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flaredcfan · 2 months

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THE THINGS WE KEEP

Summary: Part two to One More Chance, you find yourself back in Saltburn with something that could ruin you.

Warnings: pregnancy(?), pregnancy symptoms (?), talks of abortion, period- fertility talk, sorta dark??? Now that I'm realizing it?? Handjob, voyeurism, public handjob-sorta??, arguing, Oliver.

Notes: Will there be a part three? Maybe if you guys are super super nice to me and leave nice comments 😁 this is nearly 6k words, i was gonna make it even but i was starting to feel like i was talking in circles... Erm feel free to tell me if i missed any warnings, I'd real appreciate it!

“If it's a girl, can you name it after me?”

You run a hand over the bare skin of your stomach, you pinch at the fat, at the roundness that's a little firm. “I’m not pregnant.” You murmur, glaring at Annabel through the mirror. The girl is splayed across your bed, head hanging off the edge as she passively reads through a magazine. “And it's not an ‘it’.”

Annabel looks up, her eyes squinting as she smiles. “Can you name her after me? Sweet little Annie. That'd be cute, wouldn't it?”

“The test was negative.” You say. Though your hands keep to your stomach then to your breasts that look bigger and feel heavier, tender almost. “The test was negative so why do I feel pregnant?”

“‘Cuz you're pregnant.” The girl states, trying to seem serious but she's upset down, smiling at you— her eyes on your belly. “That’s what happens when you fuck without a condom and off the pill.”

‘But the tests were negative.’ You think again with a frown. You've taken three of them dreading to see that double pink line or the big bold letters proclaiming you're pregnant but negative. All of them were negative. “It was only twice.” You say and Annabel snorts, not believing you. You can't blame her, not when it was clear on some level you have forgiven your ex-boyfriend who could now be found at your side at almost any hour of the day. Farleigh had spent days making it up to you; bending you over at parties, going down on you in the library, even fingering you through a lecture once. He hadn't cared who could see in certain situations, didn't care who could hear and Annabel’s snort is proof of that, she's caught you with your legs wrapped around his head more than ‘two’ times. “Maybe it's just stress.” You try, faking a smile at the mirror. Annabel gives you a look through the glass. “Finals, you know? The studying and maybe going to Saltburn this summer–”

“Or you're pregnant.” Annabel interrupts.

But you couldn't be. You think almost hysterically, that the tests were negative and tests, no matter how cheap, couldn't lie to you. It's illegal, you go to rub a hand over your stomach and then draw it away with a deep breath, “Anna, babe. I love you but– but I'm trying not to freak out and you're freaking me out.”

She sits up instantly, the smile falling from her face faster than the magazine falls from her hands. “Sorry, sorry. When was your last period?”

You think back, teeth pulling at the skin of your lips as you pace the length of your dorm. “Erm– I think– I think before I fucked Farleigh? Yeah, it was like a week before.”

“You banged him raw during your fertile week?!?” She screams, hops from your bed, and throws your shirt at you. “Come on, we're going to the market.”

You rush to pull the shirt over your head, you scramble over to your slides as she puts on her jacket and shoves you hers. “My fertile week-?”

“You’re lucky, I like you.” She says seriously. She throws you a look, then looks down at your stomach again with a frown. “And you're lucky we're going to a pharmacy out of town, we can't be recognized. It's going to be a long ride and I'm going to explain how majorly you fucked up.”

After a three-hour car ride with Annabel telling you ‘Fertile week’ is just another word for ovulation and switching between cursing you out for being so dumb and making you promise to name the baby after her, you arrive at the pharmacy and it's dark. The pharmacist gives you both odd looks when you rush in, then it switches to a nauseating look of understanding when you approach the counter with four different brands of pregnancy tests, a 24 oz Gatorade and Levonelle— the UK’s Plan B. The two of you lock yourselves in the bathroom and nearly forty minutes later, you get the answer you already knew.

You're not pregnant.

But Annabel makes you take a morning-after pill anyway. The walk back to her truck is almost silent, she's muttering to herself as she unlocks her doors and tells you to get in first as she digs through her messy jeep and she finds what she's looking for and a crumpled pamphlet is shoved in your hands as she gets in the front seat. You read the bright pink words across the top of it and nearly drop it, swallowing back the pity that bubbles in your throat.

“Another thing we'll have in common.” She tries to joke but she's not looking at you, her knuckles white around the wheel. “Lucky you get a choice in this.”

