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singmyaubade · 1 year

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No Longer Yours

James Potter x Female!Reader

A/N: I am trying a new way of writing these stories, there won't be lots of dialogue in this part, but there will be more; this is just a look into where the story starts.

IB: In The Cold November Rain by @sweetsweetjellybean (Make sure to check it out, it’s amazing and one of the best I’ve ever read !)

Summary: James had disregarded you for multiple years, but when you have an epiphany in your final year, how does it feel to taste his own medicine?

Warning: It may contain swearing and soon-to-be smut.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You never considered yourself to be a pushover when it came to things. Instead, you would use the word "understanding" and used it the most when it came to James Fleamont Potter.

He meant the absolute world to you since you were nine when you first met him. He lived next to you, both of your rooms being next to each other. You could always see him in his window, not that you were stalking, but you could never quite get your eyes off him.

Every time he would catch you staring, he would give you a wave, never felt weirded out. Then he would ring you up and ask you to come for dinner with your family. You would always accept unless your mother insisted on not intruding on them anymore.

You always caught his look of disappointment when you told him you couldn't come over, seeing him on the phone with you. It would always make your heart flutter, always having to stop the smile from forming on your face.

And then, after dinner, he would always come over, and you two would hang out (of course, with the door open). But you knew James would never try anything.

Your parents had suspicions when you both were fully formed teenagers and had hormones. Again, you knew James wasn't a perv; he respected you.

Even when he would slap your thigh in laughter when you said a joke or when his front pressed against your back when you two joked around, or his touch would linger when he ticked you.

But that was all besides the point; you loved James like no other. You loved the rest of the Marauders, too, but with James, there was no questioning if the love was different.

The only times you weren't sure about that 'love' was when Lily Evans would come around. He never truly knew how to pay attention to or regard you when she came around, but he claimed it was 'love.'

You wondered if he loved Lily the same way you loved him or if it was more complete, passionate, and extraordinary. You could never ask; James wouldn't know what to do. You couldn't blame Lily, it wasn't her fault, and she turned down his advances multiple times.

You were sure that James would move on, but then, during sixth year, Lily confessed that she was starting to have a crush on James.

You tried hiding your disappointment, but it was hard; it nearly broke your heart; you knew James would tell you all about it as soon as you saw him again.

There was no wish to be cruel, but a part of you, maybe the whole, was hoping she would joke. Perhaps she would again realize how immature James was and remember how he bullied Snape.

But that would be selfish and unfair to James; you were supposed to be his best friend, and he deserves this.

And you knew Lily was kind, beautiful, thoughtful, and honest. She deserved James more than he deserved her. You wouldn't break her happiness because it was pure; if you did, it would be evil.

So when she asked you if you were okay with that, constantly questioning your feelings towards James, you said,

"Of course, you should go out with James," You placed a hand on her shoulder, "I think you two would be amazing together." A genuine bright smile passed your face as she embraced you and thanked you for being truthful with her.

While they dated, James would always tell you every time he and Lily did something.

From every kiss, every date, and every cute moment to Lily laughing at a joke he made about crisps in Hogsmeade or the dove they saw randomly, which is a sign that they are genuinely in love.

After telling you every detail, he would embrace you in a tight hug so you could smell his scent entirely. He would thank you for being "such a good friend and say that "he loves you."

You knew he loved you but you wished he loved you in a different way. A way that his heart would scrunch when you were around or a way that made him want to compliment your hair or your smile like he did with Lily.

You wished it pissed you off enough to be mad at him, but every time he hugged you, you forgave him and knew it was just him being happy and wanting to tell a friend.

He still always joked around with you the same and bantered with you, but it was just less, you wanted more, but he could only give you so much time, and you knew that.

Only a few of your friends understood, like Remus and Dorcas. They would comfort you in every moment when you felt unsure of yourself, or you just wanted to talk.

You probably would have been misunderstood if it weren't for them, but they acknowledged and validated your feelings.

That's what got you through that time.

Nonetheless, there was no point in dwelling on past memories. James and Lily broke up at the end of that very year, it being mutual due to the realization of too many things clashing.

He was a bit of a wreck but recognized that it was for the better. It didn't stop him from sometimes crying in your arms, talking about how much he missed Lily.

Eventually, James started to move on, talking to you more, joking with you, and inviting you to sit next to him at dinner. You had missed this for so long and were grateful.

He went back to tickling you and playfighting with you. He would even make you sit with him during potions.

This was until the end of the year Quidditch match, Gryffindor had won, and excitement had raised. You went to congratulate James on the win, having a big jar of Fizzing Whizbees in your hand, his favorite.

You opened the door a crack, overhearing him but not wanting to interrupt his conversation with the rest of the Quidditch team.

"Come on, Potter, don't tell me you aren't going to snog her tonight," A boy you recognized as Matthew Collingwood teased, "She's been over you for years; why not just hit it and quit it?" Your face contorted to disgust after hearing his use of words.

"Don't tell me you are talking about Y/n," James scoffed, "There is no way I would ever think of her like that," A part of your heart broke hearing his words; he didn't even defend his last words.

"I mean, she does have a fat bum," Another boy laughed.

"Oy, she's like a sister to me, don't talk about her like that," James warned, his tone sounding half serious as the boy put his hands up jokingly.

A sister.

"Okay, but come on, Potter, you have to shag her at least once before we graduate," Matthew sneered.

"Listen, boys, I wouldn't touch Y/n if she were the last girl on earth," He belittled, "Besides, she would cling to my cock like crazy after that; I mean, look at her now, can't even take a piss without her peering over my shoulder." He gestured, pretending to take a piss and looking behind him to see if you were around.

The boys hollered, laughing at James’s visual representation of you.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you dropped the glass-made jar, shattering in the process. You let go of the door, turning your heel to run away.

The tears started running down your cheeks as you wiped each of them as they came. You went under a tree, crying your eyes out, wondering why James would be so cruel.

He was your best friend, and you thought he loved you enough to not make fun of you. James could sometimes be thoughtless, but he never was brutal to you.

Did he really think you were clingy, consistently all over him? Did he get annoyed by how much you were around him? Would he never like you even if you were the last girl on the planet?

You were humiliated, embarrassed by his words, his thoughts. Every feeling of James Potter that made you happy and wanted to fall into his arms turned into hate and resentment, his words reiterating in your mind a thousand times.

That night, you vowed never to make James Potter make you feel that way again.

So that night, you didn't join the celebration. You told your friends that your stomach was hurting and you weren't in the mood for festivities.

You didn't know if James had asked where you were during that night, and you didn't want to know after the words he had shared with others.

Since you were allowed to leave Hogwarts the day after summer began, you did. You didn't wait for James to go with you; you left without him, wishing all your friends goodbye, dismissing all questions about why you were leaving early and blaming it on your mother's wishes.

"Okay, well," Lily sighed, "Make sure to ring me over the summer and visit if you can." You embraced her and nodded your head, telling her that you will.

"And don't forget to ring me as well," Dorcas said from behind you as you went over to her and hugged her tightly, "Whatever he did," She whispered in your ear, "Give him hell."

You pulled out of the hug and gave her a smile, "I will."

As she left, you approached the Gryffindor common room to find Remus reading as usual.

"Gonna wish a good friend goodbye?" Remus questioned, looking over at you. You were glad he wasn’t questioning why you were leaving so early in the morning.

"How could I ever not?" You asked, embracing him for a minute.

"So, are you gonna tell me what he did?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How do you and Dorcas know everything?" You said, rolling your eyes.

"How good of friends would we be if we didn't." He smirked, "I can ta-"

You cut him off, "No, this is not your responsibility; I will take care of it." You smiled, "But thank you for caring; it means the most to me."

"Of course," He said as you nodded and turned to leave, "And take care of yourself." You turned back, giving him a reassuring smile.

After saying all your goodbyes for the school year, you sat in a window seat, looking at the school you loved dearly. You never thought you could quite say this, but you were ready for home.

Once you returned home, a letter was waiting for you on your window seal stating,

Dear Y/n,

Give him hell.

Sincerely the only one you need,

Dorcas Meadows.

And what kind of friend would you be if you didn't do what was asked?

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navybrat817 · 4 months

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The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.

It was also something he wanted to do.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:

The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.

Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.

And his newest adventure of becoming a father.

He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.

Hey, Nugget,

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.

Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.

Whatever makes you happy.

He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.

I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”

Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.

Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.

I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.

Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.

Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.

Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.

He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.

A bond for the two of us.

As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.

I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.

Though I won’t object if you say Dada.

Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.

I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.

The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.

Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.

I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.

And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.

I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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orphicdreamers-wp · 3 months

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When You Know You Know — Quinn Hughes

Summary; In which you, Quinn and your loved ones recount the early days of your relationship

Content Warning: wedding ceremony inaccuracies, fluff

You laughed into your palms as Jack took the microphone and grinned sheepishly, “Hey guys! I’m Jack, the cooler of Quinn’s brothers.” You turned to your husband, “How bad are we expecting this to turn out?” Quinn laughed, “Almost as bad as Trevor standing up after the minister said ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ and saying ‘don’t nobody say nothing’.” Jack grinned as you turned to face you and his brother, “I have one text from a Quinn Hughes, dated December 9th 2018. Jack no joke, I just met my wife. She’s perfect.”

Jack turned to face your wedding guests, “It should be noted that the first two weeks of December that year there was a horrendous snow storm in Vancouver so I initially didn’t believe him. Until he FaceTimed me the next day trekking through the snow holding a bouquet of lavenders that was bigger than his head, which is ideally a huge thing of flowers. He told me he was going to meet a girl for dinner. He called me again the next day, this time he was demanding to speak to our mom to learn how to make pasta as he was having someone over for dinner.”

