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queers-gambit · 8 months

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Lost and Found

prompt: ( requested ) you're just friends, but on your first night at Saltburn, you get lost in the vast halls and accidentally walk in on lover boy after a bath. he wants you to stay.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 3.6k+

note: this SHOULD'VE gotten slutty, but it DIDN'T because i'm back in the hospital and the LAST thing i need is a nurse walking in on me writing fucking smut - oh, my God, can you imagine? new fear unlocked!

warnings: RIP Queen Lizzie, cursing, sexual tension, emotions are hard, Lord's name in vain, depiction of mental illness (anxiety), author throws in a little personal detail cause writing is therapy.

"Honestly, who lives in a place like this? The bloody Queen, that's who. Her and all her fucking rooms! Jesus!" You grumbled, dipping down another winding hallway. "All right, this looks familiar, that's... Encouraging, right?" You frowned, glass of water in hand after venturing to the kitchen to fetch it - but now, you couldn't navigate your way back to your room. "Of course," you growled quietly, opening a door and finding a linen closet.

How silly, in a place like this! A fucking linen closet!

You huffed and shut the door, feeling incredibly awkward and terribly misplaced. You mind screamed that didn't belong here, you never should've set foot in a place like this! How fucking foolish you felt, like a silly little girl who was just excited her crush spoke to her, let alone invited you home with him for the summer holiday.

But it was Felix fucking Catton - certified enigma. He was all man with a boyish charm who smiled at you on move-in day at Oxford and sealed your fate. He was ridiculously nice, so very sweet, borderline annoying with his giving nature and kindness. He was loyal to a fault, intuitive, observant, admirably carefree, and so very happy to give his love to anyone who needed it. For a few weeks, you felt almost offended by his attention, wondering what kind of broken soul he thought you were; knowing he had an affinity for "damaged" or "broken" things.

At least, that's what his cousin, Oxford's registered and certified catty bitch, Farleigh Start, teased you about relentlessly when he noted the way Felix hung around you. Felix invited you out with friends, offered to study together, walked you to and from classes - even if his were in the literal opposite direction. You had no honest idea how the two were related, given Farleigh's constant attitude and Felix's overwhelming kindness, but that wasn't for you to understand. You just relished the attention Felix bestowed in-between your skepticism.

And here you are, your first night in his home, Saltburn, completely lost and totally turned-around! You didn't need water all that bad, did you? Granted, you had a several tablets to take that evening to maintain your health, but you could've used the fucking sink in the adjoining bathroom! You grew frustrated the more doors you opened, finding empty rooms or closets or another fucking library or studies or whatever! As if this home wasn't big enough, there were multiple levels and all you knew was that you and Felix were both located on the same floor with his parents above you and his sister and Farleigh beneath.

So, that helped.

But you still felt so fucking silly.

Seriously, who got LOST in someone else's home!? Fools, that's who!

Okay, okay, okay, you didn't need to be so hard on yourself, but you grew nervous and fearful for a reason you didn't understand. Your anxiety was planted in your stomach, festering, growing, taking over you to the point that you had tears in your eyes when you found yet ANOTHER fucking study!

"Oh, even the bloody fucking Queen doesn't have this many useless rooms, and she's a much bigger family, Jesus fucking Christ," you sneered to yourself - ready to give up and just sleep in one of the empty rooms. But you didn't want Duncan finding you in the morning, asking questions, forcing you to admit you were lost - you felt humiliated enough as it was! And that was without anyone witnessing this absolute mess you had made!

Well, not technically a mess - but you felt like a mess the more you crept around. And now, you felt fucking creepy - like some stalker, sneaking around the halls, trying to spy on this very nice family. You knew you weren't, but the feeling was still there - fucking anxiety would honestly be the death of you.

However, you came upon a familiar (enough) door that had a gentle light emitting from under it. With a sigh of relief, you suddenly remembered leaving a light on for yourself to return to; reaching for the doorknob, twisting it, and darting into the room while swiftly swinging the door close - but halting it to shut quietly as to not disturb anyone in the empty halls.

Yeah, anxiety was a bitch.

"Ohh-ho, evenin', love," a voice greeted, making you gasp, jump, and twist around. "Miss me that much? Heard the drain on the tub, didn't yah, had to come sneak a peek?"

Felix fucking Catton stood at the end of a messy bed in all his glory, running a towel through his wet curls. Nothing obscuring your sight, nothing hiding his manhood, nothing - literally nothing on his body except a shit-eating grin.

"Jesus, Fi! Fuck, I-I-I'm so - um," you gulped, trying not to ogle him, but failing (miserably) when beads of water rolled between the contours of his impossibly impressively sculpted muscles. "I just - you know, this place is so bloody big - um, I'm sorry - I just... Yeah..."

He smirked, nodding sarcastically, "Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble into my room? Pretty good timing, too, wasn't it?"

You squeaked, "I didn't mean to! I swear - Felix, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to, um, yeah, you know - uh..."

"Like what you see, sweetheart? Why don't you come in closer, get a better look?"

You adverted your eyes out of respect and fumbled messily for the door handle. "Oh, sweet Jesus. Bloody house is just too bloody big, I got all turned around - just needed some water and I just - fuck, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey," Felix chuckled, wrapping his towel loosely around his hips so his V-line was still on raunchy display, "I'm only teasin', love. I know this place can get confusin' t'newcomers. I actually meant to grab you some water, know you gotta take your tablets."

You swallowed your embarrassment, sighing, "I'll just - yeah - no - I'll, um, just go - I'm so sorry, again."

"You know where you're goin' all of a sudden?"

You faced the door, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, shaking your head gently, "Well, no, but I'll figure it out - I left a, um, I left a light on, you know, to help - I don't know - uh, guide me?"

"You've not stuttered this much since we first met," he laughed, tugging a pair of boxers on for your sanity (and to your dismay). "I'm dressed, doll, you can look at me now. C'mon, bit weird talkin' to your back."

"We're not talking, Felix, I'm going to bed."

"Then why haven't you left yet?"

You blinked at the intricately carved door, realizing your hand was still on the knob, but it hadn't turned. "I didn't want to be so rude as to just walk out, mid-sentence!"

"Hey, hey, you're all right, darlin', I'm only teasin'," he grinned, hearing his bare feet pad over the ground before his warm hand wrapped around your elbow. "C'mon, love, hang with me a bit - 's not that late, is it?"

"Oh, so, Duncan can walk in? Make his assumptions?" You whispered, slowly facing him and leaning back on the door with a pout. His big, brown, doe-eyes stared directly into yours, making you feel under his spotlight - something akin to a privilege, since Felix Catton didn't bestow his attention on everyone. "I just needed water, I didn't mean t'get, you know, lost like this. Seriously, this place looks totally different at night."

"Surprised you even got this far, huh?"

"I looked in any room with an open door," you admitted with a small wince. "I felt so creepy, but I was all turned around - and you know, you shouldn't leave other lights on in rooms not being used. Terrible waste of energy."

"Awh, my sweet, environmentally-conscious girl," he cooed, hand raising to gently pinch your jaw. There was a serene moment, the pair of you just staring at one another, becoming acutely aware that he was still practically naked. "C'mon, don't leave yet, we can play cards if you like?"

"I've medicine t'take - "

"Right, right, right," he nodded, letting his hand drift to hold your neck in a gentle grasp. "Tell you what, you stay here, I'll grab your meds, and bring them back? You keep 'em in that li'l pink bag, yeah?"

"I don't know how to feel that you know which is my med bag," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Just shows I pay attention, don't it?"

"Maybe shows we spend too much time together?"

He kissed his teeth, grinning at you, "There's no such thing - in fact! I reckon we could double our time together and it still wouldn't feel like enough."

"Well, how's that help me later? I still don't know where my room is - oh, don't laugh!" You groaned, Felix snickering louder. "Fi, c'mon, it's not funny - this place is huge! Like, illegally huge!"

He cooed, "Oh, doll, 'M not laughing at you, promise. Just... You're not the first person t'get lost here, yeah?"

You scoffed with severe discomfort, "I really don't want t'hear 'bout all the other girls you've brought home - "

"Hey, now," he cut you off swiftly, "don't do that." He shrugged meekly, "There's been no others, just friends. Mine, Farleigh's, Venetia's... They've all gotten lost once or twice... Or that time we had to actually draw Reggie a map, poor lad got lost around every bend."

You rolled your eyes, "Truly expect me to believe that, do you?" Then you let your eyes widen a fraction, teasing, "Oh, wow, you really believe it! You really believe you haven't brought home other girls who you're interested in or who are into you?"

He crowded you into the door, shifting the room's energy to something sultry, making you hold your breath as his hand slid into your hair. "You know you're the only one, right?"

"You know that's absolute bullshite, right? Like, what a fucking line!"

He tisked, "C'mon, doll."

"Be honest, Felix."

His head cocked, "Want the truth?"

"That'd be a nice change of pace."

He scoffed lightly, "I don't give a single fuck if any of our previous guests cared for me - only you. Hear me?" He took the last step so he was stood with his feet slotted between yours. "I didn't bring them here for any other reason than friendly entertainment. You've seen the place, as big as it is, can get a bit lonely without anyone to hang with. But I asked you here... For different reasons..." He whispered, eyes jutting down to your lips as he kept a firm hold on you.

"And what reasons are those, Fi?"

He smirked, "Obviously... To kick your arse at cards."

You were flooded with pure disappointment. Raw, unfiltered disappointment that deflated your shoulders. "Yeah, right, like that would ever happen," you covered, nudging him a single step away from you. "Wanna be a gentleman and direct me to my room now?"

"Nope," he grinned, snatching your hand and yanking you away from the door. "You're gonna sit your pretty self right here," he nudged you to the edge of his bed, turning for his desk, then turning back to you to slap a deck of cards to your hand, "you're gonna shuffle these, and mentally prepare to get your arse handed to you at your own game."

You chuckled slightly, "Thought you hated 51 Rummy?"

"Only when sober," he smirked, leaning down to peck your forehead sweetly. "Sit tight, doll, I'll be a moment, yeah?"

You sighed and watched him exit the room, reaching to set your glass of water down and observe the room. In a moment of weakness, you pet over his sheets as if tempted to snuggle into them - and you were! You were cold from the lack of robe you meant to shrug on, and wondering the halls of Saltburn took much longer than you anticipated - now wanting to dive into the warmth you knew was left, the same warmth that Felix left on everything.

You jumped when the door opened again, Felix slipping inside with your little pink bag. His brows pinched, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah - "

"Your feet are nearly blue," he shook his head, handing you your bag before turning for his wardrobe. "Socks or sweats?"

"Huh?"

He turned, holding up a pair of sweatpants and socks, repeating, "Socks or sweats? Figured you're a bit cold in that." The left side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, eyeing you in your sleep shorts and loose teeshirt that had the collar ripped out, showing a hint of cleavage.

"Oh, uh, socks, please."

He tossed you the socks, dropped the sweats, and joined you on the bed as you pulled the oversized garment onto your feet. "C'mere, get close, get comfortable," he chuckled, pushing his blankets down to sit in the sheets, waiting until you turned in the bed to yank the blankets up over both your legs. "Didn't shuffle? My naughty girl," he joked, reaching for the deck of cards and opening it. He offered a much softer smile, eyes darting to your medicine bag, and then focusing on the cards - as if to give you privacy to take your meds.

You did so quickly, insecure about the rattling bottles and the amount of tablets in your cupped hand, but never once had Felix made you feel bad about your needs. After swallowing them, you cleared your throat and turned to face Felix as he divided the cards for the game, nodding to his side table, "Paper's over there, doll, for the score."

"Sure you want me to keep score?" You asked softly, reaching for the pad of paper and spare pen. "Last time we played, you lost so very miserably, I was embarrassed for you. We can save your pride a li'l, not keep score."

"It's only polite to let the pretty lady win."

"Oh, tryin' to butter me up, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"I'll let you know."

Felix chuckled, leaning back to the headboard. Then, he asked softly, "You feelin' all right?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, all good."

"Sure?"

"Why?"

"Hands are shakin' a bit."

You eyed him for a moment, changing the subject by asking, "How're you not freezing? Seriously, 's like the floors are air conditioned."

"Nah, just not cold."

"Your nipples say otherwise."

"Lookin' at my nipples, are you?" He grinned. "Now you're a very naughty girl, knew you didn't stumble into my room on accident!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself!" You pushed his shoulder, but he leaned closer. "Felix - "

"You could just stay here," he offered softly.

"You got me for a game - "

"No, I mean, uh..." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head and readjusting so he was supported on one elbow, facing you. "Nah, nevermind, all right, so, back to the game - "

"No, wait, say what you're thinking," you encouraged softly. "Know I hate you doin' that."

"Yeah, you get all anxious," he nodded. "I don't want t'be too forward, all right? But... You know, we sleep together at Oxford. I-In the dorms, you know?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Just thought, maybe you'd wanna stay here? With me? If you want, won't make yah, sweetheart, just thought... You know, in a house this big, you wouldn't get so lost stayin' here... Maybe?"

"Oh, aren't you my hero?"

"I know, I know, I'm just tryna look out for you, my li'l lost love. And, you know, prevent you from finding our secret dungeon," he gasped comically.

"That's not even a joke 'cause I'd believe it in a place like this. Is it a dungeon for torture or sex?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I'd like to see it. Hm," you considered, "maybe I should stay here, you know - so you can show me around and go get me water when I need it. Save my toes from freezing off, wonderin' 'round here."

He grinned, "Yeah?"

"If it's not too scandalous?"

"'S not like anyone would care... Except me, you know? I'd... I'd like you to stay here. Like havin' you close, sweetheart."

"Well, maybe you could put some clothes on? You're terribly fucking distracting! I'm here to win a card game, and I'll be damned if you win 'cause your abs are... You know, staring right at me, you cheater," you grinned, turning to face him fully with your legs crossed, the space in the sheets open for your cards.

"I think you like me naked," he grinned. "I mean, you stared long enough."

"I was just caught off guard!"

"Oh, I'm sure," his grin turned wicked. "You're still staring, doll."

"Well, it's not as if you're quick to cover yourself!"

"You're not too quick t'look away, either!"

"I was - "

"Caught off guard, yeah, you've said," he chuckled, staring at you with those moony brown eyes that made you feel as if you were the only girl he's ever seen. "Maybe I liked you lookin'."

"Is that so?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, not such a bad thing. You're kinda the only one I want lookin' at me like that, anyway."

"You absolute cheesehead!" Your laughter was quiet, trying not to tip Duncan off to your antics.

"You know, they're not just for lookin'," he perked his pierced brow at you. "Feel free to touch whenever you want, too."

"Hm, always knew you were a slut."

He gasped dramatically. "Is that anyway to talk to your host? Especially after giving you refuge from the big, scary, confusing halls?" Your eyes rolled and reached out to pushed his forehead, making him rock back into the pillows and headboard - but he was quick to snatch your wrist as he fell. You were yanked across the slim space, pulled so you were directly resting onto his chest; forearms bracing against his pectorals. He grinned, caressing the back of your head, teasing, "'Ello, love."

"You're a fucking fiend."

"And you're so fucking beautiful."