“Annabel–”

“I don't want to talk about it.” She says quickly, then she smiles, facing you. There's a faraway look in her eyes and you shift in the seat, choking down guilt. Yet another secret of Felix’s you're forced to keep. “I know you think you're not pregnant, I know the test says you aren't but… just keep this, okay? ‘Cuz those pills— they don't always work. In case you want to go in person and get a check-up, it couldn't hurt, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly. “I could go before I fly back to America for the summer.”

Annabel frowns. “Thought you were going back to Saltburn?”

“I can't go like this.” You say a hand with a hand over your stomach. “I need to figure out what's going on. Maybe I'm just gaining weight from stress and school, maybe it's nothing and maybe I'm– I'm– you know.”

She nods, then. “What are you going to tell Farleigh?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly. You lick your lips in thought, your eyes drifting away from her. “It’s not his business what's going on with me. Just because we're fucking again doesn't mean he's my boyfriend.”

Annabel lets out a long hum as she starts the truck. The ride back to campus is silent for a while and then, “If it's a boy, do you think it'd have his gigantic head?”

“Oh my god–”

You blocked Felix's number again.

You think this is the kinder choice; instead of telling him to his face that no, you will not be going to Saltburn even though you and Farleigh were on better terms, you'd be going home to see your mother again, you haven't seen her in two years and calls and emails were not enough. Then you backtrack because you don't have to justify where you're going to him— he's a friend and you use that term loosely. The things you know about that man make him the least deserving of your kindness even if he acts like he's God's gift to everyone, you've seen what's under his smile, what he keeps in his closet and you've seen what makes him tick and explode. So, no you're not going to Saltburn, you probably wouldn't have even if you weren't—

You pause. You weren't, what? Pregnant? You're not, you're just… sick. Yeah, you're sick, and being at home with family could help you, fix you.

The point is, you're not going to Saltburn. You have an appointment at a clinic two hours before you need to catch your flight and Annabel promises you the staff there is very in and out, you'd be out with time to spare regardless of your results. You just had to get off campus undetected by Farleigh and his cousin who seem to be searching for you.

You almost run straight into Farleigh twice but you are quick to blend in with the crowd of students crossing the courtyard, you nearly bump into Felix when his back is to you and he's chatting to some girls in your year asking if they've seen you and you quickly turn on your heels and dip into a nearby building. You press your body flush against the cool walls and close your eyes as nausea builds in your gut from all your running around and hiding. You feel warm, a slight sweat beading on your brow.

“You’re hiding from them again.”

You jolt, eyes flying open to look at Oliver who stares back curiously. His blue eyes dart all over your figure and it makes your skin crawl, the way he takes you in— he's looking for something and he frowns when he sees it. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, your throat pinching. You swallow and rub your palms against the front of your shirt and his eyes follow the movement, his frown deepening. You clear your throat and smile, though it's small as you change the subject, “I heard by the way- I'm sorry about your dad.”

Oliver blinks and it's like he was never picking you apart with his eyes, his frown lessens into a confused little pout. “Felix– he– he told you?”

Your smile twitches. No, Farleigh told you but you don't admit to that. “Yeah, I heard you were going to Saltburn.”

“And… and he told you I was going just because my Da’ died?” He asks. Again you wipe your hands but his eyes don't follow the movement, he's waiting for you to answer. Farleigh told you Felix felt bad for leading Oliver on and invited Oliver to Saltburn to see where things went and when pressed Felix said the same. But that night when Farleigh was drawing patterns on your back, he had whispered how both Felix and Oliver had made out whilst drunk and the next day Felix had all but dropped him till the news of his dad's sudden death.

“No,” You lie, after a pause. You let your smile grow bigger, “No, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that, Ollie. He would have invited you regardless, I phrased it wrong.”

“Oh… okay.” He swallows and you think the conversation is finished but when you go to pass him, he grabs your arm and yanks you back. You'd usually curse him out but you feel so sick, the sudden stop has your stomach lurching, your lips clenching as you swallow the saliva that pools in your mouth. He pulls you closer to him when he speaks, “I’ll see you there, right? Felix said you're going.”

“Yeah, yeah... you'll see me, I just have to pack up my dorm and–” Distantly you hear your name being called by Farleigh and shudder, the last thing you need right now is to be caught with Oliver's hands on you. “I have to go before the patrol sees my stuff still in there and they give me a fine.”

