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astraystayyh · 2 days

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inhale, exhale.

model!hyunjin x photographer reader. mutual pining and tension and flirting. friends to lovers.

prequel to Breathe, so i highly recommend reading the second part if you haven’t already hehe. reader is wearing a dress/heels.

hyune gives me photoshoots and i give you brainrots in return it is the natural circle of life.. i hope you’ll enjoy this one too 🥹 feedback is highly appreciated as always <3

Hyunjin’s eyes are piercing, locking onto your figure with an intensity that seems to capture you in place. He’s leaning casually against his sleek black car, one leg crossed before the other, arms folded over his chest, unmoving as the sound of your heels echoes against the cobblestone.

Instead, he tilts his head ever so slightly at your approach, his eyes tracing the contours of your silhouette, setting ablaze the scarlet fabric of your gown with their fervent scrutiny.

It was those very brown eyes you first noticed when Minho showed you Hyunjin’s portfolio. You now know that he is drowned in a sea of accolades regarding his physique— his sculpted proportions, the tantalizing curve of his lips and the seductive caress of his fingertips against them, and above all, his alluring aura and the way he works the camera as if it as an extension of his being.

But it is his eyes that have drawn you in first. Piercing, even through a stack of printed photographs in Minho's hands, burning through paper to ensnare your attention. Even more so, when these same eyes found you for the first time, in an outing your best friend Minho organized— an aspiring photographer shaking the hands of an established model, it was a match made in heaven, per se.

Though heaven was the last thing to grace your mind as you looked at Hyunjin, at the way he carried himself with a grace, and a slight cockiness that only comes from knowing your worth.

You caught his eyes multiple times across the dinner table, your knees grazing his underneath it. You returned home with his perfume imprinted into your skin from the lengthy hours you spent talking over drinks, long after Minho went home to his lover, and three cats. You knew then that Hyunjin could never be just a friend to you.

You are even more sure of it tonight, a fleeting four months later. Minho, the heir of your country’s biggest talent agency is hosting his parent’s annual party, gathering photographers, models, and artistic directors alike, a chance to network and score deals you wouldn’t find elsewhere.

Hyunjin insisted on picking you up.

You pause barely a few inches away from Hyunjin, close enough for him to behold the glitter gracing your eyelids, shimmering beneath the moonlight. Smelling his perfume feels like coming home, and you close yourself for a millisecond longer, allowing yourself the electrifying pleasure of being a mere breath away from him.

“Hello, love,” he speaks softly, and his words morph into invisible fingers trailing down your spine, igniting goosebumps in their trail. You’ve never gotten used to this nickname and the way it stumbles so easily from his lips, as if you could, one day indeed, be his love, a reality hovering just beyond your grasp.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you smile and his placid facade cracks a little, a glint of a grin shimmering on his lips. He drinks you in, his scrutiny deliberate and unhurried, his gaze moving languidly across your form, flickering between all your features as if he beheld time between his palms, and all his seconds could be spent admiring you. It is only when he seems satiated does he speak again.

“You’re beautiful,” he says earnestly, and you don’t miss his choice of phrasing, you’re beautiful as opposed to you look beautiful, as though it matters not what you are clad in, but the fact that it is you wearing it.

Oftentimes, your compliments to him feel superfluous, your words faltering when you think of the many times Hyunjin must have heard the same adjectives describing him. Yet tonight, you cannot conjure a sarcastic retort to drown his sweet words, not before his ebony suit and the satin shirt peeking beneath it, worst of all, the delicate cascade of gold necklaces that glisten mockingly underneath the stars, taunting you, almost, for being able to graze Hyunjin’s skin when you cannot.

So, you settle for the truth.

“So are you.”

“Complimenting me quite easily tonight?” He smirks, and you respond with an exaggerated eye roll, leaning in closer.

“Forget it. You're actually insufferable.”

He mirrors your movement, drawing nearer until your breaths mingle in the space between you both. “I am actually very lovable, thank you very much.”

“Says who?” you challenge, a hint of defiance coloring your words. The kiss he imprints on the tip of your nose comes like clockwork at your words.

“You,” he grins, and you falter, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness of his gesture. Heat rises to your face, a blush betraying your composure, even beneath your already pink-kissed cheeks, and you curse inwardly at your own vulnerability.

You hate him. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to kiss someone this badly.

He observes your reaction with amusement, a knowing smile playing upon his lips as he taps the car door once before opening it for you. “After you, love.”

Stepping into the sports car feels like walking into Hyunjin’s essence— the rich cognac and oak notes ricocheting off the interior, the scarlet red cushions echoing the passion Hyunjin seems to carry within him.

And amidst the opulent interior, the small water lilies keychain you brought him seems almost out of place, as it dangles from the rearview mirror. Yet, it makes you feel as if part of you has intermingled with Hyunjin’s being, even in the most simplest of ways.

“Are you nervous?” Hyunjin asks ten minutes into your ride, his fingers drumming along the edge of the steering wheel. Your gaze drifts to the golden rings adorning his fingers, each one bearing the iconic emblem of Versace's Medusa. In another life, he could easily be their ambassador and muse.

Hyunjin’s eyes are piercing, not only because of the flames they dip your body in but also because of the gentle way they unravel your layers, understand your silences more than others grasp your words.

“I am. It’s my first time coming as a graduate, you know? What if I don’t leave a good impression on anyone?”

“Impossible.”

Had someone else uttered those words you would have been inclined to contradict them, but Hyunjin speaks with utmost certainty, as if his words are the only conceivable reply to yours.

“Okay.”

His fingers trail along the shell of your ear, delicately tucking a stray lock of hair behind it. The breaths in your chest ebb and flow more rapidly, you don’t know if it is from nerves or his touch.

“Inhale with me,” he instructs, and you follow his lead, synchronizing your breath with his. His hand glides down your jawline, a gentle caress that soothes your racing pulse. “Exhale,” he murmurs, and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding, comforted by the weight of his touch.

You know the ghost of his fingertips will remain with you as the night wears on, a reminder that he is near, just around the corner, waiting for you to call him.

“You’ll do well, I’m sure of it.”

The gathering is held in a different location every year, and this time, Minho chose an intimate setting—a dimly lit hotel bar, graced by the warm glow of chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, brown leather seats surrounding glass tables, and extravagant flower arrangements.

For a split second, your back instinctively hunches, a reflexive response before this detailed showcase of luxury. But then you straighten your spine, comforted by the sound of your clicking heels against the polished floor, and Hyunjin's warm palm against your lower back.

You reach for a drink from a passing tray, the glass cool against your fingertips as you swirl the cocktail within. You take note of the numerous guests, as you cast a glance around the room, each one a titan in their creative field. Hyunjin stands at your side, his shoulder brushing against yours, as he too takes his time in assessing the room.

“Seems kind of boring,” Hyunjin remarks, his voice laced with a hint of disinterest as he leisurely sips his drink.

“Seems like your scene,” you tease, flashing him a playful grin, and he arches a brow in response.

“Oh yeah? And what is my scene?”

“An intimate setting with romantic lighting and jazz music,” you explain, taking a step closer and resting a hand delicately on his arm. “And some wine,” you add, though his attention is captivated by the movement of your shimmering lips as you speak. “And pretty people eyeing you all over the place.”

“Are they?” he counters, his hand sliding slowly to your waist, drawing you nearer with a subtle pull. “I only see you.”

“Really?” you challenge, trailing a finger tantalizingly slow along his jawline, “Then make sure your eyes never leave me throughout the night.”

His gaze remains fixed on your retreating form, a mixture of bewilderment and desire swirling in his eyes. He mutters a curse at the sight of your backless dress— it seems more than likely that you are a killer sent to end him by the end of the night.

It’s a few hours later, and Hyunjin has exhausted every social bone in his being, each interaction draining his reserves of charm and charisma. All he craves now is rest, and the comfort of his home—it turns out that, lately, it is more and more wherever you are, rather than the confines of his house.

He spots you sitting in a secluded corner, bathed in the soft glow of a solitary candle. A gentle smile graces his lips as he observes you, engrossed in nibbling at the snacks laid out before you.

Do you even realize how beautiful you are?

“You’re whipped,” Minho's voice interrupts his thoughts, Hyunjin does not contradict him.

“Is it that obvious?” he replies with a hint of amusement, his eyes never flickering away from your figure.

“You should see how you look at them.”

“Is it weird that everywhere we go, the world seems to narrow down to them alone?” he admits, a tinge of uncertainty coloring his words. The silence that follows from Minho makes a scorching heat creep up his neck, so he unbuttons his shirt for a bit of respite.

Minho shakes his head, a small giggle escaping his lips, before offering a reassuring clap on Hyunjin’s back. “I’ll see you around.”

Hyunjin quickly strides towards you, eager not to waste any seconds far from you, propelled by a longing that grips him like a second skin. He thinks you’re much closer to his heart than the necklaces brushing against his bare chest.

“Found you,” Hyunjin announces with a grin as he settles onto the couch across from you. Your body relaxes once you recognize him, your smile blooms akin to the first petals unfurling in spring.

“See, you didn’t look at me all night,” you pout teasingly and he chuckles, tipping his head back.

“I actually was. I was looking at you, through my heart.”

“How does that even work?”

He hesitates for a moment before his next words spill forth, unfiltered and raw. “I don't need to see you to know that you are near, I just feel it.”

A moment of silence hangs between you before you smile sheepishly, tilting your head to the side in wonder. “How was your night?”

“Productive but tiring, and you?” he replies, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your presence.

“I got a booking, a big one,” you announce with a grin, and his own smile mirrors yours instantly, his happiness following yours as if tethered by an invisible string.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think I'll need your help. It needs to be in a bathtub and I know you are busy so it’s okay if—”

“I’m all yours,” he interrupts without hesitation, and you nod, heart swelling with gratitude.

It is quiet then, as you rest your head against the corner of the couch, and Hyunjin mirrors your gesture, his gaze never wavering from yours. The soft flicker of candlelight casts a warm glow upon his bare skin, the one unveiled by his unbuttoned shirt. And your mouth suddenly feels dry, and your heart suddenly aches, for him alone.

He brings his hand near his face, his rosy lips brushing against his knuckles, as your eyes trace the contours of his face— it seems to possess an otherworldly radiance, with dark locks cascading like silken strands, as if meticulously arranged by the hand of Aphrodite herself. Surely, she would adore him too, as would anyone who had the privilege of knowing him.

But you believe your adoration surpasses that of most.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to rest delicately on his knee. “For finding me again.”

In response, his eyes soften, a gentleness that transcends mere words seeping into his gaze. He's no longer just around the corner; he’s right behind the door, both your hands poised on the doorknob. It is only a matter of time before one of you takes the plunge.

“Thank you for letting me find you.”

#skz au #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #it’s 1 am pls excuse any mistake #ill post this and sleep

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withleeknow · 1 day

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how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: jeongin x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; menstruation obvi

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

jeongin, who is so utterly clueless that it kinda hurts your soul a little. sure it's cute, and sure he's at least trying, but holy shit, there isn't a single thought in his head when it comes to things like this. blame it on not having a sister or close female friends, you suppose.

jeongin, who stands in the supermarket aisle for the better part of an hour, with question marks materializing from the crown of his head as he internally freaks out over which products you asked him to get. in the end, he gets the wrong kind because honestly, he thinks it's your fault. you didn't specify what you needed, you just told him "regular ones with wings. any brand will do," and sent him on his merry way.

jeongin, who buys you a month's worth of snacks to satisfy your odd cravings, but ends up eating most of them himself. he swears it was an accident; you were taking a nap and he was bored and had to occupy his time somehow, seeing that he couldn't bother you while you were resting.

jeongin, whom his hyungs think is the most adorable person on earth when he asks them for advice, with questions ranging from she says her stomach hurts, what do i do? to does ramyeon help? it's the only thing i know how to cook. sometimes, he's jealous of minho, because he'd like to make you your comfort food during your time of the month too.

jeongin, who watches dozens of videos of men trying period pain simulators, and winces every time as if he was the one in the simulation. by the end of it, he's kinda thankful that he was born a guy.

jeongin, whose body heat you take advantage of when you snuggle close to him at night. you often have to kick him away from you because he runs like a damn furnace all year round, but baby bread the human heater proves to be quite useful in times like these, where you can substitute your heating pad with his arm around your waist as his warmth lulls you to sleep.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #jeongin fluff #jeongin scenarios #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagines #jeongin x you #stray kids #jeongin

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sunkissed-zegras · 1 day

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I’m just saying…. headcannons for paige with a bestfriend to partner who’s an introvert.

