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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

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

Part 8.

Summary: The fallout of arguing with Oliver, not fighting with Farleigh, Felix hooks up with your not-girlfriend, and so you provide comfort to his sort-of-ex.

{ masterpost }

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

Warnings: someone makes a move on the reader while they're very very drunk and the reader is far more sober, but it doesn't go past kissing, if that's something you're possibly concerned about.

A/N: 5424 words. welcome back. this one goes many different places in the span of one night. the farleigh of it all. the annabel of it all. im worried this one might feel OOC so id really like to hear if there's anywhere i could improve on my characterisation, what worked, what didn't?? as always unedited, and as we're nearing the end of the term (in the fic) we only have a few chapters left at oxford before we get to go to saltburn!! LOVE YOU ENJOY!!

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

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"Didn't have to do that," Felix sighed from his desk, head bent low over his textbook. It's the first thing he'd said since Oliver left. You, still on his bed, picking through a textbook for a class you both share, found half-shoved under his bed, look up.

"Do what?"

"That thing with Michael What's-His-Name's file," it almost sounds like guilt in his voice, but he still isn't listening to you, "you could get in real trouble for having that."

In swift movements he stands, and you catch the sight of his scowl despite how he doesn't turn it upon you. Once again he's sitting on the floor, back to the foot of the bed, lighting up another cigarette, legs crossed in front of him.

"I'll put it back tomorrow." You're not used to Felix disapproving of you, it's a kind of discomfort you want to shake as quickly as you're able to. After a moment you add, "I know it's not really Ollie's fault, I shouldn't have -"

"I don't want to talk about Ollie right now." He's focused on balancing his ash tray on his knee, watching it with such intensity it's as if he's trying to define life's secrets from it.

"Should I go?" Murmured, almost like you're afraid of anyone hearing it, even Felix. It hangs, golden in the hazy heat of the afternoon.

"'m not the boss of you," Felix mumbles softly, head low, again his words coloured almost with guilt. You know he will never shake the quiet shame he sometimes is hit with when he remembers the way people often perceive the relationship you two share; too close, too loyal, too imbalanced.

But you've never cared; you will never treat him differently, never want for anything but his happiness, never beat the canine allegations. One day you hope you'll convince him that's okay.

So instead of leaving, you close the textbook and stretch yourself out across his bed, laying the on your belly with your head resting at the foot, by his. Your hand rests on his head, running your fingers through his hair.

Felix breathes out a lung full of smoke. He doesn't look at you. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes. The moment is a quiet one, tension thick and choking and full of things neither of you can talk about.

It's the strangest afternoon you share in a long while, one full of silence and the slow, mind numbing sound of pages being turned and the scratch of pen against paper.

"I'm gonna get ready to go out tonight," you say softly, finally breaking the silence when the courtyard outside is every shade of gold and orange in the sunset. Felix just hums in acknowledgement from his desk, "Fi?"

"Yeah," he huffs, dismissively, still looking at his notes. You've got the file in one hand, doing up the buttons of the shirt you'd forgone in the afternoon heat of his dorm room, but had to wear back to your own.

"You want me to text Oli?" You watch him grow tense at the name alone.

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know," he mumbles, almost forcibly nonchalant, despite the hard line of his shoulders that hadn't been there moments ago. Then, as if to clear the moment, he sits up straighter, turning to you in his desk chair with a look of determination in his eyes, "India still into me do you think?"

"I know India's still into you," you can't help but snort, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Would you be totally cut up if I -" he doesn't even need to finish before you're rolling your eyes.

"She'd be thrilled," but your smile softens a little, even as you shake your head with exasperation, "she's all yours, Fi."

Perhaps it's the fondness with which you acquiesces to his arguably selfish request that makes him take in the full exchange that had just passed. Felix takes a moment, tension and expression dropping as he turns pensive for a moment, unable to look you in the eyes. After a beat, you turn to the door, fully intending on letting the moment pass, but you hear Felix stand.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches you, still wearing that rather grim, thoughtful expression, but he wraps you up in a hug. He holds you as close as he's able, and after a beat of surprise, you gently drop the file to wrap your arms around him in return.

I love you. I'm sorry. All the tension from the afternoon drains away in this hug, in him pressed against you, leaning into you, breathing deep and even and steady. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you give him a brief kiss against his warm, golden skin, and hope he can feel your smile too.

The hug breaks, but still he holds your face for a long moment. He's smiling again. I love you. Thank you. He kisses your cheek quickly.

"I'll catch you at the King's Arms, yeah?"

"'course, Fi," you assure him with a warm smile of your own.

Back in your own dorm, that single moment of warmth unfortunately can't overwrite the entire afternoon of sickly tension. Looking at Oliver's name in your contacts, you frown. You should text him, invite him, Felix told him he would -

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know."

You don't text Oliver.

Annabel also isn't at the King's Arms that night. Of course you know why, the answer sits across from you with his arm around your not-girlfriend, but part of you still kind of feels bad for if the sweet redhead ever finds out.

"What are you sulking about?" Farleigh's smug voice in your ear, Farleigh's arm around your shoulder, Farleigh's cigarettes you keep stealing, Farleigh who you've tucked yourself up against for the night.

"'m not," you try insisting, frowning at the lighter that's clearly out of fluid and refusing to relight your cigarette. He gives your shoulder a squeeze.

"You sure, Peter Pan? Where's your shadow?"

"You don't give a shit about Oliver," you snap a little too quickly, both frustrated by the situation you're trying to ignore, and the useless lighter, but Farleigh reads right through it and practically cackles. Still, he wraps his other arm around you and squeezes you against his side with glee, even as you try to protest.

"Ooh~" Farleigh teases, poking your side with a wide, fond smile, "trouble in pauper's paradise?"