This time Oliver lets you go and you speed walk away, a hand pressed tightly against your mouth. You will not puke, not when you can still feel Oliver's eyes on you.

You miss your fucking flight.

But that's not the worst part of today. First, you lose your phone. You don't know when, you don't know how but you do know when you go to grab it, it's not in your pocket or your bag. You rip apart what's left of your dorm room and can't find it— you can't find Annabel either, you think she's ditched the school earlier and when you trudge your way down to the student pay phones and see the lines, you know there's no way you could stand there and wait for your turn. So you slink out of the campus with all your bags and catch one of the taxis loitering outside the campus and tell the driver where you need to go.

Then, the taxi breaks down. You're about halfway to the clinic when the motor starts to sputter, the driver curses and pulls off to the side of the road just as the engine gives out and the two of you sit in stunned silence.

“You– you can fix that, right?” You ask in disbelief, your bag clutched tight to your body. The driver presses his lips tight together, it's an attempt to smile but it falls quickly as he gets out of the car and pops the hood. You're no expert on cars or how they work but you're pretty sure it shouldn't be smoking. You watch, heart pounding till you decide— fuck it and you get out of the car and go to search your bag for your phone, if you could find it you could get another taxi and get to your appointment on time and–

“Ma’am you have to stay in the car.” The driver says the second you round the vehicle.

“What?”

“If someone comes by and hits you it's my fault,” He explains and you give him a bewildered look and then look to the British countryside. If someone came by maybe they could save you from this nonsense. “If you get hurt and file a claim, I'm done for– I could get fired and I need this job. So just sit in the car till I get this figured out, yeah?”

You frown, you don't want someone to lose their job because of you but can't just miss your flight. “Can’t you just call someone?”

“No.” He answers so quickly, it has you startling back. He's growing a bit pink in the face but he's still trying to smile, “Don’t worry ma'am, you're in good hands, I promise. I'll have this fixed in under an hour or two–”

No, no. You'll miss your flight and you don't have money for another– you could barely afford the first ticket, “I can't sit here for an hour or two, I'm expected somewhere! Can't we just use the phone in the taxi-?”

“It doesn't work if the engine doesn't work.” The man says tightly, his eyes darting away from you and to the still-smoking engine then back. “I understand your frustration but you just have to bear with me–”

“Do you have a personal phone I could use?” You interrupt, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “So I can– I can call another taxi, I'll even call the number on the side of this one so it's someone from the same company and we'll both get help–”

“Ma’am.” The man says, loudly interrupting your rant. “I can fix this, you just have to give me a chance, please get in the car and wait. If it is beyond my capabilities I'll give you my phone and you can call whoever you want and I'll give you a refund and a coupon.”

“A–A coupon?” You ask, your voice shrill. “You want to give me a coupon? I'm going to miss my fucking flight!”

The man opens his mouth but you're not hearing any of it. your hands are shaking as you climb back into the taxi because what else could you do but wait? You don't know the countryside like you know the city and don't know how far away you are from the clinic. You have no choice but to wait for the car to start working again or for the man to finally give up and give you his phone. You swallow back the nausea that creeps up your throat and place your head against your knees as you fight the urge to scream and cry. Why couldn't things go right? Why did you have to go through all this? A pregnancy scare, a keeper of a Cattons’ secrets, and school you could barely even afford. What was the point when none of it went your way?

You're crying by the time the driver gets back in the car. He clears his throat awkwardly and hands you his phone. The time on the screen makes your eyes water all over again, you missed your appointment, you missed your flight. You're stuck in England with nowhere to go and when you try to call Annabel first, she doesn't pick up. But you don't expect her to, she doesn't answer numbers she doesn't know and neither does Farleigh. So, you dial the next best number. The phone rings once, twice, and then–

“Felix?

Saltburn looks like it's haunted when it's dark.

It's foggy, only lit up by the moon and there's a warm mist that clings to the air as you arrive— You shift in your seat, peering out of the window, and see there's only one or two lights left on in the castle-like house. The place looks empty but if you squint, shadows are moving within the darkness, the servants of the house, you assume. Trying to go unseen as they clean and prepare for the next day. You sit back in your seat and glance at the center console to read the time and it's nearly nine, you've missed dinner and know that Sir James and Elspeth have probably retired for the night and think great, those are two fewer Cattons’ you have to deal with.

