jilli ‧🪷୭ ˚.

hiii I’m jilli! I’m a french canadian filmmaker getting back into my passion for writing and fanfics. I never use ai in my writing. I’m bisexual, spiritual, and I mainly write for rygos characters. Requests are open! My page is a safe space, hate is unwelcome.

xoxo; calling all freaks,

jilli

started: 06/18/26

last updated: 06/27/26

RYLAND GRACE

breathe ; fluff&angst

late night ; 18+

feeling better, baby? ; 18+

SEBASTIAN WILDER

attention ; 18+

SIERRA SIX

HOLLAND MARCH

DRIVER

BLURBS

first party ; coltland twins

HEADCANONS

insomniac ; ryland grace

notes: my brain is turning into mush from work so enjoy this shitty lackluster fic; f reader; subby ryland; sucking dick and cock… and you did it at my birthday dinner 😔

synopsis: Ryland comes home pissed after work, and you help him relax with a fail-safe.

warnings: 18+

requests are open! :]

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard the front door slam shut. Quickly, you sat up in bed, knowing what had just happened. Ryland must have had another bad day at work.

His footsteps were heavy on the planked floor, and frustrated huffs bounced off the walls in the narrow hallway. Your brow furrowed.

A disgruntled Ryland stepped into your shared bedroom, his tie undone around his neck. “Hi baby,” you greeted, standing up out of bed. You knew something was very wrong by the way his face was flushed and something in his jaw ticked when he entered.

“Hey,” Ryland replied, his voice monotone. He stormed into the ensuite bathroom and muttered a quiet ‘shit’ under his breath. Ryland rarely cussed. Worry settled into your gut, and you tiptoed behind him, wrapping your hands around his stiff shoulders. You gave them a soothing squeeze and he sighed, clearly irritated in ways you didn’t understand yet. Ryland tensed beneath you, and you pulled away, watching his tired expression in the mirror.

“Bad day?” You weren’t sure whether or not to touch him. Not that he ever scared you when he was angry, but you knew he liked his space when work kicked his ass. And you respected that.

“You don’t even know,” Ryland grunted.

You peppered little kisses on his back which made him ease up slightly. “Talk to me Ry.”

“Not right now, ok?”

You stopped your attempt at making him relax, and nodded.

His face wrinkled at his comment. The last thing he wanted was to take his feelings out on you when it was far from your fault. He was terrified that he had just pushed you away.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he started, his voice softening around the edges. “I’m having the worst day.”

“It’s ok Ry,” you reassure, rubbing one hand over his bicep and leaving a kiss on his muscle before shuffling out of the bathroom. You shut the door behind you to allow some room for him to breathe, and made your way out into the kitchen to clean your dishes from earlier that day.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Ten minutes had sped by, and you could hear the muffled sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Your plan was to cuddle into bed with the new book Ryland had surprised you with last week. On days like this you liked to wait for him to come out of the shower feeling refreshed, then you’d hold him until whatever anger was left over dissolved in your arms. But tonight you had an idea.

Instead, you turned the door handle of the bathroom, and stepped in quietly. You closed the door behind you. You and Ryland lived alone together, but what you had planned needed the utmost privacy.

Steam danced in the air, the humidity clung to your lungs. The shower curtain moved and Ryland peeked his head around it, eyes widening when his eyes landed on you. “Oh, hi. Did you need something?” he asked, shying under your gaze.

You nodded. You weren’t used to taking the lead around him, but you were giddy to.

“What is it baby?” Beads of water dripped from his hair and he licked his lips. He looked so effortlessly good.

“I need you to make room for me.”

You slipped your fingers into the straps of your tank top and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. Next to come off were your shorts, leaving you in your panties. Ryland’s eyes stayed glued to your chest and his jaw went slack.

“Are you gonna help me with these, Ry?” you teased, your thumbs disappearing in the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down just enough for him to panic inside. It didn’t matter how long you guys had been together now—he could never not be amazed by you. Your sudden forwardness turned his brain fuzzy. He thought he might be dreaming.

“Yes ma’am.” His voice was velvety now that he was gaining more confidence around his pretty lady. Ryland revealed himself from behind the shower curtain, then pulled you closer with wet hands.