Jack’s story earned laughs from the guests. Jack smiled at you and Quinn as he continued, “This continued through the remainder of December and the majority of January. It was nearing a month he’d been needing dating advice. So he called me once again trekking through the snow, but that time he wasn’t alone.” Jack turned to face you with a smile, “I was complaining about whatever stupid crap a 17 year old boy would. And then I saw Quinn get pelted in the face with a snowball. Then I heard Y/N squeal as she and Quinn ran through the snow covered streets of Vancouver throwing snowballs at each other and giggling.”

You laughed softly as you melted into your husbands side into a warm embrace, “I quickly learned that Y/N was perfect for my brother which was unexpected because Y/N is classy, kind and beautiful and Quinn is not. But after meeting her I have never had to question or wonder if my brother made the right choice. Because from the moment I met her, Y/N has shown nothing but grace, love and support for not just Quinn but my entire family. I could not be more proud to say, welcome to the family sis.” Your eyes welled with tears as you stood to go hug Jack, “I always wanted a little brother to annoy.” Jack smiled as he hugged you, “I always wanted a sister.”

You returned to your seat next to your husband as your best friend, Gracie stood up with the microphone, “I hold here a hot pink notebook sheet of paper dated April 13th 2006, it reads ‘GG I have a secret. I have to tell someone so your my friend now that I told you. Mrs Tkachuck’s son is cute. He is always skating at recess. I think he has really nice hair, maybe my husband will too. Anyways I got peanut butter sandwiches for lunch what did you get?’ This was the first note I ever received.”

You covered your face with your hands as you heard your husband whisper, “Please tell me it wasn’t Brady.” You laughed as Gracie continued, “The boy in the note did have really nice hair. Matthew Tkachuck everyone. That note would be seen as two 7 year old girls agreeing that a 9 year old was cute and bonding over lunch. But for me that singular note written in real glitter pen by the 7 year old who had no friends because she didn’t let anyone say anything mean to her. You, Y/N changed my life at just 7 years old.”

Quinn squeezed your hand reassuringly as you blinked back soft tears as Gracie continued, “You wouldn’t know this, because I never told you. But on Friendsgiving in 2018, when I pulled the longer side of the wishbone. I wished for you to find someone who would alter your life the way you altered mine. And then 13 days later I got a voicemail from you at 3 am. You had claimed you found the love of your life and his name was win. I unanimously decided that his name probably wasn’t actually win but more likely Quinn.”

You felt your gaze soften as Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple as your best friend finished her speech, “To my beautiful, perfect, amazing and wonderful best friend. To the rest of your life with a guy who treks through the snow a day after meeting you. PS your husband did end up having good hair.” You and Quinn erupted into soft giggles as you looked at each other. You smiled up at Quinn, “I so would have written love notes to you in teal glitter pens.” Quinn laughed, “I would trek through a million snowstorms to bring you flowers.”

You melted into a kiss as your mother in law took the stage, “My biggest baby. In your entire life I have only seen you love three things. Your family, hockey and the beautiful woman that is sitting next to you. And none of those things are in order. From the moment I met Y/N it was clear to me that you loved her more than anything else in the world. It’s in the eyes. You, Quinn Hughes have very telling eyes. I could tell by your eyes when you pushed Jack face first down a slide when you were 5 and he was 3. I knew from the look in your eyes the first time you snuck out. And I knew when I saw your eyes light up when Y/N offered to take Jack and Luke to hockey practice so me and your father could have a break.”

Ellen continued as she smiled at you, “I knew that you were long gone, there was no coming back. You were head over heels for her and honestly I think I was a little bit as well. For as long as I remember you and your brothers never liked each others friends or associates. Don’t get me started on girlfriends. But Jack and Luke came home and would not shut up about how much they liked Y/N. I knew then that she was perfect for you and she fit like a missing puzzle piece of our family. So it didn’t come as a shock to me when you called me less than a year later asking me to help you pick out engagement rings.”

Your jaw dropped, you hadn’t known that Quinn had thought about marrying you so quickly. Ellen smiled at you and her eldest son, “To my beautiful son and his even more beautiful wife. Watching you two navigate life together has been one of the most gracious gifts I’ve ever received.” You smiled warmly at your mother in law as you rested your head on your husbands shoulder, “So I’m picking up on the fact that apparently everyone around us including us knew from the beginning of our relationship that we’d end up here. Is it just me?” Quinn kissed your cheek, “Nope, definitely not just you.”

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #nhl #nhl fanfiction #vancouver #vancouver cancuks #vancover canucks #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #Quinn Hughes fics #wedding

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alotofpockets · 5 months

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Eyes don't lie | Reneé Rapp

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Prompt: "We're just friends." & "Are you joking? She looks at you like you are her whole world."

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1k

Reneé carried her songwriting notebook everywhere, so that any time she had a lyrical idea, she could write it down immediately. She was very private with this notebook, she only ever showed the pages she allowed others to see. Alyah was one of the many people that was curious about what the girl was hiding in her notes, and couldn’t help herself when she saw the notebook laying on the piano at Reneé’s house. Reneé herself was on a call in the other room, so there was no one to stop her.

“So…” Alyah starts. “You and y/n then, huh?” Reneé rolls her eyes, “We’re just friends, Alyah.” At that point Alyah can’t hold her laughter any longer. “My sweet friend, you have a whole page in your notebook praising the things that you love about them, and you’ve written love songs about them. Why are you keeping all of this in your notebook? You should tell them how you feel.”

She opens the notebook and finds the lyrics to a few released songs, looking over those quickly, because she was looking for things that she hadn’t seen or heard before. The next few pages consist of half written songs with many crossed out sentences. A few pages further she found the reason why Reneé hid the notebook from everyone.

A page with your picture in the middle, surrounded by a bunch of words. Alyah read through some of them, kind, beautiful, smart, funny. She felt on top of the world just finding the proof that her friend indeed had a crush on you, even though she had denied it time and time again. The following pages were filled with sappy love songs, Alyah was reading through some of them when the notebook was snatched out of her hand. Her eyes widened, she was caught. “Alyah Chanelle Scott, you know this is private!” Alyah knows she was supposed to feel guilty but instead she was just trying her hardest not to break out in laughter.

Reneé knows exactly why she hasn’t shared her feelings with you but she goes with the easy answer. “She doesn’t feel the same way about me, so there is no use.” Alyah looks at her friend, "Are you joking? She looks at you like you are her whole world." The blond shakes her head, “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” While shaking her head Alyah reassures Reneé that that is not the case. “Eyes don’t lie.”

She plops down on the couch next to Alyah. She knew now, so she might as well confide in her best friend. “She's my whole world too.” Alyah mumbles a “Clearly” which received her a shove to the upper arm. “As I was saying, she's my whole world too but relationships always end badly for me, and I do not want to lose her.” Alyah turns more serious in her response, “But what if this one will be different? What if everything will work out but you never tried?”

After hours of talking, Alyah managed to convince Reneé to confess her feelings to you. She wanted this for her best friend, and of course she really thought that you would reciprocate the feelings, seeing as you’re always walking around with metaphorical heart eyes whenever Reneé was around. Together they brainstormed ways to tell you.

The next day you came over to hang out, like you had planned for weeks now. Reneé seemed rather quiet but you decided to let the woman be for a bit, knowing that she knew you were there for her and she could always talk to you.

“Hey, so I wrote this new song and I was wondering if I could play it for you.” She started, that nervous look making its way back onto her face. Reneé had asked you to listen to songs she wrote before but never before had you seen her this nervous about sharing a song. You figured that maybe it was a very personal song. “Yeah, I would love to hear it, I always love hearing you sing.” You say with a big smile. Alyah would probably say she could see hearts in your eyes in this moment as well.

“Before I start, I want to say something. But can you please hold any response until I finish the song?” You nod, “Of course.” Reneé sits down and takes a deep breath. “I wrote this song for you.” Your heart starts to race, she wrote a song for you? No comments until the end of the song though, so you just patiently waited for her to start playing the song.

She started playing the keys, and you already thought the intro was beautiful. You start blushing when she starts singing, the lyrics giving away that it wasn’t just a song, but that it was a love song. She sang about falling for someone, falling for you. Now you understood why she was nervous. After she played the outro she placed her hands down into her lap, taking a deep breath before she would face you. You noticed how nervous she still was, so you walked her way, and sat down next to her on the piano bench.

The usually so confident Reneé now was a nervous mess, and you found it absolutely adorable. You smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes finally meet yours, she’s searching for any kind of reaction in them. Your hand lingers on her cheek, your thumb gently rubbing over her cheek. The longer you looked at each other the more both of your smiles grew. Reneé seemed to find the reaction she was looking for in your eyes as she started slowly leaning in to kiss you. The hand that was resting on her cheek made its way to the back of her neck as you pulled her in the rest of the way, your lips meeting in a long and soft kiss.

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#pockets celebration #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp fluff #renee rapp x you #renee rapp x y/n #reneé rapp x reader

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togrowoldinv · 2 months

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Settlement

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

You serve as Wanda’s attorney in her divorce proceedings, which leads to you helping Wanda see she can start again with someone new

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, slight mommy kink, fingering (W receiving), oral (R receiving)

Note: Milf Wanda 🤩 Enjoy!

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You try to never get too close to your clients. In your career, you like to form personal relationships with the people you provide services for, but never too personal.

That system was working pretty well until you met Wanda Maximoff. A friend of hers had suggested you to her for legal services. Her husband had hired the second-best attorney in town to defend him in the divorce. She insisted that, as the best, you help her.

You felt drawn to Wanda from the first moment you met her. She has an endearing way about her. She captivates the attention of everyone in the room without ever uttering a word. Just her presence is enough to draw attention.

There were several late nights spent at the office working on her case. You would call her and discuss how things were going. She had to get up early to get her kids ready for school, but she always stayed on the line until she was practically asleep.

