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nutteu · 6 months ago

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[cattonquick] angry smol ft. smitten tol, but make it longer

[AO3 ver.] [rambling compilation]

you remember this? okay, let's make something out of it, one of the possibilities. go ahead and read if you fancy it, but don't blame me in the end lol (also prepare yourself, it's gonna be long and messy, format wise. enjoy this 14k something i whipped out on the spot lol)

let's see. why not have oliver attending oxford out of spite, demanding that he was to be given a fast track towards graduation and making research journals just to piss off people who looked down on him, riding on full scholarship because he didn't want to waste time. sure, he could just stay at home and enjoy life because his family didn't expect anything out of him and would love it if he spent his time close to them. but he had another plan, and he was one angry motherfucker, so he'd conquer this goddamn educational path and obliterate anyone who dared to stand on his way, even god, because fuck that entity as well. oliver would rather swallow a beating heart whole than admit that he'd be defeated by a fucking concept and something practically unseen.

and so, there he was, arriving at the campus and giving nasty glares to those who giggled at his appearance. he didn't give a shit about people who thought that he was ugly, he had no time to fuss about that. but they were saying stupid shit about his buttoned-up shirt and his scarf, and those were from his father, so fuck them. these were precious to him, everything that had anything to do with his family was. he was aware that he was fiercely protective of them, even from his early childhood, but they reciprocated it by loving him completely, entirely, encompassingly. there was nothing that could ever compare to his family's love for him, and he wasn't interested in finding someone who could match it. again, he didn't have time for it.

he didn't peep through the window, in this universe, didn't see someone who would swerve his entire plan of being a recluse, didn't see someone who would love him the way his family did, even more so, because that someone was greedy and selfish and childish, above all else. but, oliver did pull off his scarf and unbutton his shirt near the window, and felix catton happened to look his way, seeing glimpses of him through the window as oliver moved to close the curtain. their eyes met for a moment, dark sky and summer blue, felix with a benign smile on his lips, and oliver with a scowl on his. the curtain was roughly yanked and oliver muttered under his breath about popular kids and high school all over again. it didn't matter; it wasn't his goddamn business.

unfortunately for him, the reaction that he gave wasn't something that felix catton was used to, hence the surprise in his dark eyes. he blinked several times in disbelief, then laughed to himself. it was kind of funny, because he was used to awe and worship in people's eyes when they looked at him; used to batted eyelashes and a twinkle of infatuation. he definitely wasn't expecting such an impressive scowl on an unfamiliar face, those ungodly glasses, and a peek of chest beneath the unbuttoned shirt. felix told himself that it was amusing, and didn't think too much about it. after all, sooner or later, people would cave to him, for him. it just needed time, and since the stranger was within the dorm, it was safe to say that they'd cross paths soon enough. he didn't know why it was important that they met again, but he figured that it was probably because this was the first time someone acted that way towards him. sue him, he was curious, and there was a certain part in him, one that was raised in wealth and multitudes of privileges, that urged him to take this as a challenge, just to prove that, at the end of the day, felix would be someone hard to ignore, let alone to be despised, like the stranger had seemed to feel towards him.

but, right now, they were separated and going forward with their own agendas and lives. it would be some time before fate would have it that they finally found each other in their paths. right now, oliver was calling his mum to tell her that he had arrived and that the student body already pissed him off, listening to her laughter and her soft cadence as she advised him not to be too rough on those poor kids, and felix was on his way to yet another night spent at the pub, keeping a stranger's scowling face at the back of his mind as the crowd cheered and urged him on for another shot, farleigh laughing next to him and telling him that he'd be abandoned by the side of the road if he passed out from the drinks.

let's have some moments of oliver trudging the corridors like he was on a warpath, and people's widened eyes as they caught sight of his narrowed ones and brusque movements. they whispered and jeered and oliver stared them down until they skittered away, then continued his way to the library. he wasn't going to waste time dawdling around; he had goals to achieve and time to compete with. as it was, in this universe, he still met michael gavey, and instead of playing along, he glared at michael and said, "fuck off before i punch your face."

let it be known, right now and later on, that oliver's entire repertoire of responses to people consisted solely of: fuck off; get the fuck out of my face; stay there, i'm going to punch you; and, the favorite, you're a pathetic idiot. let it be that, in this universe, oliver was way too pissed off at the universe and fate to ever consider being anything else than angry and impatient. it didn't matter anyway; it wasn't like he needed to play nice with people, other than his family, and he didn't need anyone's else to achieve what he wanted. he was more than capable to breeze through his syllabus and the requirement to graduate early on the four-year course, and if he didn't get that, he'd terrorize his dean until she understood the magnitude of fear that oliver would incite in people. he wasn't afraid of anything, because why would he? he had known fear more than people would assume from him, and he head learned that it would do nothing but hinder his plans if he were to succumb to it. and so, there he was, angry and impatient and on the path to conquer his education. nothing would stand in his way, and he wouldn't stray from it, no matter what michael gavey said. it truly was a miracle and oliver hadn't punched him the moment that guy opened his mouth.

then, of course, the tutoring, with oliver debating the professor within an inch of his life, and farleigh start coming twenty minutes late into the discussion. the professor looked blatantly relieved at farleigh's arrival and immediately changed the topic towards some bullshit about farleigh's mother and how she was someone admired to the professor. oliver didn't give a shit about that, and he also didn't give a shit about farleigh's not-so-subtle mockery. he glanced at farleigh, and flatly stated, "you're useless. if you have nothing to say about the discussion at hand, then better shut your mouth before i punch the fuck outta it, see if you can still speak with four teeth gone."

"oliver!" the professor exclaimed, eyes wide yet staying still on his seat, because he was terrified enough by this young man and his mind, his insistence and his no-nonsense attitude. it was safe to say that he would be wary of every tutoring session that involved oliver quick in it for future to come. "come on, we can discuss this without throwing insults or punches, can we? farleigh, how about you tell us what you've read?"

farleigh, shocked and pissed off because some nobody dared to threaten him, yet keeping the seed of fear anyway because oliver didn't seem like he was joking at all about what he said, finally stuttered out some things he remembered from his incomplete reading. it seemed to pacify oliver, at least, and it made farleigh curios, because he had never met anybody like oliver, who dressed himself like a grandpa, glasses that made his harsh features worse, and soft voice that belied the words he said out loud. it was kind of entertaining, seeing oliver steadily and mercilessly beating the professor to the ground, metaphorically speaking, though farleigh was suspicious that oliver wouldn't mind the more physical side of that statement. farleigh might have his own insecurities and he had a nasty habit of belittling people he deemed below him, but this was the first time someone actually threatened him and didn't seem to give a shit about farleigh's reputation. it was a breath of fresh air, to be honest, because while oliver's words were harsh, they weren't lies and oliver didn't seem interested in playing coy to be in farleigh's good graces. people like that was rare, and farleigh had all the intentions of keeping oliver close, if not for a debating partner to trade insults with, then for his honesty.

and so, farleigh draped himself all over oliver's back, easily overshadowing him because oliver might be someone with incredible temper and short fuse, but he was so small that it was easy to forget how cruel he could be with his mouth. farleigh said, "give me your phone, i'll put in my number."

"i'm not interested," oliver stated plainly, trying to get out of farleigh's hold and only ended up trapped within the man's long arms because he refused to let go. "i'll punch your dick if you don't let me go right this second."

"oh, come on, oliver," farleigh laughed. "i promise i can keep up with your studies. i didn't take it seriously because i thought it would be a joke, you know? i'm not going to disappoint you, honest to god." it might be a little bit of a lie, because farleigh had plans for oliver that didn't include studying, but that was for later, after he managed to wrangle oliver into being his study partner. then, after that, some parties and perhaps a round of jagerbomb. oliver didn't need to know that, however.

oliver finally stilled, then looked up at him suspiciously. "if you bother me for something else than our study, i will burn every single one of your belonging, farleigh start."

farleigh laughed again, more honest this time. "cross my heart and all," he said, and cheered when oliver reluctantly gave him his phone. he punched in the number, and messaged himself, before letting oliver go and skipping ahead before oliver changed his mind and went through with his initial plan of punching the shit out of farleigh's face.

you might ask yourself, where did felix fit into this? where was he? don't you worry. felix might not have the best first impression on oliver, but the act of surprising farleigh with his temper and threats was the catalyst. unbeknownst to oliver, farleigh had told the experience to felix as soon as they met, drinking themselves to stupor as farleigh told his cousin, half terrified and half entertained to no end, about this little guy with his ugly plaids and terrifying intelligence; described him down to the last detail and proudly showing the brisk message oliver had sent him last night, a mere ok, 5pm, library. felix, drunken and amused because farleigh was chattering about some stranger who managed to mess with his head, for the first time showing interest in anyone instead of just mocking them to hell and back. farleigh seemed to have this reluctant respect for oliver, and if felix squinted enough, he could see the start of a juvenile crush.

still, there was something, niggling at the back of his mind, that pulsed when farleigh told him about this mysterious and hilariously angry oliver quick. the memory didn't come, however, and so, he chalked it up to his drunken mind trying to conjure an approximation of the stranger farleigh seemed to be fond of. perhaps, felix could tag along to their study session and see for himself just who was this oliver. not now, though, it wasn't that important.

as fate would have it, however, they met sooner than felix thought. there he was, still a victim of the thumbtacks despite being in another universe, another possibility; his tire useless and his bike a heap on his feet as he sighed dramatically and wishing for a breeze so his hair could be ruffled and he could look more miserable. he was hoping his pitiful stance would appeal to people, and they would help him, but of course, those fuckers only glanced and whispered then left. heartless, all of them.

then, then, a small, vaguely familiar figure approached him, halting to a stop before felix. those summer blue, he recognized this person. felix smiled at him, and the man pursed his lips in a grimace. he seemed to be debating internally about something felix didn't know about, before he sighed roughly and got off his bike. he shot felix a disgusted look before he took the books out of the basket, and pointed a short finger at him, said, "get the fuck up. you look pathetic. take my bike and go to wherever you need to. return it to the shed and i'll take yours to be repaired."

"oh my god," felix exclaimed, standing up and graciously letting the insults breeze through him. he had expected this from the moment he saw this man through the window. it was both hilarious and scary, how this man seemed to be perpetually pissed off at the world. there was that feeling again, niggling at the back of his head, and this time he knew what it was. the oliver quick that farleigh raved about, was the same man that had tickled felix's curiosity on that day. "you're my saviour! thank you, thank you so much, mate. you didn't know how hopeless i felt before you came. what's your name? i need to know how to call my savior."

"i don't give a shit about how you feel," the man said promptly. "just take the bike and stop looking like a pitiful idiot."

"awh, come on," felix cooed, standing up to wrap an arm around oliver's small shoulders. wow, he didn't know that oliver was this small; it would be so easy to completely overshadow him, engulf him with felix's entire height. he smiled at this, because it was yet another funny thing about this man. his stature was so disproportionate to his apparent, constant anger. he was like a chihuahua, or better yet, black-footed cat. small and deadly. yeah, it seemed fitting. "i'm felix," he continued. "now you know my name. give me yours? please?"

oliver looked absolutely disgusted at him, and forcefully wrangled his way out of felix's hold. it was sort of ridiculous, him with his scowl, while wearing those nerdy glasses and a goddamn helmet. who the hell used bike helmet these days? oliver, that was who. it kind of suited him, though. made him adorable and geeky. oliver let out another rough sigh, and said curtly, "oliver quick. now, stop talking to me and go."

"yessir!" felix smiled brightly, then advanced on oliver and gripped his shoulders tight so the man couldn't escape as felix peppered his helmet with kisses. "thank you so much, ollie. you're a savior!"

"stop calling me that," oliver grunted out, trying and failing to get out of felix's grip. "and i only helped you because my mom raised me right." he paused, then shrugged. "and because you looked pathetic."

"awh, you care!" felix said, palm on his chest. "still, thank you. can i get your number? i gotta give you something in return for helping me."

"not interested," oliver said, then gathered his books and secured it with his arms, walking over to felix's bike and inspected it for a moment. "you got three thumbtacks and you didn't realize it? are you that stupid?"

felix shrugged. it was kind of insulting, but then again, he had prepared himself the moment he heard about oliver quick from farleigh. compared to what he had heard, this was mild coming from oliver. "must be some pranks."

oliver sighed. "whatever," he said, then pulled the bike upright. he stabbed a finger on felix's chest, said, "don't get my bike all fucked-up like yours. pathetic or not, i will break your nose if you messed up my bike."

"understood," felix nodded genially. then, because he knew how to flaunt his eyes and he had a dramatic flair he learned from his mum, "now, your number?" he added a smile, offering his phone.

oliver shot him that disgusted look again, and snatched the phone, punching the numbers in with more force than necessary. "don't text me if it's not important, and don't call me unless i give you the permission to do so."

"noted," felix said, happy now that he got the number, immediately sent a silly hi ;). oliver checked his phone, and glared with the power of a thousand suns at felix, who just smiled wider and hee-hee'd his way out of the man's ire. "gotta go now. thanks a lot, ollie!" he said, and placed one last kiss on the man's helmet before escaping from oliver's temper and scurrying away.

and so, they met, and oliver almost regretted his decision of giving felix a leeway. felix, however, would take that inch and asked for miles, for more, because he was selfish and greedy and had never known grief or disappointment. he would learn those, but it wasn't for later. right now, oliver took his bike to be repaired and felix spent his lecture messaging farleigh, flaunting that he got oliver quick to save him, didn't get a punch to his nose for calling him ollie, and even managed to kiss his helmet. farleigh would say, you're joking, and felix would flaunt further that he got oliver's number as well now. he then spent the remaining time of the lecture arranging a meeting with oliver soon. like oliver, he also didn't want to waste time, albeit with different reason. he figured that he could ask farleigh for oliver's schedule, because his cousin managed to wrangle it out of oliver's mouth, for the sake of their study-date was his excuse.

oliver, on the other hand, was complaining to his sisters about farleigh and felix, called them juvenile bastards and mona said, awh, you have friends now! and it was so humiliating to admit what happened with felix, because oliver saw it as a weakness. his mother, on the other hand, seemed to be so proud of him for helping people, for opening up enough to let people into his life. he told her it wasn't like that, and that felix and farleigh were just pulling his pants, that sooner or later he would have to break their teeth. but there was a smile in his mum's voice, pride in his dad's, and gentle teasing in his sisters'. oliver let out a sigh and smiled despite himself. he missed his family already; missed their presence and constant chatters around him, their understanding and their strong hearts. he missed waking up to eliza holding his hand, or alicia running her fingers to his hair, softly singing a lullaby when he had difficulties falling asleep, constant headache that he ignored because he was used to it.

oliver still had that headache, difficulties falling asleep, and there was no one to accompany him now, no one to sing him lullabies. he couldn't just constantly call his family, because he had to focus on his study and he didn't want to make them worry. they were worried enough as it was, especially now that oliver had decided to go to college. he had taken a year-gap and stayed at home, but he figured that fate wouldn't wait for him, and thus he decided to pursue what he had always wanted to do. perhaps, in another life, he would have all the time in the world, would be less angry. but in this life, he was stuck with his fate, with his inability of being kind, with his perpetual anger towards the world at large, the absolute indifference he felt for people who didn't know him.

except, it wasn't really true now, was it? oliver could admit that he had let his weakness shine through when he gave farleigh his number, even though he reasoned that he liked having someone to banter with, trading insults and arguments back and forth. people were usually afraid of him, especially since he started being an absolute asshole in his last year of high school, so it was kind of relieving to have someone who didn't shatter easily when he insulted them. it was nice having someone who could give as good as they got. then, there was felix, who had received oliver's backwards kindness simply because he was so pathetic and oliver pitied him. then, of course his assumption about felix was proven true when he quite literally and immediately asked for more from oliver. spoiled children, all of them. but he just looked so earnest and pitiful and oliver still remembered what his mother said. it's okay that you're angry, my love, but never forget that kindness is something you're capable of. let it be something you can possess despite your fate. curse his upbringing and habit, but he couldn't just leave felix and his stupid puppy eyes on the side of the road.

then, not even two days since they met, felix bombarded him with messages, asking his dorm number, and oliver, already impatient from his headache and assignments, told him just so he could shut up already. what he got after that was someone banging on his door, and felix grinning at him when oliver finally opened the door.

