#who can’t speak English that well

[tariah23]

Wearing shorts to work…

[javierduffy]

just a few javieran horse headcanons because i like them a normal amount

branwen

- tall AND fat. kieran makes sure he’s always fed (maybe even accidentally a teensy bit overfed. just because kieran can’t help but indulge him when he butts him with his head or nuzzles at his pockets when he knows there’s treats in there. but never too much because ‘obesity is a problem, even in animals !’). probably about 17hh, taller than average for a kentucky saddler but nothing too big. especially since kieran himself is quite tall

- VERY well-tempered, both naturally, as well as because kieran has literally made him bulletproof. bagged him, blanketed him, stood, jumped, backflipped onto and off of him. this kindly gentleman of a horse only spooks when he wants to be bratty specifically.

- i think he’s about 6 or so, came from the stables kieran worked at after being orphaned, he was just a colt when kieran was just a kid. kieran learned how to birth foals quickly, and branwen happened to be one of them. with the way that they fell in love with each other and the way that branwen whinnied and pranced up to the fence when kieran came back to buy him after the army didn’t work out, you’d think that horse was born just for him.

- his favourite treats, in order, are rutabaga (kieran’s secret for branwen’s glossy coat. also why he’s kinda fat.), boiled potatoes mixed into his oats, apples, and fresh greens. he’s simultaneously incredibly easy to please because of the simplicity of the latter parts of his favourites list and also very needy and complicated because kieran so loves to make his pony happy with his absolute favourite treats, so he tries his very best to get branwen’s eccentric tastes pleased once falling into the VDL’s.

- i always say “a horse’s favourite thing to do is hurt itself”, and i think this statement holds relatively true for branwen as well, though there’s a 25% chance that he’s actually hurt, a 50% chance that he’s only mildly injured or spooked and he’s playing it up to get kieran to dote on him, and a 25% chance that he will protect kieran with his life when they’re in a dire situation (see: snake on the ground or gunfire nearby. or even god forbid a spare tumbleweed find it’s way rolling nearby.) despite kieran’s last wish being his horse getting injured. branwen thinks that he’s gotta be The Man and protect his dad sometimes. it does not help in any situation ever whatsoever.

- branwen is the PERFECT companion for a trail riding date. he’s settled, calm, has a great gait, and as a gelding, truly is not worried about other horses being “faster” than him, so he never gets rowdy nor has any problems when partner riders/horses crowd him. kieran is allowed to ask for as many kisses as he pleases because branwen will never jump when javier’s gold-tipped boots poke him in the side and boaz irritatedly flicks his flank with his tail. truly a goated wingman. also never complains about long rides, and enjoys being out of camp with his rider for as much as physically possible for both of them, so he’s never barnsour in either direction.

boaz

- as an american paint, he’s naturally short and stocky. saddle ends up being a bit loose, though, as javier isn’t as dedicated to keeping him perfectly fed or groomed. he loves him, sure, but horses are somewhat of tools to him, so he kinda does slightly more than bare minimum to keep him kempt and healthy. around 14.5hh, slightly shorter than average and quite dense with muscle

- temperamentally a bit volatile. this horse has just as much drama as his rider, if not a little more. doesn’t like something ? ridden too long ? that stick looks too much like a snake ? hasn’t spent enough time with kieran that day ? he will snort and grunt and bunny hop if javi isn’t on him, and shudder hard enough the saddle shakes underneath him if he is. boaz likes to please his rider, but he also demands pleasure himself, and has no issue with “accidentally” placing a hoof on his owners nice, intentionally clean boots, and subsequently slowly leaning more and more of his weight onto it when he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. bratty pony. generally, he keeps javier safe, though, when it comes down to it.

- around 5 years old. after dutch found javier trying to steal chickens the first time they met, he soon took him back to that ranch and their first take as gang leader and member was a 1 year old grey paint colt for javi to train and subsequently ride. until he was rideable, javier rode a morgan that was formerly hosea’s, named carolina, while he lead boaz everywhere behind him.

- favourite treats, in order, are corn cobs (especially dried), prickly pear fruit AND cactus, sugar cubes, and sliced apples. will force javier to share his maiz with him. javier has always sliced his apples up since he was a colt, not only because javi simply finds comfort in toying with his knife, but also because boaz will not eat them otherwise. javi will also cut all of the spines off of the cactus before letting boaz eat them.

- in terms of injury, boaz is the most dramatic tank on the planet. this horse could arthur morgan-style run face first into a tree and then fall off a cliff and walk it off. but not before he gimps and limps and whines and teeth grinds his way into javier leading him instead of riding him for the next mile or two. once kieran started taking care of him, there is also a 25% chance of boaz faking a terribly painful injury just to get kieran to dote on him.

- kinda the worst wingman ever LMFAO easily annoyed, easily aroused, easily offended, and as a stallion, HAS to walk in front of the “herd” (his rider’s boyfriend and his horse). pins his ears back, smashes into personal space, flicks branwen with his tail (and preferably kieran, if he can reach him) even sometimes will nip at branwen if the latter tries to calmly make this date a date and not a life or death race (whoever loses, their dad is gay) and walk side-by-side to aid their riders’ hand holdings. will make executive decisions via stopping or veering off for fresh green grass beside the trail, will at points actively attempt to shudder javier out of his saddle (has succeeded once when javi was distracted by a story being excitedly told by kieran), and will also spook and take off running so fast javier thinks it must have broken his neck from the velocity. generally makes trail rides a living hell, but kieran finds it charming, and it makes for some cute shoujo-style “omg … *reaches out to help you up after your horse bucks you off because he saw a log that looked nothing at all and everything like a cougar and pink and white soft bubbles surround me* are you okay ? here, let me help.” moments. maybe some day boaz will be allowed off of the national american terrorist list written by javier “rizzless rider” escuella

ok im tired and that’s all i can think of please enjoy and feel free to contribute 👍 i love them so bad im gona cry

[soshinee]

i really have loved being in japan in general so far but most of my students are so fucking mean to me 😭😭 like they’re just so so sooo mean they parrot and mock me when i call someone’s name and laugh when i talk in general and it’s like how am i supposed to curry their favor or gain their respect when they are openly making fun of me from the second i walk into their classroom for the first time💀

[orchidego]

In an alternate life I would have become a medievalist and been writing research papers about the saracens and probably stressing about my employability which is why I cannot possibly have any regrets about the way my life actually turned out. Do I mourn that my current life has no reason for me to be in rare book rooms or deep in the archives? A little, but not enough, on balance—which perhaps indicates that it wasn’t ever a viable metaphorical fig for me. Much to think about

[moonsick-lovelight]

unstoppable force (my gf’s grandpa not being a native english speaker) vs immovable object (my social anxiety and inability to say no)

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[hauntedraggedyanne]

How to show character in dialogue

By picking the right words, you can make anyone go from a ditzy sidekick to a dark, dangerous villain

—Slang

Setting specific slang, internet slang, or weird slang that they make up on their own can show more laid back characters, or you can make them culturally aware of their surroundings and the type of people who are local to the area.

—Voice pitch

This isn’t too important, but it is something to consider. Does the bad-boy love interest have a husky, seductive voice 24/7? Or do they sound like a text-to-speech robot? Regardless, you can show character by either making them irresistible to most, or they can be painfully aware that their voice doesn’t match and they have to go an extra mile to get people to move past it.

—Eye contact

Looking someone dead in the eyes can mean mature, intellectual types, or the creepiest person you’ve ever met depending on what they’re saying and what the rest of their body is doing. Are they firmly holding on to important documents, speaking clearly and sternly, or do they get way too close, breathing heavily and speaking in a raspy, dry voice as their eyes bulge out of their sockets?

—Posture when talking

Someone slouched over a chair and staring at the floor while mumbling to whoever’s nearby isn’t going to be as feared as someone who stands tall and proud, as if their own shadow was to command an army as they grip their weapon that looks small compared to their massive, demanding presence.

—Emphasis on certain words or phrases

Italics and reusing specific words signals to the audience that this is important. Maybe it foreshadows something down the line, or can come off as self-aware to something the character says constantly.

—Stuttering

I’m just going to end this by saying please don’t do the “b-b-b-b-b-b-but” thing. Instead, if you’re trying to make the character seem shy or embarrassed of something, have them quietly mumble, tripping over words and sentences and accidentally repeating things. I don’t want to draw too much attention to it because it’s something a lot of people say but it’s important to me. Someone who stutters constantly because despite speaking English my whole life, I for some reason can’t speak it well.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Home • Mattheo Riddle x bff!fem!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: y/n wants to make something special for Mattheo's birthday, but little does she know how special it is about to get.

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Fluff; English is not my first language.

A/N: Thank you guys so, so much for over 300 followers, love y'all!! That said, I don't think I like this one lol. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tag list for this story: @lilloves-34

“Aw, how lovely it is to see you two!”

“Hi, mum.”

Your mother held you warmly before turning to the person next to you.

“You’ve grown taller, Mattheo, dear.”

“As always, Mrs. y/l/n.”

She held him too, and Mattheo did his best to return the hug. His dark eyes turned to you and you offered him a small, affectionate smile. He suddenly looked more comfortable and smiled at your mother when she let him go. 

“Leave your luggage here, dears, it can be unpacked later. Come, I’ve made you two some snacks.”

You and Mattheo follow her into the kitchen, and you can’t help but look at Mattheo. Partly because, well, it’s not like he wasn’t the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen, but mostly because you know he’s not always comfortable in your mother’s house, despite having living here for over two years now. 