"That's fucking mean," you rib him none too gently, but he actually snorts with laughter. The lighter still won't bloody well start.

"I feel like you're fucking edging me with that lighter, fuck," Benji, from Farleigh's other side, smacks your lighter out of your hands and holds out his perfectly working one.

"Thank you, Benny, that was pissing me off," Farleigh says with a satisfied smile, his laughter having died down. You, finally take a draught on your cigarette, grateful for the warmth, and the nicotine as it hits.

"Could kiss you, Benj," you finally let yourself smile, "someone remind me to get a new lighter," you add, leaning across Farleigh without hesitation to plant a kiss squarely on Benji's lips after he'd wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, teasingly at you at your comment.

"We'd fascinate psychologists," Farleigh chuckled, but his voice is warm and fond, and Benji turns back to his conversation with Alicia and Jake on his other side once the moment had passed.

"Probably," comes out distracted, however as your teasing mood drops and you look to your phone. Should I have called Oliver? But when you look up, across the table, you see warmth and fondness in the way Felix looks at India, enraptured by whatever story she's telling. With one arm around her shoulders, he lets her distractedly play with his other hand, leaning into her, all attention on her. Making her feel like the centre of the universe, the way only Felix knows how to do. India glows in a way you've never seen before, lighting up under his direct affection, beautiful and elated, maybe even a little bit flustered.

There's not even a hint of jealousy at the sight of them. All you know is how much you love your friends, and how happy and beautiful they look together in this moment. There is contentment, satisfaction, like a job well done... Farleigh might have a point about the psychologists.

Speaking of - Farleigh grabs your chin and tilts your face to look at him. Immediately you smack his hand away.

"Stop that! What is that? What are you doing?" You squawk at him immediately. Again, he grabs your chin, frowning, intent upon gazing intensely into your eyes. This time you let him.

"I'm figuring out what this is," he mutters like he's deep in thought. You let your gaze roam for a moment, hoping he gets whatever this is out of his system. You wiggle your chin in his grip, and it's enough to prompt more of an explanation, "if you're not sulking, then I don't know this -" rolling your eyes, you smack his hand away.

"Fuck man, I'm not sulking," you insist, remembering your cigarette and taking another puff, glad it hadn't gone out.

"You've been weird lately; angry - ranting," Farleigh made sure to stick to your cover story despite having seen through it the minute you'd tried out the other week, "you and Felix have had some weird vibes," he takes the cigarette from you, and you settle yourself against him further.

"Fi and I always have weird vibes," you pointed out with a little smirk, keeping your voice as low as he was, glad he didn't feel the need to publicise this discussion too broadly. Farleigh snorted, but shook his head.

"You, sure," Farleigh conceded, handing back the cigarette, "but," he leans in, leans into your with a knowing, dangerously sharp smile, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, "Felix has been weird about you," his voice slides along the word weird as his hand slides up your thigh, as if to prove a point, before sitting back. Giving you a moment to recover, Farleigh sits back up like nothing happened, letting go of your thigh and taking a drink. He gives you a squeeze, arm still around your shoulders, "or hadn't you noticed?" Back at regular conversation levels like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Across the circle of your friend group, Felix's gaze momentarily flicks to you as India's in the middle of some kind of enthusiastically rambling. Gaze briefly passing to Farleigh, he then looks back and raises an amused eyebrow in silent question. The smile you give him is instinctive and warm, a silent answer. He mirrors the smile for the briefest moment before his attention returns to India.

Of course you'd noticed the change.

"Of course I've noticed." Your gaze dips; you become fascinated with your drink for the moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever comment you knew Farleigh had coming.

"Surprised he hadn't put you on a leash."

You elbow him hard in the ribs. He retaliates by flicking you repeatedly in the forehead. Its a blurry mess of frustration and elbows after that, pulling hair and wet fingers in ears and trying to sink nails into each other's soft sides, all squabbling and cursing and insults not made for polite society.

"- you put your fingers near my mouth I'll bite them off!" You holler even when he's got his arm around your neck in a kind of choke hold, which is around the time the two of you are pulled away from each other.

The rest of the table is staring at you both, while you and Farleigh straighten yourselves up, a little flustered at the many incredulous stares you were getting.

"The fuck was that about?" Felix, of course, is the one to voice the question the others all had. You look to Farleigh, his expression mirroring yours; no malice, no frustration, like nothing had happened.

"Bit of horseplay," you shrugged easily, meeting Felix's eyes, tone bright and chipper. He looked unconvinced.

"Just two dudes being guys," Farleigh's tone was light and breezy as he settled back into the booth, and you alongside him, letting him once more sling an arm around your shoulders.

"Guys bein' pals," you agreed with a nod. Farleigh pats your head for emphasis. The group thankfully decides that they've had enough of the weird moment to go back to their own conversations. Felix was the last to focus back on the conversation he'd been having with India and Alicia, narrowing his eyes as he looked between you and Farleigh.

Before turning his attention entirely away, his gaze fixes on you. There, in the very slight tilt of his head, the look in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens, you see his concern for you. You lean your head back on Farleigh's shoulder and let yourself relax, let yourself give him a genuine, reassuring smile. It's enough.

Farleigh clears his throat.

"It was either that or tell him you said that," you explained under your breath, to which Farleigh nodded in understanding, hand running up and down your shoulder idly as he reached across the table for the communal fries, bringing the basket closer to you both.

"And you don't want to tell him because you know I'm right," Farleigh is back to smug, but at least this time you can join him in his amusement.