"hiya, mate," felix greeted, and oliver slammed the door close on his face. he banged on the door again, shouting, "come on, ollie! it's cold out here! i just wanna see you, please? pleaaase!"

"oh my god," oliver groused out after opening the door again, "you can't shut up, can you? what do you want?"

felix he-he'd his way again, and said, "how about we go to a pub tonight? you must be tired from all that studying. you know farleigh, right? he's my cousin and he told me he knows you. you can meet him again! with me, of course. my friends are also there, so i got you fresh meat to terrorize!"

"i meet him enough on daily basis, any more and i'm going to throw up," oliver said. "i'm not interested. go there on your own."

"oh, come on, ollieee," felix pleaded, dishing out his charm and intentionally looking as pitiful as he could. he knew that oliver thought of him as this pitiful child, and he was going to milk it for what it was worth. "just a round? then we can go. i'll even walk you back!"

"you really don't know when to stop, do you?" oliver gritted out as felix batted his eyelashes at him. "fine," he sighed, because, what the hell. he had done workloads for an entire semester, thanks to the lecturers who gave him leeway by giving him the entire syllabus and assignments to finish, so he'd have enough time to finish the rest and graduate as quickly as possible. he still needed to pressure his dean, but that was for later. right now, he could just get drunk. "but you're paying."

"deal," felix grinned, satisfied with his victory, and got the door slammed on his face again as oliver changed his clothes. he didn't mind it, even if he could admit he had wanted to get inside the dorm room, wanted to see what kind of person oliver was from his belongings. after a few minutes, oliver opened the door again, his attire completed by the same ugly plaids. did he not possess any other kind of clothing? well, it didn't matter. felix could always buy him some, once he roped oliver into it. for now, baby step. "let's go, they must have started without us already."

oliver's first outing with felix was... disastrous. not even twenty-minutes in, and oliver already started three separate fights that thankfully didn't come to fruition, because they were too busy being obliterated to the ground by oliver's scathing mouth, and felix looming over him and glaring at anyone who dared to mouth off to oliver. felix didn't exactly know why he did it, but a part of him just couldn't accept it when oliver's attention wasn't on him. it was gratifying to be lavished by the rare attention from someone who seemed to hate anyone on-sight. besides, he kind of liked it, listening to oliver's insults and how he always managed to strike where it hurt the most. two of the three fights were finished because the victims of oliver's mouth left while sobbing, and the last one didn't escalate into physical fights because felix's and oliver's combined glares were enough to make the stranger scurry away. then, when oliver turned around, felix plastered a genial smile and wrapped his arms around oliver, steered him away from the possible fights and into the couch on the corner of the room, where his friends and farleigh were.

felix's friends were definitely terrified of oliver, but farleigh could see more into it because he knew both oliver and felix. he knew that felix had a nasty habit of choosing a toy to be played with until he was satisfied, discarding the used toy in search for another. but this was the first time he actually did something like this, follow someone around like a pathetic puppy, using the advantage of his stature and status to beat someone into submission, simply because they tried to fight with oliver. farleigh wasn't dumb, he knew that oliver quick was different than felix's other toy, solely because oliver had self-awareness, was cruel and mean when he wanted to, and didn't give a shit about felix's background. oliver would break felix's bones if he dared to think of him as a plaything, and felix seemed to be aware of it. what farleigh didn't understand, was why his cousin seemed to be attached to oliver when they weren't even that close to begin with, and he had known oliver for lesser time than farleigh. his first guess, and the strongest, was because, this time, it was felix finding himself a puppy love, a fleeting infatuation which wasn't reciprocated, because oliver didn't seem all that interested in felix, romantically. but farleigh knew, that the harder the challenge was, the more felix would work for it. he didn't know how this would end up, but he banked his horse on heartbreak, on felix's end, more likely.

well, it wasn't his business, felix's love at first sight with oliver. it was kind of hilarious, too, because this kind of thing almost never happened to felix, simply because it was always the other side who fell in love with him first. this truly was a puppy love, and farleigh would enjoy the entertainment for as long as it lasted.

and so, the night continued, with farleigh shouting jagerbomb at one point, and oliver simply pointing at felix and said, "tell him. he's my wallet tonight." and farleigh laughed, because of course felix was. they were sitting close, the three of them, flanking oliver left and right because everyone else was too scared to come near oliver. the man seemed satisfied enough with the fear in their eyes, and was even willing to be urged to drink shots after shots. farleigh said, "wow, oliver, didn't know you're a party animal!"

"i have constant headache from people's stupidity, and i'm not going to waste free alcohol," he replied, then downed another shot after shrugging and muttering eh, what the hell, i'll die anyway. well, farleigh thought, he'd definitely die with that much alcohol in his veins, and it was such a waste of a good debating partner.

so, he steered oliver away from the alcohol, and instead started quizzing him about his daily life and background. oliver parried his questions with glares, and only softening a little after felix joined in the conversation, all puppy-like and eager to hear more about oliver. farleigh realized, with hysterical laughter in his throat, that oliver probably thought of felix as someone so pitiful and pathetic, and that was the only reason he hadn't razed felix to the ground. felix was just that pathetic, and oliver allowed him to be close because it was simply not worth his time being angry at someone like felix. it was fucking hilarious, because this was the first time someone ever thought that way about felix. farleigh was enjoying this immensely.

oliver said, he had three sisters: mona, eliza, and alicia, all older than him. his mum was a housewife and his father worked in a construction company as a civil engineer. he took a year-gap and only now decided to enter college. he took literatures and theology because it was easy and he wanted to graduate early, fuck the four-year course. his hobby was actually knitting and studying, and he didn't give a shit about his clothing style because he idolized his dad and wanted to look like him. well, there went the reason of why he dressed himself like an old man. still, farleigh thought as oliver got progressively more drunk as felix plied him with more alcohol, it was such a shame to leave oliver wardrobe in its pathetic state. once he found a leeway of entering oliver's dorm room, he'd do something about it. felix would certainly appreciate that effort, and it would be funny, him making heart eyes at oliver without realizing it himself.

but, still, all the answers oliver gave didn't explain his constant anger and scowl. farleigh chalked it to them not being close enough. but maybe, with enough gatherings at the pub and more liquor, he could get the answer out of oliver. it was fine to leave it this way right now. besides, it was funny as hell listening to oliver blatantly disregarding everyone around him but felix and farleigh, and answering to annabel's attempt of getting felix's attention with can't you see we're talking? get your needy ass elsewhere, which was beyond rude, because annabel knew felix longer than oliver did. but farleigh thought that it was might as well, since annabel had been blatantly belittling oliver's appearance and his prowess in commanding felix's attention. farleigh didn't blame annabel, though her crush was ill-advised and doomed to a heartbreak, because someone like felix didn't do proper romance, simply because he was too stupid to recognize it, and no one ever snagged his attention as much as oliver did. farleigh imagined it, felix pursuing a proper relationship with oliver, and laughed, because it was both impossible and, just like annabel's feelings, doomed to a heartbreak. he could see it easily, oliver shutting felix down mercilessly. farleigh ought to be there when it happened, maybe bring a handicam. venetia would appreciate the laugh, he thought.

at the end of the night, felix had to carry oliver because he was too drunk to walk properly. half-asleep and drunken out of his mind, oliver actually looked cute, definitely an improvement than his usual frown and scowl. he looked more peaceful like this, younger. it also didn't help that he had a small stature, and so, seeing him being carried on felix's back was something novel and funny at the same time. farleigh took it upon himself to accompany them, because he wanted to see oliver's room. he noted, that this was the first time felix didn't take someone back to fuck; he didn't even glance at the girls making eyes at him, all his attention on oliver.

oliver grunted something out in his sleep, and farleigh put a palm on his small back, steadying him as he reached for his head, muttering out fucking headache, then went back to sleep. farleigh moved his hand to sling around felix's neck again, and they resumed their track. once they arrived at the room, oliver was let down carefully, then they waited until he was awake enough to open the door. once he did however, it seemed that some of his sobriety had returned as well, because he just nodded curtly at them, said thanks for bringing me back, and slammed the door on their faces. farleigh stared, not used to being treated this way. but felix, that lovesick fool, only sighed pleasantly and said, "this is the third time he slammed the door on my face. it was kind of cute, don't you think?"

"you're crazy, man," farleigh laughed as they made their way towards their own room.

"do you think ollie will accept it if i bought him new clothes? no offense to his style, but it needs a little... reshaping," felix sighed.

"he'll probably kill you," farleigh shrugged, and promised himself he'd tell venetia about it. it would entertain her. or, maybe, she needed to meet oliver himself, get herself away from liquor for a moment to enjoy life in sobriety. as much as farleigh understood her reasoning, it didn't mean that it didn't make him and felix despair when she tried to numb herself and her feelings with alcohol. maybe, oliver might be able to get venetia from all of that, call her out without mercy and make her see the light. farleigh didn't know why he put such responsibility on, virtually, a stranger to them. but oliver was honest, had no interest in people, and was beyond merciless with his quips. if he were to be taken to saltburn, he'd be a storm. it would be priceless, seeing elspeth and james' faces.

"ah, but he's so cute too in his plaids," felix said. "don't you think?"

"no," farleigh laughed. "you're wasted, and he'll punch you if he heard you talk about him that way."

"i kind of wanted to see him punch someone," felix sighed wistfully. "but he's so small. what if he can't reach the face? oh, well, he can always kick the groin, i suppose. he's the perfect height for that, isn't he? is that the reason why he's so angry? i heard the shorter people are angrier because they're closer to hell."

"you're being silly," farleigh said. "go to sleep before oliver caught you saying all of that."

"he won't do anything to me, though," felix said confidently. "he helped me and accepted my invitation to hang out."

"yeah, because he sees you as this pitiful puppy," farleigh said, sighing out loud. "be careful, though. you're kind of stupid when it comes to love. you might hurt yourself."

"ollie won't hurt me," felix said, again with that confidence. "he thinks i'm useless and can't do anything right. he'll protect me."

"you're talking shit out of your ass, man," farleigh sighed again, and pushed felix inside his dorm room when they reached it. "go to sleep, and don't dream about oliver. you don't even know him, for fuck's sake."

"but i will," felix said, assured. "just you wait, i'll make him like me too. we're gonna be best mates and everything!"

"see?" farleigh said, rolling his eyes. "already showing your stupidity. go to sleep, felix."

felix fell asleep and didn't dream about oliver, but he did think about the man when he woke up, a stupid smile on his lips as he thought about all the things they could do together. he couldn't help it, oliver was so different than the people around him. he was so unapologetically himself, didn't give a shit about other people's feelings, had insurmountable rage for such a small body, and was so smart that it was scary. also, he was kind of cute when he was half-asleep, and when he talked about his family. it was evident that he loved them so much, and felix didn't know how it felt. sure, he loved venetia and farleigh, but their upbringing wasn't exactly something to be compared with oliver's apparent close tie with his family. he valued them and thought of them as something precious. felix's life was served on a diamond platter, a heirloom from a legacy he didn't know how to run away from. he never experienced true familial love when it came to his parents, and he envied oliver for that. it was truly a miracle that felix still ended up with heart on his sleeve, because he had seen what happened to his sister and cousin. farleigh covered-up his insecurities and needs of genuine love with his haughty attitude and mockeries; venetia buried her feelings and dreams with cigarettes and alcohol, long since given up about the way her parents didn't really see her as a person, and instead merely a failure. they had money and an estate spanning across acres, they had influence and privileges, but felix had never heard someone talked about him with such reverence and fierce love the way oliver talked about his family. he wanted that, and he felt like oliver was the only way for him to attain that. if anything, maybe oliver would pity him enough to be invited to the quicks' household, get away from the sprawling mess that was saltburn, experience how it felt like to be cherished and valued, instead of something to be projected onto and be flaunted in parties, only to be ignored in daily life.

oliver, on the other hand, woke up with massive headache and regrets of talking so much when he was inebriated. curse farleigh and felix for their curiosity, he was going to murder them later. but right now, he needed something for his headache. it wasn't like he wasn't used to it, but this morning it was even more so. he sighed and promised himself he wouldn't accept the next invitation for a night's out. he took his pills and showered, brushed his hair and rolled his eyes at the fallen strands of hair. at this rate, he'd be bald before next month. well, that wasn't a problem. he had been bald before, and it had been hard growing out his hair again, and it kept falling once it got longer. maybe he should just shave it off again, less hassle that way. but, well, they'd just fall out and he'd be bald eventually anyway. he just gotta wait for it.

he didn't have an assignment today, already finished it prior to going out last night. but he did have an appointment with his dean, and he promised himself he'd extort quick graduation from her dainty hands. with that in mind, he gathered his bag close and headed out of the dorm. there was a vibration from his phone, and he opened it to farleigh's message of 'study together at lunch?', to which he replied with 'ok'. he had time for that, and farleigh was actually really smart once he stopped acting like an asshole. but oliver didn't mind that, either. he was also, after all, an asshole.

the dean looked wary when she saw him, probably already hearing from the lecturers how he behaved. he didn't care; he wasn't here to play nice. he was here to pursue his goals, and like fuck he was going to let anyone get in the way of it. so, he debated back and forth with the dean, almost made her cry and got himself booted out of the oxford. but he didn't, and he got the schedule for advanced classes in his itinerary. it meant more workloads, but he didn't mind that. he didn't have time to waste complaining about it.

the dean walked him to the door, and placed a hand on his shoulder. she was a tall woman, with weary green eyes and a look that only someone with responsibilities got. she said, "don't push yourself too hard. enjoy your youth while it lasts, it's okay to be like that, you know?"

"i don't have enough time for that," he said, and her eyes softened. so, he sighed, and nodded. "i'll try, but i can't promise anything."

"that's good enough for me," the dean said. "come see me if you have difficulties with your advanced classes. we can work something out for that."

"no need to," oliver said, but his tone was gentler. "i appreciate the offer, though. have a good day."

he left the office and went to the cafe which farleigh had sent the address to him. when he got there, he rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, because of course felix would tag along, even though they were in completely different majors and he didn't need to be there. oliver felt a pulse twitch in his head, overshadowing the constant headache. this pathetic git, he swore to god.

"come on, ollie, don't make that face," felix whined. "i'm a great company, you know?"

"no, you're not," oliver said blatantly. "and your presence here isn't welcomed."

felix smiled, looking like he had won something, as he said, "you mentioned that you liked physics and civil engineering. i happen to know someone you can talk about those things with."

that piqued oliver's interest. he chose literature and theology because it didn't require him to think too much, but he had always been interested in all kind of knowledge, and it was especially nice to have someone whom he could discuss those things with. his dad used to be his study partner whenever he had free time, teaching oliver about civil engineering. he looked at felix's stupid smile, and nodded, taking a seat between him and farleigh. "where's that person."

"let me call her," felix said, giddy because this was yet another inch he could take from oliver. he dialed venetia's number, and waited until she picked up the call. "hey, are you busy? i got a friend here. he likes the things you used to study. do you have time to talk? he's not a git, i promise, just... very honest--oh, come on, vee. just a little bit? i promise you won't regret it."

oliver waited patiently as felix tried to assure the person on the call to speak to oliver. farleigh didn't deign them attention as he focused on his papers. at last, the phone was given to oliver. felix looked proud of himself, and expectant as well. so, oliver just sighed and spoke, "hello?"

"is this oliver?" the voice on the other line said, mirth in her voice. "felix's new boytoy?"

"you keep calling me that and i'll find out your whereabouts and boil your teeth for supper," he said, and frowned when there was a laughter greeting his words.

"i like you," she said. "can i call you ollie? i'll call you ollie. i'm venetia."

oliver gritted his teeth. what the fuck was it with these people? they trampled his personal space, were stupid enough to enjoy his presence, and had weird knacks of liking his insults. masochists, all of them, he swore to god. but then, venetia mentioned a research he had read before, and she was so adept in the theories and methods used, and oliver found that he could forgive venetia for her weird taste in company. they talked about their favorite physicists and argued about some journals. it was also fun to know that venetia used to write her own research journals, and she was entirely open for suggestions and critics.

somewhere along the conversation, she said, "you're the most real person i have ever known, ollie. i think i'll keep you around. might have to fight felix for his boytoy, though."