But that leaves the three waiting on the stairs.

You're barely out of the car before Venetia is on you. She's throwing her arms around your neck and pulling you close, forcing you to bend to her height as she hugs you and you return the hug softly, a sigh leaving your lips, “Hi, Netia.”

“Felix is pissed.” She murmurs against your ear. She hugs you closer, and your eyes dart up the stairs and to the two Cattons’ coming down them. “Farleigh is…hurt. But he didn't let Felix blow up about it.”

You pull away from the hug, just a little— your hands settling on her arms as you take in her face. She's looking at you with a small smile but her eyes are a little misty, “And you?”

“I get it.” She replies softly. “I don't know all of what happened but I wouldn't come back here either. I just wish you would have emailed me or something.”

Your stomach twists with guilt. “Ven–”

“It’s fine.” She says quickly, her lips quirking up. She's already stepped away, her eyes flickering to Felix. “Incoming.”

“Nice of you to finally join us.” Felix all but hisses as he gets closer, Farleigh is grabbing at his arm, saying his name thick with warning but Felix only shakes him off. “What were you thinking?”

You scowl at him, shrinking away from his gaze. “I don't have to explain myself to you, Felix.”

“You promised.” He says, “Promised Farleigh, promised me– then, then you lie to Ollie and say you're coming–”

You roll your eyes at the mention of Oliver, of course, he snitched. “Sorry, I didn't want to spend another summer at Saltburn–”

Felix scoffs, “Oh, real cute–”

“–Sorry I wanted to see my family for the first time in two years.” You spit then take a breath. “Look, Felix. I'm not going to apologize– not for wanting to go home but thank you for getting me. I appreciate it.”

Felix's lips are tightened like he's fighting the urge to frown. “Yeah, well, that's what family does for each other.” You swallow thickly as he shakes his head— he's already turning away, shoulder-checking Farleigh and Venetia is quick to follow. She offers you one last smile before she rushes after him, leaving only you and Farleigh.

You open your mouth and Farleigh levels you with an aching look, “Don’t.” He says, his voice cracking. He takes a breath, his tongue darting across his lip, “Not tonight, okay? We can– we can talk in the morning.”

“Okay.” You say, “You can go up– I'll get my bags and–”

“Baby,” Farleigh starts, he takes a step forward— his fingers looping with yours. “Let the workers get it. Let's go to bed.”

Your heart trips in your chest, “Together?”

Farleigh presses a long kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, babe. Together.”

Waking up with Farleigh was easy.

He'd always curl into you, whisper in your ear to stay in bed for just a moment longer— he'd pepper kisses along the side of your neck, his fingers would dance across your stomach to pull you closer and his hips would push into your backside and he'd ask if you were up for a little fun.

Today was no different, though you twist before his hands could go near your stomach and face him, he smiles at you softly, blinking in surprise at the sudden movement but a small moan is pushed from him when you lean closer, sliding your lips over his. He kisses you back easily, eagerly but he is the first to pull away with a small huff, his eyes squinting through the dark room to see you better. “Are we going to talk about it?”

You don't answer and Farleigh doesn't ask again, his warm eyes watching you curiously as you shift lower in the bed— you're no longer at eye level with your ex-boyfriend, you give his chin a small kiss as your hands slide down the length of his half nude body. Farleigh had tossed his shirt claiming it was too hot to sleep with it on but had no problems climbing under the covers with you later that night. Your fingers tease the band of his shorts and you feel his stomach clench in anticipation. You crane your head up just a bit, your lashes fluttering, “Can I?”

Farleigh swallows, “Yeah.”

You slip a hand down his pants and Farleigh jerks when you wrap a hand around his dick. He hisses your name in shock when you tug at it, watching with wide eyes as you quickly withdraw your hand and spit on your palm. Farleigh gasps as you grab for him again, his head ducking in search for your lips once again as you work your hand over his dick— he's all but gasping and moaning into your mouth during the kiss, humping into your closed fist as your other hand ghosts back up his body, to his nipples. You tease them, giggling when he trips to nip at your lips, you trace the outline of one before you pinch, twisting it gently as you lean back and watch as he groans. You go to kiss him again when someone knocks.