Mattheo and you had been best friends since your first year at Hogwarts. But as the years went by, knowing Mattheo was alone at Hogwarts during the holidays made you feel so upset that you started asking him if he wanted to spend it with you, which he accepted with a gratitude he had a hard time hiding. And, naturally, you also asked him if he wanted to come for summer break here as well. From the day Mattheo met your mother, she adored him and soon considered him a full member of the family, sending him sweets and gifts while at school just like she did for you, offering him gifts for his birthdays and Christmas as well, and he started coming every holiday without you asking him. You knew Mattheo was thankful for your mother’s hospitality and affection, as he always made sure to let her know, but you knew - despite him doing his best to hide it - that he felt that he somehow didn’t deserve the kindness and care you mother had shown him. It broke your heart to know he felt like that, but Mattheo wasn’t the kind to easily speak about his feelings so you never dared to bring it up, only sometimes telling him how happy you were that he was here, and that this house was his home.

But what your mother - or anyone else for that matter - didn’t know was that now having Mattheo around at all times was bittersweet for you. You absolutely loved having him in your house, where you knew he was finally loved and cared for, but it also made you two closer and made feelings for him grow - feelings you didn’t know were shared or not. It was slowly breaking you from the inside, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Of course, you could talk about it with Pansy, who was your other best friend, or your mother, but you perfectly knew what they would both tell you: “tell him how you feel.” Merlin, no. You just couldn’t. Not only because if Mattheo didn’t feel the same way, your friendship would never be the same at best - or completely destroyed in the worst case scenario - and in both cases, you knew it wouldn’t take long for Mattheo to decide to leave your house. If I ever do tell him how I feel, it’s better to wait until we’re both out of Hogwarts and have our own places. 

You walked in the kitchen to find your favourite snacks on the table. 

“Aw, thanks, mum.”

“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re more than welcome. Come, sit.”

The three of you sat around the table, you being next to Mattheo on one side and your mother on the other. You and Mattheo started eating while your mother asked about yours and Mattheo’s lives at school. You and Mattheo took turns in making conversation and even had a few laughs as you recalled some of the funny memories you had. After both your stomachs were full, you decided to go unpack your luggage. Mattheo had the same idea, and went to the bedroom that was now essentially his. You both finished at the same time, and found yourselves in the corridor of the second floor. 

“I’ll go take a shower,” Mattheo said quietly. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

He walked to the bathroom, but before he came in, you called for him. “Matty?” 

He turned to you and you continued, “As always, this is your home.” 

He gave you a single nod before quickly turning away and going into the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh, you went down downstairs in the living room and found your mother reading a book. 

“Mum?”

She raised her head from her book, “Yes?”

You sat on the sofa next to her, a small smile on your face.

“You know Mattheo’s birthday is coming up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I already got his gifts and have everything I need to make his favourite cake. Why?”

“Well,” you said, “I thought that we could do something else for a change. We usually have quiet birthdays and it’s nice but I’d really like to do something for Mattheo this time.”

Your mother frowned, “Like what?”

“A surprise party?” you answered. “I could write to the boys and invite them to celebrate?” 

“That’s a good idea, darling. I’ll soon go to Diagon Alley to buy some decorations and, well, more food and drinks.”

You smiled and went to give her a quick hug. “Thank you, mum. You’re the best.”

The evening was nice and quiet, spent playing chess with Mattheo on the ground in the living room like you always did, with your mother playfully cheering on the one winning from the sofa. Mattheo and you laughed a lot while playing, and it warmed your heart to see him relaxed and happy. You knew he was usually shy in the first days he came here, and while you perfectly understood it, you couldn’t wait for him to be his warm, chill, funny self again. The Mattheo you knew and loved. After dinner, your mother went to bed and soon after, Mattheo and you decided to follow. You both went upstairs, and you then went into the bathroom to take a shower and put on your pyjamas. Mattheo had his own bathroom, and he was likely getting himself ready to go to bed. Once you were done, you went to your bedroom, and you weren’t surprised to see Mattheo casually laying on your bed. You went to close the shutters, and when you got in bed, Mattheo’s arms immediately wrapped around your body, and you put your head on his chest. Mattheo and you had taken the habit of cuddling to sleep since the first night he spent here, where a discussion before going to sleep ended up with you guys falling asleep and for some reason waking up in each other’s arms. You found that you slept way better in Mattheo’s arms, so much so that this situation continued in Hogwarts - and it was made easier by your roommate Pansy essentially spending all her nights with Blaise. At first, you just enjoyed the feeling of warmth and safety Mattheo’s embrace gave you, but as your heart started to feel more than friendship for him, cuddling, just like his perpetual presence, became bitter-sweet. You still loved cuddling with Mattheo, in fact you didn’t even know if you could even sleep without him now, but you wondered if it was a good idea to continue like this. But even if I decided it was better to stop, how do I tell him? 

“You alright?” you whispered, raising your head to look at him.

He nodded, “Yeah. Why?” 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable here. This is your home, Matty. And it will always be. But if you’re feeling something different, I want you to tell me.” 

“I’m fine, y/n, really. I’m grateful for your mum and you, you know that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over me.”

He kissed your hair, his hands started gently caressing your shoulder and the middle of your back. Soon after, you felt yourself going to sleep, and thought you heard a voice saying “sleep well, princess.” 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next following days, Mattheo and you spent all of your time together. Every meal, every activity - playing Quidditch in the garden, reading, studying, taking a nap - was done with him. You loved it, but it made it harder to write to Mattheo’s friends to invite them to the surprise party or to prepare the said party without him knowing, but you still managed to do it while he was reading a book in the living room. Thankfully, all the boys answered your letter and said they would come, and thankfully also, your mother had time to buy what was needed and had the idea to hide it in her room, where you and her knew Mattheo would never dare to go. 

On the day of his birthday, you woke up once again in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek as he was slowly waking up.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

“Thank you, pretty girl.”

You had managed to get Mattheo agree to go to Hogsmeade in the beginning of the afternoon to get his favourite sweets from Honeydukes so your mom could prepare everything for the party and welcome the guests. You spent some time here, and once you knew everything was likely to be ready, you and Mattheo got back home, and you had a hard time not smiling. But you also suddenly worried about how Mattheo would react. Last year, Theo had a surprise party and Mattheo was happy to help prepare it. But does that mean he wants one for himself?

You opened the door, and entered the silent house. Mattheo looked around the corridor, and put his bag full of sweets on the floor in order to take off his jacket.

“Is your mom here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Let’s check the living room.”

Mattheo remained silent and approached said living room, and you had the biggest smile on your face when he suddenly stopped.

“Happy birthday!”

There was some cheering and applause, and Mattheo turned to you as you approached him.

“What-”

“It’s a surprise, Matty,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his confused face. “You deserved to have your friends and your brother with you today.”

He stared at you for a long minute, and you felt your heart beat faster, and he finally smiled at you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You smiled back at him and gestured for him to go say hi to his friends, who were quick to wish him a happy birthday and greet him warmly, and his brother Tom, who was colder and more silent than the others. You looked around the room, and what your mother had done to decorate was incredible: there were numerous small fireworks up in the air alongside big golden letters saying “happy birthday Mattheo”, small decorations all around, and the long wooden table, usually bare, was also very much magically decorated. Mattheo hugged your mother to thank her while Pansy came closer to you. 

“Well done, dear. If you’ve put it together for a friend, I can’t wait to see what you will do when you’ll be dating him.”

“Don’t start,” you warmed her. “Mattheo and I have always been friends and will always be.” 

“We’ll see,” she teased.

You rolled your eyes and went closer to Mattheo. It was now time for him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and everyone was gathered around him as your mother brought his favourite cake decorated with whipped cream and full of magic candles.

“Happy birthday again, dear,” your mother smiled. “Make a wish.”

Mattheo closed his eyes for an instant and then blew out the candles. You applauded alongside the others, and everyone gave Mattheo their birthday gifts - books on Quidditch or history or wizards, Quidditch equipment, special quills, a watch - and then came your turn. Feeling your cheeks becoming red, you handed him your own gift, scared he might not like it. He unwrapped it and then saw the book.

“It’s, um, a photo album with some pictures we took along the years and, well, I wrote down some of my favourite memories with you.” 

You heard some whispers among Mattheo’s friends - his brother Tom remained silent - but your only focus was on Mattheo’s reaction. He turned some of the pages, smiled at some of the pictures and read the memories you wrote down - and the note you had also written him about how much he meant to you and how special you genuinely thought he was. After a moment of apparently being lost in thoughts, he gently put down the book on the table near the others books he got and looked at you to give you a half-smile.

“Thank you, y/n.”

He gave you a quick, strange hug, and then turned to his plate. Feeling confused, you wondered if he truly liked the gift. You went to sit between your mother and Lorenzo, and as you ate the cake, you looked sometimes as Mattheo, who was now the center of attention, and as time went by, you saw him switching from his usual, funny self to a more quiet, uneasy self, barely listening to what Theo was saying to him. You guessed he was feeling overwhelmed, and as the others finished their plates and went to sit on the sofas, you saw Mattheo mumbling an excuse before leaving the room to go to the garden. You wanted to follow him to make sure everything was fine, but you knew he probably needed some time alone. After a while, you finally went outside, and found him sitting in the grass, lost in thoughts. You approached him slowly before sitting down next to him.

“Are you okay, Matty?” 

He nodded, “Yes. Was it your idea to have this party?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “Why?” 

“Thank you, y/n. It means a lot,” he looked at the grass before shaking his head. 

“You deserve it,” you said with a gentle voice. 

“Actually, I’m not sure,” Mattheo said in a low voice, his head now down.

You frowned, confused. “What? Why?”

Mattheo turned to you and had a small sigh.

“Honestly, y/n. You and your mum have already so much for me. Letting me live here, giving me gifts, being there for me, and now this…What did I ever give you back? Nothing.”

You opened your mouth, but it took a few seconds to answer. “Mattheo, have you not read what I wrote in the photo album?” 