And I mean those introverts who seem quiet but the moment they get comfortable around you it’s over, but like only they get to see that side.

Paige seems like an extrovert that adopts introverts, like just imagine her having to drag her partner out of their room all the time cuz they’re a damn hermit.

-🐹

─ warnings | mention of drinking, teasing, fluff, nothin' else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

honestly, you are so right in that assumption

she definitely gets closer with more introverted people, bc opposites DO really attract

when you guys first met it was your freshman year at uconn, at first you'd probably think she's WAY too much ─ maybe even cocky LOL (but who can blame her she's the best)

but when you spend more one on one time with her, you realize she's really funny and sweet

because you're so quiet, paige would be naturally drawn to you cus she gets to know you

so she just pesters you until you eventually give in and hang out with her

from that point on, the one is never seen without the other

you guys would always be together

but like... usually, you're just WITH paige so people don't really acknowledge you cus you're so quiet

but then paige would like force you to socialize

"this is y/n, i promise she's fun you just gotta put a little liquor in her-" "PAIGE."

she would push you toward her close friends the most, def like ice, azzi, nika and kk

ESPECIALLY kk!

and then you eventually would get really close with them, you all have your cute little friend group

you and ice would make fun of paige and kk together, you and azzi are kinda similar so you find yourself hanging out with her alone a lot more, and nika would force you out your shell a lot too

after a couple months of being friends, paige would definitely find herself catching feels

like i've said in my other headcanons, she just thinks you're such a big source of comfort for her and it slowly just becomes full-on adoration cus

she adores you

and you compliment her personality so well she is just like "i NEED to have her right now"

she ends up confessing one night after a really terrible game and then y'all kiss ...

and the rest is history 🤗🤗🤗

jk here's some relationship headcanons

again, you are so right nonnie

like i mentioned, one is never seen without the other

so you're always tied at the hip, especially at parties

at first she has to force you

like FULL force

she calls backup ofc ice and kk come and then its 3 vs 1

they end up winning

and this happens time and time again, you just get so worn down you'd rather just endure the damn party then listen to all three of them scream at you

which was the goal 🥰

and you're definitely the sober one 95% of the time so you will be taking care of a very drunk paige

(maybe some separate headcanons for her if yall want)

and sometimes even ice/kk but it's mostly just your girlfriend

anyway, yeah you take her home, take of her and then get her into bed

and when you try to leave she will be so dramatic, she forces you to stay with her

you don't mind cus you love cuddly paige

but the 5% when you're the one who's blackout drunk, paige is gonna take such good care of you

because you're so introverted when you're sober, you're probably gonna be such a rowdy drunk

yes im her shes me

so paige makes sure you don't get into trouble and gets you home safe and sound

but if you do something stupid, she will never ever let you live it down

"remember that time you jumped into the pool and-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn huskies #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons

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flowerandblood · 2 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (27)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: fingering, masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk, kissing without consent, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When her uncle decided that they would spend the night in Dragonstone for a moment she thought she had overheard herself − she was unable to contain her delight and outburst of joy at his words, feeling that he had somehow rewarded her for her efforts.

Or at least she thought he had.

His sudden change of plans was unlike him, and she was aware of that, knowing his nature.

He detested deviating from the plans he had previously made for himself.

However, she recognised that perhaps he wanted to show her and her family his sincere intentions, to prove that she was not just a prisoner in his eyes and that he, as her husband, could also sleep under their roof without being one.

She wasn't sure if she had ever been as happy in her life as she had been the moment she flew through the sky next to Vhagar, Caraxes and Syrax; her heart was filled with heat and hope, her uncle's words echoing in her mind like a sweet whisper.

I am proud of you.

Those words meant more to her than any of his other confessions.

Of course, his confession of love was a wonderful thing, but she had always been waiting for him to appreciate her as a person, not just a woman he saw by his side.

With this, she finally felt equal to him.

Her optimism extinguished as quickly as it had appeared as soon as she crossed the walls of the family fortress. Although her heart screamed with joy at the sight of familiar rooms, smells and sights, the faces of her brothers left her with no illusions.

She swallowed loudly as she saw the hateful look on Jace's face; she knew him and she knew that he was hurt.

He was disappointed and heartbroken, he felt humiliated and, deep down, betrayed by her, even though she never meant it.

Luke clearly didn't know what he felt himself, because he just lowered his head, unable to look into her eyes.

She felt a squeeze in her throat at the sight, a discomfort in her stomach that told her that perhaps this wasn't her home at all anymore.

She was no longer welcome here.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Rhaena − her step-sister was the first to approach her, warmth and longing in her gaze, some kind of understanding from which she felt tears under her eyelids. They hugged each other tightly, though they had never done so before − her words made her feel a tightening in her stomach.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice, and she smiled involuntarily at her words.

"Me too."

As Baela approached them, also enclosing her in the tight embrace of her arms, she thought with a shrug that even though she hadn't let them into the depths of her heart for so many years, they truly cared and worried about her.

At the very end Joffrey ran up to her, sobbing loudly.

"− why have you been so long in King's Landing? − why did you leave us? − Jace wouldn't read me my favourite book −" He mumbled cuddled into her belly, her hands combing through his dark curls with the calm motion of her fingers.

"− forgive me − I'm here −" She said softly, looking at her older brother and swallowed hard, seeing the murderous glances they exchanged over the table with her husband.

She looked at her mother, who nodded, understanding what she wanted to convey to her.

"You are certainly exhausted. Take up your old quarters, daughter, I will immediately command them to be brought to order and prepared for you." Rheanyra said calmly, and she bowed before her.

"Thank you, my Queen." She said softly, looking into her eyes. Her mother swallowed hard and nodded, allowing them to leave.

As they stepped inside her chamber, she felt a squeeze in her heart and some kind of elation; all her belongings were in their places exactly as she had left them, as if no one had been allowed in here since she had been forcibly held in the Red Keep.

She shuddered, snapped out of her reverie when her uncle moved ahead of her, strolling around the room with his hands folded behind his back, intrigued.

It seemed to her that some part of him wanted to understand what her life had been like and who she had been for the eight years during which they had been separated.

She saw him walk over to her old oak desk and run his fingers over its top, thoughtful.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually.

She felt heat in her lower abdomen at the thought that he meant the place where she had written letters to him.

"− yes −"

She swallowed quietly as he hummed at her words, watching as he sat in the chair where she sat many times leaning over the parchment, scribbling words on it meant only for his eyes. He tapped his finger on the armrest, turning to face her in profile as he gazed out of the window, apparently absorbed in memories.

She thought that although her return home had proved more uncomfortable than she had thought, she was grateful to him.

Whatever decision he had made that morning had led them here and was proof of his intentions.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said quietly, smiling at him, wanting him to know she wouldn't force him to sit at the same table with her family.

She thought she would spend the evening with him, give him the feeling that she was not speaking with anyone behind his back, and perhaps in the morning, before they flew away, she would ask him so that she could speak to her mother at last in peace and solitude.

Comforted by this thought and the fact that it looked like all was not lost, she began to tell him about her life in Dragonstone, to show him the books she had written to him about in her letters, the places she had flown to on Larax.

It seemed to her that her husband was only partially listening to her; his gaze was thoughtful, his face expressed weariness and discouragement. She knew that something was making him uncomfortable and she suspected that it was about the place they were in; however, she did not know how to help him, to give him the feeling that neither he nor she was in danger here.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −" She finally made an attempt to find out what had been on his mind since the morning. He shuddered at her words and looked at her with a horror as if he was about to faint.

"I'm tired." He replied quickly, without thinking, as if he wanted to answer her anything just to end the subject. She sighed quietly, recognising that she couldn't push him too hard.

Not after what they had managed to accomplish.

"Let's go to bed."

She felt a squeeze in her throat as, already lying on the bedding, she watched as he took out his dagger and tucked it under his pillow; she looked at him and met his calm, impassive gaze.

She decided not to say anything, understanding where his caution came from, not wanting to discourage or frustrate him.

She smiled involuntarily, content as his body clung to hers as soon as he lay at her side. She heard him murmur as she snuggled his face between her breasts, felt his arms embrace her waist and tighten around the material of her nightgown on her back.

She loved it when her mother sang lullabies to her when she was a child; it always calmed and soothed her. She had never dared to sing to him when they were children, fearing that her voice was too squeaky and unpleasant, but now she decided that maybe that was just what he needed.

So she sang, humming softly, once in a while placing a warm, lingering kiss on the top of his head − she felt his embrace slowly growing weaker, his muscles relaxing, his breathing quiet and even.

She sighed quietly feeling him fall asleep.

Someone's jerking and growling roused her from a deep sleep; when she opened her eyes for a moment she didn't know where she was or what was happening.

She recognised her chamber but did not know what her uncle was doing in it, convinced that he still had not answered her letters, as he had not done so for eight years.

After a moment, however, her mind seemed to regain focus and she remembered that she was his wife after all, and that his silhouette lying beside her was not a figment of her imagination.

She raised herself up on her elbow seeing that his body convulsed once in a while, as if he was trying to break free of something, whimpers and grunts came out of his throat, however, his mouth did not open, tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes one by one.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!" She called out, grabbing his arm, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She was frightened and jumped back as his eye opened suddenly, his figure rose to sit up, and he began to pant like a wild animal, quivering all over. She looked at him in disbelief, horrified to hear that he was struggling to catch his breath.

Was he having nightmares again?

Was he dreaming again of the night he lost his eye?

"− easy, my love − breathe −" She whispered tenderly, gently touching his back; he flinched all over and looked at her as if he didn't recognise her − his eye was wide open, his nostrils twitched in accelerated, heavy breaths.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled like a small, terrified child and fell into her arms, bursting into a sob so loud that the voice stuck in her throat.

She embraced him immediately, letting him find protection and comfort in her arms, stroking affectionately his hair and back, placing warm, soft kisses on the top of his head in an attempt to reassure him.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She mumbled, feeling that the fabric of her nightgown was all wet with his tears, his hot, broken breath enveloping her skin.

She felt like he wanted to melt into one with her, to hide deep inside her from whatever it was that scared him.

He was silent for a long moment, trying to calm himself; she hushed him tenderly, whispering that he was safe, that she was by his side, that all was well. She finally heard him swallow hard, his voice trembling and uncertain.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −" He muttered. She blinked, twisting comfortably in her seat, feeling her heart begin to beat faster.

"− I'm listening to you, my love −" She whispered, stroking his hair. She released him from her arms when she felt him wanting to rise.

He sat on the bedding with his side facing her, running his shaking hand over his face, his healthy eye closed as if afraid of what was about to leave his mouth.

"− I − fuck −" He began, swallowing hard − her hand rose to his back, stroking it reassuringly.

"− easy − take your time − start from the beginning −" She encouraged him softly, not wanting him to fall silent again, seeing that he wanted to throw off whatever had been weighing on his shoulders since they had left Harrenhal.

"− you may remember − Lord Strong wanted to speak with me soon after we arrived in Harrenhal −" He said uncertainly, and she nodded, reminding herself that this was indeed what had happened.

"− yes −"

Her uncle swallowed hard, drawing in air loudly.

"− he told me at the time − that my grandfather had no intention of letting your mother and Daemon leave the Eyrie alive if it turned out they wouldn't accept our terms − but now I think they wouldn't have left alive anyway − Larys had his spies there −" He muttered and fell silent, freezing completely as she did, her heart beginning to pound like mad.

My grandfather had no intention of letting them leave the Eyrie alive.

"Will you be by my side even when all is lost? Even if there is nothing left but darkness? Is that what you had in mind then?" She mumbled out in pain, feeling that there was a complete void in her mind. "Will I be there for you even if your grandfather kills my mother?"

"− n-no −" He began quickly. "− will you be there for me even if I fail to prevent it knowing that I didn't tell you −"

She felt a constriction in her throat and lower abdomen, felt tears of disappointment and sadness flowing into her eyelids − now it was her body that trembled in convulsions, his gaze full of shame and horror directed at her.

She sucked his cock, she let him take her, and he knew that the next day her father and her mother could be murdered.

She pressed her lips together, shaking her head and laughed low.