“Go away,” Farleigh tries to order but his voice breaks when you begin to pump him faster. Farleigh swallows back a moan and humps into your fist faster. You're snickering at his dizzy expression, he's biting his lip and letting out short little moans for your ears only. The person knocks again and Farleigh groans, mouth opening to shout but the handle jiggles, and the large oak door creaks open with a hard push. Duncan peers into the darkness of the room and Farleigh nearly freezes, his eyes wide as he looks over your shoulder. He's heaving, panting but his hips still slowly roll into your closed fist— one of his hands disappearing under the cover to keep your hand on him. “He can't see us,” He whispers so softly, that you have to shuffle closer.

Duncan clicks his tongue stepping into the dark room. The man, thankfully, bypasses the light switch in favor of going towards the curtains, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

You give Farleigh a test jerk, squinting to see him bite his lip as his lashes flutter. You shuffle closer to Farleigh, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your thumb sweeps over his weeping tip. Duncan is shuffling behind you, he's surely getting closer to the curtain but Farleigh hooks a leg around yours and presses into your fist so hard it has him hissing out a choked curse. Duncan, of course, thinks it's directed towards him.

You can hear the scowl in his voice as he fumbles with the chord of the curtains, “Everyone is already downstairs waiting for you and we can't find your lady–”

“Uh–huh...”

“–And you're sleeping in without a care in the world–” Duncan continues as Farleigh whimpers against your ear. There's a light, near faint squeaking that fills the room, Farleigh is going to cum. You feel it in the way he moves, how his breath stutters. It's a surprise he isn't begging for it but you blame it on the fact that he doesn't want to alert the butler to what he was doing or your presence. Farleigh’s free hand grasps for you, pulling you into a bruising kiss as he cums, he groans into your mouth, fingers curling against the base of your neck as he slowly rolls to a stop in your hand. Duncan pulls the curtains open and light floods the room and you can barely pull away in time to duck under the cover as Duncan sputters behind you.

“M-my lady–”

Farleigh laughs, pulling the covers over his head to hide from Duncan's accusing gaze. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Duncan nods, clears his throat, and speeds from the room. The two of you are still giggling for a moment, exchanging kisses when—

“We still have to talk about it,” Farleigh says and you frown, pulling away to look at him. The man raises a brow, his lips quirking just a bit as he presses another kiss to the corner of your lips before he gets out of bed. “Sex isn't going to make me forget you tried to leave.”

You roll away, burying your face in his pillow with an annoyed groan. Your response is muffled and Farleigh comes back to the bed and you lift your head when he asks you to repeat what you said. “I wanted to visit my mom, I told you guys that last night.”

Farleigh hums, he doesn't believe you but he doesn't outright say it. He just looks at you like you're something tragic, like you're made from broken bits of glass that's been stuck together again, “You ignored all my calls.”

“You would have stopped me.”

Farleigh frowns, shaking his head and when his curls bounce it makes you realize he went to sleep without a hair cap. “I would have asked ‘why.’ Why now, why when we're working things out, why when we're getting back together–”

“We’re not.” You say so quickly, you nearly bite your tongue. Farleigh blinks, his lips thinning but you continue, “Just because– just because we fucked doesn't mean we're back together.”

“Right.” He says slowly, his eyes already rolling. “You’re not my girlfriend but you just gave me a handjob. You're not my girlfriend but just last week I had you cumming on my dick–”

“Oh fuck off, Farleigh.” You hiss, pushing yourself out of bed. You start to look for your jeans that you took off last night and Farleigh clocks it immediately.

“Where are you going?” He asks, he's stepping in front of you. “We have to talk about this, this isn't fair.”

“Like you care about what's fair.” You spit. It's a low blow and you know it but you’re trying to get away from him, trying to get him to back down from the argument and just let you go but Farleigh doesn't, he grabs your arm and makes you face him.

“Don’t do that. We can't keep doing this– fucking each other and then arguing or– or running away. This shit isn't healthy.” Farleigh stresses but his voice is soft, hurt. “You say we aren't together but last night you asked to come to my room and before, you promised to come to Saltburn.”

You know he's right. It's not fair for either of you but you don't know how to tell him the truth— how to open yourself back up to him after what he did. You think if this happened before he cheated, you would have told him instantly. You think that maybe it would have been the both of you sitting in your dorm room’s bathroom— he would have paced as you sat on the toilet waiting for that line to appear. But… things happened, he strayed and even though he came back, even though he's proving himself to you time, and time again, you find yourself on a different path than his but always looking back. You must have been silent for too long because Farleigh gently, teasingly, tugs on your left ear lobe. It's enough to make you blink and he smiles, just barely and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I'm– I'm just going through a lot, Farleigh, and I want to tell you but–”

“You don't trust me.”