"No, but I'm humouring you because I'd like to talk about how good I'd look in a collar," picking up a chip, you eat it with a grin as Farleigh rolls his eyes. After a moment, however, he comes back with this contemplative look, still amused, but eyes narrowed and searching like they had been earlier. You eat another chip and tell him to put his eyeballs back in his head, "seriously, quit looking at me like that, Farleigh -"

"He has been weird-weird," Farleigh says like he's agreeing, though you tell him you have no idea what the fuck he means. Taking a deep breath like he was ramping up to something, Farleigh looks across the group to Felix, before looking back at you with a kind of put-upon smile, "I say this only as someone who's know you for like, more of my life than I'd like to admit -"

"I love you too, go on."

"- so I kind of think that it might not look that different to anyone else, like they don't know it's not your usual brand of weirdness," he wets his lips, giving you a look like he's not even sure if he's meant to be saying this, like he might be letting you in on a secret you're not supposed to know, "he's been really hot and cold with you."

Of course you'd noticed.

"I slept with Oliver."

Beside you, Farleigh appears to go through all five stages of grief at once.

"You make it very hard to be friends with you sometimes," he says, shaking his head. You, however, are focusing on how many chips you can eat in a rush rather than think too much about the topic at hand.

"That mean," you tell him flatly, mouth full of potatoes, "you're being mean again."

"You chose to sleep with Oliver, that is a choice you made; I'm gonna be mean about it, you've earned it, you know you have -"

"Remember," you gave him a shit-eating grin, "how the next time we went drinking after that costume party, you spent a full half hour in the beer garden ranting about how stupid you thought Ollie's costume was," you ate another chip while Farleigh narrowed his eyes at you with barely concealed contempt, but you powered on, "and it turned out that you thought the costume didn't do him justice, which then -" your grin grew wider, "became you ranting about how his eyes are too blue, and why does he dress like that when we can all see his arms, imagine if he wore a shirt that fit!" You gleefully recounted, even as Farleigh's mouth flattened into a thin line, like he's bitten on a lemon, but he couldn't look you in the eyes.

"Hey, that's not what I -"

"And then -!" You spoke over him, "you forgot where you were and tried to take an angry nap in the bushes."

"I don't -" a flustered Farleigh squirms for a moment in his seat, unable to look at you, "remember that, and," he turned a faux serious look upon you, "if you tell anyone I said that, I'll tell them you're lying."

"I'm just saying," you shrugged, "don't act like you don't know part of the reason why I slept with him."

"Fine," Farleigh rolled his eyes, allowing his flustered frustration to ease. After a moment of contemplation, of watching Felix, he hums quietly, thoughtfully, "that can't be it, right?"

"What can't be it?"

"If Felix was going to start being jealous it wouldn't be over Oliver."

"See, that's what I thought."

"So he is jealous?"

"I don't know," you say quietly, still not quite sure how to feel about it; Felix had taken the news fine when you'd told him, he hadn't seemed any different, but of course there'd been a change. Why now?

"That's really stupid of him," Farleigh finally says, dismissively.

"It is, isn't it?" As you try and laugh, your heart's not in it. You look at your phone again, another wave of that strange discomfort that you'd been feeling lately washing over you again. You can't stay.

Everyone's surprised by your early departure as you say your goodbyes. You cite the need to study hard tomorrow, giving hugs and kisses as you start the short journey back to your dorm. Felix murmurs that he loves you and a cheeky thanks in your ear and you know he's talking about India. You kiss his cheek, and then you head off.

Nothing had seemed off when you'd told Felix.

"You look like you're about to burst into song; what happened to you?"

"Something happened!"

"Am I meant to guess?"

"No, no- I mean, like how nothing happened between me and Ollie a few months ago; something happened!"

"Something happened between you and Ollie?"

"The something that didn't happen last time -"

"I don't remember last time, Y/N, you're being so cryptic, I love that you're excited but -"

"Yes, Ollie and I slept together. Finally!"

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"No, good 'oh', promise!"

"Didn't sound like a good 'oh', Fi; is everything alright?"

"Yeah, of course, sorry Y/N, I promise, I'm just... I don't remember you being this excited about a hook up... and I don't think I was excepting it to be Ollie, you know? Was he really that good?"

"Let me put it this way, it was the kind of good that none of our other friends would believe if I told them."

"Fancy that, Ollie knows what he's doing; good for you."

"Great for me."

It wasn't particularly vulgar or explicit, you'd had far more in depth conversations about your various hook ups, Felix had seemed as happy for you as he always did with these kinds of stories. But he'd started looking at Oliver different, you'd noticed it. That too is when he became the clingiest. Farleigh was right; on nights out with Oliver around, Felix threw out any pretence of subtlety or person space. Felix acted like your boyfriend.

But then, any other night, any other group situation, it was like any other day. Sometimes he'd barely even glance at you. Hot and cold.

You're so in your head on the walk home that you barely register someone sitting at your door until you all but trip over them.

Annabel.

She'd been crying.

"Fuck you." Is how she greets you.

"What are you doing here?" A twinge of pity, a twinge of guilt, to see her obviously distraught at your doorstep. She gets unsteadily to her feet, swearing at you again. Reaching out to steady her, she surprises you by lunging at you, grabbing you.

"You were there, weren't you? With the rest of them," Annabel's gripping your collar, makeup smeared with tears and eyes red-rimmed, "with him," lips still inches from yours, her gaze unfocused but searching, "I can fucking smell it on you- you- you and rich boy-" but she stops for a moment, expression falling to confusion, "Farleigh?"

"Annabel -" you ease her hands off of your collar, partly confused, but mostly pitying.

"Why do you smell like Farleigh?" She sounds almost like a lost child, refusing to let go of your hand as you pulled out your keys. God she looks so helpless, tears still welling in her eyes, vodka bottle mostly empty by her feet.

"Why are you so good at telling what Farleigh smells like?" You countered with, swinging the door open. At this, some of the righteous indignation fires up in her again, flouncing into your room.