"I'm already stayin' here, Fi, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

He hummed, "You know... If you were mine, you'd get this treatment all the time. I can't stop - you're just so easy to compliment."

Feeling bold, perhaps from being so close and him being nearly naked, you whispered, "Then maybe you should stop shuffling your feet, grow a pair, and ask me already."

He paused, the moment turning soft as you relax against his body; stretched out the length of him, but still remaining propped on his chest to look down at his sweet face.

"Was a bit afraid to, actually, love."

"Why?"

"Haven't felt like this with anyone," he admitted, "'s just so fuckin' easy with you. Organic, authentic, safe... I was afraid to ruin that, destroy the rapport and friendship we've established. I care about you so much, I just wanted you in my life - no matter what variation that was. Being just my friend, being my girl, just want you with me. Didn't want to jeopardize anything."

"Hm," you considered, nodding slowly, "I get that. Think I felt something similar..."

"So, what do we do?"

"I think we be adults about this," you offered. "If you just want to be friends, we'll stay friends, Fi, but we don't blur lines like we have been. And if you want to give this - us - a try, I think we could. 'Cause you're you, and I'm me, and if things don't work out, we can just go back. Right? Adults do that sorta thing, don't they?"

"Not entirely sure, don't feel like an adult most days," he breathed, petting his fingertips down your cheek. "But I know I want this, with you. I swear, since you came into my life, I've felt - " He paused, shaking his head with a growing smile, "Free? Elated? Light as air?"

"Mhm, I know the feeling," you repeated.

"We doin' this?"

"That's up to you."

"I think it's up to us, actually - "

"I mean, you've gotta ask, Fi, not just assume."

"If you reject me in my own house, in my own bed, doll, I'm gonna be fucking crushed!"

"Oh, my God, just ask me! You fucking knobhead!" You laughed, leaning your head on his chest. His other arm moved behind his head to keep it propped up, looking at you with so much adoration, it knotted your stomach. The hand that had been in your hair drifted down to keep a secure hold on your waist; fingers scratching in soothing motions.

"Wanna be my girl?"

"Hmm, I think you could phrase it better."

He grinned brightly, "Would you be my girlfriend?"

"Oh, that's a little too formal. Maybe try - "

"Oh, c'mere, you," he growled, swiftly using both arms to seize under your arms and literally drag you up his body. "C'mon, baby," he whispered, lips ghosting yours, "be my baby."

"Fuck, no, that's way too cheesy!"

"I thought you liked me cheesy?" He gaped, your hand petting his cheek now; shoulders straining to keep you upright, over him.

"Correction, I love you cheesy," you whispered, lowering your head to press a quick kiss to his lips. He hummed in relief, but you pulled back to promise, "I'd love to be your girl, Fi. Only took you the whole bloody school year, didn't it?"

"Hey, good things to those who wait, right?"

"Don't quote Professor Mercy at me when we're in bed with barely anything on, Jesus fucking Christ," you grumbled, unable to restrain your grin when he pulled you in for another kiss - but this time, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

Maybe getting lost in Saltburn was more beneficial than you originally thought, and maybe Professor Mercy and ages of philosophy was right because this felt like the absolute best thing, and you'd wait a hundred lifetimes if it meant having Felix in your arms - like he was now, kissing you like it was his lifeline.

How extraordinarily warm, you felt, to be lost in this world, in this extraordinary home, and found, by Felix fucking Catton.

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Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton imagine #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fanfiction #felix catton fluff #felix catton saltburn #saltburn felix catton #saltburn felix #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn imagine #fix it felix #felix catton request

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folkloreiuver · 7 months

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one of your girls tonight — felix catton

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 — you find yourself falling into felix’s orbit like many have before, but maybe it will be different this time. maybe he’ll want you too.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 — felix catton x fem!reader

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — fluff, swearing, smut ( fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, public sex kinda ), and a little bit of angst

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 — watched saltburn, lost my mind, still obsessed with jacob elordi. enjoy <3

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you first noticed felix on your first day at university. the late summer sun lilting heavily against a cyan sky, sweat stuck to your skin, clothes clinging uncomfortably as you lugged your suitcase along, hugging quietly.

you wanted nothing more than to drop your bags to the floor, tug your t-shirt off and bathe in the golden glow. you loved the sunlight, the way it felt melting into your skin, warm and buttery. you were so lost in thought that you almost missed the person coming towards you, them letting out a harsh gasp when you almost bumped into them. you looked up, eyes clashing with a pair of ochre brown.

“oh… i’m so sorry,” you say offering an apologetic smile, only for the dark skinned boy to scoff. rolling his eyes and stepping around you, looking at you as though you were nothing more than a piece of gum at the bottom of his shoe.

“watch it,” he spat before storming off, you blanched. completely stunned at the reaction, tilting your head to follow him. watching as he walked over to a group of people, now laughing brightly as though he has never even spoken to you. but your eyes were quickly drawn from him to the boy beside him. he was tall, taller than most, with chestnut hair that fell around his face in waves and a cigarette perched between his lips. he chuckled at something and you felt your heart flutter.

he was without a doubt the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

almost as though feeling your gaze he looked up, eyes flicking to your frozen form, how you gazed at him, eyes glassy and lips parted, the grip you had on the suitcase at your side. shame crawled up your spine and instantly you were looking away. walking deeper into the campus before you had a moment to think about this anymore. about him. you though you heard the laughs behind you increase but you couldn’t be sure as you walked away, cheeks aflame.

you didn’t see felix again for a few weeks, you quickly adjusted to life away from your family, while you still spoke to them on a daily basis, homesickness had quickly settled, replaced by a warm feeling in your gut as you bonded with your housemates. making friends in them and your fellow course mates, you were so consumed by it all you were stunned when you saw felix again. you had forgotten just how good he looked.

he was perched in the library, long legs blocking the section you needed to reach, the other boy you had seen before, farleigh, was sat across from him, lips curling into a frown when he saw your figure appear beside them.

“what?” he all but hissed at you, your heart dropped into your stomach. while you loved your life here at oxford the divide between yourself and more privileged students was immediately clear. a hierarchy that you couldn’t fight and instead just had to find a way to live with. you blinked, a little unsure at how to proceed.

“sorry,” you say, voice softer than you wanted it do be, “i just need to grab a book from here,” you say gesturing at the bookshelf at felix’s feet. the boys head snapped to you, eyebrow piercing glinting in the dim lighting of the library.

“sorry, darling” the brunet drawled with a sweet smile, his legs dropped and you awkwardly shuffled forward, eyes scanning the shelf for the book you were looking for, sighing quietly when you saw it was on a shelf just above head level for you. you glance fell downwards, looking for a stool to grasp but instead coming up empty. you were about to give up and grab a random book rather than embarrass yourself further by grabbing a chair to balance on top off in front of the pair when you suddenly felt a body pressed behind you. heat radiated from his skin, he was so close you could feel every inch of him, goosebumps rose on your arms.

“what do you need?” he murmured, ducking down so that his lips were only inches away from your ear. his voice was so deep, you almost shuddered.

“a road to somewhere,” you told him, watching with unveiled fascination as he reached up, grasping the book for you. you could see the veins in his arms, how large his hands looked compared to the book. you turned to face him, he held the book out and you grasped it, hands brushing. “thanks,” you say, a little breathlessly. he grins, a beautiful heart wrenching smile.

“anytime, pretty girl,” he said, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, smiling slightly before quickly walking away from the duo and back to your friends who all gazed at you awe struck.

“holy shit!” one of your flat mates gasped as you drew close.

“i know,” was all you could say, “i fucking know.”

the third time you saw felix you were already a bit tipsy, the vodka cranberry you had in your hand making everything a bit brighter. you grinned as you watched your friend flirt with a man at the bar, hand falling from his shoulder to his arm. you sent her a wink before wandering onto the dance floor looking for your other housemates when you bumped into someone, your drink splashed on your chest, slipping between your breasts.

“shit! sorry, darling,” you looked up, seeing felix stood there with wide eyes, his expression melting from horror to a smirk when he saw your face. “oh, hello again, pretty girl,”

“hi,” you said, voice slightly raised over the pounding bass of the club.

“what are you doing here? didn’t think this was your kind of scene,” he commented, he was looming over you, so tall you hardly reached his chest.

“what do you mean, i’m here all the time. but i have never seen you,” you pointed out, a small smirk twisting on your lips, he snickered. stunned at your comment as you took a sip of your drink.

“don’t come here a lot, farleigh hates the music,” he commented with a shrug, “but i might have to come here more,” he was closer now, so close you could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his skin, the faint scent of vodka and expensive cologne dizzying.

“oh really?” you say, looking up at him with a sparkling smile, “why’s that?”

“well, with a girl like you here how can i resist?” felix questioned, “tell me, pretty girl, would you like that?” you shudder, the action making felix grin, leaning down so his lips brush were brushing against your ear. “tell me, ___”

“how do you know my name?” you ask him, a little breathless, hand reaching out to grasp his arm.

“i’ve been thinking about you since i saw you at the library, so i asked around and they all led me to you,” he said, arms falling down to your hips, grasping them tightly. you let out a little gasp, he was so big, his hands almost engulfing your hips, you felt his fingers slide into the waistband of your skirt.

“oh yea?” you say, and then he was leaning in, for a moment it was a mess of lips and teeth, your cup tumbling from your grasp as your wound your arms around his neck. it was awkward, the height difference straining, but you managed to find a rhythm. your body pressed to his, so close you should feel every inch and curve of his body. feel his strong arms encircling you, the heat of his body, of his mouth. you wanted to drown in it.

when his tongue slid along your bottom lip you parted your lips instantly, you could taste the weed on his mouth and the sweet tinge of smirnoff ice, one of his hands rose to your cheek, holding you tenderly while he kissed you like a man starved. you moaned into the kiss, tugging him closer, hands on his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. you could feel the firm plains of his shoulder, the thick muscles coiled from where they held you, you needed more. his lips strayed from yours, trailing down your throat, leaving hot open mouthed kisses along your heated flesh.

"fuck, felix," you whined, he chuckled against your neck before biting down harshly, a strangled cry fell from your lips, loud enough that a rosy flush rippled across your skin at the thought of other people noticing. instantly felix was soothing the wound, sucking at it gently, running his tongue along the stinging bite. "i need you," you said, hands coming to his face and twisting it so he was looking down at you. he was grinning widely, skin flushed and lips swollen, a sheen of sweat glistening against his skin making him look ethereal beneath the strobe lights.

"you need me, pretty girl?" he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"please," you all but begged, and he was laughing again, it was such a beautiful sound it made your gut clench.

"how much?" he whispered in your ear, biting down on your ear lobe.

"so much, so fucking much. been needing you for so long, can't stop thinking about you," you knew how pathetic you sounded, whining for him like a bitch in heat, but you were throbbing for him, panties slick and chest burning, you needed his lips, his fingers, his cock. you needed every little thing he was willing to give you.

"you sound so pretty when you beg for me, darling, i might have to keep you," he said with a sultry smile, "come on, pretty girl," he's tugging you through the crowd before you can say another word, he leads you down past the bar, slipping through the club goers with ease before crowding you into the small corner you had seen multiple people tucked in before but you had never been placed here yourself.

instantly felix's lips were on yours again, his hands fell to your hips, running down your thighs before sweeping you up in one swift motion, you wrapped your legs around his waist, hands catching his shoulders as a startled cry fell from your lips. in this new position your skirt had rose up, your clothed cunt pressed against felix's stomach, you rolled your hips experimentally, moaning when you felt the friction of his abs against your pussy. "oh my god," you hissed, pulling away from his lips to bury your face in his neck, rolling your hips again.

"shit, i wanna fuck you so bad right now ___" felix said, "wanna feel that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock, i bet you are so fucking tight. are you wet for me, pretty girl? i bet you are soaking through your panties," he said.

"why don't you find out," you whispered, felix pressed you further against the wall, one hand staying secured around your waist, the other slipping down between your heated bodies, fingers teasing along the fabric of your panties.

"fuck, darling, you are fucking soaked," he whispered, "so wet just from kissing me, can't imagine how wet i can make you when i have you all spread out for me, gonna play with this pussy for hours," his fingers drifted to the edge of your panties, tugging them to the side, you shivered, you had never felt so exposed in such a public place, but you couldn't pull away. his forefinger gently traced along your slit, making you gasp.

"oh my god," you cried out.

"want more, darling? want me to finger this pretty pussy, make you cum all over my fingers?" he asked and you nodded frantically, eyes locking with his, his pretty brown eyes almost black as he faced you.

"yes, yes, please, felix, i need you inside me, please," you begged, hips twitching against him, trying to press his fingers inside of you but felix tutted.

"now, now, pretty girl, you take what i give you. keep acting like a little slut and i'll leave you here," he hissed, tears stung along your waterline as you frantically shook your head.

"no, i'll be good, i promise, please felix, i need you so bad," you practically sobbed, he smirked, now dragging two fingers along your cunt, gently at first before finally plunging his fingers inside of you, you moaned loudly, tears spilling down your cheeks, he pumped rhythmically, two fingers buried in your pussy, his thumb coming up to tease your clit. you couldn't stop the sounds pouring from your lips so felix quickly latched his lips to yours. the kiss was messy, you were caught between playing with his tongue and moaning at the stimulation.

he began to jerk his fingers quicker, pumping into you with such force that it had your toes curling, his thumb pressing against your clit sending delicious waves of pleasure along your spine.

"you're gonna make me cum," you whispered, pulling back from his lips just slightly.

"that's the plan, darling," he said, beginning to swirl his finger around your clit, the excitement of being in public, the feeling of felix against you, his fingers buried inside of you, you could feel the tension building inside of you. it was insane, his body crowding against you, his lips leaving hot wet marks along your jawline and neck, his fingers pumping so deep inside you it was making you squirm. you had never felt a rush to come so quickly in your life.

“fuck,” you gasped as felix twisted his fingers curling against your g spot, your body was on fire, a swell of heat rising from your gut and spilling across your entire body, you jerked, spasming as your orgasm consumed you. “felix,” you squealed as came all over his fingers, collapsing against him, heavy breaths falling for your lips.

“fucking gorgeous,” felix whispered against your neck before removing his fingers from your cunt and gently setting you down and tugging your dress into place, you looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“i want…” you leant forward hands clutching at the waistband of his jeans but felix shook his head.

“it’s okay, ___, i would never let a pretty girl get on her knees for me in a place like this,” he told you, planting a kiss on your forehead. you shivered, despite the orgasm you had just had you were still desperate for more, you wanted all of him.

“holy shit, there you are! i’ve been looking for you everywhere,” your friend suddenly shouted as she rushed to your side, you looked over at her stunned. “come on we gotta go, that guy was a creep i just wanna go to bed,” you nodded immediately not wanting your friend to be uncomfortable.

“yea, of course.” you said before turning back to face felix who grinned at you, leaning down to plant a dirty kiss on your lips.

“see you soon, pretty girl,” he said with a wink, you sent him a small smile before leaving the club with your friend, you really fucking hoped you would see him soon.