Today, the case was finally settled. Wanda got the custody she wanted, thanks to you. If you’re being honest with yourself, you felt sad seeing Wanda for the last time. Her company is something you’ve grown accustomed to.

Wanda felt the same way. Which is why she got her checkbook and drove to your office one more time. You are deep in the next case’s work papers when you hear a knock on your door.

“I’m busy,” you mumble, figuring it was someone needing your assistance.

“Too busy for me?” your favorite voice in the world says.

You look up from your files to see her standing there in all of her glory. The beautiful Wanda Maximoff.

“Is everything alright, Ms. Maximoff?” You ask, standing up from your desk.

Wanda notices the way your eyes flicker to the way her chest looks in the blouse she’s wearing. She eyes your body too as you don a dark colored suit.

“Oh yes, everything is fine,” Wanda says. “I just wanted to thank you again for everything.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” you say.

Wanda is definitely older than you and her eyes tend to darken when you use terms like ma’am or call her missus.

“Come further in and have a seat.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wanda says. The word flows off her tongue with ease. “Have I mentioned that this office is very impressive?”

“You have, but I never mind hearing it again,” you tell her. You can’t help the grin that forms on your face. “It feels nice to have my own space.”

“Right,” Wanda says. “While I’m here, I thought I could pay my final bill.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that until you get an invoice,” you say. “I talked to the billing department and did get some of those fees waived though. I don’t want finances to be an issue.”

“Well, thank you,” she says. “I guess I should just be going then.”

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

Wanda stands up and walks towards the door. You notice she takes her time. So much of you wants to stand up and call after her, but you just aren’t sure if you should.

Luckily, Wanda turns around on her on accord.

“Y/n,” she begins. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but do you think I have a chance at this new single thing?”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t been alone since I was sixteen,” Wanda says. She walks back to the chair she was previously sitting in. “I don’t know how to be single.”

“It’ll be an adjustment,” you say. “But I know you can do it.”

“Maybe if I just get the first times out of the way,” Wanda wonders aloud. “Like the first date, kiss, all of that.”

You listen to her but don’t say anything. You can’t get a read on her. Does she want to do those things with you? Or are you projecting?

“Maybe we could- never mind,” Wanda says.

“We could what?” you finally speak again.

“Well, it’s just you have been so kind to me,” she says. “I was thinking maybe you could help me out one last time.”

“Okay,” you say. “How can I help you?”

“Will you kiss me?” Wanda asks.

“Oh.”

“I just- no I know it’s silly!” Wanda says.

She stands and paces in front of your desk. You rise and walk to her.

“Hey, it’s not silly,” you say.

“No?”

“No. If you want me to, I will kiss you.”

“Please.”

You take her face between your hands and brush her cheeks with your thumbs. The blush on her cheeks and the way she closes her eyes in anticipation makes your heart flutter.

Taking your time to lean in, you finally place your lips on hers. The electricity is palpable. You kiss her slowly, taking in everything that is Wanda. She deepens the kiss. When your tongue brushes against hers, she loses balance.

“Oh,” Wanda mumbles, pulling away just enough to regain her balance.

“How was that?” You ask her.

“Better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Yeah?”

Wanda nods. She feels herself yearning for you even more now. Asking for a kiss was a test to see if she wanted more.

Without uttering a word, she kisses you this time. Wanda pushes you back towards your desk, and you sit on the edge. Her intentions are clear in the way she slots her thigh between your legs.

“Wanda,” you say breathlessly. She moves her lips to your neck. “Wanda. Ms. Maximoff, slow down.”

Wanda stops and looks at you. You’re both flushed.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah. I just want to make sure you want this.”

“I want this. I want you, sweetheart.”

“Then take me.”

Wanda gasps at your words, and you continue to take her breath away. Your hands make quick work of unbuttoning her blouse. The material falls to the floor along with her bra. You move your lips to her chest and suck on her perfect nipples.

She lets out the most beautiful moans. You move your hand to her pants and slip it down her jeans. Moving your fingers over her wet folds, you nip at her breasts.

“Fuck,” Wanda says. “Baby, please.”

“I’ve got you, mommy,” the word slips out.

“Fuck,” she mumbles.

You pull down her pants and finally insert your fingers into her. She gasps with every thrust.

“Come for me, mommy,” you tell her. “All for me.”

“All for you, baby,” Wanda says.

She comes hard against your fingers. She buries her face in your shoulder as she regains her breath. You kiss her head.

“May I?” Wanda asks, her eyes shyly looking towards your core.

“You may,” you say, with a slight chuckle at her sweetness.

Wanda kneels in front of you and pulls your pants down to the floor. She drops kisses to your thighs.

“Don’t tease me, Wanda.”

She continues to kiss you everywhere but where you need her the most. You take her hair and pull her into your pussy. Wanda licks you before taking your clit in her mouth.

“Fuck, mommy,” you say.

“Fuck,” she moans against you.

It doesn’t take long for Wanda to make you come against her tongue. You bring her up for a searing kiss.

You’re both breathless as you look into each other’s eyes. Your hearts flutter.

“Thank you,” Wanda says.

“Anytime, Ms. Maximoff,” you say. “Only the best for my clients.”

Wanda giggles sweetly, and you kiss her lips once again. You have a feeling you’ll be doing this quite often.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff fluff

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revasserium · 7 months

Note

i carry your heart with me - Zoro with an s/o he meets during his travels

i carry your heart (with me)

opla!zoro; 1,776 words; fluff, a bit of angst, and then fluff again, fem!reader, implied smut but none actually written out (i know, maybe next time lol)

summary: whipped!zoro is whipped.

a/n: this is painfully self-indulgent. but if u wanna read about zoro being grossly in love... here you go.

he meets you in a city of gold — golden leaves and golden apples, golden wheat and golden cattle. he meets you with your golden voice, a sound like liquid sun; he meets you with your gold-spun dreams, and somehow, he knows you’re the one.

he’d never known a song could sounds so beautiful till he heard you sing for the very first time. he doesn’t blame the jostling crowds of men at the bar as they try to push just an inch closer to the stage, their eyes hazy with candlelight and greed.

but later that night, after too many drinks and a few good hours of usopp regaling their best adventures, zoro kisses you and thinks himself the greediest of them all.

“come with us,” he says, with the sun setting fire to the evening sky.

“come with us,” he says, murmuring the words against your skin, cloaked beneath the darkness of night.

“what would i even do on a pirate ship?” you’d asked, laughing as he ghosts his lips along the column of your neck, content with the thought of drowning himself in the texture of your bitten off sighs.

“dunno, you can sing… we’ve been looking that.”

you pull away to stare at him, and somewhere behind the glassy glaze of your eyes, he finds oceans that he’d never sailed, oceans the depths of which he thinks he could spend the rest of his life trying to explore. but he saw something there that night he’d seen the very first time he’d caught your eyes — the glimmer of want like lamps behind a submarine’s windows — and in them, he sees a thirst for adventure that mirrors his own.

a thirst that he’s tasted on the open salt breeze, in the wild, uncertain whomph of unfurling sails against the backdrop of a dawning sky.

you hum against the skin of his shoulder and he lets his fingers track an indulgent trail along the length of your spine.

“can i at least sleep on it?” you ask, laughing as he sighs huffily and makes to roll away from you. you pull him back with another kiss and he lets himself be properly lost for the first time in what feels like centuries.

in the morning, you find the bed empty and the sun beyond your small bedroom window is cracking over an eggshell dawn. the wind is warm, but the ground is still chilly — the sky is the shade of a fading bruise and by the time you reach port, the grand pirate ship with the sheep’s head mast is no longer there. you sigh, wrap your shawl more tightly around your shoulders and wonder if he’ll ever think of you again.

he does, though he wouldn’t get the chance to tell you for years and years and years.

“i thought you said you’d convince her?” sanji asks over a freshly rolled cigarette and two tankards of barrel-aged beer.

zoro shrugs, “i tried.”

“shoulda tried harder, then.”

zoro grunts, taking a long swig of his beer and wincing as he glances between sanji and the glass.

“what’dyou put in here?”

sanji’s grin goes lopsided as he waves a hand vaguely through the air, “oh, just somethin’ with a bit more bite. looked like you needed it.”

and for once, zoro doesn’t snipe back. instead, he stares at the tankard for a long second before drowning the entire thing in a few forceful gulps.

just then, luffy rounds the door into the kitchen and grins at the two men at the counter.

“whatcha talkin’ about?”

sanji jerks his head towards zoro, “just about zoro’s lost love.”

“she ain’t lost. we know exactly where she is.”

sanji opens his mouth but pauses as he realizes there are two things zoro could’ve denied and he’d only denied one.

luffy grins, “oh i know. i convinced him to let her go.”

sanji frowns, “wait what? weren’t you the first one that said we should ask her to join?”

luffy nods, still grinning, “sure! yeah, her singing’s the best i’ve heard, but if she’s not ready, we shouldn’t force her. she’ll find us though, someday. and she’ll just join the crew then!”

there’s a kind of childish, miraculous certainty with which luffy says things that always leaves strangers baffled. but his crew knows him better — they know that his blind trust only seems blind because he puts his trust in things that other people might not yet be able to see.

and he doesn’t strike out this time either, even though it’s years before any of them would meet you again.

though meet you, they do, but this time, it’s amidst canon-fire and wood dust and the incoherent shouts of retreating marines.

zoro sees you first, flying through the air on a thick length of rope, a small instrument strapped to your back, landing light on the deck like a ghost or a daydream. you’re different now, your limbs a bit longer, your hair a bit lighter, twisted back with a strand of golden ribbon so bright it might’ve stolen light from the sun itself.

“its — it’s you!” luffy is a bit breathless and there’s a dark soot smudge across his cheeks, but he’s smiling all the same.