"You all went to the same boarding school, you've all got these same habits, and same but different scents you cling to," she's scowling at your dresser as you picked up the vodka bottle and brought it into your room, shutting your door. You watch her for a long moment, see how she analyses everything you have there, perfumes, colognes, makeup, skin care, little bits of paper rubbish - she picks up a bottle and flicks off the lid, not caring where it landed amongst the rest of the things there. When she sprays it, she seems to almost relax amongst it's mist. Of course. It's Felix's favourite, Felix's scent as she'd so aptly described it, for when he'd spend the night.

"Of course you have his too," she says faintly, almost derisively.

Allowing your attention to finally drift from her, you start getting ready for bed, heading to your closet to hang up your jacket.

"You all need to mark your territory," she spits, out of your peripheries, you see her move away from your dresser and pick up her vodka again, "need everyone to know who you own, who we all belong to -"

"Anna, that's not -" you sighed, unsure of where any of this was going, but not liking it either way. As you search your drawers for pyjamas, you felt her gentle hands on your hips. Jumping at the sudden touch, when you spin she braces herself against the drawers with hands either side of you, while your hands become trapped, the last bit of resistance between her chest and yours.

"I smelled like you both for weeks," she murmurs, gaze roaming your body, almost hungry, landing back on your lips, "you remember that? I should- I should- should have been fucking sickened," she admits, voice a low whisper, the hunger turning needy, turning into almost a whimper, "the things I want you both to do to me make me sick to my stomach," her lips inch closer to yours, shared breath, heat in the air, "of course I know what the fuck you all choose to smell like, I can't get it out of my fucking head," you should lean away but there's something intoxicating about her rage, her desperation, her desire, "Our Annabel, that's what he'd called me, what you'd -" and she kisses you, vodka still wicked and bitter on her tongue, all but panting into your mouth as her hands find your hips again.

But it can't continue, you can't let this go on. As you lean back to free your arms, to hold her back, she takes advantage of the opportunity to slide her hands beneath your shirt, cold and nimble against your belly -

"Could've been my Felix -" she mumbles, as if in a trance, eyes hazy and full of both tears, like she was looking into a memory. The minute her fingers find your fly you grab her hands firmly. It takes you a moment to regain your composure, to remind yourself that she wasn't in her right state of mind, that she probably didn't even know what she was doing or saying -

My Felix flares bright and hot and possessive in your mind. My Felix.

"Ow," Annabel's noise of pain brings you back to reality, but thankfully it seems the shock to her system brought her back too. Looking down at your vice-like grip on her wrists, she looks back at you as you let her go, embarrassment in her eyes as she perhaps realises some of what she'd been doing.

"I'm not sleeping with you tonight, Anna," still, your voice is gentle. She huffs an embarrassed little laugh, starting to sniffle again. Again, you remind yourself that this poor girl just got her heart broken by your best friend, and decided to deal with that by drinking an entire bottle of vodka. You'd committed to showing her some compassion tonight.

"I know." The tension drops, and she just leans her head forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder. You can't help but hug her, feeling the heavy way she sighs as you're giving her a reassuring pat on the back. The two of you stay like that for a very long few minutes until you hear her start crying again.

"Do you wanna borrow some pyjamas?" You ask softly, and feel her nod.

The rest of the night is quiet after that, taking care of this distraught young woman who got her heart broken by your best friend. It reminds you of nights you'd spend with Venetia back at Saltburn.

Annabel sits on your bathroom counter patiently, ankles crossed, watching the way you focus as you wipe off her makeup with meticulous care. When you take off her necklace, you coil it delicately on top of the nice clothes she'd been wearing, now sitting on top of her shoes by your door. At first she tries to wave you off when you offer to brush out her hair -

"There's -" she hiccups; the full bottle of vodka has finally hit her, but still she tries to shake her head, "too much hairspray, it'll be a hassle -"

"I'll be gentle," you told her softly, assurance in your eyes and a warm smile on your lips, "if you'll let me." Annabel melts under that gaze, sitting in borrowed pyjamas, face clean, cross-legged on your bed in the lamp light. You treat her with the gentlest care, brushing out her hair while you can still hear her occasional sniffles; she sits as primly as she's able, only apologising once at the start for it's length. You assured her it's fine.

"You scare me sometimes," Annabel mutters into the quiet, voice watery. For a moment, you pause.

"Me?"

"Both- both of you. You and Felix," she sniffles again, "and Farleigh too now, I guess," you can tell she swallows thickly, voice catching in her throat. When she tries to dip her head, she can feel the way you're still holding gently, still working, and she apologises faintly. Carefully, quietly, giving her space to organise her tipsy, upset thoughts, you continue to brush out her hair.

"Never met anyone like you, you know? Didn't think people like you guys existed. You're always everything; the most without even trying," she takes a deep breath, but it's undercut by a faint sob that's almost a chuckle, "I kind of think you don't even know what I mean- you especially, you know?" You... don't.

You brush, only giving a faint apology, but all she does is fidget, the words spilling unrehearsed from her, things she's clearly been bottling for far too long -

"Felix is everything everyone wants, and you're everything everyone wants him to be," she says it so forlornly, "the sun and it's fucking warmth," then, almost disgusted as she spits it under her breath, "I think about how he's never going to fuck me the way he looks at you while he's shitfaced, how sick is that?"

With a few more strokes her hair is brushed out, and without even thinking you start to braid it. Annabel's dissolved into tears again, her face in her hands, but you're just careful not to tug on her hair too hard as her whole body shakes with them.

"He never gave a proper shit about me, did he?" Annabel sobs as you're tying off the braid. The minute it's done, she turns and throws herself into your arms, sobbing against your chest, "I'm just another fucking girl to him!"