#Spotify #felix catton #felix catton x reader #saltburn #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #jacob elordi

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aniharas · 7 months

Text

skinnydipping with felix catton...

drabble warnings: explicit language, sexual content, exhibitionism(?), mention of drugs

...was not on your to-do list this summer. sure, you knew your boyfriend was the embodiment of reckless fun, and that’s why you liked him. unfortunately, this meant many rudely awoken mornings and no opportunities to sleep in. you would whine every time he yanked the covers off of you, though you didn’t complain. the summer heat during your stay at saltburn was no joke.

at first, you always questioned why he always seemed to want to do those things in the morning. felix would always scoff, saying his family was unbearable since you were the first girl he brought home. early morning was the best time to avoid them. surely saltburn was big enough for you both to find a secluded place for some privacy, right?

his claims about his family would be proven right. mrs. catton would always helicopter the both of you whenever you were outside; she even caught you straddling felix at the heart of the hedge maze. mr. catton was always lurking in the castle. doing anything with felix at night would mean that farleigh would find out, and his ears seemed to pick up everything. you’d only get lucky with venetia around, at times being too inebriated to care or even notice.

felix would always wake you up the same, his large hands smoothing up the curves of your body before he’d climb on top of you. “mornin’,” he’d coo in your ear, thumb stroking your cheek. “got a surprise for you. maids’ve left you some breakfast. meet me by the lake.” the surprises would range from watching the sunrise to having a romp in the vast fields as you licked coke off his abs. needless to say, you were ready to expect anything. at least, you thought you were.

he would leave you to eat your breakfast, but not before planting a hungry kiss to your lips, muttering “don’t be late” as he squeezed your ass gently. you’d quickly scarf down your food, throwing on light clothing so you weren’t absolutely drenched in your own sweat as you ran to meet him.

and today, he stood on the walkway by the lake with that stupid grin on his face, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. two bicycles were parked on either side of him. “snagged the good ones,” he bragged, obviously proud of the achievement.

at first, you thought, ‘really? biking at 8 in the morning?’ but it was only when felix eagerly pushed one bike your way that you thought, maybe it wasn’t so bad as long as he was this happy.

and you were right. you and felix cycled around almost the entire perimeter of saltburn, sweat trickling down your foreheads and backs as the both of you endlessly chatted about what shenanigans happened in the castle the day prior. sometimes, he’d shout, “race you!”, and then take off speeding without even giving you time to react. of course, you wouldn’t indulge him in his competitive fetish, but it left you giggling every time.

after a while, the both of you ended up back at the small lake you had rendezvoused at just before 11 am. the sweat had thoroughly soaked through the white tank top you had thrown on that day, the transparency revealing the skin underneath. maybe you shouldn’t have skipped on wearing your training bra. as the both of you panted to catch your breath, felix’s gaze locked onto your chest, eyes darkening the longer he looked. then, he instantly threw off his shirt while begging you to get in.

“come on then, how else are we gonna cool off?” “felix, i can’t. i...don’t have anything under.” “n’ you think i can’t see that? just take it off, darling. i’ll strip too. get your knickers off.”

you were shy as you cautiously stripped off your clothes, felix teasing you every so often as he’s “already seen it all before”. he had all of his clothes off before you could even protest, wading into the water.

he was sweet and caring as he guided you into the cold, refreshing water, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. he laughed at the way your teeth chattered at the feeling of the water enveloping your bare body. although the water was shallow, you still gripped onto his frame tightly to hide your chest.

at first, the both of you just swam about, getting into major splash fights and once again, felix initiating his one-sided races against you. when you finally caught up to him, he scooped you up into his arms, leaving you giggling relentlessly.

it was only then you felt a warm, tingling feeling in your abdomen as you wrapped your legs around him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. he tasted like tobacco and remnants of the lake water, the taste becoming more and more prominent as his lips began to devour yours.

he was always the handsy type while making out, not missing a beat as he ran his hands all over your slick body, massaging and squeezing at all your right spots. that’s what you liked about him too, he always remembered how make you melt into him, even more than the summer heat.

the makeout sessions usually didn’t last long, and that proved to be true once again as he held you tight and carried you out of the water. the immediate bite of cold that hit was immeasurable to the heat radiating off of his bare, toned body. your heat brushed against him with each step he took, leaving you whining in his ear, begging for him to let you take him.

felix was never one to waste time, sprawling you out on the grassy shore, before immediately burying his face into your cunt. his tongue always worked wonders for you, but today it felt different. maybe it was the way the warmth of his tongue was so mind boggling after the dip in the lake, maybe it was the tension that was building the longer you swam naked together. regardless, it had you squeezing your thighs around his head, fingers desperately tugging at his soft, brunette locks as his name tumbled from your lips.

he’d groan in response, the vibration surging from his plush lips against your heat so deliciously, a string of curses left your mouth as you threw your head back. he lapped at your folds relentlessly, navigating you with such ease that made you wonder if he knew your body better than you did. the tip of his tongue flicked torturously at your clit, leaving you writhing about just the same way you would if you were in the castle’s finest bed sheets. with felix, it always felt so good, dare you say better each time. it was something you never wanted to grow used to or tired of.

and the way felix stretched you out was something you knew you’d never tire of. his relentless gait rocked your body up and down, leaving your eyes to roll back up into your head with the warm pleasure that spread through your whole body. it was only then that he finally spoke between his grunts, his words, just like before, caring and guiding. “that’s it, baby.” “you’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well.” “keep sayin’ my name babe– just like that.”

you always knew that the moment you looked in his eyes and cried out his name in a way you only knew how, he’d come undone. this time, he let out a strained cry of your name, spilling thick spurts of his seed inside you, overflowing from your cunt almost as if he hadn’t been fucking you every day. you shortly followed, your walls gripping him so tightly as your orgasm left you convulsing.

felix collapsed on top of you just like he had done this morning, the remnants of lake water falling from his hair and onto your neck as he rested his head in the valley of your cleavage. the both of you watched as a stream of your combined fluids traveled from between your legs and down towards the lake, weaving between the strands of flattened grass before it dripped into the murky water. he went back to stroking your face, the lull of your heartbeat easing his own.

“shit– that was inside, huh?” “yeah. i’m on the pill, it’s alright.” “since when?” “your mum slipped me some when i first got here.” “...this family’s fuckin' embarrassing.”

a/n: first time for felix AND first time posting a drabble! ik its a bit long for a drabble but its a lot shorter and different than what i'm used to writing. thank u to miss @loveliestlovelygirl for the drabble idea. ur mind is unmatched. i hope you all enjoy! likes , reblogs , and ur thoughts r appreciated :) inbox is open for any requests!!

masterlist.

#felix catton #saltburn #fem!reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x reader smut #felix catton smut #farleigh start #elsbeth catton #venetia catton #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x reader smut #jacob elordi smut #felix catton drabble #jacob elordi drabble

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likedovesinthewindd · 8 months

Note

pookie!!! saw u are taking saltburn requests!!!!

thoughts on farleigh + reader with the same amount of snark as him?? like initially not being able to STOMACH each other & biting each other’s heads over (both ignoring felix’s groaned requests to “keep the peace”) and then being like…. wait why r u….kinda……

just that back and forth banter would be so good with him + ur WRITING!!! big smooches mwah

ugghh your mind!! love this and love you, sending smooches back ×100 !!! (fem!reader, wc: ±1700)

"I don't understand what's wrong?" you asked, briefly looking over your essay again before sparing your tutor a confused glance, waiting for his input instead. "There's nothing wrong with it," Farleigh's voice only deepened your frown, "It's just a little... loose."

"Loose?"

"Yeah, loose. You don't have a really strong argument," he continued, head resting in his palm as he peered at you from where he sat on the couch. "I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you. My argument is quite coherent right throughout," you said. "Maybe, but is it convincing?" he said, small smile on his lips that made your blood boil.

"Okay," you sighed softly, "How about your essay, Farleigh?" you asked, internally reveling at the way his cocky smile faltered. "I'm working on it," he huffed after a short pause. "Well until then, keep your comments to yourself."

"I was just trying to help," he retorted.

"Oh, screw you."

"Alright, I think we can end tonight's session early. Give you some time to finish up," your lecturer interrupts. "And give you, mister Start, time to actually begin?" he gives Farleigh a pointed look.

You hastily packed your things away before wordlessly making your way out. Your poor tutor must've been used to the two of yours constant arguing by now, seeing as that was how many of your sessions ended. You never saw eye to eye and the banter was stupid most of the time, but Farleigh had a way of getting under your skin like no one else could.

You were beginning to think he had some sort of personal vendetta against you, even though you really couldn't think of ways that you've wronged him in the past that deserved that sort of behavior. He loved embarrassing you, and as many times as you've tried to be the better person, you just couldn't help from slipping your own little comments, satisfaction only really gained when you managed to wipe the smug smile from his face.

Farleigh had completely spoiled your mood, and you figured the best way to forget about your day would be to go out for a few drinks. You definitely felt like a loser going to the pub alone but you wouldn't have been great company anyway. You however, very quickly regretted your decision when you saw the very source of your foul mood sitting by one of the tables causing a commotion as he often did. Felix saw him before he did, excitedly calling out to you and asking you to join them.

Farleigh wasn't as excited as the rest of the table at your presence, but you refused to let him ruin your night.

"Funny seeing you outside." Farleigh said, ashing his cigarette in the ashtay in the middle of the full table. "Why would it be funny?" you asked. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. "You're just such a homebody, hardly see you anywhere," he said. "But it's probably for the best, right?" he added, and you already sensed a verbal lashings following. "You'll need all the extra study time if you're gonna keep up."

"Farleigh," Felix silently scolded, but by now your heart was already beating in your ears, irritation setting deep inside your chest and making you feel hot with rage.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "You always seem to forget that you got into Oxford on favors," you said, watching the way the corner of his mouth twitched, facade still holding strong. "I'm not the one partying my life away. If anyone needs extra study time, it's you." In retrospect, it probably was a low blow, but the ethical line was hardly visible when it came to Farleigh.

The silence at the table was all consuming, and Felix, like the godsend he was, decided to speak up and end the wordless staring competition between the two of you. "Okay, uhm, shots. We need shots," he said, everyone quickly agreeing with him. "C'mon Farleigh, come help me," he said, practically dragging the boy along with him.

From there it only got worse the more time the two of you spent together, which was quite frequently because you ran in the same circles. You were friends by chance, only really connected through Felix, who you've known for years. Your mothers were friends, and the two of you quickly became close through her visits to their sprawling estate, often dragging you along. You've met Farleigh through Felix, and though it was evident the two of you didn't get along, Felix was still determined to try and make it work.

₊˚⊹

You were beyond relieved to be able to spend the summer away from uni and get a chance to breathe again without any academic stress. You had planned to visit your mother back home until Felix had asked you to come to Saltburn to spend the summer with them instead.

"C'mon," he tried, "Venetia will be so happy to see you again. And mum." You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating his offer carefully. It wasn't an extremely difficult decision; the days at Saltburn served as some of the best memories you've ever made.

You certainly didn't regret accepting his offer either. The last few weeks have been amazing at the grand estate, exciting and overwhelming in the best way. It would've, however, been much better if Farleigh wasn't looming over you like a dark cloud. You genuinely tried to keep the peace, but he knew exactly how to aggravate you. You could see it was beginning to irritate everyone around you, especially Felix.

"Will this work for tonight?" you asked, smoothing your hand over the soft material of the dress. It was so easy to run out of appropriate attire when you had to give your best every night at Saltburn. Tonight was special, and although you weren't specially dressing up for the Henry's, you still didn't want to embarrass Elsbeth by being underdressed.

Venetia was lounging in the bed while you paced around the room. "You've already worn that dress," she said, making you huff. "I know," you whispered. "We can get something from my closet," she said as she stood up from the bed and made her way to you. "Or we can ask mum. Don't worry," she added with a smile.

₊˚⊹

The dinner was kind of dull, the Henry to your left not nearly as entertaining as the one to Venetia's left judging by the quick glances she spared you every time one of his jokes fell flat. Every now and then, your attention would sneak over to Farleigh; a pensive look thredded between his furrowed brows when his eyes caught yours.

The highlight of your night was definitely after dinner, when sir Catton had suggested karaoke. You were quite amused by Henry's rendition as the lot of you watched as the man made a fool of himself. Farleigh took a seat next to you on the couch, sparing you a smile.

"You clean up nicely," he smiled, sparing a look down at your dress, the sparkly material reflecting the warm light from the fire. His hand ghosted over the necklace around your neck, fingers tracing over the small pendant. You prayed that he didn't notice the way your breath caught in your throat at the little bit of contact.

"Thanks," you answered, smoothing a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket. "You don't look too bad yourself." He only scoffed, eyes now focused on your hand as it retracted from his chest. You didn't spare him another look, attention refocusing on Henry's recital.

The whole affair was getting boring, and before you knew it, your thoughts were back to Farleigh, a question on your mind that you've been burning to ask him. "Can I ask you a question?" you turned, asking before you lost your confidence. He raised his eyebrow in interest, urging you to continue. "Why do you hate me?" you asked. The question caught him off guard, rendering him speechless for the first time since you've known him.

"I don't," he started before scoffing, "I don't hate you." You pursed your lips, shaking your head in disagreement. "You do. At least you act like you do." He only smiled, shuffling closer on the couch, face impossibly closer to yours as he gave you a once-over.

Even though the topic was quite loaded, it was ironically the calmest conversation the two of you have had in a long time. It was reminiscent of the time the two of you were younger and still getting to know each other. Somewhere along the line, something shifted, and he started treating you like shit. You only returned the favor.

"You weren't always this mean either," you added. His eyes still examined the expanse of your face; trailing down the slope of your nose and into the dip of your cupids bow. His attention made you feel self-conscious in a way, tongue poking out to wet your lips.

You had no reason to even feel self-conscious, but Farleigh had a special talent for making you feel small in his presence. Somewhere beneath the irritation and resentment hid a feeling that made warmth settle deep in your belly everytime you saw him. It's a feeling you only gave yourself the luxury of experiencing in the dead of the night when your thoughts were all that kept you awake. The overbearing anger would subside and then that funny feeling would settle over your body and deep inside your chest in a near painful way.

You never called it by it's name, too scared that if you did it would manifest itself and become reality. But now as the two of you sat on the couch, the cheering and singing fading into background noise as a pair of deep brown eyes stared into yours, you finally had to courage to admit it to yourself.

"I don't hate you," he repeated one more time, voice slightly breathless and a sullen look on his face. "On the contrary, actually." That made you laugh almost too loudly. "So what," you scoffed, "you act like a teenage boy and pick on me because you had a crush on me?"

He shrugged, the motion causing the refined material of his suit to rub against your arm. "Maybe I just wanted your attention," he smiled, placing a brief kiss to your cheek before briskly getting up from the couch to cut Henry's musical number short. You uncleanched your balled fists that were bunching up the expensive material of your dress, the tension leaving your body with a sigh once Farleigh's words register.

#saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #likedovesinthewindd

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backtothefanfiction · 7 months

Text

The Pool 🔞

Summary: Ollie is still making you feel uncomfortable, but Felix knows how to fix things.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Ollie being creepy, Felix being foxy and a little bit of naughtiness in the pool.

A/N: Just a quick one before I go to bed. The first NSFW/18+ Summers at Saltburn piece. I’ve been busy lately so haven’t had time to write much for this series but count this as me giving you guys a well deserved meal and dessert for waiting. Enjoy.