You shivered at the sensation, your eyes trailing down to his fingers hooking into your panties. Ryland tugged them down with precision, his eyes never leaving yours. He licked his lips before planting a needy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

When you stepped into the shower you closed the curtains and pushed Ryland against the wall, your hand flat against his chest. His brows raised at the contact, his heart pounded against his chest. You could see how hard he was already. “Baby—“

“—Shh,” you interrupted. Ryland’s limbs felt like jelly. One hand found purchase on your waist, the other trailing down low.

You swatted him away and grabbed his jaw gently. “You’re not allowed to touch. Let me take care of you tonight,” you purred in his ear. Your words made him dizzy. He felt out of body.

“Jesus baby, where is this coming from?” Ryland asked. Not that he was complaining; this was just what he needed to clear his mind. You hadn’t even touched him where he needed you and his hell of a day was already long forgotten. It was safe to admit you were his drug.

“Just wanna make my pretty boy feel better,” you whispered, kissing his jaw and all the way down to his collarbone.

“Fuck.”

“Language, baby,” you corrected, kneeling down, your hands feeling up his abs in the process. Ryland groaned desperately. You tried to conceal your sly grin. Having Ryland in such a mess before you was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Sweetheart, please…” he whined. Your boldness had Ryland feeling timid, his mind a jumbled mess. He felt ashamed to ask for what he wanted. Instead, he raked his fingers in your hair to subtly hint at his needs.

“Please what?” You looked up at him through long lashes and glassy eyes, one hand ghosting around his length, and the other sliding up and down his thigh.

“Shit...”

“Don’t be shy, Ry. What do you need?”

“Need you to touch me,” he admitted painfully, his face turning a hundred shades of red.

You smiled at his answer and nodded at him before finally taking him in your hand. Ryland sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. His head fell back and he tightened his grip on your hair. It wasn’t forceful—he’d never do that to you—but rather grounding, a reaction to the pleasure.

You stroked him at a steady rhythm, looking up at him with a teasing smile. His breathing grew shallow, his muscles contracting. “You’re so pretty, Ry.”

“Mmm. Fuck,” he hummed in response. “You’re so good to me.”

His praise went straight to your core. He was taking what you were giving so nicely, and you thought he was deserving of more. So, without warning, you licked a stripe up the underside of his dick.

Ryland moaned and licked his lips at the sight of you on your knees for him.

Loving the sounds he made just for you, you continued, swirling your tongue around his tip as you kept pumping him with one hand.

“Oh—“ he groaned, his hand reaching for the shower wall to find his balance.

You took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to take as much of him as you could.

“That’s it baby,” he urged you on. You hummed around him, the vibrations earning you another moan from him.

You worked him for a while, your jaw feeling achy, but you didn’t want to stop now. His little whines were so encouraging, and you knew he was close by the way his body twitched. You watched his blissed out expression, moaning against him.

“Baby, I’m close,” he whimpered.

You took it upon yourself to speed up, stroking whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The sounds were obscene, really. It was so dirty, so good.

Ryland came apart fast with a string of whimpers, cupping your cheek. He hoped he was allowed to touch you by now, but even if he wasn’t it was too late. He needed to feel you.

You took what he gave you, swallowing as you gazed up at him sweetly. Ryland swore it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

His thumb poked at the entrance of your mouth, and you opened wide for him. You sucked on his thumb and hummed. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he breathed, completely speechless at you.

Ryland helped you back on your feet and grabbed your hips, pulling you flush against him for a sloppy kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Feeling better, baby?” you asked, snaking a hand through his hair.

“So much better. Thank you,” he answered between kisses.

You felt him turn you around so your back was against the wall now. He cupped your boobs, groaning against your skin. “What are you doing?” you asked.

notes: praise kink anyone?, dry humping mmm, f reader.

warnings: 18+, smutty (if you squint)

You and Ryland rest on the couch at his apartment. It’s late. Really late. He has to get up for work in a few hours, but he can’t help staying up with you. Your schedules didn’t seem to fit lately, and you had come over for dinner for the first time in two weeks. Of course Ryland would want to keep you within arm’s reach for as long as he possibly could. It didn’t matter if he was tired at work, as long as he got to have you.

An old movie long forgotten plays on the tv at a low volume. You straddle Ryland’s lap, a thin blanket draped over your shoulders to keep you both warm. You’re both heavy-eyed as the lack of sleep catches up to you. Ryland’s hands find purchase on your hips and his face is nuzzled into your neck. Your shirt is bunched up at your waist, and he’s tracing lazy circles on your skin, lulling you—and let’s be honest himself—to sleep.