"He still loves you as a friend, I'm sure; you know how Fi is-" you pet her shoulder carefully as she clutches your shirt for dear life.

"I don't wanna be his fucking friend! I gave him my fucking heart and now he's probably got his dick in that slag India, who said she was my friend!" Spitting her words with fury, with venom, she looks up, but only sees a look of pitying apology in your eyes; she's probably right. Lip curling, she throws herself back on your bed, hands covering her face once more, "he doesn't fucking care," she groaned, fury turning poisonous with resignation, "I know he doesn't care; if I thought he truly cared I would have fucked Oliver -"

"What?"

"- Felix is so fucking fickle, god, seems like he doesn't even care about Oliver anymore, I should have- should have -" she continues on, but breaks down crying again. Getting off the bed, you leave for the common room for half a moment, filling it with water.

"Drink this," you instruct, sitting next to Annabel on the edge of the bed. She scowls, but follows your orders easily, even if she can't properly look you in the eye. The water seemed to have at least helped, as her crying quiets down as you refill the glass in your bathroom sink.

"I feel like shit," she mumbles, watching you come back into the room and place the cup on her bedside.

"Well you look pretty," you tell her teasingly, trying to lighten the mood even a little as you gently pinched her cheek. She does not appear to find the humour in the moment. Still, you turn off your lamp and climb over her into the bed, "please don't throw up in my bed or on my floor."

"I know where your bathroom is."

The two of you kick off the neat duvet but pull the thin, luxurious sheet over you both.

"Thank you..." it sounds begrudging as she says it. You tell her it's no stress, sitting up for a moment in order to open your window a crack, let a breeze in overnight, but still hear her when she says, "you're a bad friend."

Still sitting, you take a deep breath, sighing as a silhouette in the moonlight.

Annabel is more astute than you possibly gave her credit for in this state; amongst all her felt injustices, she'd never once asked about how you felt about Felix fucking India, your well established not-girlfriend. Because somehow she knew, perhaps even that you gave your blessing. You'd never been a cruel person as long as you could help it, but you'd made peace with your priorities too long ago to start apologising for them now. So yes, you'd taken Annabel in for the night, but she knew in her heart that you were partially at fault for her despair in the first place. You both knew.

Enabling Felix was never really about making anyone else happy.

"I know."

Something about your admission seems to be enough for Annabel, however. When you lay back down beside her, she curls up against you, tucks herself all along your side, arm around you, head on your chest.

The next morning, Annabel moves silently around your dorm. When you wake up, all that's even left of her presence is the empty cup of water on your bedside. No kind of note, no text, she'd made sure she didn't even wake you before leaving.

Fucking Christ, what a bloody week did yesterday feel like, is all you can think as the mid-morning sun slashes through your barely parted curtains and paints your chest with light.

You consider sleeping in, consider that you'd definitely earned it after yesterday, but then your phone starts ringing. It's Felix. He sounds grim.

"Hey, can you get over here? We need you."

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not-sewell · 3 years

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okay, with Mishka saying that it's a matter of the moment just "feeling right" for N to drop the [redacted pet name] on the romanced detective, i was talking with @agentnatesewell about N (as one does) and just-

imagine N and the detective chilling - say in the library, at Haley's or in either of their beds - and the detective does or says something (likely mundane but also Not) and N just calls the detective a term of endearment in, say, Farsi? like, it simply spills out of them without much of a conscious thought.

it just. makes me so soft because, clearly, the act of calling someone by that pet name means something to N. can you imagine being filled with so much love for a person that something so meaningful just slips out from you without you intending it to? like, the mere sight of this person making it unbearable for your mind to keep the love to itself and it just sort of bursts out of you?

then maybe N fully realises this belatedly, maybe a moment or few later. it's probably now that they newly realise the full depth of their feelings and what this love has uncovered for them in a very "oh wow, this is new"-kind of way.

and then they call the detective by this pet name with intention - a purposeful, intentional, conscious usage of it - but with just every but of a lovesick smile on their face as they had when they called the detective that the first time.

#im in my feels tonight okay don't perceive me #i also have very specific Mona x Nate thoughts but okay #just the intimacy of calling your partner something so meaningful in a language you hold close to your heart #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #n sewell #n sewell x detective #nate sewell #nate x detective #nat sewell #nat x detective

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fictumlibrary · 2 years

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1 for kuriko (that's right im coming for my faves 🥰❤)

them with their s/o’s.

i'm so glad you sent this because i've wanted to write it for a while. it got a bit long though i am so sorry.

The cold winter air sends a chill across Kuriko's skin despite the several layers she's wearing, scarf wrapped around her neck and draped across her legs, which she tucks beneath her chin. Around the corner is the laughter of her friends, and while she can't see them, she knows they're leaning over the edge of the rooftop as they wait for the New Year fireworks to commence. She's supposed to be there with them, but her mind is elsewhere. Her heart isn't in it tonight.

"There you are, I was worried."

Yuki's voice has her instinctively holding her legs tighter. She doesn't like being in a bad mood, but she absolutely hates showing those feelings to others. Stewing in it herself and forcing herself to get over it so she can go back to being confident and happy around others is how she prefers to do things.

And of all people, it had to be Shibayama.

She must take too long to answer as she hears noise against the wall and a warm presence presses lightly against her left side. It takes everything in her not to lean into it.

"What's wrong?"

His voice is soft and so full of understanding that any protests become stuck in her throat, lodged there and forced down by his tone. She lifts her head, but only slightly, and she still doesn't look at him. She can already feel those beautiful eyes staring at her, so full of understanding, and she has to maintain at least some of her composure.

In the end, she says, "What am I supposed to do after graduation?"