"i'm not a thing to be kept around, and i have no intention of being anyone's boytoy," he groused out. "i can take both of you in a fight."

venetia laughed, bright and honest. "okay, how about a friend, then?"

oliver wrinkled his nose. he didn't have many of those, friends. he didn't consider farleigh or felix as friends, because they just did whatever they wanted and dragged him along with their shenanigans. but he could do with venetia. she was smart, even though she didn't sound entirely sober, and she possessed a keen mind that oliver could appreciate.

"okay, i can do that," he said, nodding even though venetia couldn't see him.

felix, from his seat, made a gargled sound that vaguely expressed his happiness and victory. he looked so smug, oliver wanted to punch his handsome face. once the call had cut off, oliver gave the phone back to felix, who accepted it and looked at oliver like an overeager puppy. he seemed to expect something, and oliver wasn't adept in reading someone's mind or emotion. but felix did introduce him to venetia, and he enjoyed their interaction. he bit his lip, and slowly formed the words on his tongue.

"uh," he started, "good job. i like venetia."

"yes!" felix exclaimed, drawing attention from the people around them. he didn't seem to mind the stares, however. "see, ollie, if you keep me around, you'll find good things and have a good time!"

for the second time that day, he said, "i don't have enough time for that."

"just you see," felix promised.

oliver considered it for a moment. these people were strangers to him, no matter how much they seemed to want to know him. he wasn't used to it, and he definitely wasn't used to people who liked his not-so-charming personality. farleigh was fun to be around, and there was a certain part of oliver that felt fondness at felix's stupid puppy eyes. maybe... he could spare some time for them. any kind of risk they could have from befriending someone like him was their responsibility entirely. he refused to take the blame. it was, after all, not him who started this tentative friendship.

felix, on the other hand, was overjoyed. not only because oliver seemed pleased with a new discussion partner, but also because venetia sounded sober enough throughout the call and she had seemed... happy, though reluctantly. he understood, happiness wasn't a concept she was familiar with, and she had thought that oliver was just another toy felix would discard at the end of the day. but see, oliver was more than that. at least, felix thought so.

the days went forward, and within them were various meetings and nights out that oliver finally relented to. it was weird, this kind of thing. oliver realized that farleigh and felix were genuinely curious about him, and he was allowed to ask them questions too. oliver wasn't used to it, wanting to know someone. it'd be futile in the end, was something he had always thought. he talked about it with his mum, and she sounded suspiciously like she was in tears when he heard about his decision of giving the cattons' siblings a sliver of his time. oliver used to have friends, yes, but he pushed them all away once his anger at the world overcame him completely. friends were something he couldn't afford, being him. but now, there were people who wanted to know him, on their own volitions. they were adults now, though young, and oliver thought that heartaches and loss were something they could handle maturely. it wasn't his responsibility to console them at the end of it, he reminded himself.

enjoy your youth while it lasts.

he thought about it, and concluded that he could be selfish, this time. he knew that the cattons were only curious about him, and they possessed an entirely different mindset than him, courtesy of their upbringing and state of family. farleigh had told him that the catton siblings didn't mean to offend him by calling him a toy, it was just something they were used to because they could afford blind kindness and thought that they could have everything in their lives. they were unaware of their ignorance, and it was, unfortunately, one of their defining personalities. but, farleigh said with a pained face, as if it hurt him to talk about oliver with kindness, too used to them trading insults, oliver was someone different. the cattons were used to people following their whims, but this time, they met someone who didn't see them for only their status, but instead a person who saw them for who they were and didn't discriminate them from his sharp mouth and scathing insults. in the following week, he had three calls from venetia, once she acquired his phone number, and one of it was spent insulting each other.

this time, they met someone whom they had to work for, to get close to. it was different, because oliver refused to be anything but himself, and they needed that kind of person in their lives. at least, that was how farleigh thought of it. afterwards he looked sick at his admission, and said, ugh, being nice to you makes me want to puke. to which oliver replied with, go ahead and puke, i'll laugh at you.

still, ultimately, he ended up with friends. it was so weird, thinking that he had people who didn't mind his prickly nature and habit of starting a fight with dumbasses. venetia told him to call her vee, and he listened about her inability to face her own thoughts and feelings, the reason why she chose to drown herself in liquor. listened, when she cried and whispered i just want them to love me, you know? said to her, you don't need their love. you can achieve anything you want. come to my house and i'll introduce you to my parents and sisters. they'll welcome you and my dad is a good conversation partner for your interest. he gave her his parents' numbers, and got a call from them that a venetia catton had introduced herself as his friend, and asked if they would like to have lunch together some day, so they could meet one of their son's current closest people.

felix pouted and whined when he found out, because, hey, he wanted to be introduced to oliver's parents, too. but there was undeniable happiness in his eyes, and he spoke so gently when he said i'm glad you allowed her to be your friend. oliver was silent when he said that, and didn't think about how this would end. it was okay, he could enjoy this while it lasted, and when it ended, at least he could be rest assured that he did something to change someone and pull them away from their misery. venetia might not know him for long, but oliver thought that it was unfair for such a bright mind to be dimmed down because of stupid people and fate. he told his parents that venetia was allowed to sleep in his room, should she come to their house; told them to always contact her, because he didn't want to risk undoing what the girl had achieved if she were to be left behind yet again in the yawning emptiness of loneliness.

oliver still didn't know how to handle having friends, but he trudged forward like he had done all this time. he didn't know where this decision would bring him to, but like fuck he was going to let it go, now that he had decided to pursue it. he hounded the catton siblings with questions of his own, and gleaned knowledge about their personalities, their memories, their dreams and wishes. he found out that farleigh was a lonely boy who needed love, because his mother couldn't give it to him; was so embarrassed that he had to constantly ask he cattons, beg with a bowl. oliver told him to start being independent and to try out work, so he could have income of his own. he was smart and he could tutor people. he could also choose to delve into fashion or entertainment, because he got the skills and mindset for it. farleigh considered it, and oliver told him that he'd introduce him to his family too, if he had the time. now, there were two cattons whom his parents knew about, and, apparently, mona and farleigh got along famously, because of their shared interest in fashion and completely appalled by oliver's choice of attire.

the last catton to be introduced was felix, and he had complained loudly about it. to be honest, oliver didn't know how to do that when it came to felix. with venetia and farleigh, it was because of shared interests and understanding of their minds. but felix was someone oliver had helped simply because he looked so pathetic, with his bike a useless heap on the side of the road. felix was... someone oliver didn't understand. he was painfully kind, and people flocked to him like moths to fire. he was stupid beyond belief when it came to studying, and had to be threatened before he did his assignments, muttering and whining under his breath. he was popular, could converse well with people, had a savior complex a mile wide with the way he treated people, and definitely didn't understand how to not be the center of attention.

felix followed him around like a puppy, always chattering about some mundane things that oliver unfortunately listened to; he was smart enough to understand that oliver's anger wasn't going to be directed at him because he was seen as pathetic, and he was okay with it, as long as he could annoy oliver on daily basis. he was surprisingly secretive about his own feelings, even though he wore his heart on his sleeve. oliver couldn't understand that-- felix's habit of putting his feelings at risk, just because he didn't know how to love while still protecting his heart. if his heart was to be hurt, it would shatter completely, because, even though farleigh kept telling oliver that felix was a dumbass when it came to love, but oliver himself believed that felix simply didn't know how to love except with his whole heart.

it was terribly easy to make him sad and ruin his mood, but it was also easy to appease him in return, if he were to be given attention and a touch of affection. he seemed to be aware of his shortcomings, but didn't know how to process them healthily. so, he turned towards alcohol and meaningless sex and friendships that only scratched the exterior he put out for people to see. he cried easily, and he pouted and whined all the time, even about the smallest thing. but, one thing that shone the brightest was how felix, at heart, just wanted to help people. it was selfish, sure, his need of being seen as a savior, but oliver understood that it came from his parents shaping him up to always think this way, their habit of belittling those more unfortunate than them, making out charity as a selfish act instead of a selfless one, wolves in fancy clothing who couldn't understand the plight of those they deemed beneath their level. oliver could see traces of it on all the catton children, but he understood why they were the way they were.

the difficult thing was that, while felix was eager to share about himself to olive, it was like pulling teeth when it came to his private thoughts. at first, oliver didn't really think about it. they were friends and that should be enough kindness to be given to these weird people who insisted on being close to him. but he couldn't just ignore it all the time.

because, while oliver was still not privy to felix's thoughts, he knew how it felt to be seen with adoration and awe in those dark eyes, mirth and amusement when he started cussing people out, thoughtful expression when he started lecturing farleigh about their assignment. he knew how it felt to be called ollie, like it mattered; knew how felix's kisses felt on his forehead and his cheeks and the back of his neck, because felix liked standing behind and looming over him. it was a weird habit that oliver was helpless against, because, as much as felix acted like a pathetic puppy, he was so stubborn and selfish when it came to satisfying his curiosity and need of constant physical touch.

he would wrap his arms around oliver, giggle into his hair, patting his thigh, play with his fingers, demanding his attention all the time. he would pull oliver close to him when they went out to pubs, and would forcibly wrench away oliver's head when it became too close to farleigh. there was a reason why he always sat between oliver and farleigh, ever since that time. farleigh just laughed at his face, and oliver rolled his eyes but ultimately relenting. he thought that maybe he was going insane, because what was he doing here, within felix's arms, listening to him sing a song terribly. he had goals to achieve, and time to compete with, so what was he doing here?

but see, oliver, with all his anger and scathing mouth and habit of starting a fight, was still a young man. he had decided to open up to the catton siblings, and he didn't know how to take it back, how to warn them that it would be futile in the end, because it wasn't wise to cultivate relationships and memories with oliver. no matter how rough his exterior was, he still had a heart.

a heart, which stuttered a beat or two when felix came to him, all smiles and all the intentions of hogging oliver's attention; when felix laughed at his insults; when felix touched him; when felix looked at him with something close to wonder in his eyes; when oliver finally allowed farleigh and felix into his room, and felix touched all his belongings with reverence while farleigh started criticizing his wardrobe.

when felix spent the afternoon staring at oliver as he did his papers, when he smoked and stared intently at oliver, when he held oliver close underneath the dim light of the pub, when he carried oliver back in drunken nights, when he whined and complained and pouted and begged for oliver's time and attention and care.

within those moments, oliver realized, mortified beyond belief and heaving out wistful sighs, that he had been too soft when it came to felix. he had always gave the man a leeway, a path into oliver's live, simply by being a simpleton who didn't know how to give up.

on one of their outing, oliver went alone to pay for another round of jagerbomb, because he knew that farleigh was stressed out with the upcoming exams, and he wanted his turn to pay, instead of solely relying on felix. that, was when a man stood close to him and started a conversation that oliver had no intention of reciprocating. he was merely there to wait for the jagerbomb. as per usual, the man grew irritated by his lack of response, and oliver only said, "scram. i have interest in entertaining self-centered idiot like you."

now, it wasn't unusual for oliver to start a bar fight, given how his mouth operated. but this time, felix wasn't there to loom over him, engrossed in a conversation with his friend, and the man had thrown a punch before oliver could anticipate it. his head was ringing, and he felt blood flowing down from his nose. he licked his lips, and was about to throw a punch back, when a familiar back came into his vision, and then it was a blur of screams and sickening crunch of someone's nose being broken. oliver's cheek pulsed in pain as he cradled it, and his nose still hadn't stopped bleeding. he watched, as if in a trance, as felix absolutely pulverized the man, and only stopped when the man no longer moved.

oliver wiped at his nose, and more blood flowed. shit, he thought. wasn't from the punch, then. he did what his mum always told him to when he got nosebleed, but the headache that suddenly overcame him was too strong for him to think of anything else. his vision swum, then, suddenly, he was encased in warmth, and someone was calling out to him. oliver didn't realize that his legs had failed him, until he felt himself being carried by strong arms. he vaguely remembered the whispers as he was carried through the masses, farleigh hot on their heels.

"felix," he croaked out, reaching blindly for the man's face. felix winced when he pressed on a bruise. oliver laughed a little. "you shouldn't fight someone else's fight, you know? i could handle myself well enough. you know that."

"i don't care," felix said, harsh and cold, so unlike what oliver had seen from him. it made him uncomfortable, and weirdly guilty. "he punched you, he touched you. you were bleeding and almost fainted, ollie. how is that handling yourself?"

oliver sighed, and considered redirecting the conversation altogether. but... but he had known felix's birthday and what kind of food he liked, what kind of spices he couldn't handle, who was his favorite singer, his favorite liquor, his go-to brand of cigarettes and liquid for vapes. he knew how it felt like, for his hand to be enveloped by felix completely, to be carried by him, to be in his arms when felix was feeling particularly clingy. he knew all of that. the least he could do... was to offer the truth, the warning he should have given.

he tried to speak, but there was nothing that came out of his mouth. his throat felt dry, like sandpaper, and he ended up just burying his face into the crook of felix's neck, uncaring of the blood he smeared on the skin. "don't be angry," he said, muffled. "it's my job to do that."

felix let out a rough sigh, then his arms tightened around oliver. "you scared me," he admitted. "you don't know how scared i was when i saw you falling. don't do that anymore, ollie. don't let yourself get punched like that. your body isn't strong enough to withstand it."

"you're treating me like a child," oliver said, suddenly tired. his headache was steadily making it difficult to think, and his guilt was eating him alive. "also, your requests are beyond selfish and stupid."

"i don't care," felix repeated.

"why are you doing this?" oliver finally managed to ask. if felix ever said that it was because he didn't like having his toy being touched by other people, headache or not, nosebleed or not, oliver would punch his nose until it cracked underneath his fist.

"because i care, ollie," felix said. "i care about you. you're my friend."

oliver gulped with difficulty. he didn't know how to say it to felix, that it was unwise for him to think like that, that he'd only hurt himself in the end. because oliver was supposed to be alone, supposed to bear the burden of living on borrowed time by himself. he wasn't supposed to offer up friendship blindly, wasn't supposed to care about these people in return. it'd just hurt both sides in the end. oliver wasn't someone who could stay, after all.

but he couldn't say it. because felix's voice sounded pained when he spoke, and his arms were strong and warm and oliver didn't want them to let go. so, he let himself be carried back to his dorm, wiping at his nose that had thankfully stopped bleeding, took his pills, and relented to felix's request of staying the night. farleigh had been silent since they left the pub, but he sighed like oliver had hurt him, and bade them goodnight as he settled on the extra mattress.

felix slept next to oliver that night, holding him close like he was afraid that oliver would disappear if he were to let go. that was an apt analogy, he supposed. oliver let himself be held, tracing patterns on felix's arm, and scrounging up courage to finally speak.

"felix," he said, staring at the man's clavicle so he didn't have to look felix in the eye and break down right then and there. "why... why do you care? i know you follow me around because you thought it's entertaining to see me insult people and start fights. you were fine with it, so why the change of mind?"

he saw the tick in felix's jaw, then a gust of air as he sighed. he buried his face into oliver's hair, before he said, "my feelings changed."

"you don't know me," oliver reminded him. "it's only been a few months. you don't know me, and i don't know you. not well enough for you to care like this."

"you're a dumbass, ollie," felix said. "didn't you see the way farleigh looked at you just now? and venetia would fuss and worry when she found out about this. i might not know you completely, but i want to. do you?"

oliver thought about it. thought about his decision to go college, the advanced classes, the fast track towards graduation, the goals he must achieved, the promise to himself, the hatred towards the world, the fate, the universe. he didn't have time for this. he didn't. but, felix didn't deserve his ire and cold shoulders. not anymore. as much as it pained him to say it, he was oliver's friend.

"i do," he whispered, like it was a secret. "what do you want to know?"

"what's your favorite genre of music?"

"it's rock and metal, actually."

a laughter. "no way, ollie!"

"what's yours?" he asked, pressing a smile on felix's skin.