He didn’t answer, still looking at the grass.

“Well?” you insisted. “What did the text say?”

“That you deeply cared about me,” he said, almost mumbling. “And that you thought of me as caring, and kind.”

“I meant it, alright?” you said in a more serious voice, wanting him to understand. “You’re the most exceptional person I know. You’re kind, gentle, funny, and caring. You’re a great friend to the boys, and you’re doing your best to have a good relationship with Tom, even when it’s not easy. You’re always there for me, you're always ready to spend time with me no matter the activity, and I know I always count on you whenever I need help or need comfort. You always know what to say, and you always listen to me when I have something to say. You’re also smart, and a damn good Quidditch player. I know you’re scared of becoming like your father, but I know you won’t. Because you two couldn’t be more different. And even if you started to be like him, we both know I’d smack some sense into you.” He had a hint of a smile and you went on, “Yes, sometimes you’re annoying and I think you love to fight too much, but nobody’s perfect, and I wouldn't want you to change for anything in the world. You’re the best person I know, Mattheo, and that’s why I’m in love with you.”

He whipped his head towards you, and that’s when you realised what you just said. 

Oh, no. Oh, no. Merlin, no.

“I…Just…Forget what I said.”

You quickly rose up and almost ran back to the house, but you suddenly felt a warm hand on your wrist. 

“Wait!” Mattheo said, “What the hell, you can’t leave like that after saying that to me.”

“Yes I can,” you retorted, panicking, “and that’s what I’m doing, just…forget it happened, alright?”

Mattheo let go of your wrist to run a hand through his dark curls. 

“But, y/n, I can’t forget,” he said, frowning, as if it was obvious, “and I don’t want to. Did you really mean it?”

“Mattheo, I…”

“y/n, please,” he cut off more severely, both his voice and eyes now pleading. “Please, answer me.”

Doing your best to not look at him, you hesitated before nodding, feeling the need to disappear. He looked at you in a strange way, and you wondered what he was going to say.

“Look, Mattheo,” you started, “I know our f…”

“I love you too.”

It was now you turn to look at him with confusion. “What?”

“I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re…all I want, and all I need. You said this house is my home, but the truth is, you’re my home.” 

All of a sudden, he stepped closer to you and brought his hand to your face, slowly caressing your cheek with all the gentleness in the world. You wondered what you should do next -  put your hand on his? Put your own hand on his cheek? - but he made the decision for you, suddenly lowering his head towards yours.

“Fuck, y/n…”

And after that whisper, he pressed his lips on yours. It took you a few seconds to kiss him back, but when you did, he immediately grabbed your waist to pull you closer before putting a hand on the back of your neck. You let out a moan, and he deepened the kiss. You had a hard time believing what you had been dreaming for years now was actually happening but at the same time, Mattheo’s lips on yours and his hands on your body was all you could feel, all you could think about and all that mattered. When he finally pulled away, you were both out of breath. 

“Does you saying that you love me and this kiss count as two more birthday gifts?” he suddenly asked. 

“If you want,” you laughed. 

“Then, it really is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

You both smiled at each other before he kissed you again before taking you into his arms, holding you as if he died if he let go. You held him as well, feeling that, wherever you were, Mattheo was also your home. 

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[donatellawritings]

୨୧ how sugardaddy!rafe found his favorite little muñeca

rafe wasn’t entirely sure as to what it was that piqued his father’s need to go on vacation every few months out of the year, but he wasn’t against it. since returning back to tannyhill, following his brief collegiate stint, rafe needed an outlet — a place where he could go and blow a few tens of thousands of dollars and not be reprimanded, a place where he could lose himself in copious amounts of coke without judgement, a place where he could be the man — the one who was needed, the one who had all the answers.

so, when ward came up with the brilliant idea to send his eldest of kin to the island of culebra, puerto rico — just to keep his volatile son out of trouble … rafe was quick and eager to oblige.

the villa was immaculate, completely renovated from the ground up, with the pristine view of the clear turquoise waters that crashed against the powder white sand. but what caught rafe’s bright baby blues was the little puerto rican girl who stood bent over, tiny white shorts sucked in the soft fat of your plush ass as you carefully picked at the bright fuschia hibiscus flower that grew alone in the patch of crisp green grass. shiny blown out hair cascaded down the small of your back as rafe tongued the inside of his cheek, watching closely as you straightened your posture, the shorts now almost entirely swallowed by your plump ass.

rafe couldn’t help himself, but continue to ogle at you, his bloodshot eyes carelessly drinking in the way your bronze skin shimmered under the sun, as well as the cute hot pink heart-shaped glitter tattoo that sparkled on your lower back. and fuck, it took everything in him to not shove his hand down his pants with the way the fat of your ass sat all heavy and perfectly curved against the flimsy fabric of your shorts.

smiling to himself, rafe obnoxiously clears his throat, causing you to flinch and whip your pretty little head at him, all wide eyed and open-mouthed, “uh, don’t think y’should be pickin’ at other people’s flowers, huh?” he questions, his voice dripping in a condescending cadence as you immediately drop the pretty flower from your small fist, allowing it to fall at your sparkly pink toes.

remaining silent, you awkwardly shift on your feet, blinking your wispy lashes together as you close your mouth, “i’m sorry, i just — hmph,” you sigh, your nose scrunched in frustration as you struggled to find the right words … in english, at least.

cocking his head to the side, rafe chuckles at your fussy state, his stringy bangs masking the way he incessantly stared at the way the swells of your breasts bounced against your one size too small lily pink triangle bikini top. judging by your thick accent, rafe could tell that communicating with you would be a bit of a struggle — lucky for you, he considered himself to be a proactive man of sorts.

taking a step closer to you, rafe feigns a sigh of disappointment, even going so far as to pinch the bridge of his nose “i don’t know, i may just have to tell someone that y’just comin’ here and makin’ a mess of things — i can’t have that, sweetheart,” he shrugs.

your little heart thumped rapidly against your chest as you bit down into your pouty bottom lip, swallowing thickly as you brought your terrified gaze to the ground.

deciding to twist the knife, rafe nudged the point of your chin with the side of his signet-tinged index finger with squinted eyes, “y’parents never taught y’how to talk to people, huh?” he questions, his pupil-blown eyes searching yours as you parted your swollen lips.

furiously shaking your head, you take a short breath, “i-i dunno how — the words are h-hard,” you speak, your voice small and mousey as your eyes meet rafe’s intimidatingly blue ones.

“well, y’gotta learn, yeah?” rafe shrugs.

with bright and naive eyes, you let out an excited gasp, “you can teach me?” you question, swollen lips pursed together as rafe licks over his pink chapped lips, taking another step closer to you as his rough hand grasps the side of your face.

you were a naive little one, a bit too welcoming … but he could fix teach you.

bringing his thumb to curve around your jaw, rafe shushes you, “y’shouldn’t be walkin’ around stranger’s houses dressed like that — your daddy ever teach you that?” rafe lightly pushes your head back, a shit-eating grin now playing on his handsome face as you obediently answer him with a forceful shake of your head.

your bambi eyes now welled with embarrassed tears, you gently attempted to pull your face from the young man’s tight hold, “yo no tengo …” you whimper softly.

shifting your face, rafe raises a corrective brow at you, “english, kid,” he scolds.

poking out your fat bottom lip in a wobbly pout, you lightly stomp your foot in frustration, “i don’t have a daddy,” you whine, a warm teardrop rolling down the apple of your cheek as rafe tutted at you with a knowing nod to himself.

“that’s the problem, huh? y’don’t have a daddy to keep y’little ass in line,” rafe mumbles, bringing his thumb to mush against your swollen and somewhat sticky lips as you stare at him with confused, yet needy little eyes.

letting go of your jaw, rafe runs a hand through his greasy hair, before swiping at the corner of his mouth with his finger, “listen kid, m’gonna take care of you, yeah? buy you whatever girly shit y’like — maybe even take y’home with me one of these days —”

“like a daddy?”

letting out a huff, rafe takes in the way you reach down to grab ahold of the wilted flower, boobs nearly spilling out of your bikini tops as you fist it tightly in your grip, “yes, but i’ll be your daddy —”

“papi!” you beam, a wide smile stretching your swollen lips as you bat your cutesy stacked lashes together, “that’s your name?” you ask politely, reaching your small hands to tug on the waistband of your shorts, unknowingly pulling them further up your ass.

“rafe is my name, pretty girl — but y’can call me papi, okay?” he coos, swiftly snagging the flimsy flower from your hand, causing you to pout as you roll your eyes, leaving rafe to snap his fingers at you, “hey — don’t start that shit, now come here and let me fix y’up,” he commands, internally satisfied with the way you quickly removed the frown from your face and walked over to him, the tips of your toes meeting the tips of his sandals.

curling a ginger underneath the waistband of your shorts, rafe softly pulls on the stretchy fabric, taking a mental note of the frilly thing you wore underneath. placing the flower in your shorts, rafe carefully secures the band of your shorts to hold the flower upright, you dainty belly button ring also catching his watchful eyes.

craning your neck to get a look of your cute new accessory, you scoff with excitement, “aye, es muy bonita, papi!” you squeal, rushing to swing your arms around rafe’s tense and warm neck.

lightly patting the top of the curve of your asscheek, rafe gently pulls you away from him, “listen, kid — y’can’t just trust every person you meet, yeah? not everyone is going to be nice like your papi, hm?” he clasps his hands around your bare shoulders, biting back a smirk as you nod feverishly.

“tell me that you understand,” rafe pushes, silently encouraging you with a small squeeze of your shoulders.

“i und-understand,” you breathe out.

bringing a hand to barely pat your cheek, rafe reaches his free hand down to tug the hem of your shorts down to cover your ass, “good girl — now why don’t y’come with daddy and i’ll buy y’some pretty clothes,” rafe hums, massaging your cheek with his thumb.