“yeah, i heard you guys were looking for a musician?”

zoro wipes down the length of his swords, his eyes never leaving your form as he makes his way to you.

“so, guess you slept on it, huh?”

you turn towards him, and he’s once more held still by the look in your eyes. there’s a fierce, feral fire there that threatens to ignite everything it touches, and when you smile, zoro feels the burning inside him just as strong as before, as if he’s held a piece of you in his chest all these years and the proximity to you has finally set it ablaze.

“yep. i did. and here i am.”

luffy laughs and claps you on the shoulder as sanji lights up a post-fight cigarette, grinning toothily at you as he asks if you’d like anything to eat or drink. and soon, the rest of their growing crew joins you as you’re pulled away from zoro for what nami had termed a proper straw hat initiation.

he thinks he’d never appreciated music until you’re the one playing it — later that evening, he lets himself be carried on the moonlit tendrils of your voice as it dances over a soft melody of strings and the ever present lullaby of the drowsy sea.

and then, even later, when he finally gets you alone enough to press his mouth to yours, he thinks that your skin smells of a thousand untold stories, collected in the curve for your neck and the bend of your hips, arresting his senses like so many exotic perfumes from distant lands. he maps a constellation of wants and unsaid words into the long, sinuous expanses of your thighs and re-teaches himself the meaning of greed as he kisses a line up your stomach, back up to your lips to find you smiling.

“hey,” he says, reaching down to run a finger along the high of your cheeks. freckles. you didn't used to have them before.

“hey yourself, stranger,” you say, adjusting your body slightly so he can lay down next to you.

neither of you remark upon the lingering ghost of a night long past, the shapes of your bodies curled into almost identical shapes, the darkness wrapped around you like a promise that’s made to be broken.

“how’d you even find us?” zoro asks, letting his thumb trace absent circles into the soft of your kiss-bruised shoulder.

“weren’t you listening at dinner? i was ‘rescued’ from another pirate ship by the marines and —”

zoro scoffs, “i’ve hung around usopp long enough to know bullshit when i hear it.”

you quiet, though it’s not an unpleasant silence by any means.

“you wanna know the truth?” you ask, shifting to pillow your cheek against his chest.

he nods, “yeah, that’d be nice.”

you bite your lips, “i went looking for you. the morning after you left. but by the time i got to the docks, you guys were already gone.”

“hm.”

you let out a long sigh, “why’d you leave?”

you shift to look up at him; he glances down to meet your eyes. there’s no accusation in your voice, just a simple curiosity. and somehow, that stings more than zoro would ever admit.

“you… you didn’t seem like you were ready.”

he clears his throat and looks away, luffy’s words echoing back through the years.

“and… we knew that you’d find us eventually.”

when he looks down this time, your eyebrows are cocked and there’s an indulgent smile on your lips.

“well, guess you were right.”

you shift again to curl into his side and he adjusts slightly to slot his body more comfortably against yours. he remembers wondering how two bodies could be made separately and still fit so perfectly together like this. and here and now, he wonders how that might still be true after so many years.

he grounds himself in the rhythmic cycle of your breaths.

“zoro?”

your drowsy voice stirs him from the edges of his dreams and for a moment, he doesn’t remember when or where he is — if he’s back in the golden village lying in your tiny, warm bedroom, or if he’s on the going merry, with you tucked perfectly against his side.

“yeah?”

“will you be here in the morning?”

“mm. yeah. i will.”

the blankets rustle, the world around you shifts, like a camera with a mismatched lens, and for a second, just a single second, time bends back on itself, and zoro feels one moment superimposed over another. a fracture, a singularity, a temporary double-exposure.

and then, the film flickers and time unwinds itself, and he can hear the soft shushing of waves against the merry’s hull.

“do you promise?” you ask, curling your fingers against zoro’s chest as he turns towards you to pull you closer into him.

“yeah,” he says, his voice already thick with the syrup of sleep and dreams, even as he leans down to drop a kiss into your hair —

“i promise. ‘m not going anywhere.”

feed me opla!zoro reqs pls i beg

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talaok · 11 months

Note

Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too"

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am"

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

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numinously-yours · 12 days

Text

Pick a card: From your Soulmate

Happy Friday! Today's reading is a soulmate reading. Your reading includes: Characteristics of your soulmate & a note from them <3

Pile 1: Ace of Pentacles

I’ve been kicked down in life, but each time I get back up the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter. I have been trying hard to trust in the universe because I know it’s bringing me everything I could want – and that’s you. You are such a compassionate, beautiful, smart, and wonderful person pile 1. You know how they say to never stop dating the person you’re with? That is my plan with you – to woo you forever. You deserve to be wined and dined. I hope to show you each day how much you mean to me. I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll give you shoulder rubs. I’ll tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. I will spend our time together making sure you never feel unloved. You are my manifestation and I can’t wait to be with you.

Pile 2: The Lovers

Your love is a breath of fresh air. Being with you brings me mental clarity. It makes me understand that the way I’ve been treated in relationships up until now were not an accurate representation of a healthy relationship. Gosh, it is so refreshing! You may find when we begin our relationship that I am hesitant to make big decisions. Because you are showing me something I’ve never known before, it is going to take a little time for me to be convinced that you’re not going away. But let me tell you, once I am shown time and time again that you show up, it is game over (in the best way). The way that we align will take away all the doubts I’ve ever had about love. And I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Pile 3: The Hanged Man

A lot of my life has been about competition; mainly, competition with myself. I have a need to prove myself. I want to be the best at what I do. And I know that that mindset isn’t always the most productive. With you in my life, soulmate, I am reminded to pause. I am reminded that there are more perspectives out there from my own and that I’m allowed to let go of what I think SHOULD be to open room for what IS. You’re really going to allow me to look at my shadow self and understand why I have this need to be better than the previous version of me. You’re going to help me see the restraints that I’m binding myself with. My competitive nature will always be a part of me but I’m looking forward to the time in my life where I can experience joy just being who I am, where I don’t feel like I need to be constantly winning. My life with you is the ultimate prize.

Pile 4: Two of Cups

I’ve held myself back for much of my life with the fear that I don’t have the tools to succeed. I always think that if I just had that one thing – more money, more confidence, more time – that then I can take the plunge. At times, I also find myself wanting to do everything for everyone. If I put effort into one thing, I feel like I am neglecting the other, and then I stop doing either. I want to be the best RIGHT NOW, no matter how unrealistic. And then you came into the picture. My inspiration, my muse, my reminder that each day is a clean slate. Not only do I know we will grow together, but I know that I will grow personally because of you. You never fail to encourage me to follow my dreams. You have a way of reminding me that, even if I “fail”, I can always get something out of a situation which means I didn’t fail at all. I really hope I can do the same thing for you because you deserve the same, if not more, of the energy you give to me.

#soulmate #soulmate reading #letters from your soulmate #tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #free reading #ace of pentacles #two of cups #the lovers tarot #the hanged man tarot

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

Text

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

Part 13.

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

{ masterpost }

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

Your room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clearly," Venetia said, smile surprisingly wolfish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Cattons have always had loved their mythology.

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

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

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

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

"But you do think it."

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

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

"About... this?" He frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Adriana?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course."

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

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

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

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

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

"Farleigh, oh my god -"

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

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

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

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

"Whatever weird, possible puppet-based euphemism -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We match."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking in the Fairy Garden again?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start imagine #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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notebookqueenofnarnia · 2 months

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Okay Demigods

now that Season 2 has been confirmed (!!!!!!!!!!) I am here to make my official appeal that you ALL read the books. and yes...i mean ALL the books. Because here is what you are missing if you don't:

(mostly spoiler free. mostly vibes and chaotic no context)

OG PERCY JACKSON

Percy's INCREDIBLE sarcasm

Lots of chaotic Mr. D moments

Percy's unending absolute obliviousness when it comes to: his own abilities/powers, his own feelings towards a certain daughter of Athena, and EVERYONE'S feelings towards him

the full list of Percy's felonies (it's longer than you think!)

how much Percy thinks about Annabeth, especially in the third book

The Hunters of Artemis (everyone's like 'which godly parent would you have?' but im like ??? who cares??? I'm running off with the girls to immortal to hunt men i mean monsters)

soooooooooo much Sally Jackson is the Best Mom (to everyone who walks through her door) content

BLACKJACK. TRANS ICON BLACKJACK THE PEGASUS.

Rachel. Elizabeth. Dare. (this is how the audiobook says her name every single time)

Paul Blofis

Sally Jackson, author

Poseidon: Blowfish?

HEROES OF OLYMPUS

If you don't read these books you are missing out on some of the coolest female characters Rick has created: PIPER (an iconic), HAZEL (unintentionally hilarious), REYNA (beautiful character arc), and ANNABETH's point of view will have you loving her on a whole other level, trust me

Also: COACH HEDGE

Leo

All The Ladies Love Leo

the audiobooks are INSANE. It felt like a full cast read the book, but no. it was just one insanely talented narrator.

FESTUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS (im a dragon girlie)

Personally, I spent a lot of time reading the OG 5 wondering about how Roman mythology plays into Percy's world. Uncle Rick answered my questions and answered them SO WELL

Hazel the horse girl

Frank the horsebirddolphinman

Frank, gentle himbo, my beloved son

MY FAVORITE SCENE WHICH INVOLVES PERCY NOT KNOWING HOW TO DRIVE, A HARPY, FRANK, AND HAZEL AND THEYRE ALL SCREAMING AND IM PRETTY SURE STUFF IS ON FIRE

Forced Proximity for 7 teenagers and one chaotically violent satyr (that's Coach Hedge)

Eros/Cupid being one the most genius things Rick's ever written

Percy's hate of Ares transcending god magic

(also his love of Annabeth, but that's like obvious)

PercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabethPercabe

weird barely gnome things

this one giant whose name is definitely not pronounced like female anatomy

everyone thinking Percy and Annabeth are constantly getting up to the hanky panky

a statue made me cry

Gay Grumpy/Sunshine (or should that be Death/Sunshine) origins!!