They're third years now, almost three years since they first met, and it's gone by in a blink of an eye. She thought they had more time. She thought her days of afternoon soccer practice and cheering for her brother's team (though she supposes it hasn't been his team in almost a year now) in the stands would last longer. Now the next step in her life is rapidly approaching and honestly? She's scared.

"Whatever you want," Yuki says, and he says it with such ease that she's almost jealous.

"And if I don't know what I want?"

The brush of fingertips against the back of her hand is so light she may have imagined it. "Then that's okay, too. You don't have to know."

"Not according to our teachers."

"They can be a bit forceful, can't they? At least I know coach has my back with the whole keeping up with volleyball thing."

Despite her inner turmoil, she smiles. She'd been so proud when he'd proclaimed, nervous but firm, that he would be attending university and aiming to enter a divisional volleyball team. He can achieve it. She knows he can.

"I think everyone expects me to play soccer professionally," she says, and it's the first time she's ever even implied that it isn't what she plans to do.

"And you don't want to?"

She shakes her head. "I love soccer. I love when I score a goal and the dynamic with my team and the feeling of winning, but... I don't know, whenever I try and picture it, it doesn't seem right. And then people doubt that I can get into university just because I'm always so focused on the team, so maybe that isn't the right path for me either."

"Hey, hey." The fingertips against her skin return, but this time there are two entire hands holding the one closest to him, and she turns to him on instinct. His gaze is earnest and true. "If you want to go to university, you can. You can do it. You're taking the entrance exams, right?"

"Yeah. I haven't actually told anyone else, though. Except my homeroom teacher."

"Not even Kenma and Kuroo?"

"Nope. Kuroo's asked, but I keep changing the subject. The two of them have noticed it and they haven't asked, but Kenma keeps looking at me in that way. Like, you know when he just stares at you and he's perceiving you? But he doesn't say anything."

There is a weariness to Yuki's expression. "Oh, I know it. He did that whenever he was using me in his newest strategy."

She manages a flicker of a smile, but she can't maintain it when she speaks again. "And even if I get into university, what would I do? Where would I go from there? What would I study?"

"Well, what do you like?"

"Soccer," is her instant answer, but then she thinks on it a bit more. "It's not just that, though. I've been at my happiest when being with my team and meeting teams from other schools and the friendly rivalries and when you guys have come to support me, and when I would watch your games, too. It's more than just the sport itself."

He hums, not looking up from their joined hands. He's playing with her fingers now. It feels nice. "Maybe you could be a school soccer coach? Or maybe even a P.E. teacher."

She pauses. A teacher? She'd never even considered it, assuming teachers had to be smart and strict and everything she isn't, but then she thinks about it. Encouraging children to participate in what she loves, teaching them at the same time, experiencing their wins and losses with them. Why has she never thought about that before.

A surge of energy passing through her, she rips her hand from his only to launch herself at him, arms around his neck as she pulls him into a hug. "You're a genius! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

His movements are more hesitant than hers, his arms slowly winding their way behind her back as he allows the hug to happen. "You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to help."

"Please, I would have been lost without you." She pulls back but continues to hold on, their faces a few inches apart (and isn't that a bad idea, her heartbeat reminds her, and her face warms despite the cold air) as she grins at him. "And who knows, we might end up going to university in the same city!"

Yuki's features are soft as he takes her in. She has a brilliant view of his eyes from here, and there is happiness in them, but also something else can't recognize. She doesn't have time to dwell on it when he speaks again.

"And, um, even if we don't," he starts, averting his gaze, "I'd still like to be part of your life and stuff. Just as much as I am now."

She laughs. "Of course you will be, silly." She pokes his arm. "I'm not about to let you go that easily. We're friends!"

The hands on her back tense momentarily. "Yeah, of course, but... You see... I, uh... Nevermind."

"No, no, no!" She tilts her head when he tries to move his. "You're overthinking it. Don't do that. Don't think at all if that's what it takes. Just... do or say what feels right. From the soul."

She says it dramatically, intending to be funny and lighten the tension of his mind, even if she does mean her words. What she doesn't expect is his expression to change, morphing from surprised to determined in a matter of seconds. His eyes bore into hers and she can see herself in them. The image distracts her long enough for her not to notice either of them moving closer.

Then his lips are on hers and all of her thoughts scatter.

(Maybe not all of them. She thinks that he's softer than she'd imagined and that she still has reservations about her future, but knows without a doubt that she could do this for a long, long time.)

When he pulls back, she's warm all over, the winter wind no longer affecting her. His determination has disappeared, an overwhelming look of concern replacing it instead.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --"

She holds him tighter. "No, you should have. You definitely should have."

She's the one to kiss him this time, and when she does, it's to the sound of fireworks lighting up the sky and her friends cheering from around the corner. Exclamations of Happy New Year are lost on her as she blocks it all out.

Happy New Year, indeed.

#*hq kuriko kozume #*otp kuriko x shibayama #*fd haikyuu #this is so cheesy but i do what i want sdkfljslk

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irwen-s · 3 years

Note

yeah i have Not heard good things about pledis but pls 🙏 treat our girls right

lmaooo thats so funny jiwon exploiting the shit out of her puppy eyes and saerom not realising that their little omega's got her in the palm of her hand..and then jisun's just there watching from the sidelines like lemme grab some popcorn 👀🍿

yeah i'm not sure about the scents thing but i think alphas always have a certain musk to their scent that gets stronger during ruts regardless of what the actual scent smells like

and ya got me there i'm just happy to read any fromis content bc there arent many ppl writing for them rip

i don't have any favourites for ships in particular (besides 2jirom my beloveds) but recently ive been thinking about hayoung and jisun bc they would be a very interesting pairing...they both radiate such chill but soft vibes like theyre both so laidback.. i saw that video recently of hayoung reading out her letter to flovers on vlive and jisun just bursts into tears halfway and then theyre both just sitting there crying together lmao. idk i guess it's like hayoung wears her heart on her sleeve and she's so forthright with her emotions even if others might perceive her as too softhearted, and i think that quality of hers brings out jisun's more vulnerable side. many Thoughts tonight

other than that i do have some spicier hcs..to answer your question Yes i do have a strong preference for jisun as a top like i get why ppl would write her as a bottom but i think shes a top who likes to Tease and deny a little bit >:) also chaeng as a bratty sub...i know u write her as a top but im saying it with my whole chest shes all bark no bite and that bravado melts away the second one of the doms puts her in her place

what are ur fav fromis pairings sol?