"− you will betray me − you will run away − those are your words, aren't they? − you were always the first to accuse me − was it because you were trying to cover up your own conscience? − you wanted me to let you down so that you wouldn't feel guilty about doing it over and over again? −" She asked with a cold mockery, from which he bowed his head in embarrassment, in a subconscious reflex he had inherited from his mother plucking the cuticles around his fingernails.

He did not answer.

"− what should I do now? − divorce you? − say I won't come back to King's Landing with you? − not speak to you for eight years? − tell me, uncle, what do you think you deserve? −" She asked dispassionately, feeling the tears of rage and grief one by one run down her cheeks.

She saw him tremble at her words and curl into himself, as if he were again the same little boy who had cried in her arms when his mother had reprimanded him for inappropriate behaviour.

She pressed her lips into a thin line as he hid his face in his hands and wept helplessly, as if his whole person, everything he had built around himself was just falling apart in front of her eyes, showing him his insides, what was left of him.

He was vulnerable.

"− fuck − I − I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you'd change your mind − that if you warned them they'd see it as a betrayal and wouldn't want to pact − that's why I didn't let any of us stay in the Eyrie − I −"

"− because my mother agreed − but what would you have done if things had turned out differently? −" She asked coldly, and he swallowed hard, covering his eyes with his hand, as if he could not bear what he felt or this conversation.

"− I don't know − I don't know how I could have protected both you and my family then − what decision of mine would have saved you from death −" He muttered and she pulled herself up from the bed, recognising that she didn't feel like listening to this, that she had had enough of him and his guilt when it was always him, him, him disappointing her.

From the first night she had returned to him, when he had closed her cheeks in the brutal grip of his fingers she had seen in his eye what had now become clear to her.

He was weak, and when he was afraid, he resorted to violence.

She heard him stand up behind her, panting heavily, wiping his tear-wet face with his hand.

"− no − don't leave − I told you because −"

"− because your conscience didn't give you peace − because you didn't want to carry your guilt alone −" She hissed, turning towards him with furrowed brows.

She felt that fury, not blood, was flowing through her veins now.

He swallowed loudly at her words, looking at her wide-eyed.

"− if you've never hidden anything from me − you've never concealed anything from me for fear that I might react impulsively, leave − but if you did, come back to bed − I won't touch you −"

She pressed her lips together in fury, recognising that he must have been mocking her, but then she felt an unpleasant sting in her heart that proved she had doubts.

She heard again the words of one of her servants in King's Landing whispering in her ear that when the time came, Prince Daemon would help her escape; she heard again the words of Alys speaking of the prophecy she had not shared with him for fear of his reaction.

Had she really never hidden anything from him?

Her whole body screamed for her to leave; she wanted to do it, but felt that if she did, she would be lying to herself and to him, creating an image in which she was without flaw.

She could say that she had the right to do it, that she had good intentions, but didn't her uncle think the same about his decisions?

She glared at him and let out a loud breath, returning to the bed without a word, sinking into the soft sheets, turning her face away from him. She heard him breathe heavily, and after a moment, the bed creaked under the weight of his body settling against her back.

"− tell me −" He whispered.

She sighed heavily and grunted, recognising that her faults were less than his anyway.

So why did she still feel shame and a squeeze in her gut?

"− after I tried to take my life I was told that my father could help me escape − don't ask how − I also didn't tell you about the prophecy I heard from Alys −"

"− that fucking witch is a liar −" He growled, and she let out a loud breath, impatient.

"− it is possible − but I also heard this prophecy from your sister's mouth − both of them spoke of two rivers of blood merging into one, taking the shape of a dragon's crowned head −" She choked out finally, her husband stirring beside her in his place, surprised.

"− what could this mean? −"

"− I don't know − I was afraid that when you heard it, you would want to give up on the negotiations and return to King's Landing − Alys warned me, so she probably knew what your grandfather was planning to do −" She said regretfully, thinking that strange woman was more concerned for her safety and her family than her husband.

She heard him swallow hard, letting the air out loudly.

"− forgive me −"

She lay in silence for some time, feeling anger that he expected her to simply forget everything, understand his reasons and forgive him as always.

No.

"− I will forgive you, but I have my conditions − we will stay here longer − for a week or two, I will decide in the morning −" She said coldly.

"− but − my mother will be convinced that they are holding us by force −" He began, but she would not let him finish.

"− you will write a letter to your brother informing him that my mother has accepted his terms, but is also setting her own − that we will stay here to discuss all the details, show our goodwill − if your mother wishes, she can travel here in her own person − you can leave Dragonstone when you wish, but I will stay here as long as I desire, and you will show no opposition −" She said impatiently, feeling her heart pounding like mad, her hands clenched into fists.

Her husband swallowed loudly at her words, tense.

"− I − very well −" He muttered finally, knowing that any other words would forever cross him out in her eyes.

She hummed under her breath, covering herself tightly with the bedding and closed her eyes, figuring she wouldn't turn towards him for the rest of the night.

"− don't try to take me or embrace me −" She commanded and he sighed quietly.

She swallowed hard when she felt him place his large hand on her head and begin to stroke her hair exactly as he had when they were children.

She felt furious that it was so pleasant, so soothing, that he knew she loved it.

"− my Rheanys −" He whispered tenderly. She pressed her lips together at his words, feeling a single, lonely tear run down her cheek.

The next morning she was awakened by a rustling noise and the sound of a quill scratching on parchment; she lifted her sleepy eyelids and saw his silhouette sitting behind her desk, bent over a letter he had apparently just written.

She felt strange at the thought that he was sitting in the exact place where she had spent years writing him messages that had never received a response.

She knew, however, that she now had the upper hand over him and that her word was an order to him.

She was not going to imitate his cold nature and not speak to him − they had to maintain a semblance of at least a warm relationship so that the image of their marriage, on which the whole agreement between the two parties was supposed to be based, did not begin to crack.

He lifted his gaze to her when she stood up, but they did not exchange a word between each other.

He did not know what to say.

Her maidservant walked in at her summons and bowed before her, bending her head humbly.

"− my Lady, will you have your morning meal before your travel? − your mother would like to speak with you before you leave for King's Landing −"

"− we will have a meal, but convey to my mother that there is no rush − my husband and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks as an expression of our sincere intentions − my husband is in the process of conveying this message to his brother − my uncle is in need of new garments, provide them for him without delay and bring them to my chamber −" She said calmly; her servant blinked, shocked and nodded, immediately disappearing behind the door.

Despite what she had learned and the rage she felt, she was pleased − the roles had been reversed and although her husband was not her prisoner, he was attached to her and was forced to stay in a place that disgusted him.

Good, she thought.

She wanted him to feel what she had felt during the month she had spent in King's Landing, imprisoned by his mother and grandfather.

"− I wish to spend this afternoon with my mother − if you so desire, I can show you in which chamber the library is located −" She said lightly, without looking at him however, taking a bite of bread spread with confiture. Her husband rolled his eyes, displeased.

"I have no intention of leaving your quarters." He replied indifferently.

She raised her eyebrows in amusement at his words.

"You are not my prisoner, uncle. You can walk and fly wherever you please. Holding someone by force is not in my nature." She murmured softly − her husband gave her one tired look.

She smiled at him in a way from which he swallowed hard and looked away, sighing heavily.

He knew she was enraged and he wasn't going to get in her way.

One of the aspects she enjoyed upon returning home was that she had finally retrieved all her robes; her uncle looked at her from the side, watching as her servants helped her put on a golden gown with long black sleeves that reached the ground.

"− make braids around my head − my husband adores it when I wear this hairstyle, is he not? −" She sneered, glancing at him over her shoulder. She only saw him roll his eyes, running his hand over his face, not saying a word.

He knew he had to endure everything she was throwing at him with humility if he didn't want to make his already bad situation worse.

She had no idea what he could do to regain her favour, her trust, the respect she had for him.

"− have a pleasant day, husband −" She threw over her shoulder, leaving him alone in the chamber, recognising that she did not care what he did.

As she stepped into her mother's quarters, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, putting down the quill she held in her hand, approaching her with surprise and uncertainty written on her face.

"− is it true? − are you planning to stay in Dragonstone? −" She asked in a trembling voice − she smiled and nodded. Her mother sighed in relief and walked over to her, embracing her tightly with her arms, snuggling her head into her neck.

They pulled away from each other after a moment, her hands gripping her cheeks, her thumbs stroking her skin as if she remembered a time when she was still a small child.

"− let's sit down −"

Being in her chamber again was like a dream to her − she couldn't believe she was sitting at the same table again, surrounded by the same furniture and bed with a red curtain, with the windows open to a view of the great sea.

"− does he treat you well? −" She asked suddenly, taking her hand in her own.

Her mother's question surprised her, but it also filled her heart with warmth and emotion.

"− I − yes − despite his harsh, difficult nature −"

"− so how did he let this happen? −" She asked, exposing a part of her wrist with her thumb, where her pale scar was clearly visible. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what to answer her.

She wanted to tell her about the moon tea, but hesitated.

She didn't want her to think that her husband knew about it, that he was a worse person than she assumed.

It devastated her to think that she still had to tell half-truths.

"− I did it as an act of desperation − when he found out he wouldn't leave my side for weeks − he wouldn't let anyone but himself, Helaena and the maester cross the threshold of my quarters − he let me see Luke −" She muttered, looking at her at last. Her mother lowered her gaze, sighing quietly, tired and pale.

"− when Daemon passed on your words to me, I was furious − I didn't understand how you could do this to me −" She began and fell silent, closing her eyelids for a moment.

She felt an all-consuming shame at the thought that she had failed and disappointed her as a daughter.

"− forgive me − I would never question your rights if it were only about you − but you know very well that it is not −" She said cautiously − her mother lifted her gaze to her and nodded.

"− I know −"

They fell silent for a moment.

"− can I trust him? − your husband − and my brother −" Her mother asked coldly; she raised her gaze to her, surprised to feel that her lips involuntarily parted.

I don't know.

"− yes −" She muttered. "− he refused Maris Baratheon to take her as his wife − he himself proposed a form of compromise, and his elder brother supported him − Aegon is not a good man, but he cares about his children − he knows he will not leave them a secure, safe throne − just as you would not leave it to your sons −"

They said no more.

She spent some more time with her, just holding her hand, wordlessly trying to comfort her, thinking with weariness that she had to give up everything that was rightfully hers.

She finally decided to take pity on her husband and return to her chamber, not wanting to leave him alone for so long in a state of anxiety and uncertainty.

She felt her heart stop as she stepped into her quarters and saw no one inside − a cold shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him leaving her.

He had returned to King's Landing without her.

She pressed her lips together, involuntarily feeling her heart begin to pound like mad with pain and sadness, her eyes glazed over with tears that she was ashamed of, thinking it shouldn't hurt so much, and yet it did.

She looked around the room quickly, looking for a letter or anything else that might say he had left her some word, but found nothing of the sort; she shuddered when she heard someone's dim voices in the distance and walked over to the window.

Her father and her uncle stood facing each other on the beach with their hands folded behind their backs, discussing something animatedly, a clear tension between them.

She felt regret towards herself, her body filled with an overwhelming relief that he had not left her, that he had not betrayed her again.

She thought the gods had been cruel, allowing her to love this man so deeply.

She blinked, startled, when she heard the door from her chamber open; she turned and saw the figure of her eldest brother, who only spoke up when they heard a loud clatter of wood behind them.

"− how could you do this? − choose him over us? −" He growled with regret, resentment and disappointment, his big brown eyes filled with anger and pain from which she felt a tightening in her throat. She furrowed her brow and shook her head.

"− we both know what the truth is − you can't rule with lies −" She replied, shrugging her shoulders; Jace moved towards her and she flinched all over, surprised at how pale he was, his lips tightened into a thin line − she had the impression he was trembling all over.

"− this was my inheritance − my throne − my crown − and you chose him, a man who did not write back to your letters for eight years, who humiliated you by calling you a bastard, and you shared a bed with him the first night you saw him, like some... −" He didn't finish and fell silent, the word he wanted to say stuck deep in his throat. She felt her lower lip tremble at his accusation, her eyebrows arching in pain and anger, her eyes red from tears of shame and humiliation.

"− say it − you've already spoken the word in your mind −" She sneered, lifting her chin higher, challenging him.

"− I won't call you an unworthy name −" He muttered lowly, and she laughed involuntarily at his words, shaking her head.