“I’m trying to.” You swallow, you blink twice as a wave of nausea hits you and your hand finds your stomach and you rub your hand on your belly before it quickly drops when you see him start to follow the movement. “I want to trust you, I want to give you another chance. I love you, Farleigh. But sometimes when I look at you, I just remember what you did and– and it kills me.”

Farleigh is nodding his head, “I can work with that. We can work with that.” He lets you go and his hand twitches as it falls to his side, “Your pants are over there.” He nods his head to your pants crumbled in the corner of his room and you quickly turn and scramble to grab them and pull them on. Farleigh watches for a moment before he looks away as you make your way to his door, you're nearly out of the room when he calls your name. You turn to him as he says, “I love you too, by the way.”

You bite back a smile as you duck out of the room. You're rushing back to your room with a small grin on your face and it only grows when servants passing by greet you with the use of your name. You find your room easily, your door is already cracked and curtains are drawn and you pop into the room only for your grin to falter.

There, on your bed is your phone.

The phone that went missing back on campus. The phone that cost you your flight and your appointment. You linger by your door in shock before your screen lights up and you're scrambling to grab it.

70 texts, 28 missed calls, 10 voicemails.

You blink, your hands shaking as you unlock your phone. The first dozen messages were from Annabel, she questioned your whereabouts multiple times, she asked if you made it to your appointment and when you didn't answer within an hour she assumed the worst and tried to call you— your eyes search through your call log, twelve times. On the last call, she leaves a voicemail:

“Bitch,” She hissed through the phone. “You better fucking call me when you land, you hear? This isn't funny, that's my niece you're carrying— sorry, not funny. But CALL me, I'm sweating from this stress!”

Your mom had texted you thirty times and called nine times. She left two voicemails and the first is worried— though you can tell she's a bit pissed you bailed on her and the second wasn't even your mom, it was your grandmother ranting about how England had snatched your soul and pierced your heart, she croaks out that she's praying for your redemption and you hear your mother in the background tell her to get off her phone. You shoot a quick text to her first, explaining the situation as best as you can, and promise to call the moment you are free as you look at the other messages.

Farleigh had called you the last seven times and left you the last seven voicemails, each of them longer than the last. You can barely get through one when you hear his voice break as he apologizes softly into the phone— he asks you to just call him to make sure you're alright and that's where you cut the voicemail, your eyes watering. Jesus. You clear your throat as you scroll to the most recent messages,

Unknown.

Hey.

It's Oliver, I hope you're okay :-)

You blink. When did you ever give Oliver your number? Frowning, you search through multiple messages threads and see the only time Oliver is ever mentioned is when Annabel talked about almost fucking him. Felix, you think, must have given him your number when he realized you weren't going to show up, and ignoring how annoyed that makes you feel, you drop your phone back on your bed and rush to change into fresher clothes. You already missed dinner, lord forbid you're any later to breakfast.

Elspeth greets you enthusiastically. She jumps from her seat at the sight of you, pulls you into a crushing hug, and presses several kisses to each of your cheeks. She tells you she missed you and Sir James is quick to say the same as he offers you a quick kiss on your hand before Farleigh pulls you away with a snide comment. Both Catton elders wave him off without so much as a blink and you're sat next to Farleigh and next to Venetia.

The girl grins at the sight of you, leaning into bump shoulders with you and she snickers when her mom calls for attention again. She introduces her friend, Pamela— a willowy redhead who greets you with bleary eyes and a tight smile. She is sat at the opposite side of the table at the very end and two empty seats are keeping her away from Oliver and Felix. She leans forward, her neck extending to be seen and she asks, “And who are you, exactly?”

The question makes the table fall silent, Farleigh is frowning at Pamela and Felix is chewing his toast with a smug smile on his face as he watches.

“Oh, darling, she's Farleigh’s girlfriend,” Elspeth says when the silence persists. She's smiling, her blue eyes twinkling, “She’s practically family!”

Felix snorts and Farleigh kicks him under the table. Elspeth’s smile begins to drop, obviously catching the movement but Oliver is suddenly sitting up in his chair, “Are you feeling well?”

You blink when you realize the question is directed at you, “What?”