“Fix have you seen my-“ you stopped short. You thought it had been Felix you saw moving about in his room through the gap in the door, but you were surprised to find Ollie. “Oh, I thought you were Felix.” You hesitated, your brow furrowing as you looked at the young lad stood awkwardly in the middle of your boyfriend’s bedroom. “What-“

“Felix is already down by the pool.” Ollie said cutting you off before you could ask what he was doing there. “I just wanted to grab a book to take down with me.” Oliver began to explain. “He uh, said that I could read that new Harry Potter book everyone’s been passing around once he was done with it. I thought he’d finished it, so I was just looking for it so I could take it down to the pool with me and… you know, read it this afternoon.” He shrugged as he rambled out his explanation to you.

“Oookaaayyy.” You said hesitantly, dragging out the word as your body seemed to tilt itself away from him, as if his awkward creepiness had its own physical form that pushed you away from him.

You knew exactly what book it was he was talking about. Had sat up last night waiting for Felix to finish it so you could have some fun before going to sleep. “Here.” You said walking across the room and picking it off the top of the desk in Felix’s room, where it had been in open view the whole time.

“Ahh thanks.” Ollie said, taking it from you with a tight lipped smile and a head bob of thanks.

“No problem.” You said, but you didn’t return the smile as he awkwardly passed you and left.

—————

“Hey. Is everything alright?” Felix asked when you made it down to the pool, walking around the edge of it where Farleigh and Venetia were splashing around in the water chatting.

“Yeah.” You sighed as you sat yourself in Felix’s lap on one of the chairs around the pool.

“You don’t sound convinced?” He said as his hand brushed gently against your bare thigh. It was both a statement and a question, pressing you to unload the thoughts clearly on your mind.

“Yeah, it’s just-“ you started, but your voice trailed off as Oliver came to join the group, sitting himself in a chair next to Felix and yourself. He silently held up the Harry Potter book in his hand, a silent nod of acknowledgment to the two of you, before he opened up the book in his lap and began reading.

Felix didn’t need you to openly say what you were thinking out loud. He’d seen the way your eyes had followed Ollie around the pool. Felt how your body had bristled before leaning closer into his warmth for protection. “Come on, let’s go for a swim.” He said. “I bet I could take your mind off him in no time.” He whispered into your ear as his hand began to glide its way further up your thigh and in towards your heat, his touch making your skin shiver, your core aching for him. You couldn’t help but pull your lips tight with a smirk.

He gave your thigh a light tap and you stood up so that Felix could stand too, pulling off his T-shirt over his head. He then stood at the edge of the pool and silently watched you as you stripped off your denim shorts and took off the open button up shirt you had slipped on as a cover up to come outside. Once stripped to your bikini you flashed him a look. He was looking you up and down intently. No matter how many times he’d seen you naked, there was always something about see in your body in a bikini that turned him on like a naughty school boy. He gave you a wry smirk and you just had enough time to look down at the problem growing in his shorts before he stepped off the edge of the pool and dropped into the water to hide his arousal from other prying eyes around the pool.

You slowly stepped up to the edge yourself. You could feel Ollie’s eyes looking over the top of the book at your body, but you willed yourself to ignore him. You instead looked down to Felix at your feet. “Come on, get in.” He encouraged you, tapping at the stones either side of your feet. When you continued to hesitate, he began to grab at your ankles, trying to pull you in.

“Ahhh, Fix.” You squealed as your feet began to hop about on the stones to avoid his hands.

In the end, you bit the bullet, doing a quick little run to the side away from Felix as he pushed himself up further onto the top of the pool edge to reach out for your legs. The water was shockingly cold against your skin as your head dipped below the water line but quickly acclimatised to the difference.

When you surfaced, you made your way back towards Felix, wrapping your arms and legs around his body like a koala. You could still feel his erection, pressed hard and flat now to his stomach where he had adjusted his shorts under the water. He looked over to where Farleigh and Venetia were talking at the other end of the pool, then back to you with a devilish smirk, his eyebrows raising suggestively.

You nibbled at your lip as you looked towards your pool companions who seemed to be giving the two of you some distance and paying you no mind; their conversation clearly to enthralling to break from just yet. You looked back to Felix with a twinkle in your eye. It wasn’t the first time you and Felix had partaken in this particular activity whilst you were in the pool together, and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last; but you could still feel Ollie’s energy, his envious gaze fixated on you and Felix. You couldn’t help but find your head turning towards him.

“Just forget him.” Felix said, nuzzling himself into your neck, his lips grazing your ear as his hands on your hips began to push your core against his hard cock. “Please.” He cooed, his fingers already beginning to toy with one of the ties to your bikini bottoms.

You willed yourself to look away from Ollie and focus on your boyfriend again. You smashed your lips against his in a bruising kiss and you felt him smile against your mouth. He turned you both so your back was against the wall of the pool so you remained in place as his fingers pulled at the tie on your right hip, your bottoms floating to the side, only being held in place by one leg. He then shucked down the front of his shorts to fully expose his cock. He gave your folds a quick swipe, your slick mixing with the pool water before he dipped his fingers in and out of your aching cunt. It was only a couple of swipes- just enough to make sure you were ready for him. But you had been ready for him for most of the summer.

You took a quick glance over Felix’s shoulder to make sure Farleigh and Venetia were still occupied, whilst Felix looked over your own shoulder up at Ollie still sat, seemingly reading. “Look at me.” Felix urged you when he felt confident Ollie wasn’t paying any attention to the two of you.

You braced your arms tighter around his neck as he shifted you to sit on top of his cock. Your breathing hitched slightly and you fought back the moan that wanted to radiate from you at the feel of his length filling you up. “That’s my girl.” Felix cooed before he nipped at your lips with his own.

You never fucked in the pool. You once fucked in the pool house. But never in the pool. But you often did this- kept his cock warm whilst Felix walked you round the pool. To anyone else it would look like you were just having a cuddle and a chat as you slowly made your way around the pool- but you both knew what was really going on under the water. It was secretive and teasing and gave you both a thrill. Every now and again one of you would shift slightly and you’d have to hide the moan of pleasure that wanted to burst free. But you both lived for the edge- tormenting one another. Seeing who could hold out the longest.

And although you felt Ollie’s eyes on the two of you every now and again. Knew he was watching the two of you closely. Suspected he knew what was happening below the water and wishing it was him involved. You had to admit, Felix was right- this was probably the best way he could try and make you forget about the friend he had brought home and how he creeped you out.

#summers at saltburn #felix catton imagine #felix catton smut #felix catton x reader #felix catton #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagines

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cdragons · 8 months

Text

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #michael gavey x reader #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

Text

Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens.

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

#michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey imagine #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

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st-eve-barnes · 10 months

Text

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 2

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: Michael starts tutoring you but things are off to a rocky start.

Word count: +1900

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read Chapter 1 Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

After almost two hours of Michael’s tutoring you were beginning to contemplate throwing in the towel and just letting Ben release that video. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Michael had been cocky as soon as you had sat down in front of him in the library that evening. Right now he was bordering on rude and very obviously growing more impatient with you by the minute. And the faster he talked the less you listened, leaving you both frustrated.

You had a splitting headache and all the numbers and calculations were just dancing across the page now, mocking you. None of it made any sense, no matter how many different ways Michael tried to explain it all to you.

You were good with history, languages, art or psychology. Numbers were hell on earth.

“Are you even listening?” Michael sighed impatiently, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind his head.

“Yes,” you nodded, followed by a heavy sigh,”No, ugh..I’m sorry, I just…I lost my focus about an hour ago.”

“An hour ago? You didn’t even have it to begin with,” Michael called you out.

“I just don’t know how this is so easy for you, like you don’t even have to think about it at all.”

“That’s because I don’t,” he answered smugly, making you roll your eyes.”Go on. Ask me a sum.”

You sighed some more but indulged him anyway,”33 times 20.”

He gave you a look,”Don’t insult me, a real sum.”

“333 times 444.”

“147.852,” he answered without even blinking. You had no way of knowing if his answer was even correct but you didn’t doubt it for a second.

“How did you do that so fucking fast?”

“I don’t know, I can just do it, in my head, I don’t have to think about it.”

“Lucky you,” you rolled your eyes again.

“They’re gonna get stuck in your head if you keep doing that, you know,” he teased, making you squint your eyes at him.

He shook his head with a little amused grin,“Ask me another one then.”

“It’s fine, you made your point, you’re a genius.”

“Ask me another one, just to be sure,” he insisted.

“Michael, it’s fine, I get it.”

‘Ask me another fucking sum!” he raised his voice, making the few other people in the library look up at you both with annoyed looks on his face. You wanted to crawl under the table and disappear.

“Alright, fucking hell…1245 times 987.”

“1.228.815,” he answered, giving you another satisfied little smile.

You just stared at him without saying anything.

“My brain works different from yours,” he then explained.

“Yeah, no shit.”

You were beginning to see why Ben was so threatened by him, Michael was an actual mathematical genius, Ben didn’t stand a chance at that internship. That thought suddenly filled you with immense joy. And then fear, because if Ben didn’t stand a chance then what were you even doing here?

Michael watched as your face fell.

“Do you want to take a break?” he suggested.

You nodded,”Yeah, a permanent one, I’m never going to get this.” You dropped your head onto the table and let out a desperate little whine.

Michael just shook his head,”So you’re a quitter, I would say I’m shocked but my mum told me never to tell a lie.”

You lifted your head to give him an angry glare but he just ignored you and closed his books, not giving you time to object before he was up and out of his seat.

“When you’re serious about wanting to learn, you know where to find me,” he said,”Until then…stop wasting my time.”

“Michael,” you sighed but he was already walking away from you, and with it your last chance to stop Ben.

You couldn’t let this happen, if you let him go now your fate was sealed.

“Michael, wait!” you rushed after him without thinking, finding him halfway in one of the book shelves.

You grabbed at his arm to stop him, taking him by surprise.

He froze, eyes staring wildly at the spot where your hand was touching his arm. But he didn’t pull back or try to stop you. Instead he almost seemed to lean into your space a little, accepting your touch, his mouth opened in a surprised little sigh when your fingers gently closed around his elbow.

Of course the nerd was touch starved, it was almost too predictable. And was that a blush creeping up on his pale cheeks?

Ben had been right, Michael clearly wasn’t used to being touched, especially not by a woman. But he didn’t seem to dislike it, at all.

Maybe this mission wasn’t so impossible after all.

It was a desperate move, you realized that, but desperate is what you were.

“Please, wait,” you begged again, placing your other hand on his wrist while you gave him your best sad eyes and pouty lips,”You can’t give up on me, Michael. Please, you’re the only one who can help me, I need you.”

You watched him swallow hard at those last words, his eyes flickering from yours down to your lips and back up again.

He was staring now, shamelessly, not even trying to hide it. You used his obvious interest to lean in closer, so close he could almost feel your breath against his cheek and when you slowly and very deliberately licked your lips you could hear him bite back a quiet whimper.

You took another step forward and carefully pressed your body up against his. That’s when you felt it, undeniably, he was hard. You had barely touched him and yet he was rock hard in his stupid cargo pants.

You had him right where you wanted him and you could have sworn he was about to close that final distance between you two and pull you in for a kiss.

But then he leaned back and his thin lips curled up into a smug, annoyed grin.

“What are you playing at?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I’m not playing….”

“Stop lying to me, you stupid girl,” he growled and took a few steps back from you,”You say you want a tutor but you don’t give a shit about what I’m trying to teach you and now you want to…what….seduce me? How daft do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re daft at all!”

“I know this isn’t about math and it sure as hell isn’t about you wanting to get into my pants, girls like you don’t want nerds like me.”

“Girls like me?” you asked, staring at him with anger in your eyes,”Oh, you mean stupid girls like me? Listen, you little shit…”

“I meant pretty girls like you,” he interrupted you, shutting you up instantly.

He took a step closer again, towering over you and forcing you to lean against the book shelves behind you.

“What is it you want from me then?” he mused, as if he was asking the question more to himself and not you,”You’ve never paid any attention to me before this week…not until…I saw you scheming with Ben in the library a few days ago.”

Your eyes widened at his statement and it was enough for Michael to know he was onto something.

“I fucking knew it,” he shook his head and laughed,”What does that twat want from me this time, hmm?”

“Nothing,” you answered, too quickly.

“You’re a bad liar, girl.”

His stare was making you nervous, you wanted to blurt out everything to him and at the same time run away and never speak another word again. But there was no place to run from Ben and his ugly threats. Michael was your only ticket out of that bad spot.

He stepped back from you with a sigh,“Fine. Whatever. Tell your rich little friend that whatever you and him want from me he’s not going to get it, under any circumstances. Can you remember that or should I write it down for you?”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. Michael’s harsh tone combined with the hopelessness of your situation was suddenly too much and you burst out into tears.

To your surprise Michael’s whole demeanor changed instantly and he rubbed his hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

You started crying,“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to involve you in this shit, I’m so sorry, Michael.”

For a moment he just looked at you, your tears and desperation too real for him to ignore.

Then he leaned back against the book shelves next to you, not saying a word. You looked up at him through your teary lashes and it was the first time you could see real compassion in his blue eyes. ”What does he have on you?” he asked softly.

”We used to date, he has some…private material he’s threatening to release.”

“Fucking prick,” Michael spat out.

“Yeah, he really is and I’m an idiot for ever being with him,” you wiped at your tears and looked surprised when Michael reached into his pocket and handed you a handkerchief. It looked like the ones your grandma used to have and you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

”Thanks,” you sobbed and used it to wipe your cheeks dry.

“So…what did he want you to do in return then?”

”He wants that internship at Charter Inc.”

Michael nodded knowingly,”Yeah, that one is mine.”

“I know,” you smiled weakly,”That’s why he…he wanted me to distract you.”

Michael scoffed,”Jesus fuck, what an idiot. There’s nothing on this earth he can do to keep me from getting that job.”

You nodded,”I know.”

And with that realization came more tears. You used Michael’s handkerchief to keep them at bay.

“Do you think he’d actually do it?” he asked,”Are they just empty threats?”

“I honestly don’t know what he’s capable of and I don’t want to find out.”

You both stayed quiet for a while. Michael didn’t make any attempts to comfort you or touch you, but he didn’t move from his spot right next to you either.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, Michael, this isn’t your problem, or your fight.”

He nodded,”Yeah, you’re right, it isn’t.”

You could feel your stomach drop in defeat.

“But,” he then added,”I’d really fucking hate to see a rich kid win in life.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through your tears.”Got any ideas?”

He thought about that for a little while and then he nodded,”We could…make him believe his plan is working? I mean, for now, until we can come up with something better.”

“How?”

“He won’t do anything as long as he believes you’re on board, yeah?”

“I guess not.”

“So we pretend that you’re…distracting me.”

You laughed bitterly at his choice of words.”He wants me to fuck you, that’s what he means by distracting you. You realize that, right?” you then blurted out and Michael snorted out loud but he regained his composure quickly.

“Then…I guess we pretend that you’re fucking me,” he said calmly, letting his eyes meet yours. You felt a shiver run up your spine, the good kind.

“Alright,” you nodded.