"− you think that makes you a better man? − look at this −" She hissed, lifting her hand up, exposing her wrist tugging impatiently at the material of her black sleeve. "− here is what I have done for you and for your crown − should I do it again? −"

She swallowed loudly, surprised when she noticed that something in her brother's expression had changed − Jace had grabbed her wrist and locked it between his fingers, but there was no aggression in the gesture, his thumb stroking her smooth, bare skin.

They stared at each other for a moment, breathing loudly; she felt that there was a kind of tension between them from which her heart was pounding like mad, but she wasn't sure what it was caused by; something in his gaze, in his brown, misty eyes and parted lips, made her feel hot.

"− do you love him more than our mother? − than Luke, than Joffrey? − than me? −" He asked in a trembling voice and she shook her head, not understanding what he meant.

"− Jace − it's a different kind of love − I −"

"− what kind? −" He hissed. "− the kind where you're constantly betrayed? − in which someone mocks your parentage? − locks you up like some prisoner? −"

Gods.

"− Jace −" She gasped, feeling that something in his questions, in his gaze, in what he wanted to hear from her had broken her down, her whole body began to quiver.

She shuddered as he approached her suddenly, as his free hand cupped her warm cheeks, as his forehead pressed against hers, his voice trembling as the words left his throat like a river.

"− I am your oldest brother − you were born to be mine − I would be good to you − you know I would −"

"− brother, what are you saying? − you had no objections when my mother decided to marry me to Ronnel −" She said disapprovingly, furrowing her brow in anger.

"− it was our mother's decision − how could I oppose her? −" He asked with a frown, as if he really believed what he was saying, a cold shiver ran through her body as his thumb ran over the soft skin of her cheek, hot with emotion.

"− you have never loved me − not in this way, we both know it well − you have always preferred to lie to yourself rather than face the truth − you do not look at me as the woman you desire, but as an inheritance that was taken from you −" She said with pain, feeling that what he was saying was not due to any deep feeling he had for her, but to his anger that she was not waiting for him docilely like his throne and his crown.

Her brother swallowed hard at her words, his hot, ragged breath enveloping the skin of her face.

"− when you were born, our mother told me that you might be my future wife − and I always, always saw you this way −"

"− you mocked me with Aegon −"

"− I craved his attention − he was older and impressed me − didn't you do anything you regretted as a child? −" He muttered wearily; she felt her heart stop at his words, a drop of cold sweat run down the back of her neck.

What was she supposed to answer him?

"− brother − I am married to another man − of my own free will −"

"− you are a traitor −"

"− how dare you −"

"− you are a traitor, but I still am unable to hate you −"

A squeal of terror stuck in her throat, her body froze completely as his lips pressed against hers in a greedy, hot, sticky kiss, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, refusing to let her move away.

She cried out and pushed him away − before he could make any move her hand slapped him in the face so hard that he took a few steps back, clutching his red cheek, panting heavily.

"− get out −" She muttered, placing her hand over her heart, feeling as if it was about to burst out of her chest. "− get out of my chamber, brother − I'll forget this...conversation ever took place −"

Jace swallowed hard, horrified and ashamed, as if it had only now occurred to him what he had actually done.

What would Baela say if she saw this?

It seemed to him that they both couldn't believe he had done it − Jace had turned and walked out, leaving behind an open door and a complete blank in her mind.

She thought he wanted to take it out on their uncle, to take away something that belonged to him.

That she was just an object for him on which he had decided to vent.

She thought with pain that he, unlike her husband, had never tried to truly understand her.

When her uncle returned to her chamber they did not exchange a word − he seemed distracted and frustrated to her. He took one of the books from the bookshelf and sat by the fireplace, pretending to read. She lowered her gaze, playing with her fingers, thinking only of the fact that if she hid it from him, she would be just like him.

She didn't know for a long time how she should put it into words, but she figured he'd be furious either way.

"− Jace kissed me − on the lips −" She muttered, glancing at him fearfully − his eye opened wide, looking at her in disbelief, his jaw clenched in such a way that a shudder went through her.

He was silent for a moment, as if he had run out of words, which frightened her even more.

"− he did WHAT? −" He growled, closing the book with a loud slam, pulling himself up from his seat like an enraged bear.

"− he kissed me − grief and humiliation took his mind away − I − wait − gods −" She muttered, standing up as soon as he headed towards the door, which he opened with a loud clatter, running out into the corridor after him.

"− Aemond − no, no, no − stop! −" She hissed, grabbing his arm, but he pulled away from her, opening door after door until he found himself in the right room − Jace and Beala were sitting together at a table, apparently discussing something.

Her older brother rose from his seat and turned pale at the sight of them, horrified.

Her husband walked into his quarters with a wide, menacing smile, exactly the same one he bestowed on him and Luke when they saw him duelling with Criston Cole in King's Landing. He put his hands behind his back, shifting his body weight to one leg, cocking his head.

"− haven't you learned yet not to take what's not yours? − hm? −"

"− Aemond −" She said warningly, but her uncle didn't listen to her, his healthy eye wide open, as if he was just waiting for this.

An opportunity for confrontation.

"− your sister when we were children told me that she never desired you as a man − she knew even then that you were a cunt −" He sneered amused, revealing his teeth in a wide grin full of feigned recognition.

"− Aemond, that's enough −"

"− how dare you? − you are a guest under our roof − get out −" Baela thundered.

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that she knew nothing.

She moved ahead and stood in front of her husband, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"− we are leaving −"

"− no − I'm speaking with my nephew −"

"− we are leaving, uncle, or I swear I will never return with you to King's Landing −"

"− so I'll stay here with you − Jace as ruler of Dragonstone will surely be delighted to host us, won't he? − he seems to have a weakness for you, sweet wife −" He murmured in a voice filled with poison, from which a strong shiver ran along her back.

"− Jace, say something at last! −" Baela hissed, furious that her betrothed simply looked at their uncle and remained silent, unable to get a word out.

"− I made a mistake − I shouldn't have done it, forgive me − I −" He directed his words to her, to his sister, sadness and regret in his gaze, from which she involuntarily felt sympathy.

"− you made a mistake? − I seem to be able to understand the feeling − I have made a similar one many times, as well as others, even worse ones −" Her husband hissed, gripping her cheeks in his hand − her voice stuck in her throat as his fleshy lips clung to hers in an aggressive, loud kiss, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat.

She sighed as he turned her back to him, pressing her brutally against his chest and grabbed her neck − she grasped his wrist as his free hand slid down her lower abdomen, his fingers dug into the material of her gown beneath which her womanhood lay, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"− so beautiful, isn't she, nephew? − I couldn't help myself either − I can't count how many times I took her − how many times I have filled her with my seed − right here −" He breathed out into her ear and she closed her eyes, feeling with horror and disbelief that her nipples had hardened, that her walls had clenched around nothing at his embarrassing words, feeling his finger tease what lay between her thighs despite her resistance.

"− u-uncle − stop −" She muttered, a moan stuck in her throat as she felt his erection behind her throb hard at her words, pushing against her buttocks, his fingertips dug deep into her folds hidden beneath the fabric.

Gods, he wanted her brother to watch this.

Baela looked at Jace as if she suddenly understood everything, her eyebrows arched in pain and disbelief.

"− what did you do? −" She asked quietly, her older brother shook his head, all red, turning his face away, unable to look at it.

"− I −" He didn't finish; her uncle let her go immediately, panting loudly as she did when Daemon walked into the chamber, looking at them, then at Jace and his daughter.

He grinned.

"− what is the meaning of this...commotion? − hm? −" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement and mockery; she looked away and glanced at her uncle, shaking her head with furrowed brows, letting him know that he was to remain silent.

Her husband pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not utter a word.

They stood in awkward silence, with only the quiet fizzle of the blazing fire in the fireplace around them.

"Mmm." Her husband hummed and turned away, heading for the door. Not knowing what to do, she simply moved after him, casting only one apologetic glance at Baela.

When they finally returned to her chamber she let out a loud breath.

"− what was that supposed to mean? −" She asked in frustration, wondering what had possessed him.

She tried not to think about how embarrassingly wet she was now.

"− I don't know what you're referring to, wife − I've merely shown my nephew the depth of my understanding as to his desire −" He grinned, grabbing a jug full of wine, pouring himself a full cup of it.

She licked her lower lip in impatience, standing still and watching him − their gazes met as he raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep sip from it.

"− what − are you wet now? −" He sneered and she felt a hot wave of shame surge through her body − she felt like her cheeks had turned scarlet.

"− don't mock me − this was humiliating −" She growled, furrowing her brow, a smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"− if you say so, wife −" He muttered, approaching her lazily, playing with his cup in his hand, raising it to his lips again "− I, however, think you'd rather I did something else −"

He said and took another sip of wine, swallowing it loudly, towering over her with a look from which a pleasant shiver ran through her core.

"− I think you'd rather I fucked you good in front of him − for me to slip my fingers under your skirt and sink them into your leaking cunt −" He murmured, leaning over her so that the tips of their noses were almost touching, her walls swelling all over at his words − she felt a drop of her own wetness run down her thigh.

"− am I wrong? −" He asked, cocking his head curiously, taking another sip of wine from his goblet without taking his eyes off her.

She drew in a loud breath as he set his cup down on the table standing beside them with a loud clang of steel, taking a step towards her, his lips parted in desire.

Gods, no.

"− don't touch me −"

She saw him squint his eyes as he hesitated, his nostrils flaring in accelerated breath.

She knew he was hard.

She knew he wanted to soften her up.

"Mmm."

She immediately summoned her servant wishing that she would help her pull off her gown and let her hair down. After this, she lay down in bed, covering herself with thick furs, not looking at him or speaking a word to him. She swallowed hard when she heard him lie down right next to her and closed her eyelids when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

She thought he would try to touch her, embrace her and give her a reason to push him away, but he just lay behind her back, driving her crazy.

She waited for some time, listening to his quiet breathing, and decided that he was surely asleep by now; her hand slipped silently into the material of her nightgown, lifting it up. She swallowed quietly, tightening her lips as her fingers sank into her leaking, soft, hot womanhood begging to be fulfilled, teasing and squeezing the bud between its fleshy folds.

She felt herself grow hot, her heart began to pound like mad at the indecent idea that these was his hand touching her in front of Jace, making him watch, wanting him to see what her fulfilment looked like.

She felt her walls clench greedily around nothing at the thought, her fingers teasing the spot between her puffy folds with circular, intense strokes.

Involuntarily, her hips began to rock softly to the rhythm of the flicks of her own fingers, she felt that she was wonderfully close to fulfilment.

"− what are you doing? −" She heard his low, cool voice and froze completely. She swallowed hard, sliding her hand, sticky with her own moisture from between her thighs, and remained silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.

"− go on −" He said in a hoarse, deep voice from which a shiver went down her spine. She heard a rustling behind her and then the sticky sound of skin slapping against skin − his hot breathing quickened, heavy and ragged. "− come on −"

She couldn't help herself; his fingers dug into her swollen folds again causing a wave of heat to pass through her body − she felt pleasant tickling sensations in her lips, fingertips and nipples. She moaned quietly when she felt his nose pressed against her hair, her hips involuntarily began to rock when she heard him begin to pant, the splats behind her getting louder, louder and louder.

"− fuck − you know I'd lick you good there − hm? −" He sighed and she felt her whole body quiver, her fingers teasing her puffy pearl all sticky from her own wetness.

"− mhgm −" She whined, tilting her head back, feeling his hot, uneven breath on her ear, his swollen, wet lips run down her neck.

"− are you leaking? − are you leaking at the thought of how good I would make you feel? − at the thought of your brother watching me fuck his little sister? −" He breathed out, and she moaned loudly as she felt a wonderful, relieved sensation at his words, her fulfilment shaking her like a hot, tickling wave.

Her slit pulsed all under her fingers as her own moisture leaked out of her, she shuddered when she felt his warm, rough tongue run across the bare skin of her neck, leaving a slick, wet mark on it.

"− fuck, Rheanys −" He muttered and after a moment he gasped − she felt something sticky and warm spurt out onto the back of her nightgown.

His seed.

Gods.

She closed her eyelids, trying to calm her breathing, furious at herself and her weakness.

"− let me embrace you −"

"− no −"

She heard him huff, sighing heavily, his face still sunk into her neck.