- flover anon

jisun watching things unfold from the sidelines is so on brand of her hslgkjdflgdfg

also speaking of fromis brands i got this from my friend!! the descriptions are so on point and funny hlkgjldfgfd i think im jiwon and seoyeon hhhhhh

i actually read this really interesting fic where basically the alpha was able to release their scents with different kind of like. feelings? like able to release an intimidating kind of scent or a self-soothing one or a distressed one, kinda like that. i think omegas would be able to do that as well in a way but it was just a super interesting concept that i picked up

no favourite ships >80 but down to read everything . . . flover anon thats godly hdkfgjdlfgfd since id think most people have ship preferences at least with regards to their biases

that hayoung jisun video sounds so funny oh god they just both start crying sdflkjskdfgsdfg but also thats very valid ahahaha; i remember there was a mention somewhere of how jisun isnt one to cry but if jiwon cries first then she will. which makes me assume from what youve mentioned that jisun probably feels more emotional if another member is first? hhhhhh thats so soft though yeahhhhh

omg okay and you prefer jisun as a top hdlkgjalgasd i did Not realize that even through our 2jirom discussions; i definitely wanna agree with you though ahahha jisun feels more of a top and a bit of a tease/denier. for chaeyoung HONESTLY ive written her twice and both times as tops but i think the same like??? shes honestly super soft after you get past all the snarking and joking hlkdglsdfgdf i would completely agree

my favourite fromis pairings . . . honestly any pairings with saerom :D

#qs #flover anon #i have a soft spot for saerom with hayoung jiwon or jisun thoughhhhh #also tell me who youd tag yourself as for the fromis thingy!!!#^^^ open to any other flovers as well of course

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hellishmess · 3 years

Text

40: The Wake of Understanding

March 6,2019 2:00 am

[Aspen]

Ana's face rests against the door frame. Puffs of breath can be seen against the glass.

Tonight went way sideways. She saw everything now. The side of us that I didn't want her to know.

She must be terrified, disgusted.

"She's going to hate me." I mutter.

"She's no stranger to death." Shay said, "She will not hate you."

I knew what he meant. Ana told me she’d killed someone in self defense. A man that tried to break into her house and rob her. She was a wreck even just reliving the memory for me.

"This is different. We sought out and killed them. She took life in self defense."

He didn't respond then.

"She will understand that they were void," Maeve added in.

Easy for them to say.

I breath in, watching as darkness speeds by us. If she decides that she can't be with me...

The thought dies. I want to wake her up and apologize. Tell her that I'll do whatever she says to make it up to her.

Can this even be made up?

The thought scared me still. Air stuck in my throat; muscles balled up.

This wasn't a fight. It's not like I forgot her birthday. I killed someone in front of her.

"Just take it one step at a time," Shay said. "She either will understand or she won't. Either way she can't tear herself away from us."

I scoff and bang my head against the window. "You're really bad at giving comforting advice."

"I'm told the effort is what counts."

I look to Maeve, "Quit lying to the vampire. It does no one any good."

She laughs, "If he tries to create a support group I'll cut him down then."

"Whatever," I huff. We're almost to my place. Quiet falls around us. My building was in view.

"I'm hungry." She says, rubbing her stomach.

"Better clean those wounds before you think about cooking anything."

Her middle finger shoots up without her even looking back. "I wouldn't have had these problems if you'd have pulled your weight."

"Fuck off. You handled them fine. I had Ana to look after."

"We're all lucky Ronan wasn't at this camp. Or we'd all be in a shit load of trouble."

She was right about that. With Lewick’s intell, we were drawing closer and closer to Ronan, and, by God, I pray that Ana is far away when we catch him.

Shay slides to a stop in the front of my building. I inhale and glance at Ana. She's still fogging up the window. I reach to nudge her, "Ana?"

"Im up," she says, her voice cold.

My gut twists at the tone in her voice.

Without a word, she gets out. With her arms wrapped around her, she walks up to my door.

I pause beside Maeve's door, unsure of how to handle this.

"It's going to be okay. Just be patient. " Maeve encouraged me forward.

My bottom lip's pressed between my teeth. "Thanks."

Climbing up the stairs towards Ana was hard. Dread drug me down and my stomach only twisted harder as I neared my door. Ana didn't turn to look at me when I opened it.

I locked it behind us, turning to see Ana with her bags in hand. She flings the bedroom door open, slinging open the drawers full of her clothes.

"Ana." I brush her arm to stop her.

She yanks away from me. "Don't touch me!"

I flinch back, giving her space while she continues to throw her things in there.

My mind starts to spin. My fear was right. I hold my hands up in peace. "Ana please."

"No," she shakes her head furiously. "I can't do this right now."

"I told you you weren’t ready. I warned you."

Ana whirls around, her eyes red from held back tears. "You're right. I should have listened to you. But I didn't and now I have to live with the understanding that my girlfriend is a killer. That my friends are killers."