TRIALS OF APOLLO

Apollo, vain himbo of godly proportions is forced to live as Lester Papadopoulos

Percy: why

a very chaotic twelve year old daughter of Demeter

she commands Apollo around

plant magic

terrible great haikus at the start of every chapter

Sally Jackson being the best mom to everyone who comes to her door

magic shoes

a sassy magic prophetic arrow that talks in Shakespearean English

so much gay grumpydeath/sunshine content

also yes sunshine's dad is Apollo

Apollo sings

Grover! Piper! Reyna! Hazel! All the friends! Everyone

Jason! (also im sorry)

what if there were some trees who were an elite squad of warriors who also answer to the chaotic twelve year old

gay moms of the midwest

unicorns

in the last book, chiron takes the campers on a 'field trip' to help take down the big baddie and he shows up dressed as a warrior soccer mom with granola bars, water bottles, and extra swords attached to his fanny pack

a different chaotic twelve year old while fighting to the death in a building that's on fire: "CAN WE GO ON FIELD TRIPS EVERY WEEK?"

chiron: "ROSE DEAR RAISE YOUR SWORD A LITTLE HIGHER!"

okay im not going to spoil it but in the last book there is also this extremely horrifyingly violent moment that Uncle Rick somehow turns into one of the most hilarious things i've ever read

Piper in the epilogue

CHALICE OF THE GODS

more insanely funny percy first person narration

Grover, Percy, Annabeth reunite ("the gang is back together!" "The three musketeers!" "Shrek, Fiona, and Donkey!" "Excuse me?")

have you met the god of himbos? (Percy has)

MANY

EASTER

EGGS

for Season one. you can totally see how Uncle Rick worked on the script and chalice together

if you liked Annabeth shoving Percy into the water....this one is for you

Percy, supreme god of snakes

the cutest cutest cutest cutest Percabeth content you will ever read

hippie gods (yes more than one)

Percy is literally obsessed with Annabeth

Annabeth already being the Jackson daughter in law

Sally Jackson and Paul and

For the record: You CAN read Chalice of the Gods without reading the other series, but please please please read all these books. The audiobooks are phenomenal.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo disney+#pjo series #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percabeth #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #chalice of the gods #rick riordan #no spoilers #more or less

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

The Curveball Part 4 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob ends up on thin ice with Molly after Bradley ends up on thin ice with her sister. But all he can think about is the perfect night he spent with her and how he'd be crushed if he didn't get a chance to do it all again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, 18+

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

Bob was trying his best to be in the moment at the Hard Deck, since he was the one who invited Molly's sister out for a drink. He wanted to say thank you for all the hard work she put in while Bradley was away. But he was so distracted.

Molly had spent the entire day sending him selfies while she was at work, and some of them were definitely rated mature. Bob had almost broken his phone earlier trying to minimize a photo of Molly's pierced nipples when Coyote walked over to him. She had snapped the photo of herself in the bathroom at the hospital when she was on break along with the caption I miss you, Bobby <3

The little heart at the end reminded him that he had already said he loved her. He assumed she hadn't heard him, but it made him blush just the same. And now he was at the bar with her sister and Bradley, which should have been fun, but he just wanted to get home and see Molly.

Bob watched Nat and Jake both relentlessly flirt with Team Mom, but there was no way she had eyes for anyone except Bradley. And then he wondered what it would be like if he brought Molly here. He wanted to, because he already wanted to be with her all the time. But...Bob looked around at all the guys, and that feeling of self doubt was back. Jake was handsome and charming, and probably the kind of guy Molly was used to being with.

When Nat offered to buy a drink for Team Mom, Bob cut her off, glad for the distraction. "No, it's on me! It's the least I can do since you gave up so much of your time this week to fill in for Bradley. What do you like?" And while he was up at the bar, waiting patiently for Penny to fill his order, Molly's sister ran out of the bar, followed closely by Bradley.

"What happened?" Bob asked, holding two beers while Jake rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He mumbled a response and walked away, but when Bradley finally came back inside, he looked like he was ready to kill Jake.

And then the barrage of text messages from Molly came through. Bob's eyes went wide as he read them.

Are you aware that your buddy Bradley is actually a fucking dickhead? I can't BELIEVE what he did to my sister!

Seriously, Bob. Why didn't you warn my sister about him?! What the fuck! He called Everett baggage!

Please tell me you're not like him!

You know what? Maybe I don't want to find out.

Bob called her immediately, but she didn't answer. When he got her voicemail, he said, "Mo, please call me back so we can talk, okay? I don't think Bradley meant any of what he said. He's not a bad guy. And I... don't think I could ever do anything to hurt you." He contemplated telling her he loved her again, but he ended the call before he could.

He was already home for the night when he got one last text from her.

I'm not coming over.

Bob collapsed in his bed, raking his fingers through his hair, wondering if this, of all things, was what would cost him his chance with her.

--------------------------

Molly was having a wonderful evening with Everett. They painted huge masterpieces on poster boards and left all the messy brushes in the kitchen sink. Molly secretly loved leaving an innocuous mess for her sister to clean up in her otherwise spotless house. It kept her on her toes.

"Movie time? With ice cream?" she asked Everett, checking the time. Of course she'd let him stay up late. That's just what aunts did.

"There's ice cream?!" he shouted, sprinting back into the kitchen.

"Of course there's ice cream," she replied, kneeling in front of the freezer. "I know all of your mom's secrets. She thinks she's so sneaky, but you can't get anything past me." After removing all the healthy, pre portioned frozen dinners, Molly hit the jackpot. There was a gallon of fudge ripple and a gallon of vanilla raspberry. "See?" she asked Everett, holding them both up.

"Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple! Fudge ripple!" he chanted, and soon they were watching a PG-13 movie with two spoons stuck in the ice cream carton.

"Want some more?" she asked, passing the carton to him.

He took a bite and said, "I don't think my mom wanted me to watch this movie."

Molly sighed and shook her head. "I'll cover your eyes for the scary parts, okay?"

"Okay!" he agreed.

Molly took a few more bites before she asked him, "You like Coach Bob, right?"

"Oh yeah, like a whole lot," he replied. "Almost as much as I like Coach Bradley."

"That's a lot," Molly muttered. "I like him, too." She was smiling as Everett looked at her.

"You should probably marry him," he said seriously. "I heard my mom say that Coach Bob is smart and nice and that she never thought you could do so well."

Molly scoffed and rolled her eyes. "That sounds exactly like something your mom would say, and that's exactly why we are eating her overpriced ice cream without her. Now close your eyes for the scary part."

About twenty minutes later, Everett was sound asleep on her lap while she finished the ice cream. Then she carried him up to bed, starting to get a little nervous that her sister would be back soon. She tucked him in, turned on his nightlight, and then hightailed it back to the kitchen to hide the evidence of the empty ice cream carton.

But when she got home, Molly could tell something was wrong and went right into protective jungle cat mode. "What happened?" she asked softly as soon as she saw her sister's tear streaked cheeks and quivering lips.

After a few minutes of being held in Molly's arms, she was able to whisper, "Bradley told all of his friends that he'd never date me, because I have baggage."

"That fucking prick. Does Bob know about this?"

"Probably," she said softly against Molly's shoulder. "He must."

"I'll call him right now," Molly said vehemently.

"No, please don't. You had an immaculate first solo date with him last night which ended in a hot makeout session. I don't want the three ring circus that is my life to start messing up yours."

It had been more than a makeout session, but Molly wasn't going to correct her. She was so into Bob after being intimate with him, that she was devastated now. Because Molly knew she would ditch him in an instant, even if it would hurt, in order to support her family.

Molly kissed her sister's cheek and promised, "Your life is not a three ring circus. And Everett is not baggage. And Bradley isn't worth your time if that's what he thinks. Now let me help you get changed for bed."

-----------------------

Bob barely slept, and he was wide awake before his alarm went off on Saturday morning for the tee ball game. He hadn't heard another word from Molly. Even if she wanted to yell over the phone, he would have loved to hear her voice.

When he arrived at the ballfield, Bradley was already there. "You look like shit," Bob told him, and he could hear the disappointment in his own voice.

Bradley closed his eyes briefly. "I feel worse. Promise."

"Did you talk to her?" Bob asked. Bradley didn't hang around at the bar last night after things blew up, so Bob really wasn't sure exactly how bad it was.

"She doesn't want to talk to me. I'm such an idiot."

Bob just kind of shrugged as he set things up for their game against the Tiny Blue Jays. "Molly is angry, too," Bob informed him. "She's barely texted me back since yesterday."

Now Bradley looked sincerely upset on Bob's behalf. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll figure it out," Bob mumbled. "And you need to apologize to Team Mom until she forgives you. Did you tell her that you said all of that stuff a long time ago? You barely even knew her then."

"Yeah, but I still said it," Bradley replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. "And between the slap to my face and the valid points she was yelling at me, I didn't get a chance to try to explain myself. But she's not going to want to hear it anyway."

Then Bob felt his heart lurch as he looked up toward the parking lot and saw Molly and Everett headed his way. "I'll be right back," he mumbled and headed for her immediately.

Everett ran past him, calling out, "Hi, Coach Bob!" before continuing on to Bradley. But Bob had his sights set on Molly and her beautiful face filled with indignant anger.

"Molly," he gasped, wanting to reach for her as she came stomping to a halt in front of him. She was glorious. God, he was in love with her.

"Tell me you knew," she demanded. "Tell me you knew Bradley was trying to play my sister." She was practically vibrating with concealed rage now. "Tell me you fucking knew he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as them."

Bob swallowed hard, and her eyes flashed. "Molly, he loves them. I don't think he would do or say anything to intentionally hurt either of them."