Ryland kisses your collarbone all the way up to your jaw. His hair spikes in different directions from you playing with it. “You wanna go to bed baby?” you ask, your voice laced with sleep.

“Soon,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. You adjust yourself on his lap and he groans. A tired smile tugs at the corner of your mouth and you pepper kisses on his neck. You lift your hips up for a moment and Ryland whines at the loss of contact.

Quickly, he pulls you back down onto him, which earns him a small whimper from you. He’s gently tugging you closer to him and your drowsy brain finally gets what he’s trying to do. You internally roll your eyes; he could’ve just asked you. Still, you find it cute and you don’t have any objections.

Slowly, you rock your hips back and forth, and he lets out a quiet contented noise. “That’s it baby,” he urges you on, his thumb digging into you as his half-asleep brain tries to guide your movements.

You’re desperately trying to find more friction and Ryland notices. His hips raise and you whine. “That feel good, hm?” he’s asking, fixing the blanket that’s seconds away from slipping off your shoulders.

“Mhm,” you manage to get out, completely blissed out. You can tell Ryland is too because he’s breathing a little harder, and his kisses are sloppy and open-mouthed. By now he’s feeling more awake, his eyes fluttering open. Ryland’s face is flushed and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look making yourself feel good on top of him.

“You’re doing so well for me.”

You glide your hand up his bicep to steady yourself as your rhythm gets clumsier. “Ry…”

“Yeah baby?”

You’re so tired but he feels so good. He’s warm and saying all the right things. It doesn’t help when a whine slips from his lips. He sounds so pretty, your brain is short-circuiting.

“You feel good,” you answer softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. Ryland’s hands trail up to your bare chest and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Ry.”

“What is it sleepy girl?”

“Need more,” you admit sheepishly, as if him using everything in him to stay up and help you get off before he does isn’t enough.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Ryland is a light sleeper. The faintest creak of his old apartment settling wakes him up, and he needs his bedroom completely dark in order to fully wind down.

He works himself too hard and goes to bed too late, even on weekends, which fucks up his sleep schedule. He’s too busy grading papers and writing emails to even notice it already being 2am.

Stress and anxiety only make him more of an insomniac. He tosses and turns to the sound of his own restless breathing. Most nights he has to lay in bed for an hour before he finally dozes off.

When he lays awake at night his brain thinks it’s the perfect time to replay humiliating moments of his. Spilling coffee on his shirt on the first day back from spring break. Stumbling on his words while ordering from a restaurant, his face going visibly red. Sticking up for Colt for the first time as kids and getting shoved into a lamppost.

notes: coltland gentryyy, high school!ryland and colt

warnings: underage drinking

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

𝄞 hs!ryland who gets invited to a party by the cute guy in his biology class. It’s his first time ever being invited to a real party, and he asks if colt can come, of course. Cute guy just grins and says yes.

𝄞 hs!ryland who practically turns his bedroom upside down trying to find the perfect shirt to wear to the party (but mainly to impress cute guy). Colt walks in and teases him for it

𝄞 hs!colt who immediately runs into a friend and is separated from ryland.

𝄞 hs!colt who is dared to do a keg stand, and does it to try and fit in.

𝄞 hs!ryland who loses colt and shyly stands in the corner at the party with a soda in hand.

𝄞 hs!ryland who stumbles into cute guy in the kitchen and blushes. He’s stuttering and rambling but cute guy doesn’t seem to mind. Eventually he finds himself deep in conversation with cute guy and nearly forgets about his brother.

𝄞 hs!colt who unintentionally gets drunk really fast and doesn’t know how to act. Even though he finds it amusing, he’s also a little anxious because he’s alone and stumbling. He’s wishing ry was with him—it’d be more fun, he thinks.

𝄞 hs!ryland who panics because he knows his peers like to give colt a hard time.

𝄞 hs!ryland who excuses himself and searches for colt around the house frantically.

𝄞 hs!colt who’s thankfully found by ryland. He’s laying in the bushes in the yard. “I fell and can’t get back up,” he giggles drunkenly. When ryland asks if he’s ok he just “👍”

𝄞 hs!ryland who is concerned for his brother but also frustrated with him.