All eyes fall on you and Oliver, and he begins to shift, nibbling on his lip. “I mean, are you feeling better? I know with the baby and everything–”

For a moment, there's silence. You see Oliver's lips moving but you don't hear him then there is chaos. Felix chokes, Sir James drops his fork and knife, and Elspeth lets out a squeal. Venetia turns to you, her eyes wide and searching, “What baby?” She asks, her voice shrill. She calls your name but you're quickly pushing away from the table, stumbling as you try to catch your footing. Farleigh is on his feet just as quickly, he's behind you— steadying you but his hands feel scorching and you fight the urge to push him away.

“What–” You start and your knees nearly give out from the adrenaline pumping through your body, Farleigh is gripping your elbow like his life depends on it but you refuse to look at him, you're glaring holes into Oliver. “What the fuck, Oliver?”

Oliver makes a face. “Our luggage got mixed up, I saw the pamphlet and I thought–” He looks around at the chaos he caused, and his lip twitches. “I thought everyone knew…?”

You swallow and this time, you don't think it's enough to keep back the bile building in your throat. You yank your arm free from Farleigh and wheeze out a quick, “Excuse me.” and rush from the room. You don't know where you're going but all you know right now, is that you don't want to be found. You're out the side doors in seconds and disappear into Saltburn’s maze, ignoring the calls of your name.

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flaredcfan · 3 months

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Love your Farleigh fic btw. Been re-reading that shit for days. Ngl, I feel like the reader is the type to like- have an arm on Farleigh's thigh when they sit together, hold Farleigh by his waist or the small of his back, and do the pinky hold instead of intertwined fingers, idk. She gives off that vibe. I like it

Butterflies

Summary: treating Farleigh like a baby girl!

Warnings: slightly-maybe- a little bit sexual but not much, it's just an attempted handjob and drunk reader. Enjoy, mwah!

Notes: this wasn't a request but its so cute I keep thinking about it. This is the same universe as OMC! Farleigh just before all the cheating. As for what you said, I agree! She just has to be slightly drunk to start it up I fear, she's super aware of what she does around others but drunk reader? She don't care :) this is 1.4k words!

Farleigh is six foot five, nearly two hundred pounds and he's aware that his hair adds nearly another four inches to his height.

He's tall— he's heard it all his life and when he was living in the States with his mom, he had coaches approach him about joining football, basketball, and volleyball and once, a swim coach had cornered him just before school let out for the summer. The point is, that he is aware of his height. He knows that he's probably ducking to enter a room for the rest of his life, he knows he needs to avoid those flimsy wooden chairs because three years ago, he sat in one, and two of the little wooden legs gave out and his cousins still haven't let him live it down. And, he knows better than to sit on your lap as you grin up at him.

He's sure he'd crush you or, the combined weight of the both of you would crumble the chair and well— he doesn't really want to think about it, the imagined embarrassment is enough to make his skin crawl.

“No,” He sneers over the chatter of everyone else. The pub is loud but what else could be expected from a Friday night? “Just get up and maybe you can sit on my lap.”

You pout at him and he mocks it, a fake coo leaving his lips. “I don't want to get up.” You say and then you pat your lap again, your legs spreading as you slouch in the seat. “Come on, sit on Daddy's lap.”

Farleigh coughs, his neck flushing red as he scowls at you. “You think you're funny?”

You smile at him and he can see it in the way your nose scrunches, you're a little bit past tipsy. It'd be cute any other day but all Farleigh wants to do is sit down and drink with you and your friends. “Yeah, I am funny.” You answer, you're still smiling when you reach out to him, your pointer finger linking with his and you pull him closer. He goes easily despite all his huffing and puffing and he stands between your legs with a frown, “Just sit, Farleigh. You're not gonna hurt me.”

“Yeah, mate.” Felix butts in, his pint sloshing as he leans over Oliver. The movement has the whole table quieting and turning to look at the both of you. It's enough to make Farleigh sneer at them all as you let out a giggle.“Just sit, all this flirting is making my stomach turn.”

Put on the spot, Farleigh hisses out an annoyed ‘Fine.’ and gingerly settles himself on your lap, he puts most of the weight into the tips of his toes, nearly hovering for a moment before you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him flush against you. “See?” You murmur, your breath against his ears has his shoulders rising as a shiver goes down his spine. “Nothing happened.”