"honestly? classical music."

"what was your childhood dream?"

"a gardener."

what's your favorite colour. why did you choose latin. what kind of book do you read. what's your favorite movies. who's your preferred sibling, venetia or farleigh. who was your first crush. why did you smoke. what do you want to be. what's your best childhood memory. why did you choose to befriend me. what do you think about your parents. what's your secret.

it's blue. i chose latin because i thought it'd be easy and i can sleep more. i read gardening and cooking books. i love the godfather. i love vee, but farleigh is so fun at parties and he makes the best insult. you completely dethrone him though, i like your insults more now. my first crush was this girl on sixt form. i smoked because i wanted to look cool, and then i kinda became addicted to it. when mum bought me a music box. because you're entertaining and, as i found out later on, an amazing person to be around; you're so honest with your thoughts and being yourself; you're so smart and i like your attention on me. my secret? i think i'm afraid of ending up alone and with no dreams; i can have anything money could buy, but i'm scared of ending up with an empty heart and a house too big for my loneliness.

now you.

it was green, but it's brown now. i chose literatures because it has the easiest workload and i can graduate early. i read researches the most but i love sci-fi. i also love the godfather. i like vee the most; sorry, but you and farleigh can't compare (oliver! how could you wound me like that?"). my first crush was this girl who used to be my neighbor, then she moved away. i didn't smoke because my body suffers enough as it is. when i was eight and mona fell into my birthday cake by accident. because i thought you were a pathetic idiot, so i let you follow me around; then i found out that you care about people more than your heart can handle, that you're so selfish and greedy and i find myself not minding it; that you're so painfully kind that it's hard to look at you sometime. my secret? you wanted to know my secret?

"yeah," felix whispered, pulling him closer.

oliver closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around felix. "i'm running out of time."

"what do you mean, ols?" felix asked, and there was a tremble to his voice.

"you wanna know why i'm always angry?" oliver said, then chuckled to himself. "it's because i decided to stop caring. why should i care when there's more important matters at hand? i'm always angry, because i'm running out of time. because i've been fucked over by fate and the world. so, i'm angry, because that was the only thing i've learned how to be. i don't want to be weak anymore, don't want to cry rivers over my fate anymore. so, i'm angry, all the time. the headache is also another reason, but honestly, i have that all the time, so i'm pretty used to it."

"ollie," felix said, and he sounded so small, so lost. oliver hugged him tighter. it broke his heart, too, to hear heartbreak in felix's voice. "why didn't you tell us?"

"i tried," he said. "but i didn't know how, and i didn't think it was important enough."

"you always did say that it's futile, being friends with you," felix laughed; it sounded hoarse and brittle. "i thought that was you being a pessimist."

"i am a pessimist, but not because of the reasons you thought of me." he heaved a sigh when felix's breath shuddered. he continued, "i got diagnosed when i was fifteen; back then we didn't know and it wasn't something to be worried about. then, my hair started falling and i got constant headache; i started having fainting spells and often had nosebleed. they said that it could still be cured, so i underwent a surgery. it stopped for a while, then the symptoms started again, and it turned out that i still have it. so, i decided, i'm not going to cry or complain about this. i think, i was angry because i was scared, of dying, of leaving behind my family, of not being able to pursue my dreams. so, out of spite, i entered college, extorted fast track to graduation from my dean's hands, which she allowed because she knew about this."

he took a moment. then, said, softly, "i had wanted to just ignore everything and continue with my study. with enough luck, i could graduate before i'm out of commission. they told me that it came back stronger than before, and that i'm living on borrowed time. imagine telling an eighteen-year-old that," he laughed, and felix's arms tightened around him, almost suffocating. he welcomed it and embraced the man just as tight.

felix heaved something that sounded suspiciously close to a sob, and oliver heard the rustle from the mattress on the floor where farleigh was sleeping. there was a dip of weight on the bed, and someone took one of oliver's hand to grip it tight. oliver sighed; he had thought that farleigh could be spared from this.

"there's no cure anymore," he continued gently, as he broke his friend's hearts. "they told me i have at least three years, if i keep doing chemo. but honestly, i don't think my family's budget can handle that, even with healthcare, and chemo takes a toll on my body. i want to at least be myself, look like myself, when i die." there were twin hitches of breath when he said that; oliver ignored the pang in his heart and trudged on, like he always did. "i still take my pills but no more chemo. my hair is starting to fall out again, though i count it as victory that i didn't faint as often as i did before. i think my body knows that i'm being stubborn."

"you'll be bald by the end of the semester," farleigh choked out, and oliver laughed freely. "you'll look so ugly with bald head, but don't worry, we still like you."

"i'm... glad," he said, voice small. "i'm glad that i have you guys, and venetia. i thought i shouldn't have friends anymore, because it'll be such a hassle, you know? leaving everything behind, and i'll just hurt someone's heart with... well, me dying."

"you're so blase about this, it's annoying," farleigh complained, but his voice was heavy with emotions. "cry like a normal person, goddammit."

"i'm not exactly normal," oliver said primly, then laughed along with his friends. "it's okay. i've got everything sorted, eulogy and all. i'll finish my course and graduate; i've made enough research journals to be put in our libary, and i've made friends with assholes like the three of you. i'm glad i'm able to do it, despite everything."

there, he said it out loud, at last. now, it was time to weather the storm yet again.

felix's body shuddered, and then, he started crying in earnest, hiding his face in the crook of oliver's neck. his tears seeped into oliver's shirt, and it broke his heart to pieces to hear anguish in felix's sobs. farleigh tightened his grip, and brought oliver's hand to his chest.

"it's alright," he tried to console, patting the back of felix's head with his free hand. "you saw me--i was okay, wasn't i? i didn't get nosebleed that often, didn't faint often as well. three years? i'm too angry to die that soon. i'll be okay."

felix sobbed harder, and oliver didn't know how to mend his wound. this was an act of mercy as much as it was conscious effort of breaking someone's heart. it would never be easy, to lose someone.

farleigh seemed to sense his helplessness, because he said, "scoot over, losers, i'm sleeping on the bed."

it took a little bit of coaxing to get felix to move. in the end, oliver lay on his back, between the two, each hand gripped by them. felix laid his head on his shoulder, and farleigh rested his chin on his hair. they didn't say anything for a moment, until felix seemed to get ahold of himself, and whispered, "ollie."

"yeah?" he hummed.

"don't go," felix said, sounding so much like a lost child, one whose heart was aching.

"i'm not going anywhere," oliver said, and let the lie stay between them like a blanket. it was alright, even if it was a lie. he could lie as many times as felix needed to finally accept this, to stand on his own feet without oliver to follow around.

"ollie," felix called out again.

"yeah?" he answered patiently. he just wanted felix to stop hurting, no matter how impossible it might seem at the moment.

"tomorrow, let's ditch class and go to your house," felix croaked out, voice heavy with tears. "i'll go get venetia and my jeep, and we can have a road trip."

oliver's heart hurt. "okay," he said gently. "we can do that, fels."

they didn't sleep that night, trading stories and banters as they waited out felix's sobs. when he calmed down enough to respond to them, they started planning a week-long escapades to prescot. they could afford to do it, they thought, because they wanted to be foolish and young and alive. in the morning, farleigh stayed with him as he packed up his clothes, and felix was gone for some time before he met them outside of the campus with a jeep and venetia on the backseat, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. but there was courage in them, persistence and selfishness so on brand for a catton. oliver couldn't believe it, but these three were so stubborn and he couldn't do anything about it. if he were to die suddenly, they'd probably wouldn't allow his soul to rest. that was how determined they were.

the trip was spent chattering amongst each other, singing on the top of their lungs, and the siblings flaunting embarrassing memory of each other to oliver. he laughed and joined in the conversation, feeling so, so scared and so, so hopeful for the first time in his life. he could do this, he thought. he could have this, as long as it lasted, and he was going to get everything he could desire because he knew they would give him the world and more.

his parents were surprised when they arrived, smiling sheepishly while saddling their belongings, but they were soon welcomed and his parents gushed about the catton siblings and how they were such a good friend for oliver. it was quite embarrassing, especially when his mum pulled out the baby pictures, but he figured that if he didn't do this know, then when else? it wasn't like he had all the time in the world.

but it felt like that, being here, with his family and his friends. it felt like he had all the time in the world, all the dreams he could achieve, all the memories he wanted to carve. his sisters flocked to his friends and shared camaraderie with them, complaining about oliver's mouth and his nasty habit of insulting someone within an inch of their lives. they had dinners and picnics for lunch; they watched movies together and played board games; they slept late into the night trading stories, camped and cramped into oliver's room because suddenly it became everyone's territory.

but no matter how much they seemed to be enjoying these moments, sometimes, oliver would look at felix and saw the grim look in his eyes. he would jostle felix's shoulders, let the man entwine their fingers together, lie yet again and say, "it's going to be okay, felix. i'm not going anywhere."

venetia slept in alicia's room, and farleigh in mona's. felix slept with oliver, and his siblings graciously let it. they still spent more time in oliver's room than their respecting resting place, though. they really were greedy, these cattons. give an inch and they'd take miles and miles away from what was given initially. they would befriend oliver like it was the last thing they did, and it probably was, given the situation. oliver gave as good as he got, because like fuck he was going to be weak, he had been strong all this time, hadn't he?

but, when the night came and felix held him in his sleep, he would say, "i'm scared." and felix would pull him close, whispering all the things they could do once summer came, then the fall, then winter. they would do all the things in the world, and oliver would be there, because felix was selfish and greedy and wore his heart on his sleeve. oliver was going to break it someday, already breaking it right now, but they didn't talk about it.

the same way they didn't talk about the fondness in oliver's eyes at felix's antics, his unsurprising possessiveness, his penchant of hogging all of oliver's attention and care, his constant need to touch oliver, his newfound habit of cuddling oliver to sleep, the kisses he pressed to oliver's temple when they pretended to be asleep. they didn't talk about it, because oliver refused to-- refused to break felix's heart further.

in the end, it was venetia who stole him away for a girl's night, which consisted of oliver's sisters and her, and oliver as the victim of their pampering. he was in the middle of having his toenails painted when venetia said, "he's not a child, you know? i know he acts like that most of the time, and he's too sensitive for his own good, but he's stronger than you know. go ahead and kiss him. i can be entertained by him acting more like a buffoon, as if he's not already. just kiss him and do whatever the fuck you want. if you're going to die anyway, why not have the last hurrah and say fuck you to the world and fate?"

venetia was the only one who didn't shy away from the topic, the one who was strong enough to keep her tears for herself. oliver respected and envied her at the same time. so, he nodded, said that he'd consider it, and kissed felix anyway when he was staring at oliver yet again from the windowsill, smoking his stupid cigarettes.

his mouth tasted acrid and bitter, and he gaped like a dead fish for a few seconds before his brain seemed to get the memo, and then the cigarette was forgotten on the floor, an ignored fire hazard, as he gathered oliver into his arms and kissed him like a man starving. felix kissed him like he was the one dying, like this was his only chance of doing this, like his life depended on it. oliver supposed that the looming threat of his death was enough of a motivation.

"we don't have to make it into a relationship," oliver told him. "we can keep it casual. it's not fun being left behind after all."

"you stupid little shit," felix laughed and kissed him again. "i've been flirting with you non-stop and you still thought i don't want this?"

"well, it's easy to mistake infatuation for love when we're in this kind of situation," oliver shrugged, and was kissed yet again.

"oliver, ollie, you stupid fuck," felix said, and there was that heartache again in his voice. "farleigh kept teasing me about it, venetia too, and i was too dumb to realize it but i like you, you angry, violent motherfucker."

"did i rub off on you too much? why are you cussing me out like this?" oliver laughed, leaned into the embrace and enjoying the warmth he was encompassed with. "so much for a confession."

"i don't know everything about you, ollie," felix said, calm and resigned and happy within the same breath. "as you do about me. but i've said it before: i want to. we still have time; we'll make it count."

it was hard to breathe, to swallow. here they were, living on borrowed time, finding love at the most inopportune moment. but that was alright, they both could lie, could wish that they would have all the time in the world. it could be their little secret, that they were both afraid of the end, the looming storm on the horizon.

for now, oliver could kiss felix until they were breathless, spent his time with his family and friends, making the most of his time, because fuck you universe. he could be happy, and he wouldn't have it any other way. he might be defeated, but it still tasted sweet, this acceptance of his fate at last, because he wasn't alone when he did it. he had people who adored him, who cared about him, who were selfish and greedy and loving when it came to him.

it was alright. in this moment, he was alive; in this moment, oliver was happy.

in a sunday afternoon, the summer sky outside of the window, oliver died in felix's arms. it was a beautiful day to die.

it was two weeks before his early graduation, and he got flying colors, a fucking valedictorian. felix catton's heart was shattered at last, after so long of breaking apart at the seams. he held oliver close, for the last time, before he strengthened his heart and made some calls.

oliver's funeral was attended by many people. his family, his friends, his dean and professors, and his lover. his eulogy was read by felix, and flowers were arranged on his tombstone. venetia wrote his name on a stone, and they invited the quicks to throw it over a river, to honor his memories and life.

oliver's life was cut too short, and he spent most of it being angry at the world, at fate. but it was okay, because he had people who held him dear, who thought of him as someone close and important and beloved. his researches would be studied, and his pictures would be put on bedrooms, in cherished albums. venetia strong-armed her siblings into living a life they promised oliver they would live, dreams they would achieve, wishes they would make real.

every year, in a summer afternoon, they would have a picnic with the quicks, pulling out old albums full of oliver's childhood pictures, and talked and laughed and remembered-- a young man with anger so disproportionate to his stature, with mind so intelligent, with heart so big, with compassion and kindness that he hid beneath his biting words and hilarious impatience.

every year, felix catton's heart break apart all over again when he visited oliver's tombstone. but he would tell the stories of his life, how much he missed oliver, how he wished that they had more time. but, he would also be grateful that they were allowed to spend the end of it within each other's arms.

it would be some time before the people in oliver's life healed from their wounds, but it's alright. even though it was a lie right now, it was okay. they would be okay, and they could always try. it was alright.

#shiki writes #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn posting #cattonquick #felix catton #oliver quick #farleigh start #venetia catton

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i-willstealyourtoes · 9 months ago

Note

YOU

can i have

houston x reader x hoxton headcanons

where the reader gets easily flustered [specifically by the two]

and both of them take notice and are like

“hey i bet i can fluster them more”

and it becomes like- a competition

bonus if it becomes spicy 👁👁

I AM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG 😭 Ur girlie was going through it with writers block and so forth

Houston + Hoxton flustering their s/o

- Okay starting off, I totally think pre-relationship they were at each other's throats (more than usual, I mean)

- It took a lot of convincing (on your side) for them to eventually agree with a polyamourous relationship

- And even after they agreed, they still fought

- Yo ass ain't winning 💀

- But whilst it was usually them sabotaging eachother pre-relationship, now it's just them trying to one-up one another

- Expect at the start of the relationship for them to be rather clingy, with Houston's arm around one side of your waist and Hoxton's round another (yes, it was really awkward but also funny)

- Both of them make it a competition to see who can make you fold faster

- Which I relatively easy, considering you might as well be an omelette the way you fold (as requested by crunchy)

- Hoxton would slide beside you on the couch and wrap an arm around you, using that voice (you know what I mean) to get you blushing

- "Hello, love. How're you doing?"

- He would purposely move the hair behind your ear (if that isn't possible, he'd probably just caress your face a little)

- Houston would notice this, and sit on the other side, completely ignoring Hoxton and putting all his attention on you

- "Hey babe. Look at me, would you?"

- They would totally eye eachother (the girls are fightingggg)

- Houston would use his finger and glide it across the underside of your chin, guiding you to face him

- "That's my girl/man/partner."

- (AAAAAAAAAAA)

- Hoxton sees the way you blush strongly, and while he does revel in your flustered expression, he also grumbles in annoyance knowing that Houston won this time

- Don't worry, he'll win the next time ;)

- A few days later, he comes up to randomly whilst you're working at your desk and just pulls you up by the shirt and pushes you against the wall

- (Fictional men RAHHHHH)

- "Did you think I'd let him win? I thought you knew me better, love..."