“Alright,” Michael repeated, keeping his eyes on you for a few moments too long before he eventually looked away and nervously pushed his glasses up his nose, smiling shyly,”When do we start then?”

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x female reader #ewan mitchell fanfic #michael gavey smut

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dulcewrites · 11 months

Note

ewan in the saltburn trailer is j sooo giving private school filthy rich aemond i love it

AND YES HE NEEDS HIS POC GF

I have been feeling…. less than inspired lately about hotd tbh but hopefully this will spark something. I know no one asked for this lol. This was inspired by Beyoncé’s Upgrade U. Honestly, I don't think Aemond would be much of a loser in a modern setting. He would be far too elusive and people would find him interesting simply based on that. But I am combining/changing some lore here so he is a #loser in this like I am assuming Ewan's character is Saltburn is.

Upgrade You

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x rich!reader (wc: 2k)

Summary: You have always enjoyed having a project to build or fix up and Aemond Targaryen is no different

You flick a spoolie brush over your brows as you finished up your makeup. The lights from your vanity mirror illuminating you as you put the last touches on your face.

"I don't get it," Melanie sighed as she hugged one of your pillows to her chest. She sat crossed legged on your California king bed. "You're like the smartest person I know. Why do you need to be tutored?"

"Everyone can improve themselves, no matter what someone's specialty may be. Remember that."

Melanie nodded enthusiastically. Sweet girl, you think. A little daft at times but nothing some time under your guidance cannot fix.

She tilts her head curiously. "You are pretty dressed up for a library meeting too."

"Another lesson," you fluff your curls then turn from the mirror to her. "Do not let anyone tell you that you are overdressed. Does the library have a dress code?"

Melanie shakes her head slowly.

"So, who is going to tell me to change?"

"... No one?"

"Exactly."

Melanie chews on her lip in thought as if she is taking mental notes in her head. Though she is not wrong you are quite dressed up just to be studying. But your advice was also not wrong; any moment to be noticed should be taken and made the most of. If are to come into contact with any of your peers, why not make the best impression possible. You also do not have in it in you to tell your new pupil about the real reason as to why you were making this little trip. Best move through life with your cards close to your chest as your mother tells you. You can only imagine how wide Melanie's hazel eyes would get if you told her what you had up your sleeve.

Much like how you help the girls around you cultivate their futures, you must look out for your own as well. Your phone dings, and you smile when you check the notification.

Aemond Targaryen.

Archaic, some would say. Sending the feminist movement back 50 years, many could argue. Being realistic is more how you would put it. You have money, sure. Your parents have afforded you all the opportunities they wanted you to have, and for that you are grateful. But you are not naive; this is still very much a man's world. No matter how much money you have, there will be people who will look at you and hate you for having the gall to want more. For having ideas and wanting to express them. For looking the way, you do - for using the way you look against them.

You may not be able to have a seat at the table... but you can have someone build another for you.

Your family may have resources and money. But they do not have 'my father can use company family buy his way into politics; my mom has ancestry that traces back to French royalty' reach.

Luckily for you, there is someone who does have that access.

A little rough around the edges, but nothing some TLC cannot fix. It was one of your best traits: finding the diamonds in the rough and polishing them off so they shine brighter than before.

You go over to your closet and open the double doors. As your eyes search over the different handbags, you call out back to Melanie.

"Watercolor Dior saddle or creme Bottega Jodie?"

"Dior," she calls back.

You check yourself in the mirror before existing the closet.

"Well," you twirl for Melanie. You run hand over your midi turtleneck dress. You knee length boots clanked around as you moved in a circle.

"Perfect," she beams.

She sees you out to your car. With the window rolled down, she waves you off like a mother seeing their child off for kindergarten.

"Happy studying!"

Sweet and simple, just how you like em.

———

You always thought the best thing about Oxford was how it looked in the fall. The leaves begun to change, sprite green to a blend of red, orange, purple, and brown. Made the most picturesque background. But it seemed like how gently the leaves fell from the trees was the only thing that was coming easily.

Maybe it was naivety on your part, but you thought when you showed up in four-inch patent leather Aquazzura heels and literally no books, Aemond would have got the hint. And yet, here you were talking about the components of stockholder’s equity, as if you cared.

"So," you interrupt him mid rant. "Any fun plans for Winter break? I know it is a while away, but everyone is already taking about what they are doing."

He wrinkles his nose, his glasses being pushes up in the process. "Probably just dinner with the family."

Right. The compound. At least that is what the Targaryen main home looks like. You of course needed to your research.

"Well, there is this crazy Christmas that happens before everyone leaves," you shuffle closer to him, and you hope he gets a whiff of your perfume. "Maybe we can go together?"

Aemond snorts and looks down bit sheepishly. "Highly doubt, I am invited."

You fight the urge to sigh wistfully. Cute, smart, wealthy as fuck... and apparently awfully insecure. Everyone throwing the party should be falling at their knees to have him around. But you have since understood during your time at Oxford that many students here do not understand the opportunities in front of them.

If Aemond had any real confidence, he'd say fuck it because he could buy everyone going if he wanted to. They ignore him because he allows them to. And then you realize he is one of those people; the delusional 'I want to get by on my merit not my name' kind of people.

Oh sweet, silly boy.

"That doesn't matter," you wave him off. "Besides, if anyone says anything, you can just say you're with me. Consider it a thank you for doing this for me."

You let your hand slip on his thigh and squeeze slightly.

"Better yet, let's call it a date."

Rhaenyra would think for the amount of money her family has; they would be able to afford stronger liquor. But she has a feeling that it has nothing to do with money, and more about the 'champagne only' rule Alicent liked.

The expansive backyard was decorated impeccably, as it always is for the annual holiday party that they throw. Twinkly lights in the trees, red and green everywhere, and even a frankly nouveau riche ice sculpture. The affair was black tie, and Rhaenyra could feel the eyes of some guess when she showed up in a red fitted suit. Taking small sips from her glass, she looks around the area. She swears the more years go on, the less she recognizes who is invited to things like this.

"Don't tell me step-mommy has put you in timeout."

She rolls her eyes when she hears a familiar voice. Daemon comes to stand next to her, with a small glass in his hand.

"No, you fucker," Rhaenyra then frowns. "Where did you get the scotch?"

"Why do you think I am in timeout?"

Her uncle always found a way around the rules. Rhaenyra blows air out of her cheeks in annoyance. She looks down at her watch; another rule is that they were required to stay at 2 hours. Only 45 minutes has passed since she arrived.

"Heard you are going to the company retreat this year," Daemon downs the rest of the drink and winces at the burning.

"Someone has to represent the family with dad," she shrugs, a small amount of smugness seeping into her tone. "He asked me to go."

"Hmmm," Daemon smirks at her smugness. "You and Aemond."

Rhaenyra blinks confused. "What?"

"Yup," he leans against the wall. "I suppose Viserys found a new muse."

Rhaenyra snorts at his words but then licks her lips nervously. It sounds cruel to think, but it was never something she ever really worried about - her father preferring her siblings over her. At least not something she worried about in her adulthood. Sure, as a girl, newly off the passing of her mother, seeing her father marry a woman only six years her senior rattled her. Aegon being born shortly after only made things more tense. But, and to his own detriment really, Viserys had made sure she came first.

"I did not know Aemond had an interest in the company in the first place."

"He didn't," Daemon's mouth pinches a little. "Not until... recently."

Rhaenyra follows her uncle's gaze out to where Aemond was standing. He always managed to look more grow up than his sibling, more than Helaena and Aegon. A mimicry that Rhaenyra thinks he picked up from his mother, but something seemed different now.

New haircut, no glasses, new suit. Armani? No, Tom Ford. With a Cartier tie clip and sparking cuff links to match. He is surrounded by some of the lawyers that work at the company.

"Looks like university has done him well," Rhaenyra tries to sound as even keeled as possible. "Good for him."

"No," Daemon sounds bored with her strained pleasantries. "That is what pussy does someone who has never got any before."

Rhaenyra blanches. The last thing she wants to think about is her younger brother having sex. She sets her champagne down in disgust.

"Don't be gross."

Daemon huffs before directing his attention towards the other side of the courtyard. His eyes zero in on Alicent, who tosses her auburn hair over her shoulder as she laughs with a young woman. A pretty young woman.

"Only met this semester and managed to get a holiday party invite, and a seat next to mother dearest. She must some charmer."

"You know," Rhaenyra starts. "Not every woman that is around this family is some sort of ruthless social climber."

"Of course, not every woman. Only the smart ones."

She sighs. That was not just pointed at the girl, but at Alicent too. Even though Alicent grew up with an even cushier life than they did. A type of old money that even the Targaryens had to give credence to. Strangely enough, Daemon seemed to take Viserys remarrying worse than Rhaenyra did. Even Rhaenyra over the years has grown to accept the fate that is their blended family. Accepted it enough to be cordial, albeit sometimes still awkward, with Alicent. They have forever been bonded in having to deal with the moods that come with Viserys Targaryen. But Daemon... it seems like he has never forgiven his brother for the act of moving on. He seemed to only grow more jaded since the divorce from Laena.

"How do you even know this?"

"Aemond told Aegon who told Helaena who told Rhaena who told Baela who told me."

Rhaenyra breaks her gaze from the two women. "Keeping tabs on your nephew that you barely speak to?"

Daemon gave her an empty smile. Almost a little cruel like he would crush her like a bug if it would not so pitiful. "You naive little thing. When you figure things out, let me know."

Rhaenyra wants to ask him what he means by that, but Daemon pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against to leave Rhaenyra alone.

Alone was a feeling she was used to. Rhaenyra often found solace in the loneliness that she found herself stuck in. If she did not find comfort in it, it would swallow her whole. Jaw unhinged and bloodthirsty.

Her eyes went back to the where Alicent and the girl were sitting, but Helaena seemed to replace the girl's place to speak with her mother. Instead of getting chummy with Alicent, the mystery woman had gone over to Aemond. Rhaenyra felt a little queasy watching them. Like watching two little dolls or those silly little cake toppers people get. Picture perfect like the stock photos that came in picture frames.

She shook her head at herself with an internal laugh. Here she was picking apart her baby brother's seemingly first real relationship; she was no better than Daemon if she did that. It was she told herself when she watched one of the wives of the company's lawyers come up to the girl and give her kiss on the cheek. Like they were old family friends.

Rhaenyra suddenly finds herself straightening out her jacket and her heels moving across the outdoor area. Might as well introduce herself... as a kind sister figure, of course.

She has a funny feeling she will be seeing this girl around more often.

#a reader fic? yeah I know lol #this is short but I got this idea #aemond getting the pretty woman treatment lmaoooo #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fic #hotd angst #black!reader

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nataliesfirefly · 8 months

Text

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader

a/n: hello!! this is my first fic i've ever uploaded so i'm pretty nervous, and i don't even know if anyone will read this but i thought i would contribute to the farleigh fics (also i'm obsessed with him)! this will be on an ongoing serious (hopefully) and i have a pretty interesting plot planned so stay tuned! i hope you enjoy and please leave feedback!!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: slight language

part 2, part 3, part 4

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the eccentric summers at Saltburn. It was rich and sultry, it felt free, like all your problems disappeared, like the world didn’t exist outside of the dreamy castle and neatly trimmed hedges. It was just you.

Well, you wish it was just you. You loved Felix’s family, they were always so kind to you. At this point, you were almost part of the Catton family in a way. Every summer, you traveled to Saltburn after a long and exhausting year of school. It was like a reward, you got through the year, so now you get to kick back with the rich people. But the Cattons just had this way about them. They were so out of touch, sheltered in their little rich lives, never having to work for anything just because of a title.

You certainly weren’t rich. Felix convinced you to apply to Oxford University with him, although everyone knew he was going to get in automatically due to the immense amount of wealth his last name carried. You spent countless hours in secondary school making sure to get amazing grades, throwing away your social life and free time. You ended up top of your class, earning a scholarship to Oxford.

It didn’t pay the whole tuition, but it helped, allowing you to have an average job to make some extra money before your first year. Now, it was your second year at Oxford, and you were comfortable.

For Felix, his time at Oxford was never exhausting or difficult. He preferred to spend his time partying, or at the pubs, drinking with all his friends. He never had to worry about his grades or schoolwork, because he didn’t have a scholarship to keep.

He always berated you for staying in every Friday and Saturday night, claiming that you always have your nose in some textbook. You didn’t like partying anyways, and you told him that.

“Please, just come out of your dorm for once. It’ll be fun, promise.” He used to beg, standing in your doorway. But you never ended up going, so finally he just stopped asking.

Besides, everytime you went out somewhere with Felix everyone assumed you two were dating, which earned you many cruel glances from almost every girl in the vicinity. You only saw Felix as a friend, a brother, in a way. He was always very empathetic despite his out of touch perspective on reality.

There was just one person you absolutely hated seeing every summer. Farleigh Start. Ever since you and Felix became friends, he hated your guts. You had no idea why. Maybe it was because you were the only other American around, since you grew up in the states before moving to England in your early teens. However, you couldn’t figure out why that would cause a rivalry between you two.

At Oxford, he always made fun of you for trying so hard. He just didn’t get it. He had everything given to him on a silver platter, a privilege of being close to the Catton family.

You tried to ignore him, but every single sarcastic or petty remark from his mouth made your blood boil with a rage you had never felt before. You couldn’t avoid him, because wherever Felix was, there was Farleigh. But at Saltburn, it was worse. You were forced to always be near him for two whole months and see that annoying little smirk on his face whenever he insulted you.

As you begin to organize your things in the guest room, you hear the shuffling of footsteps by your open door. You glance up from your suitcase, crouched on the floor, narrowing your eyes to see who is in the hallway.

It’s Farleigh. Of course it is, you think. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame, his curly hair adding to his height. He has this stupid grin on his face, like he’s about to say something to insult you.

“I had a feeling you were here. Everything just felt… annoying.” He has a cigarette in hand, taking a drag from it after his sentence. “Can you not smoke in my room, idiot?” You stand up, pressing a hand to your forehead in annoyance.

“Calm down. It’s not gonna kill you,” He crosses his arms and chuckles at you. “Afraid of a little smoke?” He teases in a mocking voice. “No, I just hate the smell. Get out, you’re taking up space.” You wave your hand, gesturing for him to leave as you approach him, ready to slam the door in his face if needed.

“Oh, I think you’re the one taking up space.” He lets out another breath of smoke, causing you to cough as it practically falls right in your face.

“Alright. Funny. Now leave,” You glare up at him, your brows furrowed in frustration. He scoffs and finally turns on his heel, walking down the hallway to Felix’s room, you assume. “So boring,” He mutters under his breath, but you heard loud and clear.

You decide to ignore his last little comment, groaning and closing the door, returning to your organizing.

A little while later, a knock sounds on your door. You climb off of your large bed and swing the door open, greeted by Venetia.

You both squeal and she immediately wraps her arms around you, nearly knocking you off of your feet. You and Venetia have become very close, and she’s almost like an older sister to you.

“Welcome back,” She grins, pulling away from the tight embrace. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” I reply, playing with a strand of her blonde hair. “Well, it’s been since last summer.” You two tried to stay in touch by texting or emailing every once in a while, but it was difficult with how busy you were.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She jumps on your bed and sits there like she’s waiting for you to tell her something.