[lewisvinga]

happier than ever | jude bellingham x fem! fcb femeni! reader

summary; who knew barcelona femeni’s squad was protective after finding out who y/n was dating

face claim; salma paralluelooooo

warnings; cursing , chaos

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; requested ! now this one , i like it🙂‍↕️ salma is soooo gorgeous it makes me forget shes a barca player 😞

masterlist !

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; good morning 😴] [caption 2; he says this is the best breakfast ?]

alexiaputellas …..

alexiaputellas who. is. he.

marialeonn16 who the FUCK is that

marialeonn16 it better not be who i think it is

marialeonn16 ANSWER MEEEEEEEE

ingrid_engen whatever makes u happy❤️

ingrid_engen THIS IS MAPI ANSWER ME NOW.

ingrid_engen Y/NNNNNN

ingrid_engen ignore mapi 🙏

patri8guijarro ???😀😀😀

vickyylopezz._ you’re dead amiga

yourusername oh i know 😕

judebellingham who is that sexy fella

yourusername told you to put a shirt on so my teammates wouldn’t go crazy but noooooo u had to show off ur abs😒

judebellingham i didn’t see you complaining🙄🙄

yourusername yeah but now mapi and alexia are spamming my phone 🥱

judebellingham do they know it’s me?

yourusername they know i’m dating someone but mapi keeps censoring words , i don’t know 🤷‍♀️

judebellingham i say hard launch

yourusername u want my teammates to kill u???

judebellingham idk i got a brahim w me

yourusername if he can’t protect u from my teammates then that’s on u

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liked by judebellingham, vickyylopezz._, and others !

yourusername: ☀️

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: well you’re a lovely lady, aren’t you

yourusername:🥰🥰

marialeonn16: don’t speak abt my y/n like that.

yourusername: mapi….

judebellingham: crazy but she’s in my bed rn

yourusername: JUDE????

marialeonn16: ?!’alxoqifksofo829399&&

alexiaputellas: i taught you better than this…

yourusername: who am i to deny my desires😞

aitanabonmati: YOU’RE LIKE 12??

yourusername: i’m 19 actually and taller than u

aitanabonmati: so he’s dating someone younger 🤨

judebellingham: by a few months 🤷‍♀️

alexiaputellas: u weren’t invited into this convo

username: the chaos in the comment section is KILLINGGGG ME😭🤣

username: jude has a gf🕊️

username: OH WHAT APOWER COUPLE

username: real madrid’s starboy and barcelona’s stargirl dating was nawt on my bingo card tbh 🙂‍↕️

username: wait…. i’m loving this 🤭

username: SHE LOOKS SOOOO GOOD

username: yall think she was at the ucl final??

patri8guijarro: no.

judebellingham: yes and she wore my jersey😁

aitanabonmati: ?????????????????????

ingrid_engen: y/n plz ignore any call u get from mapi🙏 she will calm down soon enough

marialeonn16: NO ANSWER ME😠

yourusername:🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

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liked by yourusername, olgacarmona7, and others !

judebellingham: la vida 😴

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: te quierooo❤️

judebellingham: te quiero🤍

username: sleeping on the highway

username: SHES SO CUTEEEE

username: i love them ur honor

olgacarmona7: bienvenida a la familia ??

alexiaputellas: no.

judebellingham: SI.

marialeonn16: YOU DON’T KNOW SPANISH🤬

judebellingham: ur star girl is teaching me tho

yourusername: still trying to make him say visca barca but it’s not working 😕

username: i’m a madrid girlie through n through but i love them sm😫

username: everytime i see jude or y/n post each other im ready for the fcb fem team to be chaotic in the comments😭

lucybronze: i’ll let it slide this time

ona.batlle: we don’t do that here☝️

keirawalsh: but he’s english??

yourusername: you girls are so dramatic 😒

vinijr: 👀👀

camavinga: 🤫🤫

brahim: 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

judebellingham: 😁😁

marialeonn16: what does this mean.

yourusername: mapi LEAVE???

alexiaputellas: this is some secret real madrid code. marisabel_rguez what are they saying 😒

marisabel_rguez: 🥸🥸

username: the contrast of the comments section on ig compared to twitter is hilarious 😭

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liked by judebellingham, alexiaputellas, and others !

yourusername: happier than ever

tagged; judebellingham

judebellingham: better when i’m w you😍😍

judebellingham: i love you te quiero mucho

judebellingham: i have the best gf itw

judebellingham: y/n l/n is my girlfriend guys

judebellingham: i am the luckiest man ever

yourusername:STOP i love you🥹

judebellingham: I LOVE YOU

alexiaputellas: 😒😒😒

yourusername: i’m telling on u rn btw

marialeonn16: damage control🥱

yourusername: ingrid_engen

marialeonn7: THATS NOT FAIR

username: jude is such a simp omg🥹

username: hes js like me fr

username: JUDES COMMENT IMOSOFK😭💓💞💞💖💘💘💞💓💞💘💖💝

username: screaming crying throwing up

marialeonn16: cute.

yourusername: thank u ingrid

ingrid_engen: 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

alexiaputellas: as long as you’re happy, nena ❤️

yourusername: gracias olga

olgarios:😁

vickyylopezz._: SIMP

yourusername: oh shut up🙄

aitanabonmati: ok then… whatever makes you happy

judebellingham: i makes her happy😁

keirawalsh: hey don’t push it 🙄

username: the way they’re dominating football rn, dare i say mini goats 🤭

username: MIS AMORES😭❤️‍🩹

[mywritersmind]

pookieeee how are youuu 💗 I'm in NEED of a Franco fic where the reader is João Félix's little sister...

So she obvi speaks Portuguese and English (maybe some Italian in there too) butttt unlike her brother her Spanish is rusty. So when reader drags her brother (and of course some of the guys from the team) to support her best friend at a race, he's listening in to every little comment Franco makes about her in Spanish and trying to subtly give hints to reader that he likes her, and of course some good brother teasing! Just hardcore fluff, friend pining and good old family banter!

HE CAN UNDERSTAND - FC43

listen up : i used google translate don’t come for me. not proofread! super cute and fluffy! loved this request sorry if i didng execute it well😭

word count : 2281

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“Franco!” I jump into my best friends arms as he laughs. The moment I asked for three Grand Prix tickets, he sent them over immediately and went on a rant of how excited he was to see me.

“Y/n!” He grins widely at me, “I’m so happy you’re here!” He's in his race suit, his hair messy and extra wavy. I run my hand through it, fixing it a bit.

“You’re a mess.” I laugh as he pushes my hand away and rolls his eyes, “Oh!” I suddenly remember that my brother is standing behind me. “This is my brother, João! I can’t believe you two haven’t met!” I smile at both of them as my brother shakes Franco’s hand.

Oddly professional for someone he knows I love. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/n never shuts up about you.” I slightly blush at his words as Franco lets out a laugh.

“Good to know…” Franco gives us a mini tour. I'm so beyond happy for him. This has been his dream since forever, the first time I met him he even jokingly flirted and said I could be a WAG.

Franco is charming and hilarious so my brother likes him instantly. We end up in the William’s garage, everyone scrambling around and talking in languages I can’t understand.

Since it’s race day, i’m genuinely surprised Franco had the time to see us. Especially since Qualifying was earlier today.

But my best friend works in magical ways.

⋆༺

FRANCO

I watch Y/n talk to Alex’s girlfriend. I watch as her hair flows down her back and her hand covers her mouth as she laughs. “So,” João turns to me, sort of intimidating for his height but so far I think he approves of me. “You’ve known Y/n for a while, huh?”

I nod, “Yeah, she hasn't been able to shake me yet.” He laughs, nodding his head.

“You care about her?” Why do I feel like i’m getting interrogated?

I nod, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“I mean as more than a friend.”

I laugh uncomfortably, joking with him, “Are you asking me my intentions?” He does not find this funny. I clear my throat and breathe out, “We’re just friends.”

Y/n comes skipping back over to us. I’ve always been taught to not lie, but i’m not about to confess that I like her to fucking brother.

“J, you’ve got to see his car!” She takes his arm and pulls him away, “You coming, Fran?”

I’m about to follow after them but my engineer taps my shoulder, “Gimmie one second! Don't touch anything, Y/n, I know how you are!”

She gives me one of her signature smiles, making my pulse quicken and my smile falter. I catch her brother giving me an odd look before I sit up and wave.

I turn to my engineer who’s smiling, big, “Dios mío, te estás sonrojando.” (My god, you’re blushing.) I roll my eyes at him, turning to see Y/n point to my car and start asking questions to someone in blue.

“¡Cállate por favor!” (Shut up please!) Her Spanish is more than rusty. I've tried to teach her some but she gets distracted and she always ends up persuading me into something different. Still, it’s weird talking about her when she’s right there.

“Vamos, ¡te gusta! Es la forma en que la miras... como si fuera el sol.” (Come on, you like her! It’s the way you look at her… like she’s the sun.) I push his shoulder at his words. Christ, is it that obvious?

“Actúas como si fuera un cachorrito enamorado.” (You act like i’m some lovesick puppy)

“¡Porque lo eres! Siempre hablas de ella, tu pantalla de bloqueo es ella, ¡siempre le estás enviando mensajes de texto! Admítelo.” (Because you are! You always talk about her, your lock screen is her, you are always texting her! Just admit it.)

I cross my arms at him, not daring to glance back at her. “No voy a arruinar mi relación con ella…” I shake my head and tease him, “¡Ahora vuelve a trabajar!” (I’m not ruining my relationship with her… now get back to work!)