- Houston was literally about to go flirt with you again when he saw you and Hoxton

- He definitely left trying to think about what to do to one-up this

- Hoxton passed by him a few moments later, his hair a little messy and his tie a little out of place (if you wear lipstick then he definitely has some marks on him now)

- "Beat that, wanker."

- By the end of the week, you had both of them pinning you to a wall, Hoxton on one side and Houston on the other

- "Come on love, come with me..."

- "I could treat you so much better, baby..."

- Hoxton would glare at Houston, and Houston would do the same

- "Don't listen to him, love, you know I'd give you a good time..."

- "I'd have you screaming within minutes, you know that, babe..."

- You manage to push past the extreme flustered feeling to remind them that they're both with her, and they shouldn't be fighting (though it is quite amusing)

- They would argue and say something like 'he started it', but they know that'd be unfair and they did agree to this

- They'd stop trying to compete... for like a week

- Expect your life to be a roller-coaster of romance and slight competition for your love (even though you can give it to them both)

#x reader #payday 2 #payday #payday the heist #payday 2 x reader #hoxton payday 2 #hoxton payday #payday 2 houston #x reader headcanons

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muckmagister · 2 years ago

Text

that last line goes hard

anyway,

There's nothing wrong with your brain. Being impolite means you aren't showing good manners, and your manners are just the way in which you do things. Whether your manners are good or not really depends on the situation, so it isn't actually impolite to sit however you want in the comfort of your own home because in that situation nobody cares (except your father but I'll get to that).

Think of it like this: you'd wear shorts and a t-shirt in your own home but not at a funeral. No ones ever explicitly told you not to wear that to a funeral (at least no ones told me not to) but nevertheless we both know it's a bad idea. You'd look incredibly out of place and people would question whether you're taking things seriously at all, which at a funeral is pretty bad. Choosing to dress appropriately (i.e. wearing a suit to the funeral) is part of your manners and while in most cases dressing inappropriately is just a bit strange or perhaps even funny, dressing inappropriately at a funeral is disrespectful and thus bad manners. Now, sitting properly is like the dressing properly of using a chair. Laying across three chairs at an airport isn't bad manners, that's just how airports are, but you certainly wouldn't do that at a funeral either. However sitting properly is more commonly expected than wearing a suit is. Like I've said it's not really bad manners to sit comfortably at an airport or in your own home, but if you're going out to eat at a nice restaurant you're going to be expected to sit a particular way. That's why your dad was telling you it's impolite and rude to sit that way at the dinner table. He just wants you to learn to sit properly whenever you're in public.

I hope you don't think I'm being condescending, It's just I had to learn all of this stuff myself too. I hate using a knife and fork to cut up my food properly, it's much easier and quicker to use the fork and pick up the entirety of whatever it is at once and just take bites out of it instead of cutting it up slowly into smaller bite-size pieces. My parents would get really angry with me because it's rude and impolite and bad manners to eat like that and I'd be hopelessly confused because it's just us around the table who cares? They just want me to eat properly so I look like a human in a restaurant instead of some creature. After realising this I can reassure them that I do eat properly in public, it's just that at home I'm free and comfortable to relax and be myself, and thankfully they don't get upset about it anymore.

I really hope this helps in some way.

As for the other two bits (idk i'm just throwing in my two cents this advice might suck lmao sorry), you should tell your mom when you do all your chores like that, let her know how it's normally something you struggle with and that you're proud of yourself. Hopefully she understands, but it'll also tune her into really noticing the work you got done and she'll adjust her expectations for next time. Your siblings are being siblings, you should be honest with them and they might give some genuine criticism/advice on what they'd do or whatever. If they continue to be mean then they're just being mean and you can ignore them. Remember that they're still growing up too, y'know? (I kinda wanna see how you did your hair cause if you thought it was cute then there's definitely something there, if anyone wants to be an asshole online then you can just eviscerate them with your mind amiright?)

Remember: there's nothing wrong with your brain at all, that's absolutely bonkers silly talk right there, have a good day.

"... to bugs"

last time a bee stung me was over 3 years ago. i laid down on the grass and accidentally crushed a bee with my left earlobe. she was just laying still there, and i, the big fumbling giant i am, accidentally put here into a dark, crushing situation, and she lashed out. she stung me on the ear, and she died because of it. it hurt me for 3 or 4 hours at most.

last time a human stung me was a month ago. we were sharing a family dinner, and my dad told me that the way i was sitting on my chair was impolite. i had my left foot up on the chair, the knee resting against my chest, and the other leg crossed between my foot and my body. this came out of nowhere, because i always sit like this, but my dad said it was impolite, and i didnt understand how. i asked him why it was impolite. he said you know why. i replied no i dont. he said i dont believe you and yes i do and stop lying and sit properly. i said dad im being serious i dont get how this is rude and he said something must be really wrong with your brain if you dont understand. i put my feet down and i ate my dinner in silence and i went to sleep early that night. i still think about that every time i sit that way in a chair. i think about how wrong my brain is.

last time an ant bit me was last year. i was at my grandmas house, where my cousins and i would have a yearly water bomb fight. running around, chucking water balloons at each other, at one point i squatted on the ground to avoid being seen, and didnt realise my toe was in a green ant colony. dozens of ants began climbing my foot, and i was desperately apologizing out loud and gently knocking them off so they wouldnt be hurt, but i didnt want them on me or else they would bite. someone heard me talking to the ants and threw a water balloon at me, which exploded on my face, and so i ran after them, to retaliate, not knowing i had left an ant on my foot, and had run away from its home with it, and so it bit me, to let me know. i dropped my balloon and i put the ant back at its home. that was the only bite i got from disrupting the whole colony. it stopped hurting about an hour later.

last time i was bit by a human was a week ago. id had a hard time recently, and was determined to make this day count, especially since i was home alone all day and had all the free time i wanted. i showered (which i normally am not motivated to do), brushed my teeth (which i normally am not motivated to do), shaved (which i normally am not motivated to do), ate (which i normally am not motivated to do), cleaned my room (which i normally am not motivated to do), cleaned the bathrooms (which i normally am not motivated to do), did the dishes (which i normally am not motivated to do), vaccuumed (which i normally am not motivated to do), and then pulled out my laptop to work on an assignment (which i normally am not motivated to do). at this stage in my long hard day, i was feeling very proud of myself (which i normally dont have a reason to do), when my mum came home, saw me on my laptop, and said of course you sat there all day and did nothing. all my pride vanished and i felt worthless (which i normally do), nodded my head, and closed all my schoolwork tabs. if thats all im thought to do, why shouldnt i do it.

the last time a bug hurt me in general was 2 weeks ago. a simple housefly was buzzing around and it accidentally flew into my mouth. i accidentally swallowed it. it became caught in my throat. i had a huge coughing and retching fit because of the obstruction, and i didnt feel better until the next day, when i had forgotten the feeling. but im sure the fly got the worse deal.

the last time a person hurt me was just the other day. i had done my hair in a different way which i thought was really cute. i showed it off to my siblings but before i could say anything they laughed at me and said i looked like an idiot. kt was all jokes. they thought i was joking about the hairstyle. i smiled and laughed with them. i went away and put my hair back and decided to never change it up again.

maybe if people were a little bit nicer i would treat them more like insects

#sometimes i just start writing and i can't stop

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Text

Magic Means Deception

Dream of the Endless x Magician!Reader

Summary: You were born from a long line of powerful sorcerers whose very lineage is sworn to serve the higher beings. Present day though, after all the witch hunts, there's not much left of your family's prestige, which is why you worked as a magician for kids' birthday parties-- that is, when you're not doing mystic errands that leave you better off dead.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: multiple mentions of physical injuries and blood, gender neutral!reader, one curse word, bullying Matthew kinda, angst, hurt, typos, etc.

It was nothing short of a miracle that I managed to get to the venue on time. There is no way in seven hells I'm paying for a late fee, not after going through all seven hells for The Fates literally moments ago.

"Lord Almighty, why the hell do you look like that?" the woman whose daughter was having a birthday walked over to me, having received my text of arrival.

Although it was a horrible idea, I let go of my side to raise my hand in a pose and to give her a lopsided smile, "it's a costume, babe. My last party was... hell themed. The kid was really, really goth."

The look of concern that was etched on her face immediately evaporated, and the sight of my tattered clothes and blood oozing side was something suddenly impressive, "how did you do the blood?"

"Ohh, you know," I place my hand back, holding in my whine, "a magician never reveals their secrets."

"Well, I mean I could guess, it's probably a jug--" she steps forward, hand darting to my wound. I dart back quicker, raising my other hand, "ooh, trust me, you don't want to get this on your hands. It's a nightmare to get off," I give her a rather desperate look, "where can I change?"

"Oh," she shakes her head, "right. If the kids see you they'd break down and cry. Yeah, there's a storage room over-" I don't wait for her to finish as I immediately head to the direction she pointed her finger, not forgetting to say a quick thank you.

I grip my satchel and step into the storage room, half regretting turning the lights on. The storage room was about, not only as big as my apartment, but just as filthy, which says a lot about the owners of this establishment.

Then again, I drop my bag and sit on a box, catching my breath, it also says a lot about me.

I rip my shirt off without raising my right arm for that was the side of my stab. I then pull out a vial from my bag and down its contents, muttering an incantation under my breath for the pain. It takes a moment, one too long for my taste, but it worked nevertheless.

Once I could move without feeling like I was getting stabbed all over again, I began to stich my wound up.

Suddenly, I hear a squawk and then a raven flies to the shelf beside me.

"Good goly, why aren't you at a hospital?" Matthew croaks just a bit over head. I ignore him, too focused on my task at hand, too much anticipating the voice of his master. It never comes, he never speaks, only Matthew does, "I'm guessing your task was successful?"

My face pinches sourly as I sardonically answer, "funny this looks like success to you."

"Come on, I didn't mean--"

"But then again, you're right," I turn to the bird, "if I were unsuccessful, I would have ended up dead."

Those words glaze the room with cold silence for a long while. It was preferred, as I was trying to sew my bleeding side shut.

For a moment, my thoughts gnaw at me, and so I sneak a look to the side of the room. I nearly scoff but keep it in, feigning ignorance at what I saw. It seems he had been staring at me the whole time since he was, in fact, here.

Good. Let him. It was his fault anyway.

By the time I was almost done with my stitches, the numbing spell began to wear off.

"I still think you should go to the hospital," Matthew croaks as I finish off the last stitch on my wound. I forfeit a response, not wanting to do the, 'hospitals can't treat my wounds' spiel and instead begin to wrap my torso with gauze.

The bird squawks as I let out a pained grunt in my failing attempts to put the bandage on as each second the pain begins to intensify.

Matthew shifts on the shelf and stutters as I proceed with my actions, asking me cautiously, "should you be doing that?"

I raise my brow, not liking the idea of anyone else doing this for me at all, "got any brighter ideas, crow?"

"Hey! Not funny."

I roll my eyes.

"Boss, can you-"

"No." I reply quickly, forcing down the pain of my stitches that tore ever so slightly with every move I made, "heavens be damned if I ask help from-"

"Do not be stubborn," I hear his voice before I see him. In fact, I see his hand taking the gauze in my hand before I see his stupid face.

"Stubborn?" I seethe, as Dream of the Endless sinks down before me, moving too close against me as he quickly begins to trace the cloth around my lower ribcage, "you've been staring at me, offering no help whatsoever the moment you got here and I'm stubborn?"

I don't know why I'm letting him do this, why I allowed him to take the gauze from me. I dont know why I don't just Spartan kick his head off-- well maybe I do, cause if I kick him, I'm basically kicking all my stitches off.

What's possibly worse was he and I felt vastly different in this moment.

He looks at me as his deep voice calmly responds with, "I did not think you wanted my help."

Before I could even think, I move to punch his jaw. But before I could even move, he catches my wrist in his hand and warns, "do not be so foolish to waste your hard work over your anger towards me."

My eye twitches at that. How dare he read my thoughts? I don't know what angers me more, the notion he did that figuratively or literally.

Dream averts his gaze back to my wound, fingers brushing against me in the gentlest possible way, and yet it hurts more than my laceration.

I scoff, feeling tears prick in the corner of my eyes over the sight of his unruly hair, his eyelashes, his lips, his audacity... his nonchalance.

If I could breathe fire, my next words would have burned him, "why are you even here if you don't fucking care about me anyway?"

Right, Matthew thinks, before deciding the best thing for him to do is fly off to the next dimension. His next best option was anywhere immediately out of here.

As the bird flutters off, Dream's expression grows grim, his blue eyes contorting into one that could have been read as hurt, "you dare insult me with such petty lies?"

"and you dare insult me with indifference!" I whine, feeling my entire body tense as my tears begin to rush down my cheek.

Dream presses his hand on my side, "calm yourself."

I rip his hand off me and shove him off, causing him to topple back and nearly lose his balance, but alas that is impossible for a being such as him. And as I rise to stare him down, he rises too, looking down upon me. I feel no intimidation in my state however, especially not when his eyes where practically screaming apologies at me.

"Don't tell me to calm down when I've just nearly joined your sister, Death, without a booking!"

He never apologizes though. I think I never will behold it in my lifetime.

"You are bleeding," he states, hand going back to my side, the other pressing against my back. My heartrate began to rise again, but not because my body was flush against his, but because he was willing his eternal composure onto me. I will not have it. I refuse.

"Allow me to finish tending to your wound," before I could begin to resist him, he quickly adds, "please."

Hearing those words breaks something in me. I heave, beginning to only now realize how exhausted I really am. I push his arms off him with my left arm and sit back down on the box I made a chair of, "be quick about it. I have to go out there in 15 minutes."

"You will not attend to entertaining children in this state," his deep voiced demand echoes.

Yet, I feel my eyes go drowsy, "I will if I want to make rent. The Fates' gratitude over my service is unfortunately worthless to my landlord."

I hadn't realized I even closed my eyes up until I ripped them open after feeling my side sting at Dream's actions to finish up binding my wound. With wide blue eyes, he speaks, "I did not mean to. I apologize."

I scoff, thinking he probably heard my thoughts about his lack of contrition.

And it was unintentional, I knew he wouldn't be petty enough to hurt me, he and I are not the same, and yet I burst out with, "why not kill me now, while you're at it," I sigh, crossing one arm over my chest. I prop my elbow on my hand and rest my head on my fingers.

I'm incredibly exhausted, so much so I feel my emotions spilling.

Dream watches as tears fall from my eyes. He brings his hands to my face, "I would not have allowed my sister to take what is mine."

My eyes flutter open as I feel his thumb brush my tears away.

I take in his sorry expression. I take in the stars in his eyes and the slope of his nose, and I feel abhorred by his beauty, "I belong to no one, Dream."

His brows knit together, only but a fraction, as if it was something he had no control over, "must you lie even to yourself?"

I finally rip my sights off him and grab my shirt from the floor where I threw it, "a magician's life is built on deception." I release a pained groan as I stand up with my clothing in hand, forcing myself to put it on through the pain.

"After all," I stand, "what am I if I cannot do an illusion spell properly?"

Once these words leave my lips, I begin to do a recite a deception enchantment by heart, one that made the spellcaster look like how they wanted to appear no matter how contrary they actually were. So it would be, to untrained, mortal eyes, my hair was fixed, my shirt was clean and tucked, and my face was radiating jovial confidence.

I pull out a mirror out of thin air and look at my reflection, adjusting a few details of my appearance as I saw fit.

Dream moves close enough that his own reflection was seen on the mirror. I ignore him, and yet my whole being shifted around him as he whispered, "your illusions do not work on me."

I knew. I know. It would take a great and powerful magic to deceive the likes of him, and even then, he could comb through it like sand.

I look down on myself, beholding the ragged state of my clothing and the blood on my body, then turn to Dream's face, "it does not matter." I strike my arm to my side, causing the floating mirror to go up in smoke, "this does not concern you."

His brows tighten again. He was not given an opportunity to respond.

I push past him and walk out.

The moment I lock eyes with the host, I am introduced. All the attention is suddenly turned to me and my heart begins to race. I give a soft smile.