𝄞 hs!colt who begs him not to tell courtland

𝄞 hs!ryland who calls courtland to come and pick them up anyway.

𝄞 hs!colt who is oblivious to just how much trouble he’s in, sitting in the back seat of court’s cart, his head spinning.

attention - sebastian wilder x reader

notes: age gap (reader is 25 and sebastian is 35). f!reader. lowkey possessive seb if you squint. Not very proofread. I do NOT use ai in my writing. pt2???

wc: 4.5k

warnings: 18+, drinking (everything is between two consenting adults), puke/hangover

synopsis: Sebastian is a close family friend. However, lines cross after one drunken night and he hasn’t spoken to you since—until you give him a reason to at your family’s christmas party.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Dim lights hung from the ceiling, flooding the bar with dark blues and reds. Buried in a crowd of dancing bodies, you swayed to a song you recognized but couldn’t quite remember the name of, a half empty drink in hand. You took another swig of it, your face wrinkling at how potently it sat on your tongue. The back of your mouth felt hot when you swallowed, but you liked the buzz it gave you. Normally you wouldn’t go out on your own—you were smarter than that—but tonight you needed a chance to unwind from your terrible week. You had nearly gotten fired and your boss was on your case about everything you did. And to top it all off, your roommate had practically moved her boyfriend in with the both of you. Daytime was a never ending cycle of cleaning up after them, and at nighttime you had to listen to excruciating hours of loud laughter and moaning. It was all just a painful reminder of how single you really were. It felt good to be out in your tiniest dress, all eyes on you. Maybe you could find someone to go home with.

You let the music booming through the speakers guide you, chugging the rest of your drink. The sting was the perfect remedy for your stressful week, and you let the alcohol move through you until you felt floaty. But it wasn’t enough; just one more drink, you told yourself.

You weaseled your way out of the herd on the dancefloor, your drink slowly catching up to you with each new step. Your vision fogged and you found yourself stumbling into a wall. You straightened yourself up as best you could, the blood draining from your face when you realized this was no ordinary wall; you had just drunkenly fallen into your dad’s good friend, Sebastian Wilder. Your cheeks burned and your limbs felt like jell-o. Sebastian was your dad’s ‘best student’, as he liked to say. He had taught him music theory in college, and was a part of your family since. Your dad liked to invite him over every so often for a barbecue, or to play jazz, or even birthdays and holiday parties. Undeniably, you felt yourself developing a little, maybe huge, crush on him over the years, but you’d always kept it a secret.

It was almost as though he knew your knees were seconds away from buckling, and he rested his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Y/n?” he asked, furrowing his brow when he finally computed who had run into him.

As much as you wanted to sprint away and forget this ever happened, you were glad to see a familiar face, especially on a night alone like this. “Sebastian!” You flashed him a toothy grin.

“Hi, uh, you okay?” he asked, scanning your droopy face and sluggish movements. He knew you were too drunk.

“Me? Yes I’m so fine!” you slurred, grabbing his shoulder.

“Did you come here alone, y/n?”

“Yes, but it’s fine!” you replied. “I’m gonna get another drink. Be right back.”

You spun on your heels toward the bar, but you felt a gentle hand grab your forearm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. This is really dangerous, y/n,” Sebastian interrupted. Your drunk self was angry that you were being told to stop partying, but you liked the feeling of his touch. It wasn’t forceful, just concerned.

“I told you I’m fine, I’m not even that drunk,” you tried to reassure but you were babbling. “Fuck.”

“Can you let me take you home? Your dad will kill me if I leave you like this,” your friend answered, his tone more stern. He didn’t want to scare you, but he’d hate himself if he let you slip away and back into a dangerous situation. If anything happened to you he’d beat himself up about it for the rest of his life.

“I don’t want to go home,” you challenged. Sebastian knitted his brow as if to silently ask ‘why not?’. “My roommate and her asshole boyfriend are home.”

“Ah.” Sebastian opened his mouth to add something, but he hesitated. He didn’t know how to word his question properly. “Do you want to stay at my place tonight?” He cringed at himself.

A small laugh fell from your mouth. “You want me to go home with you? What will my dad think?” you teased. Your mouth moved quicker than your mind.

Sebastian loosened his grip on you. His face contorted like he had just been caught for something. Was asking to take care of you at his place totally and completely inappropriate? What would your dad think? “I… That’s not…” he started, tripping over his own words. “I can take you to your folks’ house if you prefer that.”