I join Y/n and João again, smiling and doing my duty as a tour guide. João gives me another weird look and i’m hoping it’s not because i’m losing his trust. I know i’m not her boyfriend, but I still want him to like me.

They are soon asked to step into the visitors area as I warm up for the race. Y/n kisses my cheek before she goes, “Good luck, Fran. Be careful!” I know my cheeks are red but all I can focus on is her so close to me, her lips on my cheek.

I nod, “Thank you. Have fun watching.” I wink at her and turn, getting ready.

⋆༺

YOU

“I’m so nervous! It’s so rainy!” I bite my lip as the cars go out on track in a second formation lap. The race hasn’t even started and someone’s already out!

My brother eyes me, he’s been acting weird all day and I hate it. He suddenly turns to me, “You don’t like Franco?”

It catches me off guard, “Uh… of course I do?” He rolls his eyes.

“I mean can you see yourself with him? I think you’d be cute.” I laugh out loud.

“João, when have you ever wanted me to date someone?” Especially Franco. I mean, maybe i’ve thought about it.

Okay maybe I've fantasized about it… a lot.

But what am I supposed to do? Confess to my best friend who’s always been there for me that I think he’s irresistible and criminally hot? No.

“I just think if you’re gonna date anyone… He’s a good option.” My cheeks heat as I shake my head, “You’re blushing! Come on, Y/n, why not?”

“Just shut up, the race is starting!”

The next time he brings it up is at a yellow flag, “He’s definitely nicer than your ex.” I give him a death glare and attempt to tune him out, “And who did you go crying to after he broke your heart….?” Franco. The answer is Franco because he’s always there.

It’s been hard recently because of his races, but he’s constantly texting or calling me. I think he just wants someone to gossip with.

“Again, he’s my friend. Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn’t mean you know everything!”

“No but I know everything about you, and you don’t look at your other friends like that.” I hate that stupid smug smile on his face. And I hate that he’s right.

My stomach drops when Franco goes into the wall. I grab onto my brother's arm who doesn’t look concerned at all and more happy that i’m so worried! I slap his arm, “You have no empathy!”

I cross my arms, biting my lip as I watch him exit the car. Thank god he’s okay.

Franco gives me a small thumbs up when he’s back in the garage. I can tell he’s absolutely gutted, the air is awkward and thick with tension since Franco’s crash meant that the whole team's weekend is over.

The race is long and honestly scary. Still, all I can think about is Franco.

Maybe this weekend, his attention to me, my brothers comments, and how Franco’s been looking at me, has finally sealed what I've been dreading.

I’ve known I like him for a while, but I don’t want to ruin us. I can’t be embarrassed by my closest friend!

I’m not an idiot, I see how he flirts with interviewers or even fans. Part of me wants to believe that’s just his personality, but the other part is screaming at me that he doesn’t like me.

His eyes though, he looks at me so deeply that sometimes I feel like I'm apart of some big trick.

“Hey,” My brother nudges me, “Race is over.” I snap out of whatever daze I was in and nod, “I gotta pee, go talk to Franco!”

When I look to where he points, Franco’s already looking at me. His race suit is unzipped and he looks so tired. “Hi.” He smiles softly but I can tell it’s forced.

“Sorry your first race with me sucked.” He frowns, leaning against the little barrier from the garage and friends and family.

“Hey…” I touch his arm briefly, “It did not suck! And It’s not your fault. It was scary though…”

His eyes look sad and I know it’s not just because he crashed. Franco feels so deeply and this weekend has been especially hard for him. I can tell he sees the worry on my face, “I'm really really happy you’re here. We’re getting dinner later, right?”

I go to the hotel with João first. We change and meet back at the restaurant. “I’m so hungry!” I groan as we sit down, Franco said he would be here soon but I am not above ordering early.

João sits across from me, “Gotta wait for your boyfriend.”

I eye him, “You better not say anything in front of Franco. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.” He laughs a bit.

“I really don’t think I will.” He’s so ominous today. “I can tell i’m making you uncomfortable though. My only question is… why?”

“Why?”

“Why can’t you accept that you like him? He’s obviously not going to turn you down. He’s practically got hearts in his eyes when he talks to you.” The waiter brings water which I gulp down immediately.

“I- No! I can’t like him. He’s my friend.”

“So you’ve said… but the best relationships start out that way.” Why is he pushing this so much?

“I just… I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”.

“Funny…” he mumbles something, “That's what he said too.” but I can’t hear him because Franco sits and starts saying hello.

Our dinner is amazing, the food is perfect and I can’t stop laughing at Franco and João. “You’ve gotta come to a match sometime!” My brother laughs, “The team would love you.”

Franco grins, “I would be honored! Y/n always talks about your games, you’re pretty good apparently.” This boosts my brother's ego far too much and we end the night while talking about football and childhood stories.

“He always teased me with his friends!” I roll my eyes at the memory, “They were all learning Spanish in highschool so I never understood them!”

Franco laughs as João shakes his head, “Why didn’t you take spanish in highschool?”

“I did! I just never caught on. Plus João became fluent after school anyway so his schooling barely helped.” I shrug as Franco’s expression turns odd.

He blinks, looking to João, “You’re fluent?”

“Si.” He looks almost smug about it as Franco nods slowly, swallowing.

“Así que escuchaste…” (So you heard…)

“Todo.” (Everything) Franco’s smile drops completely at my brothers words. But my brother still carries on with a smile, “Eres muy obvio, pero lo apoyo.” (You’re very obvious, but I support it.)

I frown at their communication that I can’t understand, “Okay, can you two stop gossiping? I’m ready to leave.” Franco smiles at me, nodding slowly as we stand.

Our walk back to the hotel is short and luckily no fans interrupt it. The warmth of the inside makes me smile and the ding of the elevator makes me yearn for my bed.

“Uh, Y/n?” I look back at Franco as he talks, “Could I speak to you for a moment…” I look at my brother who nods, a smile still on his face as he disappears behind the elevator doors. “Let’s go outside.”

It’s no longer raining so we venture out into the hotel's garden. It’s beautiful with tall plants and trees, a small path that we walk on, and flowers that I've never seen before.

“What did you walk to talk to me about?” I turn to him, he looks oddly scared and a bit chilly. He starts to speak but then closes his mouth and thinks, “Franco…?”

“I like you.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, I freeze, “I really like you and not just as a friend… like way more than that.”

I blink, “You’re kidding?”

The panic on his face is immediate, “No?”

“Shit. Okay!” I realize i’m so caught up in my own world that he probably thinks I don’t like him, “I feel the same.”

He breathes out, stepping closer, “You fucking scared me.”

I smile, not believing this is even real, “You really like me? Because my brother has been making me feel delusional all day!” He takes my hand in his and I swear my heart skips a beat.

“He heard me talking about you in spanish…” I raise a brow, “My engineer was teasing me and I didn’t know he spoke it!” I laugh, shaking my head at his story, “But I'm glad he did. I probably would be sitting in my room all alone if he hadn't.”

I grip his hand tighter, stepping closer, “I’m really glad too. I didn’t want to ruin anything but fuck I really like you.”

He grins and leans in, He paused before I nod. Franco presses a kiss to my lips softly, “I can’t believe you have a crush on me.” I whisper as groans and rolls his eyes, trying to walk away.

“No! No taking it back now!” I laugh, pulling him back to me, my hand going to his neck and my lips meeting his, “You’re stuck with me now.”

[hopelessdelusional]

i cannot physically stop thinking abt american transfer student! reader x bkg

like i’m american and compared to japanese culture americans are so fucking messy 😭 that being said if you went to public school (and wasn’t apart of the “popular” group) you’ve witnessed crazy shit-ESPECIALLY in the south like these schools are not for the weak

you never back down from his insults or threats, bc you’ve dealt with dickheads like him all the time in america! public school was insane so this doesn’t phase you at all. when he notices that you don’t even flinch at his crazy antics he feels…different. especially when you insult him right back like it’s nothing. you always have a come back for him and you have physically fought him (and won) on multiple occasions. it makes him start to admire and respect you (and obviously fall in loooooove)

he slowly drifts closer to you, mentally and physically. i am a stern believer in physical touch bkg like fucking fight me. he would want to always be near you so that yall will accidentally brush hands or bump shoulders, every touch sending a shock down his spine

tbh i think the only way to be able to date bkg is to also be mean and i just cannot stop thinking about FUNNY their pre!relationship would be

*bkg saying some bullshit*

you, mumbling in english “big back bitch”

bkg: HAH⁉️WHATD YOU SAY⁉️

we know that shoto can speak english (at least like decently) and tbh i head cannon denki speaking english as well bc idk it suits him. with that being said, whenever you say something crazy in english shoto is always like 😮 and denki is HOWLING meanwhile bkg is CRAZY jealous bc he can’t understand english

like u don’t understand bkg is soooo jealous bc u and denki bond over music, tv shows, and movies and he keeps kicking himself on passing up his parents offer to teach him english. not to mention yall whisper shit in english a LOT and you guys are not slick with how much yall be giggling. bkg is always glaring at yall whenever that happens, and there have been a couple of times where you felt bad so u told him what yall were saying and you get so happy when you see his mouth turn up into a smile while he chuckles.

this is so random but it also pisses him off when u have t shirts on with english words. so it’ll be like dinner time and he’s huffing and puffing and ur like “???” and he keeps glaring at ur shirt like “what does he have against the tv show friends like he’s never heard abt it until now???” and it wasn’t until denki was like “yooo you watch friends? that show is so stupid i love it” that he settles down. from there on out you always find a way to translate your shirts for him

AND MUSIC don’t even get me started on music. you’re singing along so passionately and he’s like. “what are they singing abt i HAVE to know” so he’ll try to be sneaky and use his phone to translate stuff. if it’s a song abt a shitty ex he’ll have the most violent urge to fly to your home state and kill the ex who made you feel like this-but if it’s like megan thee stallion? my dude is sweating and blushing but pissed bc he’s sweating and blushing and basically long story short kirishima goes up to talk to him and gets blasted in the face.

he watches all your favorite movies and tv shows (subtitles on) and he will never admit it but he loves when you whisper the translations in his ear.

another thing that peaks his curiosity is you’re friends from home! america is 14 hours behind tokyo…so talking to ur friends from home can cause difficulties. when it’s late at night the class will see you furiously texting your friends bc it’s morning time for them. sometimes on weekends you guys are able to call, so if you’re ever on call walking into the kitchen for a snack bkg is so curious as to what you and your friends would be talking abt. he always sneaks a peek and you best believe he learns all of your friends names and faces.

friend: “who was that hot guy that you were talking to?”

you: “huh? oh that’s katsuki, i told you abt him”

friend: “dude…you were totally giving him fuck me eyes”

you: “AYO DO NOT EVEN START WITH THAT SH-“

(he was looking at you with such passion and love in his eyes but ur just too dumb to see it)

you tend to crave a lot of american snacks and food, and sometimes bkg will go out to a special shop that has american shit and bring it to you.