"− move away, uncle −"

"− I inhale the wonderful scent of vanilla after having experienced fulfilment with my wife −"

"− your wife does not wish for this −"

"− sleep −"

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, thinking with frustration that she hated him with all her heart.

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magalhaessims · 2 days

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DEL SOL BOULEVARD - MAXIS-MATCH CC BUILD

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Lot Type: Thrift And Bubble Tea Store | Retail

Size: 30x30

World: Del Sol Valley

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CC USED IN THIS BUILD:

NOTE: For convenience, some of the CC is included in the Download Folder. Please put it in your Mods Folder along with the CC linked below.

Charly Pancakes: Lavish | Miscellanea | Modish | Munch 01 & 02 | Soak | The Lighthouse Collection || TheClutterCat: Baby Boo | Dandy Diary | Mermaid Mansion | On The Edge | Snuggle Set | Sunny Sundae || Felixandre: Berlin | Chateau | Grove Set | Shop The Look 01 - 03 | Soho || Harrie: Brownstone | Brutalist Bathroom | Halcyon Kitchen | Klean | Kwatei | Octave | Shop The Look 02 & 03 | Spoons || House Of Harlix: Baysic Collection & Bathroom | Harluxe | Kichen 2 Point 1 | Livin'Rum | Orjanic | The Bafroom | The Kichen || KKB-MM: My Cherish Things: Kitchen || LittleDica: Arcane | Chic Bathroom | Delicious Kitchen | Greasy Goods | H&B Store | Rise&Grind | Sleek Slumber || Max20: Cozy Bathroom Kit | Poolside Lounge (Plants) || MLys: Pufferhead Stuff Pack || Peacemaker-ic: Bowed Bedroom | Bowed Living | Creta Kitchen | Furrowed Plaster Wall | Geometric Mural Wall || Pierisim: Auntie Vera Bathroom | Calderone | Coldbrew Coffee Shop | Combles | David Apartment | MCM House | Oak House | Pantry Party | Stefan | Tilable Kitchen | Woodland Ranch || S-imagination: Nota Living Room | Rutland Kitchen || Sixam-CC: Home Office (Printer) | Hotel Bedroom (Hair Brush) | Private School (Water Fountain) || Someone-Elsa: Passion By Judith Ward Collection || Surely-Sims: Kitchen Of Tomorrow (Nuka Cola) || Syboulette: Fabulous | Happy Stairways | Love Is In The Air | Neighborly | Nothing To Wear | Pavilion || Taurus Design: Judith Living Room || Tuds: Beam Living | Ema Living

The CC Sets above are the main ones I used to decorate this specific building and you can find all the links to the creators’ sites on my Resource Page. However, if you can’t find something specific, you can send me a WCIF and I’ll try to help you find it!

HOW TO MAKE THIS LOT FUNCTIONAL:

For the Boba Tea Store, I've added the ThriftTea Bubble Tea Counter created by @srslysims. It features the same animation and interactions as the vanilla version but without the bulky counter it comes with.

For the Clothing Store, I recommend using the Fashion Store Mod by Nando. I've placed interactive mirrors in the changing cabins so your Sims can actually buy clothes from them.

For the Sephora Store, I'm utilizing the Functional Perfumes by @aroundthesims along with the Saleabration Store Mod by @ravasheencc, allowing your Sims to buy and use them! Additionally, I've included the New Styling Station (Chair) by @aroundthesims so your Sims can enjoy a little makeover at the store.

For the Bookstore, I'm incorporating both the Retail Therapy Mod by @ravasheencc and the Self-Service Kiosk by @aroundthesims, enabling your Sims to purchase books within the store. You don't have to have both mods installed if you don't want to; either one will suffice!

For a more immersive experience with this lot, I highly suggest downloading LittleMsSam’s Auto Employees Mod. With this mod, NPCs will automatically work at the lot once you place the correct object for them to appear.

Make sure to read all the information available on the mods' pages in order to ensure they work properly in your game!

My content will always be free and right away available to everyone, but if you want to, you can show your support through my Ko-Fi Page. Your donation will always be much appreciated!

Thanks: @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @s4realtor @coffee-houses-finds @charlypancakes @felixandresims @harrie-cc @kkbsmm @littledica @peacemaker-ic @pierisim @s-imagination @imfromsixam @someone-elsa @simkoos @surely-sims @syboubou @taurusdesign @tudtuds

#the sims 4 #ts4 maxis match #ts4 build #ts4 cc build #ts4 speed build #ts4 community lot #ts4 del sol valley #ts4 shopping #ts4 retail #ts4 boba tea #download #build

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 day

Text

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”.

Well, that couldn’t be right.

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day.

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail.

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store.

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!”

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last.

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read.

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you.

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh.

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him.

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right?

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school.

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?”

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled.

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.”

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye.

“As much as I can be.”

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked.

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.”

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.”

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back.

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal.

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts.

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy.

But not now.

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle.

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them.

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going.

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later:

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

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aziraphales-library · 2 days

Note

Hello! Good days to you!! I was wondering if there are any more accidental love confession fics??? I've checked out your tag, but there's few; I've read them all,,, so sorry if this is too much to ask for! Thank you always for the wonderful work!! <3<3

Hi! We do have a healthy #accidental love confession tag, but sure, here are more to add to the collection...

An Impulsive Knight In Dark Armour by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0 (G)

Crowley saves Aziraphale from a plane crash. Aziraphale reprimands him for going into the dangerous situation. They're fighting, emotions are running high, who knows what might accidentally slip out?

Snakenoises by Lilian (T)

What if Crowley confessed accidentally, and then got so overwhelmed he could only make snakenoises for minutes? A getting together scene featuring one very cool demon, a finally no longer angsting angel, and a lot of soft fluff.

saying something stupid (like I love you) by gazing (G)

“Night, angel.” Crowley yawns. “Love you.”

from my heart all love by scienceblues (T)

Tucked away near the back sits a rack with a small selection of illustrated cards with various anthropomorphic objects on the front, and he catches himself wondering who on Earth might like this sort of thing. They’re all unbearably twee. Which means, of course, that he knows just the angel who might appreciate one of them.

I’ve no intention of confessing today by IneffableDoll (T)

Crowley, in a drunken fit of inspiration (read: idiocy), miracles a love letter to the bookshop.

Leave A Message After The Beep by MmmmToast (NR)

- post Armageddon - When Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking at Aziraphales book shop Crowley gets considerably more drunk than Aziraphale and accidentally confessed his love for the Angel. Before Aziraphale can reply Crowley is gone and locked himself away in his flat. Aziraphale now had to find a way to get to Crowley before it is to late.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #accidental love confession #love confessions #mod d

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manicpixiefelix · 3 days

Text

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #head heart hand fic #manic writer #okay so i got a bit drunk before writing the last few paragraphs don't judge me

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valsdelulucorner · 2 days

Note

I love the way you write for Obey me characters. It fits nicely, that I enjoyed reading all of them. I had to make sure I’m requesting a character you haven’t done yet.

I would love to read Satan headcanons.

Thank you so much anon<3 of course I can do Satan, I haven't done him yet so I'll be happy to write for him

Satan Head cannons<3

Satan is always abit insecure when it comes to Lucifer, always being mistaken for him even though they are vastly different. He always gets mad at someone for comparing him to or calling him Lucifer and for a valid reason, he feels like he is just a cheep copy of him, that he isn't as loved by lucifer because he was born once lucifer fell

Once you came to the Devildom though, he was surprised that you never compared him to lucifer (out loud) or even mistaken him for Lucifer. He grew to appreciate you more when he overheard you correct one of his brothers when they were comparing him to Lucifer, overhearing you point out the differences and saying that they were different people. He never told you he heard you say this but he appreciates you for it, glad that you see him as his own person and not just a clone of Lucifer

Satan has gotten better at controlling his wrath but that doesn't mean it doesn't show, his anger can be explosive when triggered and we see this when he almost badly hurt us that one time. After the pact and when he started to grow closer with you, he discovered that he is alot calmer with you and that your not one of his triggers, but instead one of his methods of calming down

When Satan goes into one of his episodes, his brothers will either sprint up to you and use you as a shield (they know satan wont hurt you), his brothers will drag you down and try and make him calm down, or his will make his way to find you and rant to you. If your resting in his room and he storm in in his demon form, he will rant to you while throwing books around, making sure that none of them hit you and will try not to snap at you.

Satan normally feels really bad after a episode so if your there with him, he will lay with you and hold onto you tightly, mumbling apologies and "I hate feeling this angry", still in his demon form while he holds onto you. He holds you in his tail while he buries his face into your neck or chest, holding onto you while you either play with his hair or read to him. You help him calm down, he cant be more greatful to you whenever your there supporting him

Satan loves taking you on library, cafe, museum and book dates. He will take your hand and gently lead you around a library or museum, leading you around and softly going on about where some ancient text came from, where certain artifacts where founded. His favourite date idea though is a winter Cafe trip before renting some books from the library out, heading back home before cuddling up on the sofa and enjoying your food and books Infront of the fireplace

If you come to the devildom as a writer or a artist, he will make a few requests. As a writer, he would absolutely love to read anything you write and make a few requests about some ideas he's been wanting to write about, extremely happy when you do end up writing for him. He would Tresure it forever and make sure to keep it in a collection that no one is allowed to touch, only for his eyes to see. As a artist, he would give you a little list of attributes and traits and politely ask if you could draw a character from a book for him. wither your a writer or a artist, he would love and treasure your creations

I love the head cannon that Satan uses his tail as a whip, which gives me the idea that he can use his tail in combat. His tail is sharp but he can also close up his scales to make it smooth and harmless, the mode he uses to cuddle and hold you with. When he's threatened or pissed however, he will puff up his scales and harden them, making his tail sharp and dangerous. His tail can get very dirty after occasions like this so it is mandatory for him to clean his tail so he doesn't get a infection.

If you offered to help him clean his tail, he would absolutely refuse to let you touch his tail in the state its in, he doesn't want to accidently hurt you. He does appreciate it though if you sit next to him and just keep him company while he cleans his tail, having you hand him cleaning products while he scrubs in-between his sharp scales. He deeply appreciates you more then you know, even if its just something like sitting next to him while he cleans his tail of dirt and blood

He loves having you lay on his lap while he reads late into the night, playing with your hair as he reads a book, admiring your sleeping face from time to time. His tail gently holds your waist or wraps around your legs while you sleep against his thighs, subconsciously making sure your safe and sound while he continues to read. He loves to rest on your lap aswell, sleeping peacefully against your thighs as your fingers play with his hair. His tail wraps around your ankle and calf while he cuddles into you, a quite purr coming from his chest as he nuzzles into your belly

He calls you his darling, his muse, and his rose.

If he accidentally hurts you during one of his fits, he feels extremely guilty after he calms down. He goes to find you and tries not to grimace when he finds you patching yourself up, sighing softly before going to help you. Non stop apologies slip from his laps as he patches you up properly, his heart sinking as he makes sure you are properly ok. He gets so much more careful with you after this experience, making sure your not in the room when he gets violent

Satan does his research on humans and will randomly drop one of the most traumatizing facts about humans before just going on about his day, thinking he will impress you with these facts. "Hey my darling, did you know that [A random traumatizing fact about humans that will completely ruin your day]" "Satan..... darling...." *Proud of himself thinking he impressed you"

"Im scared I might loose myself and hurt you" "I'll still stand beside you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two fics in one day, im feeling good! I honestly really struggled with Satan because i don't normally write about him but i liked this! I hope I did Satan alright anon and i hope you enjoyed!

Who should i do next?

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earthtoharlow · 2 days

Text

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand.

Series Masterlist

1. Jungle

Don't know where we stand, I used to hit you 'bout everything. Are we still good? Are we still good?

Maryse let out a nervous sigh as she fluffed her hair in the mirror. The air was thick with anticipation and slight nostalgia. Tonight was the Grammys and she was nominated for Best R&B Song and Best R&B Album, to say she was nervous was an understatement.

Tonight also marked the anniversary of the day Jack and her met for the first time…or rather the anniversary of when he saved her from falling on her face in front of everyone. Maryse couldn’t help but still long for Jack, who was and will probably always be her greatest muse.

She hadn’t heard or seen Jack since the night he left her house. He had even been silent on social media so she couldn’t even stalk him if she wanted to. Maryse’s thoughts were cut short when her manager, CoCo, spoke up from the door behind her.

“You ready? The car is outside.”