“What?” You ask, giggling at the way she’s looking expectantly at you. “Have you found a boyfriend yet?” She questions, smirking mischeviously. “No! No, I don’t have time for that.” You shake your head, hanging up a dress in your closet.

“Oh my God, you’re killing me! You say that every single time. Have you ever heard of, like, a hook-up? One night stand?” She exclaims. “That doesn’t take any time at all. No commitment. Just trying something out,” Venetia throws her hands up.

“Well, I don’t want to right now. I have no interest in it.” You return to your suitcase, grabbing a pair of shorts and folding them, desperately hoping to change the subject.

You had experience in the things Venetia spoke about. Your first year at Oxford, you certainly lost control of a few things. You were just being young and dumb, confused and curious about what these college boys had to offer. It never brought you any real pleasure, just a distraction and a story to tell your girlfriends the next day at dinner.

You’d never had a real, long-lasting relationship either. It just didn’t interest you, especially since you were so focused on doing well in school and keeping your scholarship. Venetia stills insists on finding you a boyfriend or matching you up with a stranger.

“Look, I made that mistake my first year. Random dudes. I could’ve gotten an STD or some shit,” You throw the folded shorts into a drawer. “But it was fun, right?” She chews on one of her nails, watching you pace around the room.

“No. Not really. They didn’t do anything for me. Most of the time I was half asleep.” You shrug nonchalanty as Venetia laughs loudly. “Damn. Well, then you just found the wrong guys.”

“Then where do you find the right ones?” You ask, whipping around to face her. She shrugs. “I don’t know, they just kind of… flock to me. Like birds.” There’s a pause of silence before you both burst out in laughter. “Yeah, whatever.” You roll her eyes although you know there’s some truth to that statement. It was always effortless for her.

“I’m gonna find you someone. Trust me. You deserve the best of the best,” She grins and stands up, stepping out of your room. “I’ll see you at dinner!” She calls over her shoulder as she starts down the hall.

Dinner feels like nothing has changed. You all sit around the dining table having casual conversations about school and gossip while enjoying some traditional English food.

Unfortunately, you’ve been sat right across from Farleigh. You can barely glance up from your plate without catching one of his cold glares. You spaced out for a moment and as you zone back in, you realize the topic has shifted to relationships and dating.

Felix nudges your arm, pointing his fork at you. “What about you?” You glance over to him. “What?” You ask, unsure of what he’s questioning.

“Have you got a boyfriend yet?” He replies, tilting his head. You feel the rest of the table staring you down as you try to think of an answer.

“Uhh, no. Not yet.” You lower your head down, hoping your hair will hide your reddening face.

“She’s incapable of that,” Farleigh interjects quickly. “I mean, it’s never been easy for her.” He chuckles slightly, amused at himself. You raise your gaze to him, trying not to show how his comments just affected you.

“Farleigh, don’t be rude.” Elspeth shoots him a glare and shakes her head. Felix pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, really. All the guys at Oxford are dicks anyway. Don’t deserve someone as kind as you,” You can tell he pities you and is trying to make you feel better.

You look back to Farleigh. “Farleigh, I don’t remember the last time you dated someone. When was it, like, two years ago?” You tilt your head tauntingly and wait for his reaction, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my love life,” He shoots back. He’s skilled at hiding his reactions and it kills you.

“It’s just so bleak and desperate it’s hard not to notice it,” You pucker your lips to demonstrate fake sadness.

“Alright, you two. Calm down,” Felix holds up his hands, shaking his head.

“I think that she’s just focused on school right now. As she should be, I mean, that’s why you guys are there. To get an education.” Venetia quickly comes to your rescue, seated on the other side of you.

“Right. Right, I agree.” Elspeth adds, nodding aggressively.

Your eyes meet Farleigh’s again, and this time its an even sharper glare with that familiar taunting and mocking vibe. You feel yourself burn up with rage. You try to hold eye contact with him but you end up glancing away due to the heat creeping across your face.

Later that night, you are walking through one of the many dark hallways of the mansion. You still get lost sometimes, despite the many summers you have spent here. You stop to glance out a window, marvelling at the vast courtyard and landscape beyond, pale moonlight shining down and casting large shadows.

You continue walking quietly, attempting to get back to your room, but for some reason you realize you are on the other side of the house. These hallways have never been easy to navigate, especially at night. You curse under your breath and shake your head, continuing in the same direction.

You pass a door that is slightly ajar, and out of curiosity, you pause and take a few steps back. You peer through the crack, and you swear your heart drops to your ass when you realize this is Farleigh’s room.

He’s sitting on his bed, reading a book. You’ve never seen him so peaceful. His face is relaxed, instead of the usual scowl or sneer. After a moment of you staring at him, Farleigh suddenly closes his book and reaches over to place it on his bedside table, causing him to glance in the direction of the door. He looks away, then looks back, doing a double take as he seems to notice your presence.

Fuck. You wince as you step back from the door, trying to make up your mind on whether you should try to escape or just deal with the repurcussions of your creepy behavior you didn’t even mean.

But your legs won’t seem to obey what your brain is telling them to do. You are just frozen, stuck in place as Farleigh opens the door all the way.

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up at my door,” He crosses his arms in amusement, a smug smile across his face.

“I got lost. That’s all.” You run a hand through your hair while shaking your head. “And does getting lost also consist of watching me from outside my door?” He tilts his head. You shake your head quickly.

“No. That’s not what I was doing. Don’t flatter yourself,” You look back up at him and roll your eyes.

“Right.” Farleigh nods, not looking very convinced. “Never took you for a stalker.” He adds with a taunting smirk.

You let out a sigh of exasperation, turning away and facing the long stretch of the hallway. “Okay, I’ll be going now.” You raise a hand to wave before starting down the hall. “Goodnight!” Farleigh calls after you in a singsong voice, making you clench your fists in anger.

You didn’t really remember when the hatred between you two started. You did remember, however, the evening you two met.

It was your first summer at the Saltburn estate, and you were still in secondary school. You were extremely nervous since you had to be on your best behavior around these rich people. What were you even supposed to say? Or do?

You and Felix arrived together that afternoon, and after a tour of the mansion from Felix and an hour or so to yourself, you were going downstairs for dinner.

You walked in to the dining room, standing close behind Felix, before taking a seat at the long table next to him.

A tall boy with dark, curly hair sat on the other side of you. You looked over and smiled at him. You assumed that this was Felix’s cousin, Farleigh, since Felix had shown you a few pictures of them together.

He looked expensive. His jewlery, his clothes, the overall aura surrounding him seemed rich. It made sense, since he was considered a member of the Catton family. Felix informed you that his father paid for Farleigh’s education and everything else as a way to say sorry for whatever family drama had happened. You couldn’t remember the long story.

“Farleigh! This is my new friend from school,” Felix said as he introduced you. You offered a small wave.

“So you must be the cousin I’ve heard so much about,” You said. Farleigh glanced at Felix with a confused expression.

“She’s American?” He asked. Felix nodded and nudged you to continue talking. “Yeah, I grew up in the states. I moved here when I was thirteen,” You explained. Farleigh just stared at you, expressionless.

“Cool,” He said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care about anything you just said. “So, are you two dating?” He asked, gesturing to you and Felix.

“Oh- No, no. Just friends,” You chuckled and Felix did the same after sharing a quick glance with you. You really were just good friends, you got along well, but no one believed it.

“Right.” Farleigh scoffed and rolled his eyes. Felix leaned in slightly and muttered, “Ignore him.” You couldn’t help but turn back to Farleigh.

“So, how did school go for you this year?” You asked with a smile. “Alright, I guess.” You could tell he was annoyed by your questions as he sighed and looked around.

“Okay, be a dick, then.” You muttered, giving up on trying to make conversation with him. At this, he sat straighter and turned to you. “And what are you, some scholarship kid? How did you get into a school like Westminster?” He furrowed his brows and his tone became harsh.

“Oh, by being smart and passing the entrance exam. Not everything is achieved with just money,” You replied back, maintaining your composure effortlessly.

“And you would know that,” He responded in a lowered voice, but you heard loud and clear.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the rest of the family sat down at the table, meaning dinner was about to commence. All you could do was shoot knives at him with your eyes and hope he would notice. This was going to be a long summer.

The next day you sit with Venetia on the grass by the lake. She convinced you to come out with her to tan, and you figured it might be good for you considering how pale your skin is from staying indoors all the time. You hardly ever got any sun besides walking around on campus, but right now you were enjoying the warmth.

You lean back, using your forearms for support against the grass. You still feel a bit self conscious since you can’t remember the last time you wore a bikini this risqué.

“Why don’t you wear stuff like this more often?” Venetia asks, turning her head to face you. “You look like a model, seriously.” She grins and takes a sip of her drink.

You shrug. You glance out at the lake and admire the way the sun reflects off the surface, all the little ripples and overgrowth of leaves near the side.

“There they are. Hey, you two!” You perk up at Felix’s voice. You sit up a bit to look over your shoulder, but your excitement is soon diminished when you notice Farleigh walking next to him. You quickly turn your attention back to the lake.

You feel someone’s presence behind you. You throw your head back, looking up to see Farleigh peering down at you.

“You actually got her to go outside for once? Shocking,” He chuckles. You follow him with your eyes as he walks closer to the edge of the lake with Felix. “Leave her alone, Farleigh.” Venetia replies in an agitated tone.

A few moments later, Felix is taking off his shirt and tossing it to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair, then promptly jumps into the lake. Farleigh follows suit, and you know you shouldn’t be watching. But just like last night, you can’t take your eyes off of him.

Your eyes trail down his back, and you notice his muscles flexing as he takes his shirt off. You subconsciously bite your lip, then remember it’s fucking Farleigh. You mentally curse at yourself before peeling your gaze away, trying to focus on anything but him.

For some reason, you can’t shake the image of a shirtless Farleigh from your mind. You wished he had turned around so you could see the front of him, or even– No. Stop!

You decide to go inside before your thoughts get the best of you. You stand up abruptly, causing Venetia to look up at you.

“Where are you off to?” She asks, lowering her sunglasses. “Uhh… I’m just really hot. I’ll see you later,” As you start back, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Farleigh is watching you go.

You catch his gaze, and despite the heat, you shiver as his eyes trail up and down your exposed body. You can’t explain why your heart starts racing or why you want him to keep watching you. You hate him. You hate him, but you’re so curious about what it would feel like to have his hands on your waist or in your hair. You hate him so much, but you wonder how it would feel to be underneath him, completely under his control.

But you hate him, right?

#farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh saltburn #saltburn #x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you

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drdemonprince · 2 months

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can i ask for some sex advice? im a bisexual trans guy, i’ve been with cis women and had hookups with a cis guy where he just went down on me. i’m generally attracted to all genders, but sexually i find myself turned off/repulsed by penises and cum so i’ve only pursued hookups with ppl with vulvas (so far cis women and other ftms) or situations where i don’t have to interact with the penis. totally fine with trans women and femmes who are post-op, etc. i’ve just been worried that i’m gross/transphobic/a chaser? even though im bi i feel like a shitty person for not being into dick.

Hey, thanks for the question. I think it is a good thing to be asking oneself. I think that even if you were to conclude that your attitudes were transphobic, I don't think the solution would be pushing yourself to have sex you didn't want to have or trying to force yourself to "get over" the associations that you have. That won't work, and it's not your fault for having them. What matters is how we treat people, not what fleeting thoughts and emotions we might have privately, which is part of why it is so annoying for cis people to act as if they are persecuted for having a "genital preference" or whatever. The problem isn't their feelings. It's their exclusionary, cruel, often violent actions and the words they express publicly.

I think it's worth contemplating that many trans femme people have absolutely no desire to use their penises during sex, or can't because of various medical issues, and do not produce cum that looks anything like the way most cis men produce cum. How would you feel about a trans woman who does have a penis using a strap-on on you? About you two fisting each other? About you using a hitachi magic wand on her? How do you feel when you see a trans guy with a post-phalloplasty cock? Try to reflect on questions like these with curiosity and not judgement.

Maybe you will explore your feelings and find that there are still barriers; maybe for example you wouldn't feel comfortable going down on someone's penis, but would be happy to be fucked with a strap-on by someone who has a penis, or to fuck them. That's okay. Lots of trans women want exactly that kind of sexual encounter anyway. And lots more are open minded and recognize that T4T sex is experimental and free-floating and doesn't have to involve any specific sex acts. Negotiating these things should be done delicately and respectfully, but it is always fine to say "I don't do [xyz]" or "I don't want to do xyz right now."

I relate more to your question that you might know, albeit from a different direction. I have a lot of dysphoria about having a vagina; though PIV can feel good, what I most picture myself as having in my mind's eye is nothing at all between my legs. I hate receiving oral, as I've talked about a lot, but I'm also dysphoric about and disturbed by giving oral to a person with a vagina. I have also experienced a lot of sexual trauma that involved a (typically cis male) partner forcing or pressuring me to have sex with cis women. That's happened to me many times over the course of my life. It's also made facing any pressure whatsoever to have sex with women (either cis or trans) deeply triggering and upsetting to me.

All of my own personal hang-ups and traumas have left me feeling funnily very much like that one line from Saltburn, "Women are too wet. Men are so lovely and dry."

I do get into my head about it being super transphobic of me sometimes. But I have also had fun, carefree, experimental, gratifying, hot sex with trans men with vaginas. I might not be able to eat them out, but there's lots I can do. I can finger them, put my hands in them, eat their asshole, take their strap, suck their strap-on, kiss them, fondle them, play with their nipples, be fucked alongside them, writhe atop a single hitachi together with them, slap their ass, put a dildo in them, whatever. I just don't want to eat them out or have them eat me out, for the most part.

It would be highly understandable if a trans guy felt invalidated by my feeling that way or didn't want to have sex with me given those limits. that's fine. I understand this stuff is fraught and sucks sometimes. I don't talk about my feelings around this topic publicly often because it is so contentious and I don't want feelings to be hurt. But in my heart I'm comfortable with where I am at. I know which limits I have that seem immovable and I don't really want to push them ever again. Having those limits pushed is what traumatized me. At the same time, I know it's not connected in any way to seeing trans men as lesser than cis men, or as less attractive, and I know it's not a barrier to me having sex with trans men if the moment and our interests both align. I'm not a bad person for feeling this way. It's actually really hard to be trans and to be wired this way. But I'm doing the best I can with it to both grow, and not be an asshole, and also to find fulfillment.

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manicpixiefelix · 8 months

Text

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

Part 13.

Summary: As you promised, you spend the morning with Farleigh as moral support for Oliver's upcoming visit. Perhaps getting reasonably high and discussing your sex life wasn't the best move, all things considered, but it definitely seemed like a good idea at the time.

{ masterpost }

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

Warnings: suggestive themes, kind of explicit discussions about sex, reader gets high and is high for the second half of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 6673 words. OH WE ARE SO BACK. we get to spend more time with farleigh this chapter, i love him so very much omg. also the reader's experiences/behaviour while stoned is definitely reflective of my experience, and everyone experiences these things differently so that's that. also felix being down So Bad for the reader when they're high because of how fucking adorable he thinks they are??? man is In Love. but please, leave a comment letting me know how we're feeling about getting back into it after a break for some AU and oneshot shenanigans! next chapter will be from oliver's POV and im THRILLED about it.