“you wouldn’t fucking stop saying how much you wanted it so here take it nerd”

*you’re all teary bc like “omg he went out of his away to go across town to get me some stupid snacks omg im falling for him”*

you love cooking american foods/foods you grew up with for the class and you specifically yearn for bkg’s approval. you eventually learn about his love for cooking and he teaches you japanese dishes while you teach him the dishes you know. the two of you bonded so much while cooking together.

(this part is me venting so just bare with me okay) and god forbid you have a toxic ex in america that’s some fucking loser white boy bc bkg will rip that man to SHREADS. he has you cry laughing over all the insults he comes up with when you finally crack and show him a picture.

“he literally looks like a block of feta cheese yn, he looks like the type to trip on his own shoelaces. he definitely doesn’t read any higher than a ten year olds level-“

it actually ends with a sweet moment of him watching you laugh and when you two lock eyes he tells you that you deserve better, that you deserve someone who will actually treat you well. he scurries off after that bc he realizes he was too soft in that moment and you never stop thinking abt that.

eventually you get him to confess and start dating, obviously having to take it slow bc there’s no way bkg dated anyone before you. slowly figuring out everything that works for the both of you, the relationship is very loving and accepting.

bkg slowly learns all of your favorite songs and knows what they translate to. when you sing love songs to him not thinking he knows what they mean, he just smiles and says smth cheesy like “oh you must really like me huh?”

you of course teach him words in english and you try to tutor him in the language but he’s not the easiest person to teach to, especially a whole new language. but the couple of phrases you teach him are just for your sake so you can talk shit and include him in it, and he loves it so much.

(dw bc by the time he’s an adult he can speak english and his accent is SO cute and you love it so much bc everything he does is so amazing)

when the two of you get older you are able to bring him home! he meets all of your friends and family, even tho he’s literally the most nervous you’ve ever seen him. he knows english by this time but he keeps overthinking it so much, and once he’s surrounded by a bunch of people who’s first language is english he messes up a couple of times and sometimes messes up translations. he gets so mad at himself but you are able to talk him down and tell him not to be so hard on himself.

you bring him to all of your favorite restaurants and areas, shopping included. he wants to know everything about where you grew up, hoping it will somehow grow the two of you even closer to each other. once you’re in public and at restaurants you still insist on speaking japanese since that was the language the two of you used when you fell in love, and even tho you guys get weird stares you refuse to switch. bkg also enjoys it bc when it’s the two of you speaking japanese it’s like you two are in your own little world, like you two really do belong together.

but also you guys shit talk in japanese so. much. like it’s not even funny. if you have family members that you dislike, you better believe you’re whispering in his ear all about it catching him up on family lore when he meets all of your family.

that’s all i can think of rn, but god. i’m obsessed.

[perlelune]

Cruel Summer | Felix Catton

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

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

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

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

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

A city that never rests or stops for anyone.

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

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

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

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

Slacking off isn’t an option for you.

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

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

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

Their cherubic faces flicker in your mind.

There were two of them.

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

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

A surprised exhale spills from your throat. 

Swallowing, you fall back. 

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

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

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

“Hi. I…I’m here to visit my family.”

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

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

He cuts you off, seeming almost annoyed with you.

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

“I could come back later-”

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

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

Your shoulders heave and fall.

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

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

So, this is what generational wealth looks like. 

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

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

“Someone, as in…”

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

The grip on the handle of your suitcase tightens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I shall try.” 

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

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

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

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

“And you are…?”

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

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

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

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

A smug expression lights his features.

“Puberty.”

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

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

“Clearly,” he says, his smile expanding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I really need you, sweetie. 

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

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

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

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

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

Felix tilts his head as he studies you.

“It’s kinda funny.”

“What?”

“The way you say ‘mum’”

A laugh peals from your lips. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

You fidget in your spot. “Thanks.”

Felix flashes you a mischievous grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fiddle with your hands. 

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

“Just remember this is your home too.”

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

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

Venetia shrugs.

“I think she’ll be alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lift your gaze. Your jaw drops.

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

Mirth glints in his brown orbs.

“Lost, cousin?”

Avoiding his eyes, you scratch your am.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” you mumble.

Felix chuckles and seizes your arm. 

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

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

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

Felix knocks on the door and your heart leaps.

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

“You don’t have to,” you squeak.

He leans over you and smiles.

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

Your face warms.

“T-Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

“Is something troubling you, child?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And she sent you to vouch for her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will give it some thought.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly forget your mother. Nearly.

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

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

You flip your phone shut and sigh.

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

“Yeah…Me too.”

“I feel awful.”

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

You tentatively reach over his armchair to squeeze his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.” 

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

“Is it…okay for you to be here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that…nothing.”

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

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

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

“Right. That was so fun.”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

Brown eyes dive right into yours.

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

You shake your head.

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

Felix’s smile dies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cups your cheek, wiping more of your tears.

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

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

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

Your stomach tingles when he offers it to you.

“I don’t know if I should…”

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

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

“That sounds amazing,” you mumble.

“Then try a puff.”

You bring the blunt to your mouth and immediately cough.

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

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

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

Felix lies back next to you, his grin growing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Felix hums while his head bobs between your thighs.

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

You clutch the sheets.

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

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

His devious laughter ripples through your core. 

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

His sinful baritone nudges you to your undoing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frames your chin, drawing your attention to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of this would have happened otherwise.

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

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

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply shyly.

“How are you feeling today?”

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

“I’m good.”

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

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

You bring your knees close to your chest.

“It’s fine, Felix.”

Felix sighs, concern swimming in his brown gaze.

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

You gape at him. 

“You really would do that for my mom?”

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

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

You consider Felix, relief and awe storming through you.

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

“Thank you so much,” you exclaim.

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

“Sure, anything,” you answer easily.

He pulls back, lacing his fingers with yours.

“It’s not much.”

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

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

“Oh, aching…where?”

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

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

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

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

“Sure you can.”

He lifts your chin, diving his eyes into yours.

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

Shock parts your lips.

“Felix…”

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

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

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

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

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

You peer up at Felix. 

“Okay then but don’t…stay too long.”

He beams at you. 

“You’re amazing.” 

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

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

“Good girl,” he praises. 

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

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

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

“Please, don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“B-Because it’s embarrassing.”

He smirks. 

“You’re so fucking cute.”

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

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your pulse soaring.

“W-Why did you just take a picture?”

“Because I want to remember you like this.” 

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

“Delete it, Felix,” you plead. 

He tilts his head, his expression dripping with mischief.

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

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

“You promise?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice comes out hoarse and strained.

“You feel so bloody good.”

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

“Look at me,” he instructs.

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

“Felix, you said…”

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

“But you promised...” you sob. 

He kisses away your tears, his voice mellowing.

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

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

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

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

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

Felix deceived you.

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

This is a nightmare.

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest clenches at your brother’s remark.

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

“I-I don’t know about that.”

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

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

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

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

You focus on your plate. He caresses the inside of your thigh as you bring the fork to your lips.

He presses two fingers against your clothed center. Pushing, pressing and swirling around your tender bud. Your knees rub, heat gathering at the apex of your thighs.

The metal of the fork damn near shatters your teeth as you choke on a mouthful of eggs.

You apologize swiftly, shakily grabbing the glass of water near your plate. You take a long swig from it and clear your throat. Felix’s digits dip further inside you. Your breath hitches. He stops just shy of letting you come apart, bringing you to the cusp only to retreat at the very last second. A meticulously thought out torture.

It lasts for almost the entirety of breakfast, only reaching an end when Venetia rises from the table. You follow right after her, excusing yourself with a tense smile.

Hollow steps take you through an endless series of hallways. You can hardly even think, the enormity of what your cousin just did in front of his parents, in front of everyone, shocking you into numbness. Where will his depravity end? You long for summer to end so perhaps you can finally be free from your cousin.

You wind up in an empty room brimming with dusty books and antiques. You sit in a corner, knees against your chest, as you revel in a rare moment of respite. You don’t get these as often anymore. Not if your cousin has anything to say about it.

As usual, it doesn’t take long for Felix to find you a little later. Your heart skips a beat when his towering frame darkens the doorway, blocking any chance of an escape.

“Playing hide and seek, cousin?” he teases, amusement laced in his voice.

Tears swim in your eyes as you shoot him an accusing look.

“At breakfast, really? Someone could have seen, Felix. M-My brother, he could have seen.”

Rolling his eyes, he hops towards you to take a seat next to you. His rebuttal is disturbingly nonchalant.

“We’re not gonna get caught.”

“I think we should stop,” you sputter, your mouth wobbling. 