“I’m messing with you. Can I please stay over? I don’t want my dad seeing me like this,” you hiccupped, losing your balance once again, reaching out for something to grab. Sebastian reacted faster than you and let you fall into his arms before pulling you back up onto your feet. The tips of your ears burned. You wanted to shrink and never be seen again. This was not how you wanted to go home with someone tonight.

“Yeah, it’s time to go,” Sebastian said to himself, snaking his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the door.

Goosebumps peppered your bare skin when you stepped into Sebastian’s apartment. “Jesus, it’s cold in here.”

“Yeah, I like it better that way,” he replied. You watched him take his shoes off, which prompted you to attempt the same. You reached for one of your heels, but your shoulder crashed into the wall behind you. You let out a faint ‘ow’, then giggled when you noticed the panic flooding from every feature of Sebastian’s face. “I’m ok.”

“Let me help.” He didn’t give you any time to respond before he was kneeling down in front of you, tapping on your shoe. You leaned against the wall and lifted your foot for him. Slowly, he slipped your heels off for you and set them beside the front door. Your brain melted at the sight of it all. Your heart fluttered. He looked so beautiful like this. You wanted to do something about it, maybe pull him in for a kiss, but you knew it was wrong. He was your dad’s friend. That’s all that he was. That’s all he’d ever be.

Sebastian rose to his feet and exhaled a sharp breath. “Time for bed, yeah?”

You nodded and let him walk you down the tight hallway and into his bedroom. He flicked on the light and you sat down on his bed with a contented sigh. An overflowing basket of laundry was tucked away into the corner. You stared at his cluttered night table: there was a dirty coffee mug, a book open somewhere in the middle, and some misplaced toiletries. If he knew you’d be coming over tonight he would have at least cleaned up a little. He hated that this was your first impression of his apartment.

Sebastian dug through his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt that was even a little too big for him. He handed it to you. “Here, you can borrow this if you need it. Do you need bottoms or anything?” You shook your head and he started for the door.

“Wait,” you blurted out, standing up a little too quickly. Your head reeled and your eyes shut in pain instinctively.

“Are you ok?”

“Can you help me with my dress?” You really did need help, but maybe you wanted his attention, to feel his touch on you again. It was more intoxicating than any alcohol. You turned your back to him.

His eyes widened and he stuttered. “Yeah, um, of course.” He was terribly afraid of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable, especially when you were in this state. He shuffled over to you and paused for a moment, hands too shy to touch you. His breath was warm on your neck and you shivered. Finally, with a shaky hand, he took the zipper of your dress in between his thumb and index finger before dragging it down cautiously. The sweetness of your perfume clung to his nose, his dizzy brain malfunctioning. This was so, very wrong, he told himself. Now unzipped and loose, the thin straps of your dress slid down your shoulders, and he stepped away sheepishly. He wasn’t supposed to see you this intimately. But you were in his bedroom, taking your dress off in front of him. He swallowed a thick mouthful of saliva and turned around. He needed to keep things appropriate, even if he didn’t want to at times.

Once you pulled his freshly washed shirt over your body, you crawled into his bed and tucked yourself in under his thick, white duvet covers. “Do you need anything else?” Sebastian asked, clearing his throat.

You tried to tell him no, but your eyelids felt weighted. Sleep was creeping up on you. “Mm,” you managed to get out.

“Y/n?” Sebastian called out, but received no answer. He admired the way your hair fell perfectly in front of your eyes, wondering if he should move it out of the way for you. You’d sleep better, he told himself. No. He turned the light off and swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him. He was a mess, guilt and lust entwining with his veins. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He needed to put an end to this now.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Your eyes fluttered open as sunlight peered through the cracks of Sebastian’s blinds. Your head had a heartbeat and you could feel vomit travel up your throat. You scrambled out of bed and stumbled out into the hallway where you just barely made it to the bathroom. Hunched over the toilet bowl on your knees, you vomited until you felt weak. Tears welled in your eyes as you sat with your back against the counter. You’d been so confident in going out last night, but now you realized just how stupid it was. You were grateful you had Sebastian there to stop you.

Knock knock.

Standing in the doorframe was Sebastian, his blond hair tousled from sleep and his dress shirt unbuttoned at his collarbone. His effortlessly messy appearance was definitely some kind of cure for this hangover, you thought. He looked gorgeous, his posture and features laced with sleep, and part of you felt bad for having forced him to sleep out on his tiny couch.