"He has a sick way of showing it," she spat. "He called Everett baggage."

Bob held his forehead in his hands. "I think Bradley just needs to talk to her. He's so crazy about them, he's really beating himself up."

Bob watched Molly glance past him to glare at Bradley while he helped Everett get ready for the game. "He can rot," she said, but her voice was softer now. "And so can you if you agree with what he said."

"I don't," he promised. "Please, Molly. I...I missed you yesterday as soon as I dropped you off at your car. I missed you all night. I missed texting with you until one of us fell asleep."

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face. She muttered, "I missed you, too," and then she was heading toward the bleachers.

----------------------------

Molly was finding it hard to keep giving Bob the cold shoulder after another day. She was spending a lot of her time with her sister and nephew, sleeping over there and taking Everett out to keep him entertained.

She didn't feel any better after she blew up at Bradley. In fact Molly felt worse, because she sensed that Bradley really was sincere in the way he just wanted to apologize. And he clearly doted on Everett. Maybe he really did just want a chance to apologize, but Molly knew her sister wasn't ready to listen yet.

Her phone went off, and she reached for it while she was making coffee at her place late on Sunday morning.

Coach Cute Glasses: I miss you, Molly.

She groaned; the gas station flowers were in the vase right next to her, and she was trying not to look at them. Casey never did anything like give Molly flowers. He'd given her some hickeys and exactly two orgasms. But he also hadn't been friends with anyone who hurt her sister.

She moaned helplessly. Her body was betraying her. She wanted to spend another night curled up with Bob, all warm and protected. She wanted to feel his even breathing and listen to his soft voice as she fell asleep. "Damn it," she whined, typing out a message to him.

Miss you, too. Any chance I'm still invited to your place?

Molly was weak for Bob. She knew that already. Just one night with him, and she was constantly daydreaming about him at work. His rough hands. And how sweet he was. And how he wanted to be exclusive with her already. And his big cock.

Coach Cute Glasses: You are always invited. Please, Molly, anytime. Do you want to spend the night with me?

Molly snorted as she read the text, but another one was already coming through.

Coach Cute Glasses: I didn't mean that the way it probably sounded! I'd just love to see you. I would be so happy if you wanted to come by, and even happier if you wanted to stay with me all night. I liked how it felt to wake up in bed with you.

Molly tucked her phone into the pocket of her scrubs. He could wait it out for a bit. That sort of thing was good for a man. Especially one who was that eager to see you. But by the time she parked at the hospital, she texted him back.

---------------------------------

Bob was in such a panic. Molly was coming over. And he wasn't sure if she was upset with him or just Bradley. He wasn't sure if she was planning on staying over.

"I'm sorry," Bradley told him for the hundredth time when he called him. "I'm sorry if I blew it for you."

"I'm going to talk to Molly in a few hours," Bob said, rushing through the parking lot to his truck. He was running around, grocery shopping, trying to distract himself.

"Can you tell her I miss her sister and Ev?" Bradley asked.

"I'll try," Bob promised as he got into his truck and ended the call.

Molly worked until 8 o'clock. He had a few hours to kill before he'd see her, so he wasn't quite sure why he was rushing. Then he stopped for more gas station flowers and cleaned his already spotless condo. He tried to eat dinner, but he couldn't stomach anything except toast. And when he finally heard her ringing the intercom button, he ran to answer it.

"It's Molly," she said softly, and he quickly let her into the building. He stood with his front door open, and a minute later, there she was. She had changed after work, and she looked stunning. No make-up at all and just some jeans and a crop top, but Bob felt suddenly short of breath. He wanted to run his hand along the flower tattoos on her side, and kiss her there too.

"Molly," he whispered, fighting the urge to blurt out another I love you. He needed to keep it together right now. "Come in."

She walked past him and looked slowly around his living room and dining room while he closed and locked his door. He didn't have a lot of stuff, and suddenly he felt a little ridiculous that his place was so sparse.

"Very clean," she muttered, her voice and clothing filling the space with so much color and warmth as she examined the gas station flowers. "I wouldn't know how to keep up with it," she said, turning and smiling softly at him.

"I missed you," he blurted out, and her smile grew.

"Tell me more," she demanded, turning to fully face him.

Bob swallowed and took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He was afraid he was going to stutter or say something stupid, but Molly just smiled at him, her all-knowing eyes gentle on his face as she waited.

"I...can't get you out of my mind. I called the runway attendant Molly by accident earlier, because I was thinking about you. Phoenix, my pilot, will never let me live it down."

Molly's laughter had him taking a step closer. "Tell me more," she said, also taking a step toward him.

"I can't stand the thought of you being upset with me," he said sincerely. He ducked his head and added, "Thursday evening was one of the best nights of my life. Because I spent it with you." He paused, finally daring to meet her eyes.

"Oh, keep going," she said with a nod. "You're doing great."

"I want you to believe I'd never be friends with Bradley if I didn't think he was a good person. And I think he just got a little mixed up. Your sister and nephew really threw him for a loop, you know? But he really loves them."

Molly hummed and shrugged. "I guess I could relay that message to my sister. But I also have a message from me to you."

Bob took a deep breath. "What is it?"

"I missed you, too. I can't stop thinking about you either. And Thursday night and Friday morning, you were so sweet to me, I just want more." Then she kissed his chin and took his hands in hers. "I want you to touch me."

Bob pulled her close as she placed his hands at her waist. He would never get used to being around her, not as easily as she seemed to already know how he operated. She looked up at him, gaze open and earnest. Soft fingers gliding up his arms, tucking into the short sleeves of his tee shirt and gently squeezing his biceps. She placed three soft kisses to the corner of his lips, and he was done. He had to fight the invading thoughts of her nipple piercings and the way her body feels and looks when she's whining for him in her bed beneath him.

"Molly," he begged, but he wasn't sure what he was begging for.

"Bobby?" she asked softly, pushing one hand through his hair and keeping his gaze focused on her. "I think I need you to fuck me."

"Oh," he groaned, turning her and pushing her back against the wall. He caged her in, and she looked absolutely delighted.

"If you want to." Her voice was soft and sweet, and her gaze was anything but.

"Honey," Bob managed between ragged breaths as she let her hands come to rest on his abs. She was messing with him. Messing him up completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, but meanwhile, Bob was new to this game. But he was a quick study. A fast learner.

So when Molly licked her lips and pouted, saying, "You don't want me Bobby? I thought you wanted to be the only one," he was ready for her.

He wedged one thigh up between her legs, and she gasped. Then his mouth was on hers, rough and demanding. She was grabbing for his shoulders, rubbing herself all over him. He could feel her teeth, digging into his bottom lip, not hard, but definitely not soft. When she released him, she licked his lips until her tongue was in his mouth.

Bob was rock hard, and try as he may to keep control in this moment, he couldn't. Because Molly was stroking him through his pants and tasting his mouth. Her nose was rubbing along his as she whispered, "Do you want me, Bobby?"

He reached down, wrapping both of his hands around the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms. Then her lips were on his neck and her arms were wrapped around him as he took her to his bedroom. She was on her back on his bed, kicking her shoes off while her little top rode up so Bob could see the soft undersides of her breasts. There was too much to admire here, and he froze up.

When Molly's hands found the zipper of her jeans, she whispered. "I want you to say it, Bobby. I want you to tell me everything you plan to do to me." And then her hand was slipping inside her underwear, and she was stroking herself as he watched.

"Mo," his voice was hoarse. He pushed her knees apart and settled between her legs, bending to kiss her wrist before pulling her hand free of her jeans. "I want to put my mouth on you."

The smile that curled along her lips as she started to shimmy out of her jeans and underwear should have made him a little nervous, but he was beyond help. Her bare pussy was right there, and she smelled so good. As soon as her jeans hit his floor, Bob's face was buried in her.

"Alright, Lieutenant Floyd," she moaned softly. "Okay." And to Bob's delight and dismay, Molly's hands were on her own breasts, pushing her shirt up and playing with her piercings. She tasted so good as he ran his tongue through her wetness and sucked on her clit. But soon he was rutting into the bed, the sight of her fingers on those little barbells spurring him on.

When Bob slipped his tongue inside her, Molly's back arched off the bed as she started whining for him. "Bobby, I want your big cock." He grunted in response, willing to give her anything in this moment, and shocked by how much he liked her dirty talk.

He worked the zipper over his painfully hard erection and scrambled to get himself free. And then he was rocking into her at the same time he got his mouth on her nipples.

"Yes," she hissed softly, head tipped back with a soft giggle on her lips. He was fucking her, and it felt just as perfect as it had a few days previously. Like her whole body was made for him. Like every response from her perfect lips was just what he needed to hear. "So fucking big."

He pushed those little, silver barbells around with his teeth and tongue, tugging a little bit until Molly was gasping his name. When he sucked harder on her nipples, she was screaming for him. And when she came on his cock, holding his face against her breasts and shaking beneath him, Bob could hardly believe he'd been able to make her orgasm again.

"Molly," he gasped. "I love the way you shake."

"Oh my god," she moaned as he fucked her through her little tremors. But then she was sitting up, kissing his face, and Bob slipped out of her perfect warmth as she moved to kneel on his floor.

"What are you doing?" he whispered as she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulled her shirt over her head, and ran her hands up over his thighs. Bob's pants were pulled down to his knees, and Molly pushed them to his ankles before wrapping her pretty lips around his cock. She settled in between his legs, and Bob could only stare at her and try to memorize the obscene sounds they made together.

Molly was good at this. She was good at everything. Bob tried to keep up, but her mouth felt too perfect. And then she popped up onto her knees and started running the tip of his cock along those pretty piercings. "Molly!"