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

----

On your first morning back at Saltburn, you wake to the smell of cigarette smoke. Felix is beside you, sitting up against his headboard, cigarette in one hand and book in the other. Groggily you lean over, bumping your forehead to his lowered elbow, and he smiles down at you. In the morning light, Felix is ethereal; at Saltburn, in his element, completely relaxed and at home, he glows.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up next to him, it feels like hundreds, possibly thousands at this point, but something about this, the thousand and first, is different. Is better. Soon enough this dream-space will be broken by the idea of breakfast, and the anticipation of Oliver arriving, but right now you bask in this one, tiny piece of perfect.

Your room.

"My Felix," you mumble mostly to yourself in the morning light. It's more like a sigh, like a dreamy reminder of the Summer to come. Felix goes pink, which you don't even see, eyes closed and wearing a blissful, sleepy expression, half pressed to the pillow by his side.

You'll never be entirely privy to the ongoing thoughts of Felix Catton, no matter how well it may seem that you can read them. But you've always wondered. Sometimes you ask, and you know he wouldn't lie to you, but you always find yourself curious about the things he leaves unsaid. Not now, of course, now you're falling back asleep, but it's moments like this, moments you wonder about how he perceives the vague, offhand possessiveness - or overt possessiveness, if that afternoon you'd spent meticulously marking him said anything - you so frequently display. It's not always intentional. You wonder if he's ever found it off-putting.

It's never been a conversation the two of you have outright had; why not me? Why not only me? It's never had to be asked; beautiful, fanciful people should not be confined. What a shallow answer. Because you are the home I will always come back to, I promise, I promise, I promise. But there's no way to say that out loud. There never has been, even if you've both known it for years.

But none of that plagues you now; the bed and the early morning are both pleasantly warm. The heat from Felix sitting beside you is as comforting and familiar as is the smell of his cigarette amongst the fresh air from the open window. You're drifting back off for what little more sleep you could capture before the day begins, and you don't see the way Felix is watching you in this moment.

There are no eyes on Felix now, no-one to watch, no-one to judge. No-one else who knows how you smile when you sleep next to him.

Breakfast has everyone else in the house buzzing. Venetia's hungry-eyed across the table from Farleigh, her food practically untouched as she demanded as much information from him as possible after complaining about you and Felix being stubbornly tight-lipped. As you hear them gossip, you and Felix share an exasperated look at the edge of the room, you with two plates of food and him with two steaming mugs, before you both head back to the table.

"Y/N, dear," Elspeth cuts over Farleigh's sarcastic remarks about Oliver's fashion choices the minute you settle yourself down. Looking to her with a polite smile, as was custom, she smiles back, "Duncan has put together our Summer event schedule for you, would you still like it to be left in the lilac study?" You nod, quiet and grateful, trying to start on your breakfast before she adds, "as always we've made particular note of the events which your parents have been included as part of the guest list for, so please do just let us know ahead of time whether you plan to be in attendance also -"

"Mum," Felix hissed, to which Elspeth looked rather confused and startled, as if she couldn't understand what she'd done wrong. Pamela, as ginger as you'd ever seen her, and clearly having come back to the house despite not having been here over Christmas, looks to you with that doe-eyed softness that she always seem to have.

"Darling, I didn't know you had parents," she mused with her trademark far-away tone of voice. Her words, however, set off both Farleigh and Venetia, who couldn't help but laugh, and even Felix was grinning behind his mug.

"Of course they have parents, Pamela," Elspeth whispered loudly to her, clearly embarrassed on the woman's behalf, while you just tried to enjoy breakfast, and the absurdity of it all.

"No, I always thought-" Pamela frowned for a minute, looking between Elspeth and Sir James, "aren't they one of yours?" Her gaze turning back upon you, then to Felix next to you, "I recall something about you two being twins, isn't that right?"

"No, dear, that's not -" Elspeth is desperately trying to salvage the conversation despite Venetia all but crying with laughter. Both yourself and Felix, after sharing a vaguely horrified look about the whole situation, try to focus on your breakfasts, even as Elspeth continues, "Pamela please don't say something so crass at the table."

"What's crass about the idea of Y/N and Felix being twins, Auntie Elspeth?" Farleigh asks, wearing a smile that's all teeth as his Aunt freezes momentarily. Venetia's laughing has gone past the point of being audible.

Felix chokes on the coffee he's been trying to hide behind, right as your eggs go down your windpipe and send you into a coughing fit.

"When was Oliver set to arrive again?" Sir James asks like he's absolutely oblivious to the situation that has arisen at his breakfast table, instead lowering his paper to smile brightly at his son.

"Um," Felix takes half a moment to compose himself once more, before levelling a weak smile at his father, "I believe his train gets in at three."

"Wonderful," ever enthusiastic, James nods, "we'll have a car sent out and waiting for him." As if the Cattons have ever made anyone catch a taxi if they didn't have a town car of their own. Forever eager to be the perfect hosts.

"Do you think he even knows what a town car is?" Farleigh asks disdainfully, which sets Elspeth off and cooing about the sorry state of their upcoming guest, while you attempted to swat Farleigh's arm for his comment.

"Hey, no," he leans out of your reach, all but oozing contempt at the reminder of Oliver's impending arrival, "you're my ally in this today, you promised; no being bitchy about my opinions just because I don't want to save a horse, ride a pauper like you do -" even as you snap at him, the eyes of most of the table are on you in an instant.

"Farleigh," you snarled under your breath, feeling yourself growing flustered.

"You're a dreadful fucking pest," Felix frowns at his cousin around you, but Farleigh merely shrugged without even a shred of remorse. Several pairs of newly intrigued eyes are still fixed on you.

"Felix had mentioned that you were fond of Oliver, pet, isn't that right?" Elspeth began tentatively. You kind of wished your chair would spontaneously collapse beneath you, if only to give everyone something else to talk about. Alas, it remained sturdy, and you remained pinned like a butterfly beneath Elspeth and Venetia's gazes, "I never really thought to ask what you thought of the boy, which is foolish of me, he's your friend too, is he not?"

"Clearly," Venetia said, smile surprisingly wolfish.

Oliver's constantly searching eyes shine blue as the sky in your mind. Everything Oliver Quick says, does, and is, seems so deliberate; he's constantly a man with more thoughts than words, so you know that what he chooses to say always has meaning. You love that he's capable of directness that so many others will shy away from, but is able to chatter through small talk if it's to be had. He can read a room and let it affect his approach without feeling the need to change himself; that's why so many of your friends back at Oxford found him so off-putting. It's one of the things you loved about him.

Oliver is Oliver at the club, at the pub, walking to class, in the grocery store listening to you and Felix argue about pasta sauce, in your bed, smiling at you and kissing you and murmuring the kinds of things to you that none's ever taken the time to say, the kinds of things that makes your heart beat hard against your ribs and in your throat in a way that you don't get from people who aren't Felix anymore -

"Uh, yeah, he's a good friend," you shrug and try to seem as nonplussed about the discussion as you're able to, while your eyes are all but burning holes into your plate, "he's really quite lovely, and he's got such a beautiful, unique face; I think you'll be very charmed by him, Elspeth." Beside you, Felix coughs very deliberately to cover a laugh.

Chancing a glance at him, you're both pleased and vaguely mortified to see, not the jealousy you would have seen perhaps a week ago during a discussion like this where he is privy to far too much information about your feelings regarding Oliver. Instead, you see your best friend trying not to laugh at your casual act knowing your casual 'he's a good friend' and 'he's really quite lovely' actual means 'I've been absolutely railed by the young gentleman coming to stay at our house, so yes you could say I adore him'. This is much better than the jealousy. This is one of the many reasons you love having Felix as a best friend. You also desperately wished you weren't at the breakfast table with the entire rest of his family.

Elspeth, however, seems pleased enough by the answer to let you finish your breakfast in peace. Felix does too, but he's wearing this amused little knowing smile the entire time. Okay, if it means Felix isn't being weird and jealous about it, you'll take it.

After breakfast, you allow Farleigh to pull you outside to the picnic table you'd had installed in the middle of your favourite flower garden. He'd asked you to paint his nails, promising to return the favour, claiming to desperately want to spend his last hours of freedom surrounded by beauty while he could.

"You're mad at me," he says bluntly as you're concentrating on painting the nails on his left hand black. Like Freddy Mercury used to, he'd told you.

"No..." you murmured distractedly, trying to wipe carefully at where you'd gotten a bit on his skin.

"You don't have to be here," Farleigh could be heard rolling his eyes, and as you dipped the brush back into the bottle, you paused for a moment, looking up at him in genuine confusion.

"You asked me to spend time with you today," like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You are aware that you're not actually a robot, right?" It surprises you how genuinely concerned he looks in this moment, leaning forwards, as if proximity would better impart the importance of his words, "you don't have to do just what everyone says; you have free will."

Looking down at the bottle, as if to continue your work and not to hide your expression, you once again tell him that you know. You move onto the next nail, and Farleigh falls silent.

It is beautiful out here. The garden itself that you found yourselves in was actually considered to be yours. It had been a birthday gift from James and Elspeth after hearing some of your idle musings as a late teen. It was an overwhelming offer, one you'd tried to turn down countless times; there were books about the Saltburn Estate as it was, they shouldn't allow you to alter it in any way! But they'd been terribly insistent. Our home is your home. You won't even lie; you started crying on the spot at that.

They'd asked you if you wanted to hire people to get it all taken care of, and while you'd accepted in part, the actual planting and initial maintaining of the garden itself was something you put an entire Summer into.

A circular design with a beautiful vine-covered arch as it's entrance, two thick rows of flowers in various shades of pinks, blues, purples, and whites bordering the outside, with a bubbling stream separating them. Smooth stones lead through the arch to a circular opening of lush, green grass, itself encircled by another small stream. The picnic bench sat at the back of the inner circle, while several small white chairs and benches with ornate tables between them sat either side, still leaving a generous patch of grass that you'd often had picnics on in the years since it's creation.

When you had come back over the following break after the garden had been completed, you see that a single statue had been placed flush against the back of the picnic table, between it and the edge of the stream, fitting perfectly. Far more understated than most of the other statues littering the Saltburn estate, it was of a young woman, her hair tied back and looking even to be quite short if you looked at it the right way, in a surprisingly shapeless toga, arm raised, hand poise to her mouth as if she's about to eat whatever's in her hand. Four large seeds. The figure looks gleeful at the prospect of eating them. The figure kind of almost looks like you. But you've always brushed it off; you're not that vain.

The Cattons have always had loved their mythology.

The family called it the Fairy Ring Garden, and Elspeth especially enjoyed hosting gatherings there.

Now, it was peaceful, just as Farleigh had hoped, smelling sweet even when the flowers weren't all in their full bloom. You cap the bottle, reaching for the top coat.

"They're not going to kick you out," Farleigh breaks the silence as you're shaking up the formula and waiting for his nails to dry. But his words have you stopping dead.

"I never said I thought they would..." you say slowly, while something uncomfortable begins to gnaw at your stomach. Farleigh's expression, while unimpressed at what he knows is a lie, is still full of that concern.

"But you do think it."

Logically, rationally, you know they won't. But you also know that you can't even bring yourself to say it in a way that was believable. Farleigh's looking at you like you're a puzzle he can't even being to solve, a friend with a problem he doesn't know how to talk through. So you ignore the comment altogether.

"I am mad at you," you say instead, looking up at him with a humourless smile.

"About... this?" He frowns.

"About implying that I have the hots for Oliver at the breakfast table, you dick," and you got back to shaking the nail polish as Farleigh laughs in that sharp and familiar way that breaks all the rest of the tension.

"I was not expecting breakfast to be such a shitshow," he wheezes with laughter, his free hand coming to rest on his chest as he kept his hand with it's black nails still on the table for you, "Pamela is a riot, God I love her."

"Where did she get the impression that Fi and I were twins?" You crows with amusement, which just set Farleigh off again, "and Elspeth's horror at the thought - did you see her face?!"

"I'm not even lying to you, I didn't realise she like, actually knew you and Felix were boning until she made that comment to Pamela -" Farleigh grinned with a scandalous little gasp.

"I hardly did either, except yesterday she got all weird about Fi and I officially sharing a room while Oliver was here, and it was clearly because she knew we sleep together; I have no idea how much she knows, or how long she's known, but she definitely knows," you offered with a smirk, while Farleigh ate up the gossip with glee.

As your focus returned to your work on the final layer of polish on his fingers, the conversation died down for several, serene minutes.

"Felix is going to show Oliver to his room when he arrives -" Farleigh's voice was unfortunately once more laced with disdain.

"Can I ask what your genuine problem is with him?"

It's quiet, but there's a distinct, irate hum from across the table after half a minute. Farleigh, when you glance up at him, is frowning down at his fingers, at you painting the final one, carefully cultivating his thoughts.

"There is an inherent unwillingness to engage in the stylistic aspects of, well, everything, despite how he is a constant, lurking watcher of the world, and must still see the value that is placed on it, that I find... off-putting," he says very carefully, and the minutes you've finished his nails, he picks up the base coat from the table and starts shaking it, waiting for you to present your hands for him to return the favour. "He acts like this weak, little mouse, but he's the cat, always watching every fucking thing, judging all of us but pretending like he's not and he's innocent. He's like you, but at least you're upfront about it," it's not a surprise when he finishes your first hand and looks up to gauge your reaction.

It's the second time someone's compared you to Oliver. Somehow you think you like this comparison better. Still, it feels strange to hear. Farleigh only waits for half a second, however, before he starts on the next hand.

"You..." you too carefully pick your next words, "have clearly put some thought into this."

"Adriana is going to hear a lot about Oliver tomorrow in our session; I'm trying to put some of the work in before I get there," he says flatly, though you can't help but genuinely smile.

"Adriana?"

"Therapist; phone session scheduled for tomorrow. Organised it before I knew about yours and Felix's little coup of my Summer, but I'm more than glad for it now."

"You're still going to those sessions? Good for you, man."

"Yeah, mom and Uncle James thought it might help me stick it out at Oxford," he sucks his teeth loudly for a second, "guess they were right." Then, without even looking up, "she still think you need therapy too," he practically sings, and you hum noncommittally. Farleigh's mentioned once or twice that the few times he'd brought you up in his own sessions, his therapist had seemed reasonably concerned about you. You had chosen to ignore it before, and you would continue ignoring it now.

"You brought weed, right?" That was the other thing about the Fairy Circle Garden, it was tradition to get high if it was any combination of the four of you children. Farleigh grins as he finishes off your left hand, both because your obvious attempt to dodge his statement, and because yeah, obviously.

"Let me finish your nails first; did you bring your iPod?"

"Of course."

You'd chosen a pale, gold polish, something almost close to a cream colour, that sparkled in the light, and spent the entire time Farleigh was furiously searching his pockets for his lighter admiring them.

In the afternoon sun, you and Farleigh lay in the grass of the Fairy Circle Garden, sharing a joint and listen to a shuffled mix of Queen songs. Elspeth had put one of their albums on after dinner, which the whole family let themselves enjoy, and it had been on all your minds ever since.