“Yet.” Farleigh replies. He can feel himself blushing, his stomach fluttering as you nuzzle closer to him. Alicia passes him a beer and he gives her a tight lip smile before his eyes dart over his shoulder and across your face. “Am I crushing you?”

“No.” You giggle and one of your hands pats his thigh. “I’m fine, you're not even that heavy.”

Farleigh knows that's a lie but doesn't have a chance to say anything before he's being pulled into a lighthearted argument with Felix and Daniel, Oliver says a word or two but Farleigh makes an effort to either speak over him or ignore him. You watch from over his shoulder, smiling as Farleigh shoots down whatever Felix is saying so quickly, that it has his cousin's cheeks pink as he rushes to defend himself.

He's cute like this. In his element of arguing about something stupid, a beer in hand. He's still a little tense against you but not like he was before and it makes your smile grow. Maybe it's the booze talking or maybe you just really love him but Farleigh is just so damn cute right now it makes you wanna kiss him out of his clothes. But you have enough sense to realize that Farleigh just got here and probably doesn't want to leave anytime soon so you swallow your growing desire for him and instead, draw patterns against his clothed thigh. He's mid-sentence when you start this and he trips over his words as he glances down at your finger then away, you would have missed it if you weren't so focused on him and another giggle bubbles out of you because of it.

Bravely, you trail your fingers higher, your head resting against his back as you trace circles and figure eights closer and closer to his dick. You smother another laugh against his back when he clears his throat, his hand falling over your and he forces your fingers to link. “What are you doing?” He whispers and your head lifts just enough to see that both Daniel and Felix had turned away from him, falling into their own conversation.

“Sorry,” You say and Farleigh notes that you don't sound sorry at all, there's still a bit of humor in your voice. Like you're about to burst into giggles any second and Farleigh realizes you're far past tipsy and that you're drunk. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your voice is a little loud and Farleigh turns his head, shushing you with a small smile. He ignores how Alica glances at the both of you and away with a frown and he ignores how Oliver doesn't look away. “I didn’t say that, baby.” He says, his voice is still a soft whisper and you let out a breath as he finally settles his full weight against you. You didn't even realize your leg was bouncing till it was forced to still under the weight of his legs. “I’m just asking what you're doing.”

Your fingers flex around his, trying to shake your hand free but he keeps a steadfast hold and it pulls a small whine from you as you slip your other hand up the hem of his shirt. His stomach flexes against your cool palm, but you make no move to do anything else as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Just wanna touch you.”

Farleigh huffs a laugh. You always get like this when you had too much to drink, not quite clingy just touchy, like you wanna crawl under his skin and feel him from the inside.“You’re drunk, babe.”

“‘m not.” You murmur and your hand slips, the tips of your fingers slipping under his waistband. Farleigh doesn't stop you because it's just nice to see you want him this much that youd feel him up in front of both your friends. But the hand that's holding yours clutches just a bit tighter, a gentle warning— a nudge to remind you of your surroundings and you ignore it as you grin. “Just wanna suck your dick.”

The laugh that leaves him is choked, he gives your hand a small squeeze before he lets it go. “Yeah, you're definitely drunk.” You only hum in response, your hand slipping lower and Farleigh is suddenly glad he's wearing a baggy sweater because when your hand cups his dick all of it is hidden, he feels himself jerk in your hand and a small groan leaves him. “Are you really about to give me a handy in a pub?”

A snort leaves you and you grope him through his underwear. You've felt Farleigh dozens of times since you've started dating and yet every time you can't help being amazed about how heavy he feels in your hand, how hot he gets as he grows harder. He shifts in your lap and you press a small kiss against his neck, “ You’re so fucking British sometimes, it's a handjob, and yes. I am.”

You get about two strokes in, your thumb swiping over his tip before Farleigh jerks to his feet, your hand slipping from his pants as he pulls his sweater down. “Come on, we're leaving.”

You let out an annoyed groan, you barely tocuhed him. “Farlei–”

He pulls you to your feet and presses a kiss to your lips. “You can do this somewhere Oliver isn't watching.” You giggle against his lips and peak over his shoulder, making eye contact with Oliver who's nibbling on his lip. You wiggle your eyebrows at him, a cheeky laugh leaving your lips as Farleigh pulls you away from the table.

“Where are you two going?” Felix calls after you both and Farleigh wraps an arm around your waist as you twist to answer him.

“I’m gonna fuck your cousin!”

Farleigh hisses your name out in warning as the table breaks out into laughter.

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