I conjure up a top hat, making the kids go wild, "are you all ready to be amazed?"

The high pitched squeals are enough to make me forget about my pain for the time being.

#dream of the endless #dream #dream fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #dream fanfiction #sandman #sandman fanfic #sandman fan ficion #the sandman fanfic #sandman angst #dream angst #dream of the endless angst #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman angst

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necros-writing-stuff · 3 years ago

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Tumblr went funny and deleted the ask - but here's that stuckage (M) Mason/ (GN) reader fic, cause I haven't written Mason in a while.

Hope you don't mind but I made Mason the one getting stuck here, with a little bit of yandere reader.

NSFW below: (tw: dubcon, giving a blowjob)

You had been helping Mason with putting away gym equipment after class, apparatus out for a gymnastics session. Plenty of things needed to be cleaned, and most of the students just bolted for the door to go home afterwards. The others left at a leisurely pace. You'd volunteered to help tie back the nets and put things away.

You had decided to stay to help out your teacher. Your wonderful teacher who always helped you out when people tried to grab at you. Who gently held you when showing you how to kick your legs properly in the pool.

You shiver at the memory of his touch. A touch you think about often, alone at night with your sleep shorts around your ankles and hand playing with your core. One you've fallen asleep daydreaming about in class. His smell invades your mind, too, when you think of him. Especially his scent when you meet him at that secret pond in the woods, how you'd taken your shirt off one time and he'd blushed seeing a flash of your bare chest.

He wants you, too. He has to. Why else would he accept your company so much? Why else would he pay special attention to you above all the other students. It's obvious. Mason wants you like you want him, but his silly moral hang-ups around what's right and wrong for him as a teacher hold him back.

Picking up a safety mat, you grunt as you begin to drag it towards the storage cupboard. The ache in your arms is a good little distraction from that angry voice in your head. The one you've learned to ignore for the most part. Doctors had warned you in the past that you couldn't let that little part of you take over. That was after people caught you scrawling in your notebook about your previous crush. It wasn't anything bad, but they'd told Sirris, who told Leighton, who called home. Then a trip to the doctors was earned. And who were you to argue with professionals?

A metallic crash pulls you from your thoughts, the sound originating from the very storage cupboard that you were heading to. The one Mason was in. Panic rises in your chest as you drop the mat and bolt towards your teacher, desperately hoping that he wasn't hurt. You don't see him at first, the room dark save for a tiny bit of light streaming through a vent to the outside. Then, there he is. Right at the back of the cupboard, but he's there.

Laying on his back on top of the gym mats, Mason is trapped beneath the metal framework of some climbing equipment. He's pushing at it and it's budging, but not enough to give him space to get out.

"Are you okay?" you call out, rushing over to help free the poor man.

"Y-yeah I'm good. Just keep cleaning, I'll get free in a sec," he grunts out, releasing the metal bars and taking a breath. "Didn't expect this to be so heavy."

Confused, you look at the scene and approach, spotting what was trapped where. Mason's chest was pinned beneath a ladder-like structure, heavy enough to be trouble lifting but resting on a horse thingy stably enough that it doesn't threaten his breathing. His legs are also pinned in a similar situation. The metal had all fallen onto him (somehow) and if you made your way around... ah yes. There was the issue. The bars weren't what was heavy. The balance beam that had tipped over onto them was.

"How did you even manage this?" you mutter, circling the scene to find where to stand and start pulling things. He'd been awfully quiet back here while you'd been putting things in their rightful place, you'd almost worried that he'd gone home and left you to clean up alone.

"I-it's nothing. Really, I was just tired and having a breather, I leant on this and it fell on me. I swear I can get up, don't worry." He refuses to look you in the eye when he says that. And you know he's lying. You know him.

Having been in the dark for long enough, your eyes have adjusted properly. Once again, you look over Mason, just to double check you hadn't missed any injuries - and that's when you spot it. Just a slither of flesh peaking out from his shorts. A flushed, wet piece of skin that makes your mouth water for a taste. Because that's the head of his cock and its leaking pre-cum.

So that's what he was up to back here. He was tossing one off. And he obviously didn't want you to know. That stings a little, but you know it's likely just to save his reputation, right? He certainly needs your help now.

Your body moves before you mind has the ability to stop it. You climb up on the mats, standing over your teacher, eyes unable to tear away from the thing between his legs. And wanting to unveil more. Mason squeezes his eyes shut, blushing deeply. "Look, don't tell anyone, alright? I'll let you sit out in class when you like, just don't let this get back to Leighton. I don't want to be fired, I love this job."

He keeps pleading, but you aren't listening. Not as the blood rushes through your ears and turns the world into white noise in the background. Your legs move first, straddling Mason and sitting down. Then your hands are reaching for the waistband, gently pulling it down as Mason's hips jump in suprise. Inch by inch of his impressive girth it revealed, the length so heavy it can't stand straight on its own.

"Hey! Hey, stop, you can't, I'm your teacher, you-"

He's interrupted by the feeling of something warm and wet licking over the leaking slit of his cock. His breath catches, length bobbing at the sensation and begging for more. You give him what he needs, tongue travelling up and down the shaft to get a proper taste. To feel what all of his soft skin is like. To just make him feel good.

Mason pants, head lolling back against the mats and his brain fogging. With each long, teasing stripe you make with your tongue, his good, sound morals fly out the window. He's your teacher, this is wrong, he's your teacher, this is wrong, he's your teacher, this is-

Good. So fucking good, and of course it's his favourite lavishing him with their attention. The prettiest one with the lovely eyes that treats him with respect. That doesn't look down on him for being the youngest faculty member - or swimming naked in the woods. That he wants to be properly inside of now.

He won't get that, though. Not today. No, right now you're too absorbed in how he tastes. Covering your teeth with your lips, you start sucking him into your mouth, inch by inch, until the blunt head hits the back of your throat. By far, most of it doesn't fit, so you bring your hands in to pump what's left. Mason lies completely still, moaning out and hissing from the sheer pleasure that your hot, wet mouth gives him.

Then you hollow out your cheeks and he nearly explodes then and there, saved only by the pain of biting his lip from the shock. The pain doesn't last long, then he's bucking his hips up and whining as you move your head and hands, up and down, up and down in a repeated motions that has him seeing stars.

One of your hands carefully trails down, cupping his balls and beginning to gently massage the sensitive glands. You can even feel the skin tighten in your grip the closer he gets, and when Mason's breath catches you decide to go all out.

With a deep breath in through your nose, you push your head down until the burn in your throat is too much; and you stay there. Your stay and suck, pumping the base of his shaft with your hand as the other fondles his balls, and Mason yells out as his vision goes white for a split second. Then it's wave after wave of cum flowing down your throat, and you have to scrunch your eyes closed to concentrate on swallowing it all. Some of it still spills from your lips, dribbling down the teacher's prick and onto his thigh, but you'll early lick it back up in a second.

He taste is addicting for you. It's one you want to taste again and again, and you have the sneaking suspicion that he might not deny you that luxury. Not with how his hips rock up into your mouth, seeking to milk every last bit of pleasure that he can get.

You pull from him with a lewd pop, tongue lapping up anything spilled just as you intended. When you pull away, there's a satisfied little smile on your face, widening into a grin at how out of it your teacher looks.

"Let's get you out now, yeah?"

#degrees of lewdity #tw: dubcon #mason the swimming teacher

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eryiss · 3 years ago

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Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Two Bros Chilling in A Hot Tub/Lightning Struck

Summary: Freed knew he had a lot to learn about being a professional wizard, and when he was paired up with Laxus for a mission he expected to learn a lot. He didn't expect to spend a day with him in a hot tub, and he certainly didn't expect to get an entirely unrelated education about life and about love.

Notes: Hi everyone. Fraxus Week is at an end, and I really enjoyed writing everything this year. The AU's were a lot of fun and canon writing it always enjoyable, I hope you liked what I've written, and make sure to look at @fuckyeahfraxus to see everyone else has made.

Links: Chapter One ||| Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Chapter Two

Laxus was many things, but patient wasn't one of them. Honestly, it was miraculous he'd lasted a week before it had come to this.

He stormed into the apartment building that Freed lived in, walked to the address Makarov had given him, and slammed his hand against it three times; loudly. He was bouncing from foot to foot slightly, hearing the shifting of movements from behind the door as Freed walked towards it. He was taking his time, and Laxus felt the urge to slam his hand on the door again a few times to make him hurry the hell up.

For a week, Laxus had wanted to do this. He'd stopped himself for seven long, long days, but it was getting too much. Laxus couldn't go to sleep another night knowing that Freed was living twenty minutes away. That if the rune mage stopped with this shit, they could be repeating that kiss.

That fucking kiss!

He'd never been kissed like that. He doubted that anyone had been kissed like that. It had been so… so… The words couldn't come to Lauxs. It was all encompassing. Overwhelming. It was like standing in the centre of a thunder storm, letting the lightning burn across his skin and explode in his throat as he consumed it. Freed had been against him, attached to him, but battling him in a way Laxus couldn't understand.

Realistically, he knew it was for the mission, but he couldn't help but think there was more to the kiss. He'd caught a few of Freed's glances at his body – how Freed hadn't noticed Laxus doing the same thing was miraculous – and the reactions throughout the day seemed to suggest Freed had been just as affected as Laxus had.

But then the rune mage had just shut off. Any semblance of relaxation was gone the moment they pulled apart, and all Freed seemed capable of thinking of and speaking about was their mission. He spent the next hour avoiding Laxus, stating that they'd spent enough time together for plausibility and that it would be better to spread out. Laxus had agreed because he wasn't going to push things if Freed wanted to focus on his work then he could understand it, but for the rest of the afternoon he'd found his gaze drifting to him whenever his mind wandered. The press of the man's lips against his was like a haunting: inescapable and unforgettable. Laxus had wanted to storm over to the man, kiss him properly and say 'to hell' with the mission.

He'd never felt like this before. It was exhilarating.

But when the mission had ended, and Freed fell back on his habit of taking missions and spending no time in the guildhall, Laxus realised that Freed was avoiding him. Laxus was damn insulted by that.

Freed was into him, Laxus knew that, and he hoped that the passion with which he'd kissed Freed and the many times he'd lost focus because he was checking Freed out was enough for Freed to know the attraction was reciprocated. Freed didn't, for a second, seem to be a coward. Not about fighting and not about his own feelings, so why the hell was he avoiding Laxus? It took Laxus a full week of thinking over the situation for him to realise what was actually happening.

Laxus was an old hand at wizardry, and knew how to have a life outside of work. Freed didn't. Hell: when Laxus had reported the mission's success to Makarov, he'd asked the old man why he'd chosen Freed to spy on him, and he'd been told Freed needed to balance his work and life better, and Laxus was meant to help him.

So, as he stood at Freed's door, Laxus was going to do that.

The door opened, and Freed was revealed. He was wearing nothing but his white shirt, unbuttoned and sightly ruffled, and the trousers he'd worn during work. For a moment, Laxus allowed himself to relish in the sight off the man in a rumpled and domestic state, with his hair tied up high and his eyes still sleep worn because of the early morning. He shook his focus and met Freed's eyes.

"Laxus," Freed said with a frown. "What are you doing here?"

"Bored of this whole avoiding me shit," Laxus grunted, placing a hand on the wall to lean against it. "Pack a bag, we're going on a mission for the weekend."

"Excuse me?" Freed said, almost laughing. Laxus understood that – coming to the man's house unannounced and demanding his presence for a weekend was pretty arrogant – but he wasn't going to let that be an excuse. "What makes you think I'll do that simply because you tell me?"

"Because I haven't finished the paper work from that spa mission, and since I was meant to teach ya how to be a mage during the mission and it's not over, I have authority over you," Laxus grinned, knowing that Freed was not going to take that level of bullshit. He smirked when Freed went to argue back, and cut in before he could. "Besides, if you don't come with me, I won't be going on any missions with you, and all that S-Class money goes away. Wouldn't want that, huh?"

It was a dick move, but a means to an end. Freed glared at him, and that was all the agreement Laxus needed.

"Train station at nine AM," He informed Freed, turning, and walking down the hall. He spoke without looking back. "See ya there."

---

The train juddered to a stop, and Laxus felt his stomach settle almost instantly. He closes his eyes, swallowed down the small rising of bile that crept up his throat, and ignored the amused expression that Freed was looking at him with.

"Feeling a little sick, Laxus?" He taunted gently, and Laxus faux glared.

"Peachy," He grumbled.

Any lingering annoyance from earlier in the morning had gone when Freed had reached the train station. Laxus had brought him a coffee, bagel, and pastry as a peace offering. He'd been forceful about getting Freed to leave with him - he felt like it was necessary to kick Freed into action - but he couldn't have Freed pissed at him. If Laxus was right, and played his cards well, he might end up with Freed before the weekend was over. He wanted to do it properly.

"You look it," Freed taunted, taking his bag from the overhead rack and handing Laxus his rucksack. "May I know what the mission is now?"

"Not yet," Laxus dismissed the request.

They climbed off the train, and Laxus was thankful to be on solid ground again. The town they'd arrived in was a small one, tucked away high in the mountains; something that had not helped Laxus' motion sickness. He'd looked the town up on one of the guild's many maps before leaving, so knew exactly where to go and started following the roads without hesitation. Freed kept in step with him, clearly waiting for Laxus to offer some explanation.

He wouldn't get it. Laxus had spoken with Makarov about Freed once the mission had finished. The main thing he'd learned was that Freed needed to sort his shit out, because he was damn near hitting his limit. He also seemed like the kind of guy to refuse help, so Laxus was going to make sure he couldn't.

Once they got to the hotel, Laxus would confess. Until then, they were on a 'mission'.

"Could you at least tell me the type of mission?" Freed pushed the matter because the smartass needed to know everything. It was kinda funny seeing him getting pissy about it. "Eradication, interrogation, reconnaissance or escort?"

"You actually use those terms?" Laxus quirked an eyebrow as he chuckled, and subsequently walked into a wall of runes. He stumbled back, and rubbed his nose as he mumbled "You quick castes that? Damn."

"Why are we here Laxus," Freed insisted

"Who trained you how to cast, because that was impressive," Laxus ignored the question, walking forward when the wall dissipated. "You're gonna be a damn powerhouse in a few years."

"Answer the-" Freed cut himself off. "What do you mean 'going to be'?"

"You think you're powerful now?" Laxus taunted.

"I know that I am," Freed narrowed his eyes for a moment, before laughing at himself. "You're rather good at distracting people, aren't you? Perhaps you're smarter than I thought you'd be."

"You thought I'd be dumb?" Laxus asked.

"Yes," Freed said unflinchingly, and Laxus barked out a laugh.

"You should spend more time with the rest of the people in the guild," He smiled. "You're as much an asshole as the rest of 'em."

"How flattering," Freed said, voice droll. "You still haven't answered my question though. Why are we here?"

Laxus could see the hotel, and decided that it would be best to not push his luck with Freed. He thought about how he'd say it, and decided that he might as well jump into it rather than pissing around and avoiding the issue. Hell, if he couldn't be honest he'd be a damn hypocrite.

"I lied about the mission," He admitted, and Freed frowned. "We're here for a weekend break."

"A what?" Freed asked as if the concept was foreign to him. Given how much he worked, it might be.

"A weekend break. The place we did the mission for has a branch out here, and as a thank you for our work they gave up some coupons that we can use here," Laxus explained, reaching into his coat pocket, and pulling out the two tickets, handing one to Freed. "You clearly need a break from the work before you get sloppy on a mission and it ends up getting you hurt, and I'm not gonna turn down a free weekend in a luxury resort."

"And why didn't you tell me this from the beginning?" Freed demanded, clearly irritated.

"Because you wouldn't have come if you didn't think you'd make any money from it," Laxus shrugged as they walked into the lobby of the reception. "Like I said this morning, until the paper work's done, I'm meant to be teachin' you how to be a mage. Biggest obstacle for that right now is you not treating yourself right. Until you do it on your own, I'm gonna force you to do it."