"You like that?" she asked coyly, but Bob was hypnotized by the look and feel of the barbells on his erection. With a soft groan, Molly squeezed her perfect breasts together, sandwiching Bob between them. He thrust himself up closer to her mouth, and sure enough, she parted her pretty lips and licked him. Bob continued to do this until he was grunting and Molly's saliva was dripping down her chest, making the sensations even more spectacular for him.

Slick saliva, wet breasts and Molly's mouth. "Oh!" he grunted, stroking her cheek with his knuckles as she sucked on him. But when she took his tightening balls in her soft hand and gave him a little squeeze, Bob came hard, without any warning. He watched in alarm as his cum spurted all over her lips and cheeks while she giggled. Molly jerked him off until he was gasping for air and wishing he had enough in him to coat her whole body, because it looked that pretty.

She licked her lips and opened her eyes, and Bob watched as his cum dripped down from her eyelashes, along her cheek and landed on her nipple piercing. Molly took his hand in hers and ran his fingers through the mess before guiding his hand up to her lips. She tasted him there and ran her tongue between his long fingers and across his palm.

"You made the mess," she whispered before sucking on his thumb for a beat. "Now you have to help me clean up."

"Gladly," he promised, nearly rocketing off the bed as she set his hand on her breast. Bob used his wet thumb to collect his cum from her piercing and then he let her take his hand between her lips again. But then he was on the floor with her, pushing her gently onto her back as she laughed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but the words died on her lips when Bob licked his own cum off of her chest before kissing her and letting her taste it. He held both of her wrists in his hands above her head, and he was treated to the sights and sounds of Molly. She was rubbing her pussy along his soft length as she licked his cum from his mouth, and Bob just enjoyed making out with her on the floor. Everything tasted like him and smelled like Molly, and he listened to her soft laughter.

His hands and shirt were a mess of cum, and Molly's pretty face absolutely lit up for him when he whispered, "I like the way I taste on your skin."

"Bobby. You fucking deviant," she moaned, taking his face between her slightly sticky palms and leaning up to kiss his lips. She wrapped one leg around his waist to keep his body against hers, and Bob let his cheek come to rest on her chest. He'd never been called anything close to that before, but he could tell he'd lose himself in the moment with Molly over and over again like this if she'd keep letting him.

And then he blurted out, "You're not mad at me then?" while she combed her fingers through his hair.

She hummed in contemplation. "No, I'm not mad at you, Coach Bob. I'm pissed off at Bradley, and I'm trying to protect my family. But I'm not mad at you."

Bob sighed in relief and ran his fingers along her pretty tattoo. He had found it actually painful the way she'd been avoiding talking to him, but he could see where she was coming from.

"That makes me happy. And I can understand you wanting to protect them. They are where your loyalty lies."

"Don't fuck with my family," she whispered softly as she turned her head, and Bob glanced up at her as she swiped at her eyes. "I hardly have any left."

Bob could sense that she wanted him to change the subject, so he kissed her soft skin and said, "I like your tattoos."

She laughed sardonically and said, "Thanks."

"Did you get the carnation tattoos because it's your favorite flower?" he asked, running his index finger along the colorful ink.

"No," she told him. She was quiet for a moment, and Bob started sweating before she asked, "Did you know that there are different flowers that coordinate with your birth month?"

Bob had heard of this before. "Sure," he told her, wondering where she was going with this.

Her voice sounded a little rough, but her fingers were still soft in his hair as she said, "My parents were both born in January. Carnations were their birth flowers. That's why I have the tattoo. And kind of why I love the gas station flowers."

"Oh," Bob said, about to add that she didn't need to talk about it if she didn't want to. But then she rolled a little closer to him as he sat up, and she pointed to the other three flowers mixed in.

"The morning glory is for my sister's birthday. The chrysanthemum is mine. And the pretty red rose is for Everett's birthday in June. I got that one the day after he was born. It's actually my favorite one."

"It's beautiful," Bob told her, running his thumb along the chrysanthemum and meeting her eyes.

"Listen," she told him, kissing the tip of his nose. "I'm protective of my sister. She took care of me when our parents both died. I moved in with her while she finished college. She shared her bed with me and made sure I ate. She sold my parent's house and gave me most of the money to pay for nursing school and a new, reliable car. And the fact that I can occasionally help her out a little bit now is really important to me. So if you think I need to castrate Bradley, you should probably just tell me now, okay?"

Bob laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe a kick to the nuts, but castration is probably not necessary, Honey. He's beating himself up enough, I can tell you that much. And I honestly think Bradley would jump in front of a moving car for Everett."

"See, now that's what I like to hear," she told him, sitting up and draping her arms around him. Her skin was a little sticky from his cum, and Bob let her push him back until he was laying on the floor underneath her this time. She settled her chin in his chest and looked up at him. "Now tell me when your birthday is, Lieutenant Cute Glasses. I want to know how your flower would look in my tattoo bouquet."

Bob could feel his cheeks warming up. She wanted to know what a tattoo in his honor would look like on her perfect skin. And now she was just lounging right there on him, naked as the day she was born and just completely flawless. And she was waiting, just like she always did. Waiting until he was ready to say what he was thinking, but never rushing him.

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I have the most embarrassing birthday," he told her, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Oh," she sighed. "April twentieth?"

"No," he told her. "Worse. Leap day. February 29th."

"Oh! No, that's such a good one, Bob!" she insisted. "And your flower would be a violet. So pretty!"

But he just kept shaking his head. "Mo, you don't understand, Honey."

"Then explain it to me," she whispered, kissing his chest and stroking his skin.

"My name is Bob. B O B. Bob. I got the nickname Baby On Board during flight training a decade ago, because I was technically five years old...."

She blinked at him a few times before she burst into laughter. Bob waited while Molly rolled around on the floor, gripping her sides and gasping for air. "And technically how old are you now?" she managed to ask through her laughter.

Bob waited until she calmed down a bit more. "Eight."

"Eight!" she screeched. "Don't say that to me! We've had sex!" Her laughter had Bob chuckling too now. "How old would you be if you had a birthday every year?" she asked, eyes wide as she giggled.

"Thirty two."

"Thirty two! Perfect," she sighed, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm not going to get arrested then."

Bob rolled his eyes and whispered, "I think a new flower would look pretty good in your bouquet."

And now Bob was thinking about a violet tattoo on her skin next to the other pretty flowers as Molly curled up on his bedroom floor with her arm wrapped around him.

---------------------------------

Bob without Molly....it just doesn't make sense. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 5

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #robert floyd fic #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fluff #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #roosterforme #the curveball #batting practice

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storiesforallfandoms · 8 months

Text

roses are red ~ damon salvatore;the vampire diaries

word count: 2936

request?: yes!

@faithiegirl01 : “Hi amor mio!! I’ve read though some of your other works and I absolutely love them. I was wondering if I could request a Hanahaki Disease fic with either Jasper hale, Damon Salvatore or possibly Steve Harrington? I’m just absolutely obsessed with these fics so so much right now. Useally I have a full blown summary to what I want with imagines, but this time I kinda just wanna let the artist do their thing. The only thing is that I don’t really like smut, but you can put it in if you want, I myself would just skip over that part. You don’t have to take this if you don’t want to, I just think it’d be a cute fic idea and that you’d write it very well.”

description: in which she develops a disease after realizing she’s in love with one of her best friends

pairing: damon salvatore x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of a fatal sickness (Hanahaki Disease)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was the way he looked at her; like he needed her more than the air he breathed. Like she was the most beautiful thing to ever walk the Earth. Like he wanted to worship the ground she walked on.

I wish he would look at me like that.

I don’t know exactly when I realized I had a crush on Damon. I had known him since he and Stefan moved to Mystic Falls. Of course, I thought he was attractive when I first met him, but I didn’t think of him in any sort of romantic way. At least, I didn’t think I did.

Until he told me he had feelings for Elena. Then, I started to have this bitter feeling towards Elena whenever she was around, especially when Damon was with her. It was like her very presence alone made me irritated and I couldn’t be around her for very long. Eventually, I was able to put two and two together to realize what was going on: I had fallen for the age old cliché of unrequited love for a friend who loved someone else.

It was so hard. I couldn’t just avoid Damon, he would know something was up. But watching him fawn over Elena when she was head over heels for his brother was extremely difficult.

Like right now, sitting at the bar in The Mystic Grill, watching Damon look at Elena and Stefan with this lovesick puppy look on his face. It was enough to make me want to order the strongest drink the bartender was allowed to give me.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Damon said, finally tearing his eyes away from Elena and Stefan.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “You have to get over her.”

He looked over at me. “What?”

I shook my head, realizing what I said would surely cause a fight. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me.” He didn’t sound mad, just genuinely curious. I could’ve made something up, or insisted it really was nothing. I could’ve easily avoided any sort of conflict.

But instead, I said, “You need to get over your feelings for Elena. It’s kind of sad to watch you pine over your brother’s girlfriend.”

The bartender passed us our drinks. I immediately downed the contents of mine, wincing at the bitter taste and burning feeling of the liquid running down my throat. Damon took a moment longer to drink his.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he asked. “To get over Elena? You think I want to feel this way about my brother’s girlfriend?”

“Drinking and having meaningless sex isn’t ‘getting over’ her,” I pointed out. “That’s just coping mechanisms. You need to actually move on.”

“I’m fucking trying,” he snapped. “But it feels impossible. She’s all I can think about. And she’s always at our place because of Stefan, which makes it worse.” He paused to take another sip from his drink. “Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone in this town that I would consider dating.”

His words felt like a knife through my chest. I could feel a lump forming in my throat, but I couldn’t let him see me cry. If that was how he felt, then fine. But it didn’t make his confession hurt me any less.

I ordered another strong drink before saying, “Well, maybe you should try at least. It’s annoying to watch you go after your brother’s girlfriend when she’ll never feel the same way for you.”

