We'll reveal everything blow her daddy's brains out and then Syd is the cherry on top of a really fucked up cake."

It was a good plan in Stu's eyes. "Where does that leave Y/n?" Billy smiled "She's going to rescue us. Neil's dead and so is his daughter. We've been stabbed left for dead but poor Y/n comes along and calls the cops helping us live to see another day. All we have to do is hit her hard enough to keep her out for awhile. Which means before I show up late I'll need you to get her alone in a room. I'll show up dressed in black and knock her unconscious. You'll go back to the party and I'll show up fashionably late."

"I could kiss you." Stu said happily throwing out his arms. "Don't make me stab you early." Billy threatened. Stu's smile dropped. "Now I'm going back to class I'll see Syd later today just keep being your bubbly self. You got that?" Stu nodded happy everything was going to work out after all.

"It was just some sick fuck having a laugh." Tatum tried to convince Sydney. "She's right Syd I mean those assholes were running up and down the hallways with masks." Sydney shook her head at you sure of what she saw. "It was him. I know it." You walked down the steps right next to your friends. "From now on you are not to be alone. You pee, I pee." Tatum added. Stu ran up spouting some gibberish giving you and the girls a flower. "Darling, I don't know what you did Sydney but on behalf of the entire student body we say thank you!"

Tatum tapped her boyfriend with the flower. "Stop it Stu." She gritted trying to tone down his behavior. "You know I say," He picked Tatum up throwing her over his shoulder. The very cute display made you advert your eyes. You didn't know why you were upset this is exactly what you asked him to do. But it still somehow felt he was going out of his way to upset you.

"Impromptu party tonight, my house. To celebrate this little scare storm, what do ya say?" You and Sydney kept walking while Stu trailed behind. "Are you serious?" Sydney questioned the insane kid. "Parents are out of town." He smacked Tatum's ass causing her to sqeek with a laugh. "If this little vixen doesn't invite the whole world we'll be fine. Mix in with the gathering, mix in with friends." He sat Tatum down letting her talk to Sydney.

You watched Stu trying hard to convince Sydney to go. "What do you say Syd? I mean Pathos could have it's perks. Y/n's never been to one of Stu's parties." Tatum said dragging you into it. "I don't really have party clothes plus what if the killer is there?" You questioned. "I'll totally protect you. Yo I am so buff, I got you covered girl." Tatum laughed at her boyfriend. Sydney whined not liking the idea at all. "I mean come on Syd. For me? It could be fun." Stu proceeded to kiss Tatum's neck bringing back all too fresh memories. "Okay, whatever." Tatum squealed.

"Nice!" Stu said "Make sure you girls bring some food when you come over." Stu left you and your friends to go run off somewhere. "I think I'm just going to head home for tonight." Sydney piped up. "No way. If I'm going you have to go." You threw your head back with a groan. "I don't even have clothes for a party." Tatum spun around. "Now that I can help with."

You raised your hand in protest. "You're not dressing me up like a prostitute." Sydney smiled knowing exactly how Tatum would've dressed you. "You're no fun." Tatum teased as you walked back to Dewy's car. Sydney looked at the ground while you and Tatum discussed what you'd wear. Something wasn't sitting right with her but she wasn't sure what it was.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 8

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