They were at the front desk, and Laxus was speaking with the receptionist, before Freed could get a word in. Laxus made sure to confirm that both rooms would be required, and the receptionist assured him that their cleaning staff would have them prepared as quickly as they could, telling them both that they had access to all the amenities and facilities the resort had to offer in the meantime. Laxus thanked him, signed the book to confirm his booking, and stepped back to look at Freed. Again, he spoke before Freed had the chance.

"You don't need to live mission to mission anymore," His voice was softer now. "If you don't give yourself a break, you burn out. I'm sorry I lied, I'll make it up to you somehow, but enjoy this place while you're here. You put in a lot of effort since you joined the guild, treat this as your reward."

Freed looked like he wanted to argue, but halted. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I would enjoy a break."

"I know," Laxus said bluntly, placing a hand on Freed's shoulder. "And when you're ready, we're gonna talk about what happened on the mission. Because I don't wanna forget it ever happened, or push past it, or do whatever it is you thought could happen when you were ignoring me."

"I wasn't-" Freed began, but Laxus stopped him.

"We'll talk later," He said softly, before grinning. "I'm gonna take a swim. You can come with me if you wanna ogle me again, but I think a massage would do you good. You look really tired, basically dead to the world."

Laxus was walking away with a grin before Freed could respond to the teasing, and when he came face to face with another runic wall, he simply laughed. His stomach did a little flip when he heard Freed laughing too.

---

"I'm ready to talk now," Freed said, and Laxus nodded.

It was the evening now, and the two men had spent the day in different parts of the resort. Sometimes apart, sometimes together, Laxus had underwent almost all of the treatments available, as well as spending a good few hours in the pool, sauna, and hot springs. He'd retreated to his room when the relaxation had brought on a bout of tiredness, and had been napping until Freed's knocking on the door woke him. He'd adorned a robe and answered it, feeling weirdly excited when he'd seen it was Freed.

He looked good. Obviously, he had made use of the facilities, as he looked well rested, without the stress marks that bordered his eyes, and was holding himself looser. His hair was damp and tied up high, perhaps from a recent shower, and Laxus again revelled in the sight of a domestic version of Freed Justine.

"Take a seat," Laxus said, motioning to the chair as he sat on the foot of the bed.

"Thank you," Freed said, voice relaxed and without fear. Good. "When you said we needed to talk, I assume you meant about the kiss."

"I did," Laxus agreed. "But before you start, I wanna say something. Give you a piece of advice about being a mage that it takes a lot of time for most people to get," Freed thought for a moment, but made a gesture for Laxus to continue. "When you become a mage, you give up your safety, your stability, and your time. Sometimes you don't know when you'll next be paid, and sometimes you don't know if you'll make it out of a mission alive. When you get into wizardry you have to change how you live, act fast and do what your gut's telling you. Your instincts aren't just important in the mission, they're important in your personal life too. Sometimes you just have to follow them."

"And this relates to the kiss how?"

"If you don't want to be with me, then go with that. Don't worry about offending me, or pissing me off, or me stopping the missions together, or anything. If that kiss was just for the missions, and I've misread things, then don't fuck around being polite. Rip the band aid off and tell me straight."

"And if you didn't misread things?"

Laxus grinned, leaning back slightly. "Then follow your instincts."

Freed did just that, by standing up, tipping Laxus chin upwards, and bringing him into another earth shatteringly perfect kiss. And this time, there was no doubt. The kiss was for him, and there would be many others.

---

Ten Years Later

Laxus groaned as he submerged himself into the bubbling warm water. It was late at night in the early spring, and the hot tub he submerged his body into was in beautifully warm contrast with the cold evening air around him. The feeling of half-healed injuries and tense muscles seemed to weep for the hot water, and he closed his eyes in relaxation.

He needed this. He'd needed it for weeks, and now it was finally happening.

Obviously, taking over as guild-master would lead to an adjustment in his life, and teething troubles had occurred. There were more responsibilities than he had expected, everything from paperwork to ensure the building was fixed every time one of the brats damaged it, to arguing with the local councilmembers about how the good that Fairy Tail did greatly outweighed the bad. Honestly, trying to explain that an idiotic fire mage had literally saved their lives multiple times and therefore had earned the right to blow up the occasional fountain or set fire to a random ornamental tree was not a fun task to take.

Admittedly, he didn't make life easier for himself. He insisted on taking at least one mission a week, something that almost everyone in the guild deemed to be idiotic. But he was only thirties, he was an incredibly strong mage, and couldn't simply just hang up his profession because he was in charge of the guild.

"You're back then?" Freed asked amusedly from the patio.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded, opening his eyes, and smiling at his husband. "Wanna join me?"

"Sure," Freed nodded, and made work on removing his clothes.

The hot tub was something they'd brought three years prior, two years after they'd brought their marital home. After the odd inclusion of spas at the start of their relationships, they'd become reliant on their facilities after a hard mission to relax and untense their bodies. When they'd moved, the distance from their house to the nearest spa had been too long, so they'd invested in a hot tub of their own and learned how to massage one another. The latter advancement in the relationship had been a fun, fun few weeks for them both.

Laxus grinned a little as he saw Freed remove his underwear, and he raised an eyebrow at the man. Freed noticed, laughed a little and playfully kicked the man's thigh as he climbed into the tub, sitting beside him. Laxus raised his arm slightly to wrap it around his shoulders, pulling him close.

"The mission went well, I assume?" Freed asked, idly playing with the surface of the water.

Laxus halted, before looking down at Freed and speaking slowly. "Was fine, no problems."

"No problems at all?" Freed probed.

"Not one."

"You are aware that you are my husband and Bickslow is one of my best friends," Freed continued playing with the water, voice equally annoyed and amused. It was a tone only Freed could manage. "And if my husband collapses in the middle of a fight due to exhaustion, my best friend is going to tell me."

"Fucking traitor," He muttered, before sighing and looking to Freed. "I'm fine. I'm back here, so no problem."

"Laxus, you passed out because you're overworking yourself," Freed chastised, placing a hand on Laxus' thigh and stroking it softly. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Laxus knew he couldn't, of course, but it wasn't that easy. "I know," He admitted, sighing. "But I just can't give up working as a mage, not yet. I always thought it'd be what I do, y'know. I thought I'd always be the guy who goes to a town, fixed their problems, burns through my magic, and that's all. And I knew that eventually it was gonna end, but, well, I've been a mage for twelve years. It went by too fucking quickly and it feels…" He thought for a moment. "Being a mage is all I have, and I don't wanna let myself slip if I ever need to fall back on it."

"I do understand that, Laxus," Freed sighed. "But as you are now, you're losing you're edge not because you've dropped the sword, but you've used it so much that it's starting to shatter."

"I get that," Laxus whispered, nodding. Freed hand clasped on his thigh and patted him. "I'll stop going on 'em, it's time. I know that."

"You don't need to stop altogether, I've no doubt your grandfather didn't when he was young," Freed smiled, resting his head on Laxus' shoulder. "Perhaps you take it down to one mission a month, maybe not always go on S-Class missions. Only allow yourself to take what you can handle with your new responsibilities, not what you were able to do ten years ago."

"You're right," Laxus nodded, pulling Freed closer and kissing him on the top of his head. "When d'you get so smart about this shit?"

"I had a good teacher," Freed chuckled.

It was almost ironic. Almost exactly ten years to the day, here they both were again. Sat together in a hot tub, side by side, one of them struggling with the responsibilities of their new life while the other tried to advise them on how to deal with it. Laxus could almost laugh at the cyclical nature of it, but was distracted when Freed's roaming hand slid up his stomach and his husband moved closer to him.

"You know," Freed began, voice a little naughty now. "If you ever need to burn off some energy, I could teach you a few techniques that have proven useful in the past."

"Oh really?" Laxus quirked a brow, hand roaming down Freed's back, stroking his spine.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "I'm sure you'll become quite the addict though."

"I can risk that," Laxus smirked.

And when Freed shifted so he was straddling Laxus, the blonde grinned. He leant up and pulled Freed into a passionate, explosive, lightning-filled kiss. A kiss he would indulge in anytime, anyplace.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Two Shot #Chapter Two #canon divergence #Word Count: 3.5k

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empirexsin · 2 years ago

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“ i don't know ” he grumbles, his hand stopping the motion of rubbing up and down her back. just rests there now. “ i think any color suits you ” he shrugs slightly, as if he couldn't care about the colour of the lingerie. and he doesn't care. only cares about if willow likes it. thinks he'll find her attractive in any color because she'll be wearing it. tries not to think too much about what it might look like on her. could look good. could look bad. could be a good advertisment but the real deal might look ridiculous. but joe doesn't care anyhow. thinks he'd be lucky to see her in such a vulnerable state. undressed to that extent. thinks willow doesn't realise how attractive she is. how joe can't grasp why she'd want him. not only because he feels he can't match this excitable energy she has, but because he doesn't think he's as attractive as her either. remembers how julie had repeatedly told him so. repeatedly walking in while he'd be shaving his beard over the bathroom sink, trying to groom himself to an extent she might suddenly think him attractive. instead she'd just scoff and roll her eyes, walk out. or stay by the bathroom door, asking why he was doing it, who for, as if he were under some kind of interrogation. ' you're the ugliest man, joe. and im stuck with you because i didn't take the opportunity to move to malibu when i had the chance. i could have been with some stud who didn't live with his mother '. remembers how all of these words hurt. how defensive he'd be over his mother. how he'd try to reason, again, why he lived with her. because she was ill. because he was worried. but none of these words seemed to translate in julie's head as good enough reasoning. his mother hadn't liked julie. but still wanted joe to settle down. get married. maybe because she thought it would be a better route than him taking care of her as he had.

can't remember laughing with julie. remembers julie pretending to laugh at him once. they'd been out at a friend's engagement party. julie seemed upset joe hadn't proposed despite the state of their relationship. seemed jealous and convinced everyone was talking about how unhappy their relationship must be. no one was. but she kept laughing and bringing up situations that had been unpleasant between them, but attempting to put a comical spin on it. a happy spin. they'd spent the cat ride home with julie shouting at joe as he drove, upset at him again, upset he hadn't proposed before her friend had got engaged. but willow laughs with him. has this kind of goofy humor he likes. that prevents him from thinking too much. “ i don't want speedos ” he mumbles, amused and yet a little convinced that willow would find it so funny she would buy him some to continue the joke. feels her kiss his chin, and flinches ever so slightly at the contact. pulls himself together. it's not because willow is a threat. knows she isn't. but he's hyper aware, and had let his guard down a bit in this scenario of laughter. only when he seems to come back to reality, he reacts as he does. hopes willow ignores it. always feels this sense of dread as if she might turn around one day to him and say she's sick of it. upset. doesn't understand why he'd react that way to her. it isn't her. it's never been her. if anything, willow is a safety blanket.

feels her hands bunch up the fabric, creasing his shirt a little. doesn't care. enjoys her nearness. thinks sometimes his reactions might highlight otherwise. worries about that. worries willow will be disappointed in the run up of their relationship progressing to an intimate level because joe is stuck in his head and can't help the reactions he sometimes demonstrates due to trauma. he also worries that it will affect her self esteem. doesn't want to be a reason as to willow becoming deflated. doesn't want her to not find him attractive. to give up on trying to get close to him. “ you know,” is worried. always concerned. always thoughts tangled in his head he can't quite escape. concern. “ i...i think you could wear anything and you'd look hot, willow. lingerie won't make me want you anymore than i already do ”

“ apparently it’s vagina floss. that’s how thin they are, joey. ” / @williopolis

“ then…what’s the point in wearing it? ” is constantly taken into willow’s world. a world where he’s informed about things he’s never heard of, and the explanations from willow sometimes are cryptic and hard to crack. if only because she has a certain way of speaking - of talking about things. willowisms that he’s learned over the time they’ve spent together, but will never have a degree in. he’s been listening to willow talk about some brand for the past twenty minutes. he’d been trying to watch television - not that there was anything particularly interesting on. instead he’s just been laid across the couch, taking up all of the space while eating lays crisps that sat on his chest. until willow seemed to take away the lays, put them to the side because she’d crawled atop of him, talking about vagina floss thongs.

this seems to be how their relationship is. willow constantly invading joe’s space and he allowing it. he’s only ever told her to fuck off or get off during the start of them living together. and once in a blue moon occasionally when he’s exhausted or trapped in thoughts that make him feel as if they could cripple him. willow offers an option for comfort during those times, but instead he feels himself lock inwards. unable to express or explain or seek a positive solution. there’s no solution to him during those times, other than shoving a knife down his throat or suffocating himself with a plastic bag in the wardrobe he can barely fit in. instead he’s left to listen to willow talk about a product from a brand he hasn’t heard of before. tries to understand whether she wants to buy one, or if her interest has just been caught - now fixated upon the thong that has practically no material.

“ are you going to buy it? ” asks upfront. doesn’t know if that’s the idea. willow wearing this tiny thong. doesn’t want to think too much on it. if only because the image of willow undressed in his head is for times he’s alone, rather than with willow on top of him right now. not appropriate when he’s just been eating lays crisps too. imagines ed doesn’t have this problem. the man probably never eats, just drinks protein powder, and so always has some kind of artificial taste in his mouth like mint or chocolate or banana. not the flavor of the lays crisps he’s been eating.

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shownusaurus · 4 years ago

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Summary: you have always been told that the line between love and hate is thin. well, so is the line between love and friendship.

Pairing: Son Hyunwoo x Reader

Featuring: Monsta X Ensemble

The first time you see him, he's wearing a tawny, v-neck crochet cardigan with nothing underneath and some white leather pants. You're so distracted by his friend though that you walk straight into him, and your steaming tea flies out of the cup you'd previously been fiddling with and onto his practically bare chest. Not to worry though, because it also flies back onto you and scolds your hand, and while you let out a small yelp and shake your hand, dropping your cup and effectively staining his friend's white shoes.

He ends up laying across your couch for the rest of the evening and night as you'd insisted you tend to the scald, and you soon learn that his name is Hyunwoo. When he tells you, his friend Hoseok leans forward to hold the pack to Hyunwoo's skin as it seems you've sunken into a daze that makes the aforementioned cackle with glee.

You're all quick to become friends even though you suspect Hyunwoo's become annoyed with your neverending apologies for having spilt your tea all over him. Hoseok watches the two of you fondly, happy for his friend as he notices the hearts in his eyes, and with your permission acquaints himself with your extensive ramyeon collection.

If he notices the moons you're making right back at Hyunwoo, he doesn't comment, but you know he does as he sits on your armchair and slurps noisily at the noodles he's eating with your nice chopsticks, cheeks puffed out and neck bent so that the noodles don't slip from between the two sticks, though his eyes are on you and he seems to be smirking as best he can.

They stay the night eventually as it starts snowing heavily outside, Hyunwoo on the couch after he'd fallen asleep, and embarrassingly, Hoseok and you share the bed. He crackles loudly when your face flares up but promises you're not his type and there'd be no funny business as long as you could keep your hands to yourself. You don't know whether to be insulted or thankful.

After that, you three spend a lot of time together. Your hand heals although there is a scar that fades within the month, and as it turns out Hyunwoo has super-human healing abilities and the blotch where you'd spilt your drink is gone within two weeks. You use your envy of his "abilities" to touch his abs whenever you can, and you have a feeling he knows, but he doesn't let on either way.

Hoseok is another thing entirely. When you let it slip accidentally that the reason you'd even bumped into Hyunwoo was because you'd been enraptured by his, as you so eloquently put it, "bulging man titties", he collapses to the ground, holding his stomach as his muscles contract with his laughter. You notice Hyunwoo deflate at your side as you say it, though, and for the next few days he's even quieter than usual, and shows up on the third day of avoiding you wearing what you think is probably the sluttiest shirt he owns. He smirks every time he notices your eyes trailing down to his chest, and you don't like that, the smug son of a bitch. You mistakenly turn it into a competition between Hoseok and Hyunwoo with who has the best tiddies, and they invite over Hyungwon, Hoseok's boyfriend, to help decide.

You're both naturally biased, and as much as you're awkward around strangers, you two seem to get along quite well. He's definitely one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen and the minute you see him you snap about their friend group being just gorgeous men and how it's unfair, and all three of them crack up. The competition begins then, and although it's definitely obvious that Hoseok's man tits are absolutely ginormous and he's probably more swole than fucking Superman, jaws- specifically yours- drop when Hyunwoo pulls out his last defense definition.