“Are you ok?” he mumbled, rubbing his stubbled cheek lazily.

You shook your head, but it only made the pain worse. “No.” Everything was too blinding and even the faintest of sounds was amplified by a hundred times. You thought you’d die of embarrassment right then and there.

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “What do you need?”

You were silent and still for a minute, then hot tears fogged your vision. “I don’t know.”

His expression softened and he sat next to you. “Hey, you’re ok.” He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into him. You buried your face in his shoulder and sobbed. “You’re ok,” Sebastian affirmed, his hand now resting on your head to keep you close.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” you cried. You weren’t even sure if you were apologizing for being stupidly drunk and forward last night, or stupidly hungover in his apartment, staining his clothes with melted, day-old makeup

“No, don’t be. We’ve all been there, alright?” His voice was soothing and gentle. “I’m gonna get you some water.”

You nodded and curled up into yourself, hiking your knees up into your chest as you watched him leave the room. After a short minute of shuffling, he returned with a tall glass of iced water. You salivated at the sight of it: you desperately needed to hydrate yourself. You practically ripped it out of his hands and chugged it until it was half empty. You licked your lips clean and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

Sebastian nodded once, completely entranced by how your lips moved, your tongue swiping over it, your pretty eyes locked on his. Not to mention you were only in a t-shirt, his t-shirt, your lacy underwear peaking through where the fabric was bunched up on your hip. He sat back down next to you so he would feel less tempted to look at your bare legs.

“Are you gonna tell my dad about this?” you asked all of a sudden.

Seb went narrow-eyed, his brows furrowing. “Why would I do that?”

“Cause I’m a mess,” you answered, your head falling back onto the counter. “He hates when I drink.”

“Well, he doesn’t need to know about everything you do.” He hated how inappropriately the words tumbled off his tongue. He didn’t mean for them to sound like some kind of innuendo—not exactly.

“Thank you.”

Sebastian nodded and you took a few more sips of water before setting the glass down at your feet.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, gazing into your eyes. Colour returned to your face, and you felt less heavy now that he was back sitting so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Between you two was a beat, an electric pause daring you to tame it. Sebastian levelled his hand with your jaw, just hovering, waiting for any objections on your end. Your body screamed for his touch, goosebumps dotting the back of your neck when his fingers finally brushed over your jawline. His stare flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Feeling better?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. A crooked smile appeared on his face. Every ounce of morals he had left were thrown out the window, and he leaned in just enough to leave a slight gap between your faces. Could anyone blame him? You were looking at him through long lashes that batted at him so sweetly. He felt dirty. He was a dog and God was dangling a bone in front of him, testing him. At the end of the day he was just a man.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, his breath skimming your skin, making you shiver.

“Don’t stop,” you muttered. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, but withheld applying gentle pressure just yet. He only wanted to feel for now.

Before his lips could fall on yours, his cellphone vibrated in his back pocket. His nostrils flared and he cussed himself out in his head. Quickly, he reached for his phone, his face contorting shamefully when he saw your dad’s name lit across the screen. Your dad was calling him. He couldn’t believe he had almost done the irreversible thing of kissing his good friend’s, and old professor’s, daughter.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“Shit.” Sebastian let the phone ring and exhaled deeply. “I’ll drive you home.”

Your stomach twisted, and you wanted to curl up and disappear. “Ok.”

Sebastian pulled his maroon car over by the facade of your apartment complex. The drive home was unbearable and awkward. You swore your hangover was worsening by the minute. You were still wearing his t-shirt, but he also offered to let you take a pair of his sweatpants. You were holding your dress and heels. “Hey, um—” Sebastian started.

“—Thanks,” you said bitterly, getting out of the car and slamming the door. Did he seriously think he could just almost kiss you and then back out and kick you out of his place? You rolled your eyes at the thought.

“Hey!” he yelled. “What the hell,” he mumbled in frustration, watching you walk away and disappear into your complex. He had fucked up badly.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The next few months took an emotional toll on your dad. Sebastian rejected invitations to come over for family gatherings. Your dad was heartbroken, and you knew it was probably your fault. You hated seeing your dad feel so guilty for something that wasn’t even his fault in the first place. With Christmas right around the corner you knew you had to fix this.