His brows squeeze together, a mix of annoyance and confusion twisting his features.

“Why?”

You fiddle with the bottom of your dress, struggling to meet his irate stare. 

“I’m grateful for everything you did, really, but this doesn’t feel right.”

His cheek pulses, a strange grin dragging his lips upward. Your stomach sinks. 

“We’re just having fun, you and I, cousin.”

Your words warp into a watery croak.

“This isn’t fun, Felix.”

A weary sigh drops from his chest. 

“It’s because you’re overthinking it,” he says, reaching out to cup your cheek. You turn your head. Frustration flickers in your cousin’s eyes. As you try to stand, he grabs you and shoves you on the floor. 

“Felix, no…”

Ignoring your sniveling pleas, Felix hastily unzips his jeans and yanks your underwear down to your ankles. 

A strangled sob flows from your lips as he nestles himself inside your wet heat in a single deep, cruel thrust. 

You’re a whimpering mess on the floor as your cousin pounds into you from behind. 

“Just stop fighting it,” he grunts. He twists his fist in your hair, your scalp singing in pain when he tugs at your roots. Tears stream down your face while your cousin snaps his pelvis into your ass. 

“See? This is good.” His warm, heavy exhales tickle your nape. “Doesn’t my cock inside you feel good, cousin?”

“Yes…” you begrudgingly admit, loathing how every time he sinks into you, your toes curl and your eyes roll back on their own, warm tingles dancing through your core.

“Look outside.” You wince as he angles your chin towards the window, his other hand still tangled in your hair. You’re greeted with a beautiful sight of the lush gardens sprawling before the castle. His hot whisper grazes your temple. “Do you see all this? How beautiful Saltburn is…especially in the summer.” His smile carves into your skin.

“One day, all of this will be mine, cousin.” He plants a soft kiss on your cheek. Shivers course through your spine. “And it could be yours too… if you behave.”

[p0orbaby]

Little fic where is alexia dating an English player who finds it difficult how affectionate Spanish people are with each other. Alexia having to reassure her that it’s a Spanish thing and she’ll try to be less touchy etc.

-

You’re not sure when exactly it starts to get on your nerves, but by the time you notice, you’re on a sun-bleached terrace in Barcelona, watching Alexia kiss three people hello in under five minutes. It's an odd thing to obsess over, and yet here you are, eyes narrowed as you sip on an overpriced cortado that tastes like dust and regret. You’re not jealous. Of course not. That would be absurd. You’re simply... perplexed by the excessive touching, the relentless stream of hugs, kisses, and arm squeezes that seem to form the bedrock of Spanish existence. Everyone’s always touching someone.

In England, a handshake is intimate enough, and in London, where you’re from, if anyone dared speak before your tea even cooled, you’d probably alert the authorities. But here? It's practically a greeting card in motion. You’ve seen grown men embrace in the street like they’ve just survived a shipwreck. It's baffling.

Alexia sits down across from you, smiling in that way that makes you feel foolish for being annoyed by anything. She’s impossibly beautiful, and the knowledge of that fact gnaws at you constantly. She’s all golden skin and nonchalance, legs casually crossed, one hand fiddling with her sunglasses as if she’s in some sort of commercial for ‘cool.’

“Are you okay?” she asks, her accent making every word sound softer than it should be, like it's wrapped in velvet. She’s genuinely concerned, or she’s pretending really well. You can’t tell which.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fine”

And then, because you’re not actually fine: “Do you have to kiss everyone?”

She looks at you like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “It’s how we greet people here”

“I know that,” you say, setting your cup down with more force than necessary. “But does it have to be every time? You’ve kissed three strangers today already, and it’s not even noon”

Alexia blinks at you, then laughs. “It’s just being polite”

Polite? You're thinking. In England, you say "hi" and move on with your day. No one has to swap saliva to prove they like you. But this? This is something else.

“Well, it’s... it’s excessive.” You try to explain, gesturing vaguely in the air like you can catch the sheer madness of it all. “People just... touch all the time. And I’m not used to it”

Alexia’s mouth twitches, trying to suppress a smile. “We’re just more affectionate”

“Affectionate?” you say. “It’s like a plague of hand-holding and cheek-kissing”

She finally lets out a laugh, full-bodied, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. “You sound like an old lady”

“Maybe I am,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe England has made me emotionally unavailable”

Alexia reaches out to touch your arm, then stops, hesitating, her hand hovering mid-air like she’s not sure if it’ll set you off again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you sigh, waving her hand toward you, now feeling like the crazy one. “It’s fine. Just... give me a heads-up before the next 12-person cuddle fest”

She grins, leaning back. “I can try”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so annoying”

“And you love it

You do. And you hate that you do, which is probably the worst part of all this. She knows you’re wound too tight for your own good, and she’s infinitely more relaxed about everything, like the world bends to her will instead of the other way around.

You finish your cortado, now cold. “You realise you kissed the barista on the way in, right?”

Alexia nods, grinning wickedly. “She made my coffee right”

You groan, but you’re laughing, which only encourages her. “I’m never letting you set foot in the UK again”

“That’s fine,” she says, leaning in, all confidence. “Spain suits you better anyway. You just don’t know it yet”

[paddockletters]

unspoken | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x reader  request: yes /can you please write something about the reader being from italy and finding it hard to pronounce many english word, and shes out with jude and people they’re with start making snarky comments. like they are all making fun of her accent and at first she acts like she’s fine but then jude realises she is quieter than usual and jude just comforts her pls author’s note: thank you so muchhh for the request! hope you liked it! 👀

It was a warm evening, the kind where the air buzzed with energy, and we found ourselves sitting around a table with some of Jude’s friends, laughing and chatting over dinner. I hadn’t met all of them before, but Jude made sure I felt included, keeping me close with his arm draped casually over my chair.

The night was going well, everyone swapping stories and jokes, the conversation flowing easily—until it didn’t.

Someone cracked a joke, and I tried to jump in, tossing a comment that made sense in my head. But the words stumbled out, my accent thick on my tongue. I saw one of the girls across the table glance at her friend, stifling a laugh.

"Sorry, what did you say?" she asked, her smile a little too sharp.

I repeated myself, slower this time, making sure I was saying it right. The sound of my voice, though, felt wrong—like I was standing out in a way I didn’t want to.

“That’s adorable,” one of the guys chimed in with a chuckle. “Your accent really does all the talking, doesn’t it?”

There was a round of light laughs, and I forced a smile, even though it felt like I’d been slapped.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I muttered, trying to laugh it off.

The conversation shifted, but the feeling lingered. Every time I opened my mouth after that, I could hear the way the words didn’t quite fit, like puzzle pieces forced into the wrong spots. And every once in a while, one of them would make another subtle remark, like they were amused by the way I spoke.

Jude was talking to one of his teammates, his hand still resting on the back of my chair. He hadn’t seemed to notice yet. I didn’t want to make a scene, so I played along, acting like the jokes didn’t bother me. But they did. Each one chipped away at the confidence I’d built up, leaving me quieter than usual, sinking into myself.

I stared at my glass, swirling the drink around, nodding along when I was supposed to, but feeling like I wasn’t really there.

It wasn’t until we left the restaurant, walking towards the car, that Jude seemed to pick up on it. He slid his hand into mine, glancing down at me.

“You alright, love? You’ve been quiet tonight.”

I shrugged, hoping he wouldn’t press further. “Just tired.”

He didn’t buy it. Jude stopped walking, gently pulling me aside so we weren’t within earshot of the others.

“No, something’s up. You’re not yourself.”

His eyes searched mine, concern etched on his face. It was one of the things I loved about him—how he always paid attention, even when I tried to hide things.

“It’s nothing, really. Just… they kept making fun of my accent.” I forced a smile, but my voice cracked. “It’s not a big deal.” I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

“Who?” Jude’s expression hardened.

“It’s fine, Jude. They didn’t mean it like that. It was just jokes.” I shook my head quickly.

“They upset you,” he said simply, his jaw clenched now. “That’s not okay.”

"I just… I try so hard. I know I don’t sound like everyone else, and I don’t want to embarrass you—” I bit my lip, trying to keep my composure, but the frustration bubbled up.

“You think you embarrass me?” He cut me off, his voice gentle but firm. His hands came up to cradle my face, forcing me to look at him. “Babe, you could never embarrass me. I love everything about you, including the way you speak.”

I felt my eyes sting with tears, the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

“It’s just hard. I don’t want people to think I’m stupid because I can’t say things the right way.”

Jude’s thumb brushed a tear from my cheek before it could fall.

“You’re not stupid, and I don’t care what anyone thinks. Your accent is beautiful. You don’t have to change for anyone.”

“Thank you.” I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch.

"Next time someone makes a comment, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s a joke—they don’t get to make you feel like that.” He kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

I smiled up at him, feeling a little lighter.

“You’re not going to punch anyone, are you?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Only if they deserve it.”

We both laughed softly, the tension melting away as we walked back to the car, hand in hand.

[enmi-land]

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ MiLA AND HER FAVOURiTE OPPA . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE ViDEO. #2O24. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila being babygirl for Jay.

CLIP 1, INTERVIEW

for context: mila and kiara were asked who they thought the most manly member is in the group

“Uhhh, I don’t know about that.” Kiara laughs awkwardly at the idea. “I’m older than almost all of them, and I grew up with Heeseung since we were kids, so it’s hard to say. I don’t really… you know?”

“Ah, fair enough. They’re kind of like younger brothers, right? That would be awkward.” The interview nods in understanding when Kiara confirms. “In that case, what about Mila? Maybe not for the younger members, but you must have thought about your oppas, right?”

“Well…” Mila laughs shyly as her members all turn to face her. “They all have their charms. But when I think of the word ‘masculine,’ the first person I think of is none other than my Jay-oppa.”