He vibrates his tiddies.

The noise you let out is not human at all, and the way your eyes widen and cheeks puff is a dead giveaway to your embarrassment at having even made that noise- a cross between a wheeze and a whine-, nobody comments on your flustered state but everybody decides they need to mimick the noise you made. You faceplant the nearest cushion, much to everyone's amusement. Hoseok has made his way into your ramyun collection again.

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Things actually get heated the first time that you and Hyunwoo are alone together. He'd taken you on a slow walk, it being around 9pm. Hyungwon, Hoseok and Kihyun had been left at your house and the way they'd been sucked into Supernatural you'd imagine they hadn't even noticed you'd gone.

You come to a stop in the park, hands brushing against each other shyly until he eventually slides his fingers between yours, a gentle smile gracing his already beautiful face. You look up at him then, staring, eyes wide and lips open. When he looks at you he feels heat bloom across his chest and cheeks, and he squeezes your hand tightly in his own. You squeeze back and suddenly it feels like his heart is constricted in his chest. You look so beautiful then, the moonlight framing your hair perfectly and casting a ghostly glow across your cheeks, accentuating every curve of your face in a way that reminds him so much of stories of Artemis it's uncanny.

He hears you murmur something beneath your breath and when his eyes snap to yours inquisitively, body moving to angle so that he's facing you directly, your other hand moves up to trail so gently across his cheek that he barely feels your touch, only the heat coming off you. He wants to close his eyes and sink into you, but you speak before he can, and his adams apple bobs in his throat, eyes trailing to the ground.

"I can see stars in your eyes." you'd murmured, and the smile that lights up his features is heavenly, the pleasant clench in your chest a reminder of your feelings, the happiness that blooms within you at having that smile directed at you and only you. His hand comes up to grasp yours and he presses it against his face further, sinking into your gentle caress with a happy sigh, eyes closing and figure relaxing curving into your own. His other hand, the one that had been holding yours the whole time, released yours and found its way to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You don't think, but let your body tell you, and your arm eventually comes up to snake around the back of his neck, your other hand eventually finding it's way to your own while his comes to gently touch your own cheek.

Your eyes droop as he leans down, his own eyes heavy, breathing slow and relaxed. He stops before your lips touch and you whine needily as he chuckles, nose brushing intimately against your own, foreheads pressed together. His hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there as he pulls you forward slightly so that you're now stood on your tiptoes. Your lips brush against each other and you want to dive forward and smash your lips together, but the intimacy of taking it slow holds you back.

He nuzzle his nose against yours, brows furrowed but not unhappily, a large sigh falling past his lips. His natural woodsy scent combined with the smell of fading cologne encompasses you in much the same way his arms have, and as his lips finally press to yours oh so gently... So does the smell of alcohol.

It's like your heart cracks in your chest. You fall back onto the heels of your feet, ruining the moment entirely, and as your eyes snap open so do his. He looks confused, maybe even hurt as your hands slide down his chest and fall limply to your sides, but it doesn't compare to the emotional pain you currently feel. His grip on your hip slacks enough for you to slip from his hands, though he holds on for a moment before finally letting go as his eyes search yours.

It's a wonder, considering you'd been staring so intently into them, that you hadn't noticed the haziness of his eyes and the slight lazy look about him that wasn't usually there. How didn't you smell the alcohol before? you ask yourself as you take another step back, and finally his own arms fall to his sides. Now he does look confused, enough to open his mouth and lick his lips slowly before questioning you, and you bark out a harsh laugh that makes him flinch where he stands.

"As if you don't know, Son Hyunwoo." you whimper, looking down where your hands have clasped in front of you. He looks even more confused now than he had before and he tries to take a step forward but the toe of his boot catches on a slab and he stumbles, though corrects himself fairly quickly. You tremble as he rights himself and comes to stare into your own eyes, and if you hadn't known any better you'd have thought he actually looked sad when he saw the tears in your eyes.

"What-" he starts, but you snap then, and a stubborn, salty tear rolls down your cheek. His heart clenches in his chest, but it's not the same as before- now his Artemis is hurting, and... and it hurts.

You sneer harshly and this time he steps back, more confused than ever with how your face has twisted into a vicious, sad snarl. "I can smell the alcohol on you, Hyunwoo." you snip, your voice shaking with anger and pain, your arms wrapping around yourself as if to comfort yourself.

"Whatever, Hyunwoo. I thought you were different." and that's the last thing you say to him for two weeks. You turn and begin the trek home, all the while he's walking along behind you and begging for you to listen, to understand. You ignore him as best you can, but you eventually burst into hysterical sobs as tears cascade down your face. He watches your shoulders shake and your steps stutter and he offers to carry you the rest of the way, but he gets no response, only your slow steps in the direction of your home.

He slows down too, he wouldn't dare walk beside you with you feeling this way because of him. When you eventually burst into your apartment and startle the other three out of their hyperfixation on the show you run into your room straight away. Hyunwoo is faster than you and steps in front of the doorway, but you slide under his arm and slam the door behind you, sliding down the other side and allowing yourself to succumb entirely to your pain.

He frantically beats against the door, calling your name as his eyes start to swim, but he gets no response and lets his forehead fall against the thin door with a thud, fists resting on the door at the side of his neck. He trembles but doesn't cry, and the apartment fills with the sound of your hurt.

When he eventually turns and looks at the others, Hyungwon and Kihyun are sat together in the corner, side eyeing him with clenched jaws, but neither say anything.

It's two weeks before you speak to him again. He comes over with Hoseok, Kihyun, Hyungwon and Minhyuk still, but it's rare- where he'd come over almost every day before, now you've only seen him twice. Each time you see him it's a reminder of the pain you feel, but when he's away it hurts, too.

But Hoseok, sweet, sweet Hoseok- he's pissed.

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Kihyun becomes your comfort. Hyungwon and Hoseok are there for you if you need it, but neither are good with emotions and Hoseok starts crying if he sees you crying, so you can't really lean on him in a time where you spend most of your days wasting away in front of the TV, watching sappy romcoms and crying into your bowl of ice cream. There has been the odd time Hoseok has sat with you and cried into your ramyun, but emotions are exhausting and you don't expect him to have to put up with yours and his every time he comes over. Minhyuk is aware of what happened but you met him after, and while he's a ball of sunshine always trying to cheer you up, it's not the same. Kihyun is there as a shoulder to cry on, as a protective wall between you and Hyunwoo when he's there, as someone who dries your tears if you're too tired to do it yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Hyunwoo spends a lot of his time at home, curled up on the sofa eating his sorrows too- he doesn't cry half as much as you do, but he still cries sometimes. His muscles have softened slightly because he hasn't been working out as much, but he doesn't care right now. If you're not there to look he doesn't want anyone to, and so he doesn't care all that much about a softening belly as he might have before.

Changkyun and Jooheon are there for his comfort. Changkyun is funny and spirited, and he keeps his mind off things. His boyfriend, Jooheon, is much more soft around the edges, there to offer tissues if needed or just let Hyunwoo cry onto his shoulder.

And then, Kihyun shows up. He's angry and tired from looking after you, and his recently dyed orange hair reflects his current mood. He sneers as he presses his finger into the center of Hyunwoo's chest, eyes piercing and teeth clenched as he tells him that he better sort things out with you or so help him god, he'd shove his foot somewhere the sun doesn't shine, because you talk about him as if he hung the stars in the sky for you even still.

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It takes him two days, but he hits the gym harder than he ever has before, shaves his itchy stubble and takes a long, hot shower before he works up the courage to come to your house alone.

When you answer the door your breath catches in your throat. Hyunwoo. He looks good all things considered, but you can see the slight thinning of his cheeks and the purple circles peeking out from beneath a light concealer Kihyun had no doubt made him put on. He looks good, but he somehow looks awful, too. You'd have thought it would be nice to know that he was suffering as well as you, but it doesn't help. It just hurts. You don't go to close the door like you should. He walks in anyway, slowly as if to make sure you'd let him. You don't stop him and you curse yourself for it as you turn around to make sure you have at least one eye on him, the door closing behind you.

You stare at each other for what feels like a century, until your eyes get so dry they itch and you have to look away after you've blinked the water back into your eyes. He gestures to the couch as if to ask you to sit down but you stubbornly stay standing, eyes narrowing slightly. He sighs, anxiety spiking even more, but he takes your hand and leads you to the sofa anyway. This time you do sit, but the shame builds in your chest as you do. He sits beside you, your legs pressed together and his spread apart. Your hands land in your lap but he reaches forward to grasp them in his own, soft from lotion with a few callusouses from working out. It surprises him that you don't pull away, so he lets himself take advantage of the moment to run his thumb gently over the back of your own hands before he begins speaking.

"I know I hurt you." he starts, peaking up through his lashes to gaze into your eyes. Even now, you can't help but to compare them to the sparkling stars in the sky, so bright and beautiful. He swallow harshly, but keeps going. "I should have considered things better, like how you would feel if the guy you like suddenly came onto you while he was drunk-"

Your ears are ringing. The butterflies in your stomach suddenly turn to bees, buzzing frantically and looking for a way out. You feel sick.

He knew?

"Hold on." you mutter, looking up at him through your lashes with an icy gaze that makes his breath hitch in his throat and his jaw snap shut, shuffling uncomfortably under the weight of your glare. It looked as if he was trying to look anywhere except at you. "You're telling me you knew about my feelings? And you still did it?"

You waited for confirmation or rebuttal, but got nothing except the awkward clearing of his throat and his grip tightening around your hands, though his chocolate eyes were looking right back at you now. You refused to think about the glittering stars you saw in them, the hope and dreams. Instead, you ripped your hands away from his grip and stood up quickly, shaking off his hand as it tried to catch your wrist while you walked toward the counter that separated your kitchen and sitting room. He looked on worriedly, shoulders hunched in on himself as he watched you through his thick lashes.

"You're telling me that you manipulated my feelings, then? What, did you hope that if you showed some interest, knowing I liked you, that I'd drop my panties straight away?" you sneered angrily, leaning against the counter and turning your head so you could see him out of the corner of your eye.

Were it any other time you might have laughed at the offense on his face when he heard what you said, but as it were you could hear the shuffle of clothing and then the squeak of his shoes as he approached, speaking quickly, "So that's what you think of me, baby? I swear it's-" he began, but was quickly cut off by your angry ranting as you whirled around, spearing him with your burning gaze.

"Don't you call me that, Son Hyunwoo. It's not like that, huh? Then tell me why that's exac-" but, this time, it was you being cut off. You jolted where you stood as he seemed to lose all patience, chest puffing as his voice rose above yours, a sharp 'let me speak!' carrying throughout the room. Somewhere in the back of your head you thought that he evidently hadn't had much to eat today, since that's why he is usually irritable, but you shoved that thought away for the time being.

As your eyes moved to the kitchen window you idly thought of how it was starting to get dark out, how the stars would be out soon, and a sharp pain bloomed in your chest as you immediately thought of his eyes, gentle chocolate irises that always seemed to glitter with the light of the stars in them. "Look at me when I'm taking to you." he snapped, walking forward to place his arms around you on the counter.

Irritated, you looked back at him and jabbed your finger into the center of his chest, scoffing at his tone and commands. "No, you don't get to tell me wh-"

You blinked. He had surged down when he heard you start talking, his lips forcefully pushed onto yours to shut you up, eyes squeezed shut tightly and a hand holding your wrist down on the counter that you'd used to jab at him when he'd snapped.

It took a moment, but you pushed the thoughts of allowing yourself to relax into the kiss away and instead wriggled your wrist as much as you could until you eventually managed to get out of his grip, now using both hands to beat and push against his chest as if you'd be able to force him off you. When that didn't work and his lips stayed glued to yours, his body still crowded into your personal space, you wrenched your head back with a gasp and shoved him as hard as you could, angry tears dripping down your cheeks.

"Son Hyunwoo, you bastard! Get away from me! Get off! Get-" but this time you were cut off by your own sob, your hurt having bubbled to the surface while you had been preoccupied with detaching your lips from his however you could. Miserable tears dribbled down your cheeks, your cheeks hot and eyes rapidly swelling. You beat harshly against his chest, the power behind each punch getting less and less until you were left leaning against his chest, your ear against his heart while you sobbed pathetically, hands slapping lightly with as much power as you had left in you. Your cries were frantic and loud, breaths coming in quick bursts before being cut off again by another few hiccups and coughs, or a sniffle. Your lack of air had begun to make you panic slightly too, but you were distracted by the feeling of Hyunwoo resting his chin on your head, pressing a light kiss to your crown while his arms came up to wrap around your smaller frame, caging you into a bear hug while his veiny hands ran up and down your spine, whispering gentle words of comfort into your hair.

He waited until you had calmed down slightly before he spoke again, eyes reopening from when they'd closed while you had been in his embrace. He lifted you onto the counter quickly, his hands sliding down to grasp your waist before he moved to stand in the space between your thighs, hands moving so he could gently wipe away your tears. It was silent for a moment then aside from your slowly calming sobs, the occasional hiccup, cough or sniffle too.

He stood almost completely still save for the slow rise and fall of his chest, thumbs delicately stroking your hips as your own arms rose to wipe away any fresh tears with your sleeve. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." he sighed, brushing damp stray hairs away from your face. "Look at me, Y/N. Please." he murmured, lifting your chin as you sniffle again, looking up at him through your damp eyelashes. "Aw, look at you, you're so precious." he chuckled, eyes running up and down your weak state. You huffed then, hands falling to land on your bare knees with a light slapping sound. "I don't know how you thought I did any of that just to get into your pants, Y/N, you oblivious little doll. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever."

He hummed, watching with a certain softness as you seemed to preen, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear while your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Oh how he wanted to lean down and take it between his in that moment, but he held back, blinking slowly as his hand came up to stroke his chin and jaw nervously. You watched him for a moment, eyes stinging and sight blurry from any remaining tears, and then finally spoke again, voice hoarse from crying so loudly for so long. "You mean that?" you asked, sniffling.

He chuckled, nodding as he pulled you closer to him by your hips, his tight green tee straining against his muscle with the movement of his shoulders. You smiled then, ruffling your hair as embarrassment crept up on you, heat flooding your face, neck and chest. He was half-tempted to aw at you but after quick consideration decided against it, not willing to risk the quiet peace the two of you had in that moment.

Instead, regarding you with a cautious gaze, he brought a hand up to hold against your cheek, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours while your noses brushed together gently, eyes falling closed by themselves as you stood, simply breathing each other in. A rumble sounded from his chest that sounded almost like a cat's purr and you smiled, leaning up slightly so that your lips nearly brushed, his hand stroking your cheek and the other wrapping around your waist while your arms came up to snake around the back of his neck.

"I love you, Y/N." he spoke, his voice quiet as if he was trying not to disturb the peaceful moment. You grinned, breath catching in your throat as euphoria flooded through you, as if the stars had personally graced you with their brilliant, bright light. "I love you too." you spoke, keeping your own voice down and your eyes closed gently, a jolt running up your spine as he nuzzled his nose against yours, moving so that his lips barely trailed across your cheekbones and your jaw before moving up to press a little kiss against each of your eyelids and then your forehead, and then finally, moved back down so that his lips were right in front of yours, but made no move to press them against yours. Instead, you heard a gentle hum as he pulled you even closer, your legs now able to wrap around his waist comfortably, and then finally, his soft, soothing voice carried through every part of your soul with one simple request, "Kiss me."

And you did.

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The next day, Hyunwoo listened with a soft smile as you told Hoseok about what happened, the other boy nodding along whenever he felt it necessary, eyes wide and lips open, completely absorbed in your story. His chest warmed as he heard what you said, placing the last dish on the drying rack for the night and reaching out for a towel.

"He touched me and it felt as if the stars were dancing across my skin."

#shownu #shownu x reader #hyunwoo x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop imagines #monsta x #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x imagines #son hyunwoo x reader #changkyun #jooheon #minhyuk #kihyun #hyungwon #wonho #shownu fanfiction #shownu imagines

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