Outside your parents’ house, snow cascaded from a sapphire night sky. Your parents sat in the living room, watching a Christmas classic that you were currently tuning out. The fireplace crackled, ashes dancing behind metal bars. You were on the couch across from your parents, staring at the open messages on your phone. You hadn’t spoken to Sebastian since the almost-kiss, and it irritated you. But it frustrated you even more that he never once called or messaged you. You sat up in bed most nights cursing him for being such an asshole. You needed him at the Christmas party for your dad’s sake, and as petty as you wanted to remain, you knew what you had to do. You let your thumbs slide across your phone keyboard, hesitated for a second, then pressed send on your message.

8:31 pm

you: hey, can we talk?

You checked your phone again after some time.

8:38 pm

you: hey, can we talk?

read

Fuck. Was he really just going to ignore you and your family forever? Shame settled in your gut uncomfortably. You stood up and headed toward the kitchen. You thought maybe a cup of hot chocolate might soothe the guilt and anger bubbling under your skin. You rummaged through the cupboard above the sink for your favourite festive mug. Just then, your phone whirred in your hand. Your heart sank to your feet.

8:40 pm

Sebastian: What do you want?

Dick.

8:41 pm

you: I need you to come to dad’s Christmas party next weekend. He thinks he did something.

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An hour had passed and you were settled into bed, screaming at Sebastian in your head. He was really testing your patience, and the Lord knows it ran thin most of the time. You set your phone down on your night table and rested your eyes for about five minutes, until your phone buzzed. A bright, sterile screen lit up your pitch black room. You opened his message.

9:55 pm

Sebastian: Ok.

Well, that was easier than you thought it would be.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

On the 23rd of December, your parents ran around the house cleaning, organizing, cooking, and decorating. The fresh smell of lemon cleaner floated throughout the house. Tonight was your dad’s annual Christmas party. Each year you offered to help around the house, and each year your dad refused. He took every responsibility upon himself during the holidays. You wondered how he did it all, but you knew he was at his happiest when he got to host events like this.

At four o’clock you welcomed in your first guests: one of your mom’s friends, Jen, and her son, Oliver. At five the house was full. Your dad kept a list of invites, and everyone was here save for one person—Sebastian. Even though he told you he’d come, it was half expected of him not to. It was becoming a habit for him not to hang around you and your dad anymore, and you resented him for it.

You usually talked to Sebastian during your dad’s parties, but this year you were left standing in the corner of the kitchen with a glass of champagne to keep you company. Your mom came prancing into the kitchen with a black-haired man you met for the first time a few years ago. “Y/n, honey, you remember Oliver don’t you?” your mother asked. Oliver held out his hand for you to shake and you forced a smile.

“Of course,” you replied, taking a small sip of champagne.

“Hi y/n. Nice to see you again!” Oliver beamed.

“Oliver’s a doctor. Isn’t that impressive?” your mom remarked joyfully. You knew what she was doing.

Oliver chuckled. “Thank you. I’m actually a nurse,” he corrected politely.

“That’s great, isn’t it sweetie?”

You nodded. “It’s so great.”

Your mom winked at you and crept away excitedly. Great.

Oliver helped himself to a coke before rambling about nursing school and his favourite sports team. Would this guy ever ask you a question about yourself? The conversation dragged on forever. That’s when you heard the front door opening and closing, and your dad greeting someone ecstatically. “Sebastian!”

Oh god. He actually showed up? You weren’t sure if you should be happy or nervous. Maybe both. You weren’t exactly the nicest to him the last time you spoke, and he sure broke your heart, but you did miss him. You missed seeing him around the house when you visited your parents. He was family—he was an integral part of your life. Not having him around for months left a deep crater in your chest. “Excuse me, I have to go greet someone,” you interrupted Oliver, who was still going on about something you had no interest in. You walked out into the living room and found Sebastian with a pile of gifts in his arms. Your dad was helping set them under the Christmas tree, mumbling something about how he ‘didn’t have to do all of this’. Sebastian caught sight of you and his nostrils flared. He looked away just as fast, acting as though you were never there in the first place. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath. Maybe he just needed a little incentive to come correct and finally apologize to you.

At dinner you made sure to sit next to Oliver. Your dad insisted that Sebastian have a seat next to him, which was directly across from you. You made it your goal to make Sebastian notice you. That entailed acting as though Oliver was the smartest, most interesting man you’ve ever talked to. When he cracked a weak attempt at a joke you giggled, and when he talked about his profession, you looked at him through long fluttering lashes, nodding every once in a while.