I wince at the animosity of her words. "They were bad guys." I tried to reason with her. "Apart of Ronan’s crew. They weren't good people and they probably killed people themselves."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?! Dog eat dog bullshit," She hisses.

I can feel her pushing me away, see the fear in the back of her eyes. Panic rises up and clouds my judgement.

"Yes!" My voice raises and frustration flushes my body. I make a wide gesture with my hands. "The whole world's a better place without assholes like that and with them gone it's just less man power Ronan has."

"A killer of bad men is still a killer." Ana stops, practically freezes solid as she stares at me. The look in her eye turns my blood cold. "Aspen, you slaughtered those men effortlessly."

Her voice rises to the point where she's yelling, "With a flick of your wrist you killed a man, and then even without your magic, you managed to slit the throat of another right before stabbing him through the temple."

My mouths frozen shut. I can't think of anything to say. What can make this better?

Nothing comes to my rescue.

"I saw the darkness that you own and it scares the shit out of me." Ana blinks like she's clearing the memory away. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Please, Ana! I'd never hurt you. You know that. You know me.”

"I don't know that anymore! I'm just now meeting this part of you!"

I step towards her. "An-"

She takes two steps back. Her arm extended to keep me at bay. "No. Don't come near me."

I stare at her hand. Hurt and angry, I snap out. "I told you. I fucking told you, but you were relentless! I tried to warn you because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"What is there to understand?!" Ana cries looking at me as if she wants to be able to.

She corrects herself, "How can I understand? How am I supposed to rationalize what I just saw? How am I supposed to live knowing that my girlfriend can kill with the same amount of effort it takes me to fold laundry?!"

Swept up in her own emotions, Ana takes a step closer to me. Her tearful eyes pin mine, and my heart breaks even further.

Her lip trembles as she chokes out her next thought. "How can I let you touch me with the exact same hands you used to kill that man? If you can tell me how I'm supposed to do that then I'll stay."

I bite down on my lip. I couldn't think of anything to make this any better. My hands twitched to wipe away her tears, brush her hair back behind her ears, but the knowledge that she'd flinch away holds me back.

Instead, frustration brought my hand through my own hair, trying to control the anger that rose to protect my hurt feelings.

"Exactly." Ana mutters, returning to throwing her clothes in her bags.

"I'm sorry," The words are ripped out of my chest in a plea. "Ana, I'm sorry. Let me make this up to you? I'll do anything. Don’t do this. Please."

She snaps up at me, "This isn't something you can just make up! I can't just forget this. Don't you understand that?"

"No! I don't understand that. Just like you don't get why we had to do what we did."

"Murder is never necessary."

"Oh so what you did wasn't necessary?" The retort was out of my mouth before I knew it.

The air catches in my throat, turning solid.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"I can't believe you just said that." Ana gasps.

“I'm sorry." I rush out, "I didn't mean it. It just slipped out and I was trying to get you to understand that-"

Ana turns into the bathroom. "Just don't. Don't say another word. I'm leaving."

"Where will you go? It's dangerous out there and it's late. You can't leave." I say, watching as she shoves her shampoo and conditioner on top of all her clothes.

Ana zipped her bags with force, "Are you going to forcefully keep me here?"

I shake my head. "You know I would never do anything against your will."

"Then I'm leaving." Grabbing her bag, she heads for the door.

"Ana! At least let me escort you to wherever."

"Why? So all the other killers will know I'm already the victim of another fucking murderer?"

I stop. It's another stab. I can't fight with her anymore. "I can't see you get hurt."

"And I can't see you." Ana shoots back, her face a wobbly mask of disgust.

I retreat back into myself. Anger rises to stay, protecting the sensitive feelings that threaten to rip me apart.

"Then leave," I grit out through clenched teeth. "If I'm so disgusting and evil to you, leave. You'll see. The Otherworld is even worse than the human one and sooner or later your going to experience it first hand."

Ana swings the door open. With one foot already outside, she pauses. "I've already experienced it."

I don't get another word in. The slam of my front door signals the end of the night.

My mind tries to process everything. I stand in the middle of my living room, fuming and huffing as my eyes burn holes through the door. Foolish hope flickers through my head, thinking she'll come back. Hoping that I'll think of something to say so I can chase after her and try and convince her to stay.

Neither happen. Instead a tide of hurt and anger swallows me whole.

"Fuck!" I scream, over turning my coffee table. Things scatter and I fling off my shoes. My fingers brush against the sheaths of my blades.

I throw the one I used tonight, sinking it deep into a wooden beam in the kitchen.

Unbuckling the rest of them and letting them clang to the floor, I strip and head for the shower.

Tuning the knob to blast the hot water, I step in. Cold water takes my breath away, stinging against my skin, but I hold my body still, suppressing shivers as I think back to Ana's disgrace of me.

The water started to turn hot, continuing to heat up until it scalds my shoulders. I see the blood that stained my hands. It flakes off and runs down my tub, tinting the water pink.

Ana saw the blood. The hands of a killer.

I scrub my body vigorously, trying to feel clean. The fight left me writhing with emotion and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I wanted to spit at the fact that I wasn't upset about the kills. I was upset at how Ana perceives me. She's disgusted of me, scared of me and whatever darkness she saw.

I hold my face under the water, closing my eyes to see the look on her face when I tried to touch her.

I bang my fist against the tile and shut off the shower.

Her words and the stupid things I said, replay in my head.

A numbness settles in my chest, amidst all the other emotions. Disgust for myself starts to color the void, and I let myself sit in it.

Maybe I deserve this. This pain and unhappiness for being such a bastard. This is my punishment for taking life like I have.

Slipping on a tank top, I find the booze in my kitchen and take it to bed with me.

The bottle replaces Ana.

I sneer at the cruel thought and take a swig, culling out the torturous feelings.

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