The interviewer is surprised when Engenes watching the interview live start to scream at the top of their lungs. “Oooooh! I see—Jay seems very happy about this.”

The focus is now on Jay, who is smiling widely beside Mila while she hides her face behind her hand in embarrassment.

me and the ghost in my room: [*Theo slapping Keeho on the shoulder*]

“Now I’m curious. What makes you pick Jay, of all the members?”

“Well,” Mila says shyly, avoiding Jay’s gaze as he stares softly at her. “Ever since we met, he’s taken very good care of me—not that the other members don’t, but sometimes we have those times where we tease each other and all of that stuff. You know?”

The interviewer nods. “You like to play around, yes? Close friends who tease each other.”

Mila nods strongly. “Exactly like that! Jay-oppa isn’t like that, though. He’s a real gentleman. He’s always very gentle, and soft-spoken, and patient. He’s like the type of person people want their daughters to marry...”

And then Mila proceeds to hide her face behind Jay as Engenes go wild over their interaction. All the while, Jay can’t help the absolutely whipped look on his face as he smiles like an idiot.

[*Close up of Jay*] [“Boy who got you smiling like that?”]

CLIP 2, COMPILATION

to give you an idea of mila’s favouritism, let’s see the difference between mila with each of the 02z mila with jakehoon:

K-NEXT DOOR

“I was watching some of your clips, and I noticed something interesting,” Jonathan says. “Mila, you’re a 03-liner, right?”

Mila blinks. “Yes, that’s right.”

Jonathan turns to Jake. “Jake, you’re a 02-liner.”

Jake nods.

“In that case… Mila—why don’t you call Jake ‘oppa’?”

Mila bursts out laughing as if she’s just heard the funniest thing in her life, before she composes herself and turns to Jonathan. “Well, for one, we’re both foreigners and speak English when we’re alone. I got used to calling him by name, so it feels weird to call him oppa. And for another, it feels weird to call him my oppa when he doesn’t act like one.”

Jake looks at Mila in absolute shock as Jonathan’s jaw drops. Heeseung and Jungwon giggle among themselves, and Jake nods solemnly at the camera with his lips pressed into a thin line.

[*Close up of Jake with raining overlay*] [“Gwenchana, gwenchana, daeng daeng daeng daeng daeng.”]

WEVERSE LIVE

“The other day, I realised that I’m only three months younger than Sunghoonie-oppa,” Mila says all of a sudden. “Isn’t that so weird? I might as well be his friend, but he’s still considered my elder because he’s born in 2002. It’s so unfair…”

Mila pouts as she reads comments. “‘Just don’t call him ‘oppa’?” Mila laughs. “Right. I should just call him ‘Sunghoon-ssi’ from now on, haha. Or ‘Sunghoon-hyung.’ Can you imagine his expression? It would be funny…”

Mila bursts out laughing as she reads a comment.

“‘Just call him Sunghoon’? Yahhh, you’re trying to get me in trouble.” Mila looks thoughtful for a second after she says this. “But then again, I don’t really care if it’s Sunghoonie-oppa. He can just be mad at me, for all I care.”

She leans towards the camera with a cheeky smile.

“Should I do it, everyone?”

spoiler alert: she does it [*Compilation of Mila saying ‘Sunghoon-ssi’*]

[*Close up of Sunghoon’s reactions*] [“I never found you funny, I never found you entertaining—”]

[*Spongebob Narration* ‘Meanwhile’*] mila with jay:

EN-LOG

Mila is in the middle of eating at a restaurant when she receives a call. She looks at her phone to see who it is, and lights up when she sees the contact. She gasps excitedly. “Everyone, it's Jay-oppa!”

She shows her phone to the screen to see the contact which she saved him under: ‘the bestest oppa 😇’

(This is before they even date, mind you.)

[*Close up of Mila’s phone*] “THE BESTEST OPPA” 🤭✨

[*Cardi B squinting* “That’s suspicious, that’s weird.”]

She picks up the call and holds it to hear ear. In a cutesy voice that is out of character for Mila, she leans back in her chair and smiles, completely forgoing her food. “Hello?”

“What are you doing?” Jay asks.

“I’m just having lunch now.” Mila reaches up to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. “How about Oppa?”

mila whenever jay: [*Nayeon tucking her hair behind her ear*]

Jay hums. “That’s good. I came across a new chocolate store just now. I’m going to take a look now. Do you want me to buy you anything?”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa is too good to me ❤️’]

And from there, the two have a sweet phone call, with Mila looking like a giddy teenage girl as she talks.

“Mmm, okay,” Mila says as they reach the end of their call, but not without a pout. “I’ll let you go, then.”

“Get back home safely, okay? Call if you need anything.” Jay’s voice is soft, and Mila is smiling as she assures him that she will do as he says. “You hang up first.”

[EN-Log captions: ‘Jay-oppa, why are you so sweet to me? I’ll cry :(’]

Mila giggles. “Okay, okay. Bye bye~” She still smiles at her phone, even after she hangs up. She then turns to the camera and smiles. “Everyone, isn't my Jay-oppa the sweetest?”

“MY JAY-OPPA” 😫

jakehoon watching this: [“I just wanna be appreciated! I wanna be appreciated!”]

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay, will you marry me’?!”

[*Boom*]

Mila is flabbergasted after she reads out the comment, and looks up at the camera with a look of absolute incredulous indignation. Jay simply laughs at her expression. “Why, why? What’s with your expression?”

“No!” Mila says with a huff. “You can’t marry him!”

Jay looks amused as Mila glares at the camera, trying to intimidate. “Shouldn’t I have a say?”

“You can’t.” Mila latches onto his arm, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “There’s only one Jay-oppa in the world, everyone else can go find their own.”

[“Hold up! Wait a minute! Something’s not right!”][*Mirage effect*]

mila when engenes ask to marry ni-ki [*Mila saying, “Haha. Good luck with that. He’s a lot to handle.”*]

mila now: [*Mirage effect*]

“But you have to share with Engenes,” Jay says amusedly.

Mila turns to him with a pout and a signature pair of babydoll eyes that she always seems to wear around him—and which he’ll always fold to. “Tell them to ask someone else.”

🤨 [*Dwayne Johnson raising an eyebrow*]

Jay simply chuckles and turns to the camera. “Sorry, I can’t get married to you because our Mila doesn’t approve. You have to ask someone else to be your husband.” He looks back down at Mila. “Happy?”

Mila nods. She then proceeds to continue clinging onto his arm for the rest of the live, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looks at her with a gaze that could melt butter.

🦋🦋🦋

CLIP 4, COMPILATION

This is basically just Mila getting shy and avoiding Jay’s gaze whenever she makes eye contact with him. It’s like she physically can’t handle looking into his eyes or she’ll be sucked into a vacuum.

mila when jay looks at her: [“Oh no, I hope I don’t fall.”]

CLIP 5, COMPILATION

proof that mila is jay’s baby part 298192: she always runs to jay when she needs something

EN-TER KEY

Mila realises she made a mistake during monitoring and looks at the camera. “I messed up…”

She doesn’t seem bothered by it because she laughs. But as a few seconds pass, she seems visibly worried as she avoids eye contact with the camera and looks away more than once, as if to use her face.

(This was during a period of time not longer after debut, where she was receiving immense hate for supposedly debuted without any talent.) 

But then she seems to crack and turns her back to the camera, before making a beeline in a certain direction. As the cameraman follows her, they end up finding Jay, who is seated on a couch in the dressing room.

He immediately stands up upon seeing Mila, and worriedly asks her what’s wrong. He opens his arms to her and she immediately walks into his embrace, burying her face in his shoulder.

He brings a hand to her head and whispers something in her ear which the cameras don’t catch. But its clear that he’s doing his best to cocker her and shield her from the camera’s view.

EN-DIARIES

Mila is tasked with the mission of giving a member a makeover, which she complains will be entirely impossible to do for any of them. But then she decides to approach Jay, and follows him around the place, asking him (and only him) for help.

“Oppa, can you help me just this once?” Mila grabs onto his sleeve and tugs it to her. “Please?”

Jay pretends to ignore her, instead busying himself with looking inside the fridge. But instead of giving up and asking one of the other members, she persists, and does everything from clinging, whining, to even pretending to be upset.

“I’ve been rejected,” she mopes in the living room, purposely speaking loud enough for Jay to hear her. “No one loves me anymore.”

At this, Jay seems ro reach the end of his straw, and laughs to himself as he makes his way over to the sulking Mila on the couch. To keep the long story short, Mila eventually sits him down and happily puts a ribbon in his hair, while commenting how cute he looks.

SO SO FUN

Mila is in the middle of cooking something in the kitchen when she notices that something is a bit off. She gasps when she realises she forgot to add an ingredient, and starts to panic that she might have ruined the whole dish.

The first thing she does is take off to find Jay. “Oppa, are you busy?”

Jay looks at her with his full attention. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Mila looks slightly embarrassed and stands closer to Jay, with a hand slightly covering her mouth. He leans down closer as she basically whispers, “I made a mistake with the food. I think I messed it up…”

Jay, to his credit, seems unpaused. “Show me. We’ll see if we can fix it.”

Mila points out the food when she gets for the kitchen, looking disappointed as she walks Jay through every step she took. “Sorry,” she says with a frown as she finishes. “I’m so clumsy…”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” Jay reassures softly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and places a comforting hand on her head. “We can still fix it. Come here, I’ll show you what to do if it happens again.”

MISCELLANEOUS

And again, Mila can be seen asking for his help or his comfort when she needs something, which he responds to like a hero to the rescue at every occasion. It’s really no surprise that he’s her favourite oppa. (Or so, JayMi shippers like to claim—just don’t let the MiSeung fans know.)

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

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