You stole a sly look in Sebastian’s direction, and grinned when you noticed a touch of frustration hidden in his features. His eyes were narrow, his nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched the more attention you gave to Oliver instead of him. That’s when you knew he was playing your game.

At eight o’clock you were cozied up to Oliver on the couch with your third glass of champagne of the night. On the other end of the room was Sebastian, all alone in the corner with his arms crossed. He glanced at you occasionally and you knew he was getting worked up from you not paying any mind to him. He wanted you to crack, to come up to him first. But it didn’t seem like that would happen any time soon. When Oliver opened his mouth again you downed the last of your drink. “I’m just gonna get another drink. Be right back,” you said, making sure to lift yourself up with the help of his thigh.

You pranced into the empty kitchen and poured yourself another glass of whatever was left. Just then, a hand caught your shoulder and your heart skipped a beat. Sebastian.

“What?” you asked, leaning on the counter smugly.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian’s voice was low and quiet.

“I don’t know why you suddenly care.” You were having far too much fun getting him all riled up, but you were also upset with him for toying with your feelings. “You’re an ass, Sebastian.”

Something dimmed in Sebastian’s eyes. His throat felt heavy, like it was closing in on itself. He felt small. You pushed past him and left him feeling sorry in the kitchen. It was what you wanted, so why did it make your skin burn in shame? It didn’t help that you didn’t see him once the entire rest of the night.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

At 2 o’clock, the house was dark and still. Your parents had gone to bed, and you took it upon yourself to help clean up. It was the least you could do. With a large black garbage bag in one hand, you threw out wrappers and soda cans, empty wine bottles and gift wrapping that littered the kitchen. You enjoyed the quiet. It distracted you from the mess you had caused tonight, and relaxed you.

The floorboard creaked and your soul leapt out of your flesh. You spun on your heels and found yourself face to face with Sebastian “Jesus Christ,” you cursed. “What are you doing? I thought you left.”

He was still wearing his blue dress shirt, his tie a little loose around his neck. His blond hair was disheveled, and he looked drunk on sleep. “I fell asleep.”

“What?” you asked, taking in his gorgeous state. You felt so greedy. It didn’t matter how angry you were; he was a groggy wall of muscle towering over you, and you couldn’t peel your eyes off him.

“I needed some space. Fell asleep,” he explained, ruffling his hair.

You continued on with your cleaning, moving to the dining table. “Why didn’t you just go home?”

“I wanted to talk to you. In person,” he admitted.

“Then why didn’t you say what you needed to say months ago?” You tried pushing past him, but he grabbed the garbage bag from you and tossed it somewhere behind him. “What the hell. Just go back to bed,” you warned.

“No. I know I’ve been an asshole but I need you to hear me out. Please,” he whined, his face drooping sadly.

“Ok. What?” you asked impatiently, your arms folding.

“I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry. I wanted to kiss you so badly,” he started.

“Then why didn’t you?” you retaliated.

“It’s not exactly the best idea. With your dad and all. I don’t know what he’d do if he found out I like his daughter,” Sebastian confessed. “I got scared. I should’ve reached out.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You wouldn’t crack. If he thought you were going to forgive him that easily he was dead wrong.

“Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, y/n.” He moved closer to you, trapping you between his body and the dining table. You were slowly warming up under his gaze. If he played his cards right then maybe he could be forgiven. Sebastian leaned down and cupped your jaw. “Please,” he said, his voice low. Slowly, you shook your head. You wanted him to work for it. “Does this help?” he asked before dipping down and kissing you. You nodded and ran your hands up his clothed biceps as he deepened the kiss. You unbuttoned his shirt down to his stomach, and you let your fingers explore his chest. He groaned into the kiss and pulled you up onto the table gently. He stood in between your legs, his hands roaming your thighs.

His lips wandered from the corner of your lips to your neck one kiss at a time. “I don’t think you should see him anymore,” he whispered in between kisses.

“See who?” you quipped, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. Sebastian smiled crookedly into your neck. Your fingers tangled into his hair and he pulled away.

“Do you forgive me now?”

“Maybe,” you teased.

Sebastian picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his sides instinctively. “Oh really?”