A tense silence fell over us. Damon downed the last of his drink before standing from his chair. He pulled some money from his wallet and threw it down onto the counter. I watched as he left the restaurant in a huff. Elena and Stefan shared a look before looking over at me, but I turned away before they could lock eyes with me. I had to admit, what I said was harsh. Maybe I shouldn’t have said it the way I did, but I just felt hurt. Not that he would know that, but my pain wasn’t making me think straight.

I took my drink and downed half of it in one mouthful again. The minute the bitter liquid was gone, I started to cough. I thought maybe it had gone down the wrong way, but then the coughing became harder until it felt like something was coming up in my throat. I quickly ran to the bathroom and collapsed next to the toilet just as something finally came up. I spit it into the toilet and sat back. I was absolutely shocked at what I had seen.

Several flower pedals floating in the water.

~~~~~~

A few days later, I was sat in my doctor’s office. After the first time at Mystic Grill, I had started coughing up more flower pedals. Even in a world that included vampires, werewolves, and witches, I had a feeling that throwing up flower pedals was not normal.

I thought my doctor would want to run some sort of tests to see what was going on, if he even believed me at all. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. I barely believed it and I was the one experiencing it. But when I told him what was going on, his face dropped. I suddenly felt very nervous by his reaction.

“Miss. (Y/L/N),” he said. “This is...very serious.”

“I kind of figured,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. “(Y/N), this is an illness that’s still very new. We don’t know too much about it yet because it’s very rare.” I sat up a little straighter, my heart starting to pound. “What we do know is that it’s called the Hanahaki Disease. It was first noted in Japan, thus the name being a combination of two Japanese words. There’s not a lot known about how someone gets it, except the fact that unrequited love is involved.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m throwing up flowers because of my crush on Damon?!

“So, what can be done?” I asked. “There has to be a cure or something discovered for this, right?”

The look the doctor gave me didn’t give me a lot of hope. “There’s been attempts at a surgical procedure that will remove the flowers from your respiratory track.”

“Attempts?” That doesn’t sound promising.

“Well, the procedure works. The thing is...it takes away your feelings for the person you have unrequited feelings for. Feelings you will never get back. Which may sound like a good thing, but that includes friendly feelings. With this surgery, you’ll just become apathetic towards the person you had feelings for.”

Okay, that was definitely less than ideal. I would love to lose these romantic feelings for Damon. It would make seeing him fawn over Elena a lot less hurtful. But, if it took away all feelings for Damon, including friendly feelings, then our friendship really would be over, and I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. That was the whole reason I hadn’t told him I liked him in the first place.

“That’s the only way to get rid of this?” I asked.

“The only other way is if the love is reciprocated, and I mean romantically not just in a friendship way.”

Well, that’s not happening.

“Can I think this over?”

The doctor gave me a look that I could only describe as pity. “You can, but try to come up with a decision soon. This illness is fatal if left for too long untreated.”

That should’ve been enough for me to agree to the surgery on the spot. My life was at risk so the solution would be a no brainer to anyone else. But there I was, days after my doctor’s visit, sat in my house with no decision having been made. My condition was getting worse. I could barley go a few minutes without coughing up a flower. I knew I must not have too long left before the fatality of the illness finally got me. Again, that should’ve been enough for any normal person to choose the surgery immediately. however, I couldn’t make that decision when I knew it would mean I’d lose Damon.

I had been holed up in my room and basically pushed my friends away. I told them I wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t go into any specifics. They still reached out to check on me, but I didn’t respond much.

I hadn’t heard from Damon at all since that night at Mystic Grill. That was probably for the best. Talking to him right now, considering my condition, was probably a bad idea and I’d prefer him hating me if I died over him knowing I was dying because I had feelings for him.

I was in bed in the darkness of my room when I heard a knock at my front door. I ignored it, thinking it was a salesman or something, and figuring they’d just go away eventually. But, when I didn’t answer, there was another series of knocks, followed by the doorbell ringing repeatedly. I sighed, which turned into another coughing fit and a few bright red pedals landing on my floor. I groaned and reluctantly pulled myself out of bed. It seemed whoever was at my door was not leaving until somebody answered. Maybe if it was someone annoying I could just cough some flowers on them and scare them away.

But when I opened the door, it wasn’t a salesman on the other side.

It was Damon Salvatore.

“You look like shit,” he commented.

“Thanks,” I croaked, followed by another coughing fit.

Damon’s face suddenly became serious as he reached out for me. “Jesus, you really aren’t doing well.”

“No, I’m kinda dying,” I responded before I could stop myself.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“No, Damon. I’m literally dying.”

I felt him tense. I started coughing again, this time actually coughing up a few flower pedals. I caught them in my hand before letting them flutter to the floor. Damon looked at them in a mixture of shock and confusion, before wrapping his arms around me and guiding me into my own house. I let him take me to my living room, and we both sat down on the couch. Damon took one of my blankets that I always left on the back of the couch and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“What did you do to make yourself start throwing up pedals and apparently be on the verge of dying?” he asked. He had one arm around me, and I let myself lean into him. I knew this was probably very bad for me, for my condition, but if I had little time left, I was going to allow myself to have this one moment with Damon.

“It’s some sort of new illness,” I said. “Something that starts with an H, a Japanese word I think the doctor said.”

“Geez, should I be worried about being so close to you then?”

I smiled. For the first time in many days, I was actually able to smile. “It’s not that kind of illness. The doctor said it...it stems from unrequited love.”

There was silence. I realized Damon had been running his hand idly up and down my arm. It felt nice. Despite having kept him away for so long, I was realizing now that I really did need to see him one last time. To just have one final moment of somewhat normalcy with him.

“So...you have feelings for someone...they don’t like you back...and now you’re dying?” Damon asked.

“Apparently so,” I responded. “It’s something rare, but it’s been happening.”

“Who would be stupid enough to not love you?”

I knew that shouldn’t have hurt me, but it did. It hurt because I knew he didn’t actually mean that. Not in the way I would’ve wanted him to. But I really, really wish he had meant it that way.

“Someone who is already in love with someone else.”

“Ah,” Damon said. “That’s...that’s rough.”

I nodded. “I guess you know how that feels.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m a vampire and can’t get these sorts of illnesses then.”

“Lucky bastard.”

We both started to laugh, until I started coughing again. This time, it was a lot harsher of a cough, and I coughed out more flowers than I had ever at this point. I hunched over as the flowers came up in my throat and fell onto the floor. My chest burned with every harsh cough, and part of me wondered if this was the end. Was I going to die next to Damon? The irony of that was not lost on me.

I felt his hand against my back as I finally stopped coughing. There was basically a bouquet of flowers at my feet now. It could’ve been beautiful if these plants weren’t the thing that was killing me.

Damon pulled me back so I was in his arms again. My eyes felt heavy suddenly, so I rested my head in the crook of his neck and let them close for a second.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Now is the time to,” I mumbled back. “Who knows how much longer I have left?”

I meant it as a joke, but I could tell he didn’t appreciate it as much as I wanted him to.

“I’ve never loved Elena.”

My eyes popped open and I quickly sat up to look at him. “What?!”

“Okay, I can’t say never,” he clarified. “I did have some feelings for her when I first met her, but then when she got with Stefan and...and when I met you...those feelings went away.”

“When you met me?” I asked. He nodded. “Damon...are you...are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He wasn’t looking at me now. “Depends. What do you think I’m saying?”

“Are you trying to tell me that your feelings are for me, and not for Elena?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. His body language said everything. Damon Salvatore loves me, not Elena Gilbert.

There was a million and one things running through my head. I had no idea how to even respond to that. I was sure this was all some sort of hallucination caused by the disease. Like I was getting to see the one thing I wanted more than anything before I died.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I asked. “Wait, no, more important question: why did you always act like you were so in love with Elena if you never were?”

“It felt easier than trying to admit to you that I had feelings for you,” he said. “I knew you never would’ve looked at me that way because you saw me as a friend. And Stefan had already clocked that I had feelings for Elena when I first met her, so I figured I would just lean into that until I could find someone else that captured my attention the way you did. But I couldn’t find anyone else, because there isn’t anyone else who makes me feel the way that you make me feel.”

He barely had the final word out before I was lunging at him, pressing my lips against his. It was a forward approach, I’ll admit, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was the words I had been waiting to hear from him for so long, and now that I was finally hearing them, it was like I didn’t have control of my body. I acted before my brain could process what we were doing. It took Damon by surprise, but it didn’t take him long to start kissing me back. He moved me so that I was actually sat on his lap, my legs on either side of his. His arms pulled me as close to him as I could get.

We kept kissing like that for so long that I didn’t even notice the heavy feeling on my chest had lifted, or the fact that I hadn’t been coughing up flowers anymore. I was so lost in Damon that I didn’t realize that the disease had been cured. I didn’t realize until Damon pulled away from our kiss and looked at me in shock. “Holy shit, you look so much better.”

“What?”

“You don’t look sick anymore.”

I stood quickly and rushed to the nearest mirror. He was right, I didn’t look as sickly anymore. And I felt like I could actually breathe again.

“Whoa, that happened fast,” I murmured to myself.

“How did it happen?” Damon asked, appearing behind me. “I thought it was an unrequited love thing?”

I turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Damon...do you really not know who I was talking about earlier? After I literally just threw myself at you on the couch?”

I could literally see the gears turning in his head until his eyes lit up. “Me?!”

I chuckled and walked towards him. I cupped his face in my hands and leaned upwards to kiss him again. “Yes, stupid. I was talking about you.”

“You almost died because of me?”

“Kind of, but also because I was too chicken to tell you how I felt. But I’m not sick anymore.”

“Thank God for that.”

He pulled me in for another kiss. I never wanted to stop kissing him. I had never felt so good in my entire life. I just wanted to pause in this moment and live it over and over and over again.

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