Maryse looked at herself in the mirror one more time, and noticed the missing spark from her eyes. She closed her eyes and made another silent promise to herself that she would one day reignite that spark, to find happiness and fulfillment once more, whether with Jack or on her own.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

***

Jack strode confidently down the red carpet with PG. Despite the flurry of activity around him, he remained focused on the task at hand, his mind consumed with thoughts of the upcoming awards ceremony.

His stride came to a halt when an interviewer called out to him, their words causing him to pause in his tracks. “Hey, Jack, did you hear? Maryse mentioned she’s rooting for you to win tonight,” the interviewer exclaimed, a hint of excitement evident in their voice.

Jack’s initial stoic demeanor softened at his words, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a subtle warmth. Turning towards the interviewer, he offered a grateful nod, his gratitude evident in his face.

“Really? That means a lot,” he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of appreciation and sincerity. Despite the way they ended, Jack couldn’t deny the swell of pride that washed over him at the knowledge that Maryse still held him in such high regard. “I’m rooting for her as well.”

As Jack made his way inside, his thoughts drifted back to a year ago when he crossed paths with Maryse for the first time. The memory of them first locking eyes as he helped her up the stairs to get her award tugged at his heartstrings and their history started to weigh heavy on his shoulders as he saw the very stages he climbed to “save her.”

Glancing around the venue from his seat, he immediately noticed the familiar silhouette of Maryse, he couldn’t miss those curls even if he wanted to. In that moment, he silently wished she would turn her head and meet his gaze. Jack was sure he would always yearn for her.

He didn’t realize how hard it was going to be seeing Maryse again. For months he wanted to reach out but he didn’t want to reopen old wounds. Jack’s gaze remained on Maryse as he watched her mingle with the celebrities at her table, her laughter could be heard from across the room.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity creeping into his thoughts as he watched her. Was Maryse feeling the same way he did, he wondered, her demeanor showed no hint of being as heartbroken as he was. Did she realize what today meant? Jack continued these thoughts as the award show started, but as he watched Maryse, the distance between them seemed to stretch further, and it drove him crazy.

***

Maryse's heart pounded in her chest as the announcer listed off the nominees for Best R&B Album. She gave a nervous smile to the camera when her name and album was mentioned. She closed her eyes, and grabbed a hold of CoCo’s hand who squeezed it in support.

“And the Grammy goes to…”-Ugh, Those Feelings Again, Maryse Monet!”

Maryse gasped in her seat, eyes wide with tears of joy streaming down her face. She stood up and gave CoCo a hug and thanked her in her ear. As she was making her way up the aisle, Doja stopped her and quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, and congratulated her.

She made sure to take the steps one foot at a time so that she didn’t have a repeat of last year. With a wistful smile, Maryse spoke into the microphone, her voice carrying across the hushed auditorium. “You know, I was a little worried I might trip on my way up here again,” she quipped, drawing a chuckle from the audience. “But thankfully, I made it in one piece this time!”

As the laughter subsided, Maryse took a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “But in all seriousness, I want to express my deepest gratitude to everyone who has been a part of this incredible journey,” she continued, her voice tinged with sincerity. “From the amazing team who worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make this album a reality, to the fans who have supported me every step of the way – this Grammy belongs to all of you.”

Maryse took a pause, and her eyes shifted towards Jack in the crowd. “And to the person who has been my biggest inspiration and my greatest supporter,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “Thank you for believing in me, for pushing me to be the best version of myself, and for sharing your incredible talent and creativity with me. This album would not have been possible without you, and I am forever grateful for the love and the music we have shared.”

With that, Maryse raised the Grammy high above her head. Her heart was overflowing with love and joy. She knew that no matter what the future held, Jack was always going to be her muse.

As Maryse delivered her speech, Jack's eyes fixed her with a mix of pride, love and disbelief. As he watched her bask in the spotlight, her talent and dedication recognized by the industry, any lingering feelings of envy or regret faded into the background.

When she mentioned her muse his heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in his throat. Despite not saying his name, he knew, deep down, that she was referring to him.

In that moment, Jack realized that Maryse’s victory was their victory, her success brought him a sense of fulfillment and validation that surpassed any accolades or awards he could have received himself.

Tears welled up in Jack’s eyes as he listened to her words, overcome by the unexpectedness of her acknowledgment and the flood of emotions it stirred within him.

Even though he had braced himself for the evening, he didn’t expect the intensity of his feelings upon hearing her speech. As Maryse left the stage he knew in the back of his mind that they would get back together again sooner rather than later. He would make sure of it.

LIFEOFMONET

liked by urbanwyatt, chloebailey, druski, choycebrown, torikelly, jackharlow, saweetie, dojacat and 678,086 others

lifeofmonet: Big hair, two toned lips, and my fav glasses…I was looking real cute before my tears ruined my makeup!

view all 9,467 comments

user: omg that dress!!

user: CONGRATULATIONS!!!

user: anyone catch how she thanked Jack?

saweetie: so proud of you ❤️

urbanwyatt: 🔥🔥🔥🔥

***

Maryse got comfortable in her bed and pulled out her headphones. She was busy all day in the studio when she caught news that Jack had surprise dropped an album. She couldn’t help but notice how buff he looked on the cover, Maryse had to shake her head at the thoughts that popped up in her head before pressing play on the album.

She closed her eyes as the beats filled the room, she loved how honest he got with each track. Maryse couldn’t help but feel guilt when Denver started playing, wishing she had known the depth of how he was feeling at the time. She was sure that the added weight of her hesitation to move in with him added to the stress he was already facing.

Perhaps if she had opened up sooner, they could have faced those challenges together, instead of allowing her doubts to drive them apart. Regret washed over her as Maryse realized the impact of her actions, and she vowed to learn from her mistakes. These past few months apart helped her realize that she needed to be more open, more honest, and more willing to confront her fears, not just for her own sake, but for the sake of her love for Jack.

***

Maryse rushed through the lobby of the recording studio in Kentucky, she was there to record a song with Bryson and because of traffic she was running late. Having never been to that particular studio before Maryse hurriedly asked the person at the front desk where his studio room was located, as she waited for the front desk to look it up, she heard a familiar laugh. Maryse turned to her left and there stood Jack engrossed in conversation with Urban and Bryson.

She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. Just as she considered slipping back out unnoticed, their eyes met, and time seemed to freeze for a heartbeat. Jack’s expression mirrored her surprise, his eyes widening, before a flicker of something else passed through them.

Maryse walked towards the group, giving Bryson and Urban a hug first. “Hey,” Maryse finally said, breaking the silence as she offered Jack a small smile.

Jack returned the smile, his features softening. “Hey,” he replied, his voice warm but with a hint of hesitation.

The air began to fill with awkwardness as they stared at each other.

“Hey, Urb can you come help me with that thing?” Bryson said, turning towards Urban. “What thing?” Urban asked him, confused.

Bryson punched Urban in the arm and gave him a pointed look. “That thing that just suddenly came up. So come on!” and dragged Urban away but not before telling Maryse that he’d see her in the studio.

Jack stood there with a sigh and his checks turned red slightly from embarrassment. All Maryse could do was smile.

“Sorry about them.” Jack apologized running a hand through her messy curls, Maryse couldn’t help but notice he was letting it grow out, a bit unkempt compared to how she remembered.

“You’ve let your curls run wild,” Maryse remarked with a gentle smile, her tone teasing yet filled with fondness.

Jack chuckled softly, a hint of sheepishness in his expression. “Yeah, I've been too caught up with everything to keep up with them,” he admitted, running another hand through his tousled hair.

The familiarity of their banter brought a sense of comfort to the both of them. Happy that despite the time apart some things remained unchanged between them.

With a bittersweet smile, Jack stepped closer to her. “Congratulations on the Grammy, by the way.” he said, his voice genuine. “You deserve it.”

Maryse returned the smile, feeling a sense of warmth wash over her despite the lingering tension between them. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “And congrats on your album too. I listened to it, and… it’s really good.”

There was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he nodded. “Thanks,” he murmured, a hint of emotion in his voice. “Means a lot coming from you.”

It became quiet again before Maryse spoke up. “I wouldn’t have come to the studio if I knew you were going to be here,” Maryse confessed, her tone filled with uncertainty.

“Why not?” Jack questioned, his gaze searching hers.

“Because I didn’t know if you would want to see me,” she admitted softly, her words heavy with the weight of their past.

“There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t want to see you,” Jack confessed, his voice vulnerable yet sincere.

Tears welled up in Maryse's eyes as she heard his words, a mix of sadness and longing washing over her.

Maryse nods and starts walking backwards, “Well, I’m going to go. I don’t want to keep Bryson waiting any longer.” She turns around and quickly walks down the long hallway, she had no idea where she was going but she needed to escape. Just as she was about to disappear from view, she heard Jack calling out her name. Her heart skipped a beat, and she hesitated for a moment before slowly turning around to face him.

Jack stood there, looking at her with hope in his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, almost as if he still couldn’t believe she was really there. “How long are you gonna be in town?”

Maryse swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Just a couple of days,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, his words hanging in the air between them. “Would you… would you want to hang out? Maybe we could actually talk.” His tone was nervous, as if he was afraid of her answer.

She met his gaze, feeling a rush of emotions flood over her. Despite everything that had happened between them, she couldn’t deny the longing she felt to spend time with him again. With a nod, she managed to reply, “I’d love that.”

***

an: aaaaaand we back!!!

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ginabaker1666 · 3 days

Text

This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are.

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it?

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours.

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do.

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there.

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true.

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again.

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love.

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie.

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest.

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned.

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.”

The two shared a quiet moment as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off.

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point.

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend.

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind.

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding.

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face.

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did.

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued.

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too.

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.”

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand.

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69.

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label.

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth.

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them.

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag.

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed.

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry.

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled.

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them.

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit.

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later.

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly.

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment.

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table.

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed.

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly.

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession.

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed.

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face.

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him.

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air.

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve.

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note.

Hi Sweetheart,

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home.

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey.

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day.

I love you,

Robbie

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie

#masters of the air #love letters: rosie & jo #mota fanfic #rosie rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal fic #robert rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal x oc #nate mann #hbo war #gina baker writes

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thoughtfulchaos773 · 19 hours

Text

Thanks @vacationship for pointing out that Sydney initiates the first touch with Carmy in Review. As an obsessive person, I will analyze the choice to touch Carmy and the buildup to it.

(Warning: This might bring up some annoyance with Carmy. However, the tension and buildup leading to his explosion in this episode are incredibly well done. Looking back on the episode, it speaks to Carmy's character development season 2.)

So we fast forward to Ebra reading the review, revealing Sydney's dish as the restaurant's highlight.

Ribbon of brine, huh?

Carmy was already busy but noticed he didn't initiate eye contact with her like usual. The only time he looks her way is to shake his head in disappointment-hurt-anger that this dish she makes herself and that he says isn't ready. It gets a green light. Really, it's about Carmys not being genuinely ready to change for their relationship to develop. Carmy doesn't do this until fast forward - he loses Sydney.

Maybe the lack of eye contact tells us there's a disconnect, and there will continue to be a disconnect between them throughout the episode. And the GLARE carmy makes at Sydney. Everyone should already know shit about to blow up.

Carmy was ANGRY.

He's nodding in agreement, but you can make it out that he's stewing while sydney is asking for understanding, something he's struggling to give.

Sidebar: it brings up the importance of Tina's say hello to Jeff's friend. Carmy isn't feeling that connection - that friendship right now.so Tina saying that adds fuel to his fire.

Fast forward to more buildup, Richie and Sydney's argument. Carmy comes up with his baggage, ready to end the fight between him, but he is not much help.

Carmy intervenes, and there's still no steady eye contact with Sydney.

Oh and the importance of Sydney saying WE are learning (call back to carmy asking Sydney in 1x03 bridgade, WE want to make this place better, right?). Early on, they established their bond, but Carmy makes sure, maybe out of spite, to say the new system was her idea.

This is when Sydney really notices they are not on the same page. That he's pushing her away.

Which is what makes her make the unconscious decision to touch carmy. A plea to connect again.

Carmy stops like she asks him to through touch. Even though he was ready to walk away, he couldn't help but take a moment to pause even though they're under pressure with time. And for the first time, he really looks at her. His eyes come up even though he's still in his feelings about the whole thing.