"Can I ask you something?" Farleigh mumbles, holding his hand up to the sky to admire the shiny, black polish adorning his nails.

"My dearest Fars," you grinned widely at him, "you can ask me anything ever in the world; it's me, you know this, but -" you turn faux serious, though only for a second, taking back the almost finished joint, "now you can ask me anything." And you breathe deeply, letting the smoke sit in your lungs, passing the last of it back to Farleigh. He takes his time, however, and your head swirls the longer you let the smoke settle in your lungs.

"I genuinely cannot picture Oliver being any fucking good in bed," he blurts out, and turns to you; unfortunately there's a look in his eyes that's genuine rather than disdainful, "granted," he amends, seemingly actually reasonable about this, "sometimes my mind does replace him with the puppet version of Pinocchio, from the cartoon - I'm actually not trying to be mean here, my brain just does that -" while you're actually rolling on the grass with laughter, both from his apparent situation, but also because the weed has definitely already hit you.

"Farleigh, oh my god -"

"Stop it," he's starting to sound genuinely distressed, "I've had sex with you, I know what you've got going on down there; I can't stop vividly imagining you getting puppet dick!" Your attempts to comfort him aren't particularly successful when you're still cackling even as you try and hug him. At least he accepts it, returns your hug despite sulking at your continued laughter. Then, and you can actually hear him getting over his distressed bit as he adds, "it's wooden, right? And it grows like his nose?"

It takes you a full five minutes to calm down from your laughter once more, but at least this time Farleigh's laughing too.

"Christ, Fars -" you're wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, sitting up, your legs crossed. Farleigh is still stretched out, lounging on his side and propped up on his elbow, "I'm never going to be able to watch Pinocchio again."

"Now you know how I feel," he shrugs, "and that was before I knew you'd -"

"Whatever weird, possible puppet-based euphemism -"

"Oh, you know me so well," he smirked, though the look in his eyes is warm.

"- I'll pass on," a lull comes in the conversation, and you lay yourself back once more. Checking your watch, you're surprised that there's still quite some time before lunch, "why would I lie?" You lower your arm, and prop your hands behind your head. Farleigh makes a confused noise, "about Oliver; do you think I'm lying?"

"My dearest Y/N," he echoes your tone and affection from minutes earlier, before sliding to his more familiar cadence, "you can, will, and have gotten in bed with every person who's caught your fancy. I have watched you transcend sexuality literally all over the globe, and I know from countless personal experiences - thank you by the way - that you rate sex by how good you can make your partner feel," he looks up at you for just a moment where he's laying on his back like he's remembering those countless personal experiences and you do not have the self restraint to not roll onto your side to face him, to watch him. Farleigh both knows what you're doing, while also finally making his point; "I don't think Oliver Quick is good in bed, I think you just made that man find God."

It's quite the compliment, and if it were anyone else, he'd probably be right.

"Fars-" your smile widens bashfully, and he has to close his eyes for a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't say my name like that, you're derailing the conversation," he mumbles, sounding rather bashful.

"Like what?"

"The way you do when you're high," he huffs an embarrassed breath, cracking an eye open to look at you. You hadn't realised that there was any special way that you would say it, but you apologise faintly, shifting yourself to lay at an angle, your head on his chest, facing him. Farleigh closes his eyes again, wearing a faint smile as he runs his fingertips up and down your arm in a soothing, repetitive gesture. Which does nothing but feel like teasing in your current state.

"Why do you care so much about Oliver's dick-game?" You try and focus. It catches Farleigh off guard, judging by his bark of laughter.

"As you have so thoroughly pointed out at least twice by now, the man has a limited number of features that would be arguably hot on someone with a better personality -"

"Oh, right," you nodded, "your repressed crush on my poor friend who you hate," tone flat, you brace for whatever response you know you will get, but still yelp when you receive a hard pinch on the arm. "Those are some big words, by the way; Adriana should give you a gold star - ow! Fine!" You pout, doing your best to cross your arms despite not actually moving yourself from Farleigh. It takes a few beats, but you hear the faintest laugh echo in Farleigh's chest, and moments later he returns to idly running his fingers up and down your arm.

The moment settles around you both, and you let your eyes fall closed. This moment of contentment almost mirrors the one from this morning, but your head swirls too much for it to be entirely perfect.

"I'm not lying," you finally say. Farleigh makes a noise of interest. Eyes still closed, you're kind of willing to bet his are too, "you said so yourself; Oliver's like me, he... watches," you wet your lips, hesitating for a moment, "he listens."

"But you listen," Farleigh says like the equation isn't adding up in his mind. God why did you have to talk about this in the first place, now all you can think about is Oliver, Oliver, Oliver -

Harder, he'd actually listened. Hold me here. Listened. This angle. You can bend me like this. Pull. Bite. Move. Fuck.

You had to open your eyes; Farleigh is watching you, half seemingly aroused by whatever picture he has in his head, half still relatively confused. Every sensation in your mind feels tenfold right now, you could have said any number of things to prove your point, but there's one that sticks. Slowly, you sit up, half bracing yourself over Farleigh, hands planted in the grass either side of him as your silhouette blocks the sun from his face.

"Fars," you've already forgotten that there's something about that nickname that always gets him, even soft and serious like this, "Ollie's the first person outside of Felix who's made me cum before they've gotten the chance to finish in my entire memory."

Farleigh, who'd been grinning up at you, gently running his fingertips across your cheek and down your jaw, actually looks a little stunned.

"That can't be right." He mutters faintly. Your answering expression is grim and telling, "oh my god," with the exact tone of someone discovering shocking, world altering news about situations far less trivial, but the apology in his eyes and faint horror in his voice is rather amusing.

"Doomed to the life of a - what did you call me that one time?" You grinned despite yourself, sitting back a little, "a service bottom?"

"Oh my god I definitely did!" Farleigh lights up at the memory, glad too for the breaking of tension once more, and you rather eagerly add.

"So it was nice to be, you know, be listened to, taken care of the way I kind of take care of people?" You try to put it to words, "but I still- uh, I think I was just a regular- um -"

"Oliver Quick; service top," Farleigh muses like it's of great importance, which is enough to make you laugh once more. But your arms are getting tired of holding you up, and your self restraint is worn past the point of no return, so finally you lean down to kiss him. Farleigh grins against your lips, "hey."

"Hi," you murmur, everything about you radiating a syrupy kind of fondness, "I'm not mad at you."

"Clearly," Farleigh chuckles faintly, pulling you back in. The second day of Summer and it feels like freedom already, and of Summers long passed. Getting high and making out in the Fairy Circle Garden is not an unfamiliar experience, and you'd always considered it a good way to pass the time. In your mind, it seems like a great idea at the time to share another joint together; you end up with Farleigh's knee between your thighs by the time you realise that you're almost late for lunch.

"Oh my god, Fars, they're going to kill us," you couldn't contain your laughter as you briskly made your way back to the house.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Farleigh called out from a few feet behind, and you stopped, looking at him with concern for his urgent tone. Instead, he swooped in with a grin to give you one more kiss before passing you, "they're not going to care," he adds.

"They're so going to care!" You hissed, voice a guilty mix of concerned and amused as you stepped into the house. Then, after a moment, "I care if they know!"

"That is not something I can help you with, pet," Farleigh shrugged, "but I think they might care about the grass stains on our clothes." And with that he swans away, radiating a bright confidence that you can't help but be endeared by in this moment, that distracts you, if only for a second, from your nerves.

Back in your room, the nerves set in tenfold when you find Felix to be there as well.

"How's Farleigh coping?" He asks with a pleasant smile.

Be totally cool and stealthy and not high right before Oliver's meant to arrive. You can do this.

"Surprisingly well," you responded cheerfully, raising your hands to show off your nails, "we listened to Queen," maybe a non sequitur, but not an incriminating one, you tell yourself, "and..." frowning for a moment, you pull at the shoulder of your shirt, trying to examine it for the grassy faux par Farleigh had been accusing you of. As you're trying to figure out if you really do need to change, it appears that your mouth takes on a mind of it's own, adding, distractedly, "... grass stains. Fi-" you look to him with sudden intensity, not having realised that in your attempt to see the back of your shirt, you'd tried to turn to get a better look, like a dog chasing it's own tail, "Fi, is there grass on me?"

Felix, taking you by the shoulders to steady you, is giving you a truly bemused look. It's enough for you to already be pulling away from him, stripping off your shirt to look in your drawers.

"I'm going to kill Farleigh," but you can hear his exasperation is highly coloured with amusement. He chuckles faintly, "and you, probably."

"Ooh~" you mused mostly to yourself, "see, I told Farleigh this would happen," you clicked your tongue as you squinted into the drawer for the perfect replacement. Then, very suddenly, you processed all of what Felix had said; "and boo, don't kill me," you pout, pulling out a button down and taking a few moments to check the size on the tag to see if it was yours or Felix's, "I'm capable of a great many things, Felix," you tell him matter-of-factly as you pull the shirt on. Satisfied with your change in wardrobe, you look to see him sitting on the end of the bed, looking thankfully endeared by your antics, "and we're late to lunch, almost," despite how you strode over to him with purpose, standing yourself between his legs, arms draped around his neck, "poor form showing up late, covered in blood, and with a dead friend in the other room;" he can't help himself, he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, looking up at you with the most loving exasperation in his eyes. However the sound of his laughter is absolutely what you would consider a victory, "see, don't kill me I'm occasionally funny."

"You're so fucking high." He laughed a little helplessly. Drat. At least he seemed to find it funny, leaning forward to press his face against your chest for a long moment as he let out a faint sigh. Felix is warm, his breath on your skin through the fibres of your shirt, his arms around you, knees pressed against your legs; Summer is sweltering, and if he were anyone else you'd be extracting yourself in an instant, but you want to melt into him in this moment.

"Shh," you stage whispered, petting his head, "don't tell Felix, we've got an important guest arriving today," and he looks up to see the apologetic smile you wear as you run your fingers through his hair. You drop the bit, "it seemed like a good idea at the time, then I..." you hummed for a moment, frowning, "lost track of... it. Time."

Felix's gaze softens as he looks at you, eyes shiny and pupils blown wide, holding him so tenderly. Does he even know that he looks at you like that? Does he know how much it means to you?

"You make it frustratingly difficult to - we have lunch-" he has to firmly remind you, even though he is grinning and endeared by your antics, as you bring one leg up over his, knee settling beside him on the bed. Your smile is only guilty because you know it should be, not because you feel any kind of actual guilt. You bring your knee off the bed, but are now straddling his thigh.

"We have lunch," you parrot back with a nod. But Felix's hands are still on you, still wrapped around you and holding you to him, watching you with this look like he's endeared, like he's almost mesmerised by you in this moment; you, who keeps echoing 'we have lunch' until it starts to lose all meaning, and you kind of forget that you're still just standing in your room with Felix, until you're chanting those three words under your breath like a little song that you're bopping along to. Any real thoughts had absolutely left your head about a minute ago.

Felix is watching you with that look in his eyes like he's never loved anyone more in his life.

"I am so hungry," you finally broke out of your little, strange trace, before lighting up, "oh my god we have lunch!" Suddenly enthused, as if you'd forgotten the entire few minutes that had just passed, you step back. Taking Felix's hands, you pull him to his feet as he laughs sweetly, "come on," tugging him through the halls, he lets you lead him by the hand, "once we finish lunch it means its almost time to see Ollie, and we love Ollie!"

Very suddenly three rooms away from the dining hall, you stop. The pace you'd set was eager, so Felix practically crashes into you without a warning, and has to catch you both on a doorframe. You've got your hands flat on his chest, the airy, pale linen shirt he'd chosen for the warm day, staring at them as he's braced over you. Then, very suddenly, your focused expression breaks into a smile like the sun from behind a cloud, looking up at him with absolute joy.

"We match."

He looks down; your nails, his shirt, almost identical shades, though your nails still sparkle faintly.

"I should have said I was stopping," you added, though neither of you had moved. You were still looking at your hands; "I should say more of the things that I think in my head out loud." Then, after a long few moments, and Felix continuing to indulge you, he hears you mutter, "I can feel your heartbeat in my hands."

You should definitely move and go to lunch and not stand here and be close to Felix for an infinite amount of time even if you know that Felix loves you and would definitely indulge you and would let you stay in this space and this moment and this close to him forever and ever if you asked. None of which you say out loud. Instead, what comes out is -

"I like that we match," and you drag your hands down his chest to take the hem of his shirt between your fingers, momentarily tugging on it as Felix finally stepped back.

"You're an absolute terror," he says fondly, taking your hand.

"Yes, but I'm your terror, fuck-o," you tell him with a childish kind of glee, and Felix was rather glad you couldn't see the way the silly little sentiment had made him melt.

As much as he adored the way you became overwhelmingly talkative, loving, and bold whilst high, he still had to stop you both outside of the dining hall to remind you to tone it down.

"Mum and dad can't know," Felix insisted, and you nodded very seriously.

"Mum and dad can't know," you agreed in a whisper, collecting your composure as best you could. For the record, you did pretty good; you didn't serve yourself an ungodly amount of food despite how hungry you were, you used the correct knives and forks even if it took you about twenty seconds of squinting to identify which would be best, and you made a point to be pretty much monosyllabic in conversation. It was working. For the most part.

"It's such a wonderful day, such a lovely omen," Sir James cheerfully gazed through the large windows in the dining hall, clearly glad for the sun.

"Yes, I forgot how beautiful it is to see you all taking advantage of the grounds on days like today," Elspeth added, "I think I saw you two heading out there," looking up, you see her gesturing to yourself and Farleigh with a polite smile, "how was it?"

"A beautiful place to cope with Oliver's impending arrival," Farleigh says through a humourless smile. Venetia leaned over her plate to leer at you both.

"Fucking in the Fairy Garden again?"

"No," you replied arguably too forcefully, mouth half full of food and gaze focused on your plate, terrified of giving away your state right now. Pamela, across the table, spluttered into her tea.

"Venetia," Elspeth admonished, scandalised. However, as much as you were trying to act normal, considering your relationship with three of the individuals at the table, it didn't register until it was too late that your normal may not be everyone's normal at the table -

"It's the middle of the day, Ven, I have a sense of propriety when the sun can see me," then, clearly losing your grip on self restraint while Venetia grins upon seeing her mother's exasperated face momentarily in her hands, you leaned a touch closer to Farleigh, "oh, and Felix is going to kill you."

"I'll add it to my calendar," Farleigh rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"I'm going to kill you both," Felix himself chimes in blithely.

"See, I told you so," you again leaned in to Farleigh, who just gave you a fond, amused smile in response.

"What?" Comes Elspeth in the lull, unsurprisingly befuddled, "Felix, darling, why are you killing your cousin and Y/N?"

"No reason!" You respond jauntily with a sincere, sweet smile. It seems like Elspeth's trying to decide if she should be concerned or not. After a long moment, she decides to accept that it's a joke.

"Well don't do it where I can see," she sits back primly, "or if you must, I request it not be bloody."

"I'll exsanguinate myself in preparation," Farleigh says flatly without missing a beat. No-one at the table had been expecting anything like that, and the mood breaks, turning as light as the sky outside, with the sound of everyone's laughter.

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