That also tells us about Carmy's character. He doesn't talk about his feelings, which reminds me of episode 2x06 'Fishes', where Mikey had to practically drag out of Carmy the reason why he was so angry with him. When Carmy is hurt, he either explodes quickly or lets it brew until it's too late. There's no balance in his anger.

But Sydney helps with this. With their relationship, they want to keep the connection going, and in order to do that, with disagreements, there needs to be a goal to always maintain connection.

Arguments happen even with the most compatible people. It isn't toxic as some naysayers use it as an excuse to this ship. both strives to connect and carmy, although angry stops to give Sydney a minute.

But he still turned away and didn't hash it out with her. He didn't check early on if she was okay. This could be a lesson learned- a blow up may not have happened if he had given Sydney more time and connected with her despite his anger.

This gesture reveals a lot about their relationship dynamic, and looking back, it helps me appreciate Carmy's character growth. His desire to improve communication and become a better partner for Sydney? Sydney being the same way and their efforts to maintain their relationship is what makes the ship so compelling.

#this is why the sorry sign is important #its saying “im mad at you but i still love you #I just need a minute #okay?#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney

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st-just · 16 hours

Note

sell me on Pale Lights

Hmm. Difficult without knowing where you're starting from as far as web serials/the author goes, I think? But to take a stab at it:

Elevator Pitch: In a vaguely early-modern fantasy world build around antediluvian ruins and small isles of light in a world-sized cavern, the Watch are an ancient militant order dedicated to hunting ancient and rampant gods. To be one of their officers is to be one of the most clued in and influential groups in the world - and there is a yearly trial for anyone really desperate enough to earn a spot. Our heroes - a street rat contracted with an unknown and unhelpful goddess of luck, and a noble swordswoman seeking refuge after the massacre of her family - begin the story rushing to take their berth on the ship headed toward the Dominion of Lost Things, and their own last chances.

What's Good:

Characters/Relationships: EE (the author) is a goddamn genius at writing engaging and entertaining banter between characters, and making different people in a conversation sound different. Both (and in book 2, all) of the POVs have engaging personal arcs and interestingly distinct internal monologues and neuroses. (Also, none of them are the unimpeachable moral exemplar and they're all allowed to be assholes and idiots when it seems appropriate).

Setting: Is it to some extent 'fantasy setting plopped into the Underdark without thinking through the implications of what that would mean?' Sure, a bit - but take that as read and the world really does feel rich and interesting, with an actual sense of both history and politics. The world only gets wilder and weirder the most you learn of it too, which I always appreciate. .

Action: Do you like layers of weird magical bullshit clashing against each other? Then oh boy is this the setting for you. Honor duels and spiritual possession and an improbably number of Indiana Jones traps and exactly as many hungry and unhelpful gods as you would expect from the pitch up there. Just as importantly for me (who has sharply limited patience for them) none of the big action setpieces have really dragged or overstayed their welcome yet.

What's Not

It's a web serial. A very good one! but it has all the flaws of being written week to week with no revisions you expect, and the pacing is godawfully meandering.

#reply #phaeton-flier #could go into more detail but need to make brunch #so yeah #pale lights

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queen-of-deans-booty · 2 days

Text

Choose Your Own Destiny

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader x Sam Winchester (NO Wincest)

Word Count: ~300

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a hcs where the reader is a archangel created by the grace of Michael and Lucifer basically her daughter and Dean and Sam fell in loved with her?

Summary: Dean is so much more different than his brother but you love both of them equally.

Square Filled: college!au (2019) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Lucifer and Michael have always wanted more power, no secret about that

They loved God so much that when they found out he didn’t love them as much as they did, they ran off and created a little plot point of their own

You

With both their graces and a touch of a human soul, they created you, another archangel that’s more powerful than all of them combined

You were the one thing they needed to get a bunch of angels on their side to overthrow God

If God isn’t in power anymore, then Michael and Lucifer can take over and do things their way

They never expected you to want to go your own way and live your life the way you wanted to

The first time you saw Sam and Dean, your entire life changed. You finally saw that there is more to life than creating armies and taking over Heaven

There is something about Sam and Dean that attracts you, that calls you to them. You’re not sure if it’s their auras or their personality, but you didn't want to be without them

Due to being so powerful, you were able to hide from Michael and Lucifer who tried everything they could to find you

All you’ve ever known is Heaven and fighting ars you have no business being in, and Sam and Dean showed you there is more to life than that

Despite their objections, you got yourself into college just so you can learn and become a better person

It was obvious their feelings for you, as they did almost everything for you, but it was hard to choose between them

So you didn’t

They both taught you how to date which means they were your firsts--first kiss, first time you had sex-first date, first time you held hands, etc.

Dean is more romantic than Sam since he likes to take you on long car rides, often gives you flowers, and usually stays the night with you after having sex

Sam likes his own space so after he fucks you, he’ll go back to his room, he likes taking you on jogs in the morning, and you two like to have reading dates in peaceful silence

Two very different men who love and treat you like a princess, something your dads will never do

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester headcanon #sam winchester headcanon #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #supernatural headcanon #spn #spn fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn headcanon

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muffinsin · 9 hours

Note

hello!!! :)

I wanted to ask if you'll be interested in doing a birthday hc for the sisters or a story on each because even though the girls can't leave or have friends I would think Alcina still gives them a birthday where they get privileges and gifts.

I think it would be so cute of what the other sisters get for each other and what they do with it!

How you have a good day!! And as always injoy

Hi, hon :)! Absolutely, some HCs for their bday!🙌 A great day to everyone

Masterlists

Having been reborn mere hours apart, their birthdays are originally linked together

The 12th of April, every year, their birthday

And while all three girls loved each other dearly, Alcina and they themselves could tell; they were getting more and more tired of a shared birthday each year

By their twentieth birthday, it was Daniela who finally spoke up, equipped with by then already well trained, wet puppy eyes and her sisters standing behind her, trying to copy the look

Alcina nearly melted at the sight

“Mama, can we have a different birthday?”

At first, she didn’t understand. How could they dislike their birthday?

Did she not make it special enough for them?

Was it the restrictions? She knew of the yearnings her daughters had, to see the outside, to leave the castle grounds to explore a little, always promising they’d be back on time

Their wish was never granted. Was this the reason for that?

Apparently not

Instead, it was sharing their birthday

Alcina smiled warmly at them as she heard this, and with this large smile, easily scooped the three women in her large arms

As kisses were pressed all over their faces and they squealed and giggled loudly, the mother of three easily agreed and approved of their question

Of course, each of her precious daughters shall get a day dedicated to her. Only her birthday, then

Bela

While tempted to choose another date, she decided to stick with the original

The 12th of April

Her birthday, and only hers, now

While disliking the sharing aspect, she now loves her birthdays and secretly looks forward to them

Usually, she will act like she isn’t bothered by her birthday coming up

Secretly, her eyes scan her family members for any change in their behaviour. Do they know it’s her birthday soon?

Of course, they never forget. Not once

Unlike her sisters, Bela doesn’t mind the loneliness that can creep up on one in the castle. She doesn’t mind

In fact, she couldn’t care less. She has her family, and those are all that matter to her

She isn’t sorry for her lack of friends, neither on her birthday, nor any other day. Her sisters are her friends, as annoying as they can be

However, she does appreciate being able to get out on her birthday

Often, her birthday starts out by waking up curled into Alcina, having been granted to sleep in her bed throughout the night

All too eager to curl up and bask in her mother’s love and warmth, her birthday signals one of the only times Bela will sleep in a little

Breakfast is always her favourite, a rich palette of foods from the outside, some sweet, some bitter, some salty. She loves to try them all

After, she is bathed in rich oils and dressed in a beautiful, red dress. Again, one of the few times she is not wearing her usual attire

Often, her day then starts out by a stroll through the gardens with Alcina

It is worth mentioning, the mother of three always makes sure she is free on her girls’ birthdays, always

In the garden, she gets to bask in the sun and drag her bare fingertips over the many soft flowers blooming already

She sits at the gazebo, her head in her mother’s lap, her hair played with, her golden eyes closed as she is read to

Each year from the same type of books. Greek mythology

Bela enjoys the time spent together immensely, and can’t help but giggle when, always, eventually they are found by her sisters

Being tackled and wrestled with, she is always pulled into Daniela’s arms, her face peppered with kisses while Cassandra laughs at her pitiful whines and scolding

“Happy birthday, Bela!”, Daniela is always ecstatic to announce, her arms tight around her older sister

“You’re even older now”, she occasionally adds, to which Bela usually only rolls her eyes

Now, each year it is planned to save the gift giving until nightttime. And each year, too excited and impatient, her sisters present her with theirs in the gardens in the gazebo already

Daniela’s is often very well thought out

A book perfectly suiting her sister’s tastes, perfume, prey caught by her, jewellery, or even something self-made

This year, Bela beams as she sees the fairytale book, written in latin and German, English and Spanish, Romanian and French, containing all Grimm tales and thoughts

The perfect gift to promise not only sleepless nights caused by the hyper-fixation this would cause, but also time with her youngest sister

She smiles softly, her mind already painting the scene of Daniela tucked into her side in her bed, her eyes small and heavy from sleep, lips parting to ask her sister to read but a few more pages

And Bela? She always gives in, her fingertip stroking along her sister’s pink button nose, her voice steady as she first reads, then translates and reads aloud

It’s one of her favourite ways to spend time with her youngest sister

Then, Cassandra steps forward, her dress red in what some might believe to be dried blood

Bela? She knows better, and feels a large smile spread on her lips at the realisation. No, not blood. Paint. Her sister had been painting

And even as Daniela just scoffs when Cassandra throws a dead maid, beautiful, no doubt, to Bela, the eldest knows her true gift lies hidden in her room

Knowing of her sister’s wish to keep this hobby a secret, she merely shoots her a wide and loving smile, enough for the brunette to know; she understood, and is thankful

Cassandra’s eyes flicker slightly, then an equally wide grin appears on her face

She knows; her sister will love her gift, she always does!

And that she does again this year, by far later at the day, when she discovers the painting of the unruly sea and an underwater forest hidden within

Beautiful…just as she had described it dreamily to her sister mere weeks ago

Alcina smiles at the scent in front of her, her heart aching lovingly at the clear happiness visible on her daughters’ faces

The rest of the day is spent doing what Bela enjoys best

Sometimes, this is hunting, sometimes, this means playing games with her sisters and mother, sometimes it means reading together

At night, only, is when she receives her last gift

With her sisters back in their rooms and the mood having quieted down, Bela feels almost giddy to see her present

She is sat on Alcina’s spacious lap, the stuffed animal left by Daniela held in her hand

Both of them laugh lightly at the little giraffe staring up at them. In moments like this, Bela feels immense happiness and safety. Only in her mother’s embrace, where all is safe and comfortable, where no harm can reach her. No cold, no man-things, not her own thoughts

Her gift is, at last, presented to her. A key, small and unassuming looking. Bela tilts her head

When Alcina rises and begins to walk, she is quick to swarm after her

She finds- the key unlocks a door close to her bedroom, just as unassuming looking as the key. She smiles widely in anticipation: this usually means she is receiving something her sisters don’t have, or something her sisters would like to have

And right she is, for her golden eyes widen when the door opens and the room is revealed to her

“Mother?”, she asks, almost in disbelief. With a gentle hand pushing at her shoulder blade, Bela takes a step inside

The room is decorated with a desk and a comfortable chair, a sofa, two bookshelves, and: a white canvas on the wall, set up for the movie projector. Next to it, a small desk and shelf labeled “film rolls”

She breathes shakily as her fingertips trail over it

When she first sleepily told her mother of her desire to see the movies shown at Donna’s for herself, to see nature and make her own movies containing her knowledge, she thought it might be labeled silly

Yet; it seems her wish was taken more serious than even Bela dared to take it

With a sob, she hugs herself to her mother’s hip, her cool skin pressed into the soft fabric of her dress

“Happy Birthday, my little fly”

Cassandra

Being the unhappiest of the trio with a shared birthday, she was eager to choose her own date

Now, her first thought was in December. A winter month! How badass!

However…a quick glance and note from Bela had her mind; then she couldn’t go outside at all on her birthday..

Perhaps summer it would have to be, then

And so she settled on the 16th of June instead. Warm, perfect for hunting, the season in which most maidens attempt to escape

Now, Cassandra is oddly shy about her birthday

She wants it to be a special day. She just doesn’t want people to know this

Especially on her birthday, though, she tends to feel trapped. She wants out, badly, just for a little bit

She wants to see the world, on her birthday more than ever. Wouldn’t this be a wonderful gift?

She asks for it every year, yet it is never granted to her, and only denied with a sad sigh and a kiss to her forehead

She usually talks to her “friends”, the few prisoners left alive. Rambling as she brings the blades and whips down on them over and over again, ignoring their cries and screams as she keeps talking

They rarely survive, and she doesn’t attempt to keep them alive, either

They merely serve the purpose of being made to listen to her ramble, and to keep her entertained

As she awakens on her birthday this year, uncharacteristically early, she immediately swarms out of bed

Still in her pyjamas, she swarms into Alcina’s bed, on top of the woman, and shakes her as hard as she can

“Mother! Mother! Mother, it’s my birthday! Mama!”

When golden eyes open at last, Cassandra at last slides down her body and onto the soft mattress again, her hands stopping from shaking her

“It’s my birthday, Mother”, she announces, as if the older woman truly needed a reminder

And after a few minutes of orienting herself, Alcina does blink away sleep and shoots her middle child a loving smile “Yes, my fierce little huntress, I will get ready”

At this, Cassandra grins. She returns to her room to get dressed, her flies buzzing excitedly

Each year her birthday begins by going out to hunt with her Mother. Each year they hunt for a varcaloc, the largest predator found near the village

She swarms as fast as she can, her sickle and daggers swinging wildly, her teeth bared, her mother close behind her

Still, the first drop of blood is hers to cause, and as soon as her sickle rips through fur and flesh, she laughs and hears claws unseathe

Really, she loves watching her mother hunt! Such elegance, such brutality, such speed and strength!

Even Alcina knows in every second of this activity, Cassandra is staring, and she is her role model, in such moments more than ever

Each year, the beast is slain, and this year is no different

Yet, their trip to the forest does not end. With their prey dropped off at the castle again, Alcina feels fingers grab her wrist tightly and tug

“Come on, Mama! Hurry!”

Now comes the truly exciting part!

Cassandra swarms and runs fast, her dress getting caught a few times as she speeds through the forest

Then, she stops abruptly. Golden eyes widen and water for a moment

She feels so much emotion all at once, here, at the border of the hunting grounds

She knows not to pass them without permission, ever. And she never does

Yet, her birthday is different

With a graceful step, Alcina walks forwards, stepping past the invisible line in Cassandra’s head

Gently, she cups her daughter’s cheek and takes her hand. Then, she too, takes a step forwards

Immediately, she laughs, loud and cheerful

She knows not to stray away, not to hide, not to play around where Mother can’t see or reach her. But this- is her own little world of freedom

She swarms up and down, feels the ground and smells the air as though it was any different from the one within the hunting grounds

Alcina watches, a soft smile on her lips, but pain in her heart. She sees, each year as she grants her daughter this, how badly her little fly craves this freedom. And yet, with hunters and poachers, outsiders and soldiers- and not to mention the unpredictable cold and environment- about, she cannot allow it

She knows this, both of them do. Cassandra no longer blames her mother for this choice, but treasures the times she is allowed outside, even if it is under supervision

After some minutes, she bends to pick up a rock, then nods to Alcina. They know, it’s time to go again already, even as Cassandra yearns to stay here with her mother

The rest of the day is spent playing with her sisters, chasing Daniela through the castle until she squeals and shrieks from the base fear of being caught, only to roll about and giggle when she eventually is

She often receives her younger sister’s present in the form of a new weapon or belt, and is always eager to try it out right away

Naturally, Daniela follows her, so that the majority of the day is easily spent hunting together

Bela’s present is given in the privacy of her room, as Cassandra’s lips pull to a shy, but large smile when her sister presents her with new art supplies

“Do you want to..stay for a bit?”

Bela never refuses this special offer, and watches with great interest as her sister rambles on about what supplies are used for and best for what

As the only one in the family aware of her painting hobby, Cassandra loves sharing her work with her older sister

She is always rewarded with showers of praise that have her headbutt the woman’s cheek or neck and have her flies buzz loudly

One birthday, she asks Bela for a favour that has her cheeks burn from embarrassment before her words can even get out. Thankfully, her sister understands

With a blindfold covering golden eyes, Cassandra’s embarrassment fades a little

She is concentrated as she fixes her sister’s dark blue dress, adjusting parts that she wanted to stick out, fixing her hair and gently applying the deep red lipstick

Then, she begins her work. A sketch, at first, she works concentrated

Never would she admit her sister is her muse, the only one to support and know of her hobby, the one she trusts fully, the one to inspire her to keep going with her art and the one to praise her pieces after

Cassandra smiles warmly as she watches her sister sit, perfectly still as asked, completely trusting

Another reminder to her, with a tug of her heart, why she loves her family to very much

And yet, a single gift remains

Cassandra watches curiously as, late at night, Alcina at last sits down on her bed, a box in her hand

“Happy Birthday, my curious little fly”

Eager, she all but rips the box to shreds to get to what is inside

Alcina laughs, having added extra layers and paper wrapping the gift

She knows, after all, how her little huntress enjoys tearing it apart to access what reward lies within

And what a reward indeed

At first, Cassandra is unsure what it is. A book? She pulls a grimace that makes her mother laugh and tap her chin. With a giggle, she fixes her face again and instead stares up at the older woman in confusion

“Open it, mica musca”

Again, she eagerly obeys, yet-

Cassandra gasps when she sees the content, her golden eyes widening, her flies buzzing loud as she immediately swarms onto Alcina’s lap and nearly shoves the album into her Mother’s face

“Mother! Look! What’s that?!”

The photo album shows a photograph of pyramids. Cassandra lowers the album again to get a good look again

And Alcina? She explains, her voice steady, her fingers gently scratching against Cassandra’s scalp. Loud buzzing and purr-like sounds were her reward

Amazed, more questions follow

Easily, the next hours and evenings are spent together, with Cassandra asking more and more and Alcina openly talking about all that is to see in the many photographs in the album

Each morning, she finds it tucked close to her daughter’s chest, her little piece of freedom, her little glimpse of the world outside the village

Daniela

Getting to choose her own birthday had her feel giddy with excitement. She immediately came up with more and more and more and more

Many dates, some symbolic, some merely on the list because they sound nice

She too, originally went for a winter month. After noticing her older sister change it up, naturally, she copied her

In the end, she settles for the 1st of July

She loves her birthday though, and always has. Even when she still shared it with her sisters

At first, she thought she was bothered by that particular fact

Yet, now she is no longer sharing it with them, she feels…lonely, almost

What a lonely day it has become to her, even as she still gets to spend it with her family

And yet, she yearns to have a lover or friends to spend it with. Such things seem denied to her, though, for the staff just won’t last

Often, she’d bed someone on her birthday, desperate for intimacy and love

Always, she’d kill them before the clock struck midnight

They were never real, never looked at her with real love in their eyes, never looked at her with real care

Sometimes, with desire. Desire that almost made her feel seen. They congratulated her on her birthday, and yet..they had no idea how old she even

Still, each year, she tries her best not to let loneliness affect her

Feeling overly clingy on her birthday, Daniela is often found starting her day in the beds of her sisters. Whether when snatching Bela’s blankets and cuddling into her side, or seeing how many knives she can balance on top of Cassandra until she’d wake up, one thing is clear:

Daniela doesn’t want to be alone on her birthday

She is with her sisters until they awaken, not having the heart to send their younger sister off and kick her out of their room on this special day to her

She giggles loudly as she is chased down to the dining hall for breakfast, her flies buzzing, her lips pulled into a grin

Immediately, her arms wrap around Alcina when she sees her. She sticks her tongue out at her sisters, signalling she was once again the fastest to get to their mother

The breakfast table is full of almost overly sweet things from all around the world. A special privilege reserved for birthdays only

And she enjoys it, digging in eagerly, eating blood-covered candy and snatching some more from Cassandra’s plate when she is busy flirting with the help

Often, she climbs on the lap of whoever is closest to her, then, her big, golden eyes on display as she asks to receive her presents early already

How could they deny her, really?

And so, she is grinning and has her flies buzzing excitedly when she receives what she wants

This year, she is especially excited. She knows, something big will be her present this year, by the way her family would often smile or smirk the past months, as if they knew something she did not

Surely, it had to be a surprise!

And it is, certainly

Bela is the first to present her gift to her sister, a large box wrapped in bright red wrapping paper

Daniela giggles in joy, her sharp, claw-like nails already digging into the paper. Eagerly, she shreds the box, only to find another, also wrapped, within

Again, she laughs happily. More to unpack?! She’s over the moon!

And then? Another smaller one in that one! Two layers of wrapping paper!

And another!

Then, at last, she discovers her present:

Four books; one romance, one a fantasy-romance, another a crime-romance book and another a collection of poems! Daniela’s smile widens with each book she discovers

Then, a small stuffed animal. A brown rabbit, with pink ears

She gasps at the sight and the softness of its fur, and immediately the stuffed animal is sat on her lap

And lastly, a small bottle of perfume

She smiles, recognizing the scent

It’s the smell clinging to her eldest sister, the perfume Daniela would always steal. Clearly, she was not being as subtle as she thought she was

With a tight hug and bright smile, she thanks her sister. Then, a loud whine is brought from her lips as she feels Cassandra’s hand rubbing against the top of her head

“Awhh! Getting older eh? You’ll always be our baby sister, don’t worry”, she coos in what was meant to be a teasing and mocking tone

Alas, it brings a large grin to Daniela’s face nonetheless

Her gift? A blade, the handle bound in leather, the blade and tip sharp. A series of small, yellow gemstones embedded in the bottom of the handle

She gasps again, happily. She recognizes this one as belonging to her sister, too!

Cassandra’s dagger, the one used to toy with and injure prey, shiny in the sun, glistening at night!

She immediately grips it tightly and grins at her sister. She is now a great huntress, too!

Again, she hugs her sister tightly, giggling as she steals another treat off her plate when she isn’t looking

And lastly, she turns her head to her mother at the head of the table, her eyes wide and another giggle falling from her hips when the woman stands up

Eagerly, she swarms around her as she walks. She laughs loudly as her and Cassandra start chasing each other, with Bela and Alcina serving as fun obstacles or safe spots, depending on whether or not she is losing their chase

Going outside, she grips her new dagger a little tighter. She hopes, some poor soul is outside when they aren’t supposed to be

She itches to try her new weapon out!

Alas, it seems she must wait until nightttime

Still, something large catches her attention in the distance. An addition to the castle?

After moments, she no longer wants to wait for her family to catch up. She swarms ahead, effortlessly proving her status as the fastest of the four yet again

Then, she nearly shrieks in excitement as she comes face to face with three horses, hay, riding equipment and much more

Horses?!

A dream!

Having asked for horses and being taught to ride one since early in her reborn life, yet never receiving one, Daniela has almost given up hope

Almost

After all, it was always either the Lycans being too aggressive, her sister being too aggressive, the temperatures, or the maidens attempting to escape that got in the way

She stretches out her hand gently, smiling when the first horse bumps its head against her palm

The black soft, short fur is warm underneath her fingers, and as dark brown eyes look back into hers, she smiles again

“Are you happy, my dove?”, Alcina asks, though, she really just wanted to see the youngest’s lips stretch into a large grin yet again

Daniela nods fast, her hand pulling back only when she throws her arms around her mother “Yes, mama!”, she confirms

Already she thinks of the freedom the animals offer her, and the freedom the mere thought of them have always offered her

She spends the rest of the morning and afternoon at the stables, petting and kissing the animals’ heads and brushing their fur gently

She comes up with names quickly, though is sure to take her time considering them

For the white horse, spots, referencing to the small, black spots scattered across the animal’s neck and back

For the light brown one, Maximus, named after a horse in one of her favorite books

And lastly, the black one, that never fails to have her feel as though there is a connection

This one, she decides, will bear the name Apollo

At night, this night, things are better for once. She feels less lonely, even as she can’t share her bed with a lover

Instead, she is cuddled into Bela’s waist, Cassandra’s hand tangled in her hair and nails scratching along her scalp gently

Her arm rests across Alcina’s thigh, and light purr-like noises are dragged from the youngest as her arm is stroked and scratched lightly

With Bela’s voice filling the empty room as she reads from one of the newest books, Daniela is at last, for once, able to fall asleep peacefully on her birthday

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu

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