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drewsbuzzcut · 1 month

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Behind The Scenes

Mat Barza x fem!model!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy, a guy being a creep, smut, pregnancy, being naked, mentions nerves

Takes place early 2025

“I’m cold,” you complain with a shiver and scoot closer to Mat, letting his warmth heat up your body.

Right now you’re both on set for a photoshoot with Vogue. You and Mat are going to be on the cover, which is one of the biggest honors and you’re so excited. Aside from this being a big time shoot, you and your boyfriend are also announcing your first pregnancy to the world. You’re excited and nervous while Mat cannot stop talking about it. You’re happy that he’s excited and that he’s doing this cover with you.

“Come here, baby. Let me warm you up,” he wraps his arms around you, his large hands resting on the expanse of your back. He quickly makes all of your goosebumps disappear as if they were never there.

“I’m really nervous. This is going to be big news. Everyone is going to freak out,” you pout at him.

Gently, you cup his cheeks and squish them together. It earns your boyfriend’s famous cackle and it makes your heart melt.

“It’s exciting. I think I might’ve been a model in my past life,” he says and sways you in his arms. He fidgets with the seam of your robe, immediately alerting you that he has some nerves.

“I mean if all else fails, you have modeling to fall back on,” you roll your eyes as you tease him. You hope that it’ll wash away his hidden nerves.

“Haha,” he shakes his head with sass and it makes you giggle.

“Y/n and Mat, we’re ready for you,” an assistant informs you.

“Ready Mr. super model?” You ask, carding your fingers through his already tousled hair.

“So ready!” He guides you to the setup, eyes glued on you as you peel off your robe.

It’s the one thing he doesn’t like about today. The inspiration behind this photo shoot is being comfortable in your own skin and embracing the simplicity of being bare with someone you’re comfortable with. Mat doesn’t have a problem with it at all, he’s confident with his body and you’re confident with your body. The problem is that everyone who’s behind the scenes will see your breasts. Your breasts that have grown with being pregnant, and that are for his eyes only. Mat usually wouldn’t mind because it’s your job and he’d never tell you what to do or not to do with your body. For him, it’s mainly about the people gawking at you with no shame. It makes his skin crawl with jealousy.

“Pose 1, guys.”

You and Mat both stand, your chest pressed into his bare one while he rests his hands on your hips. You stare into his eyes while the cameras flash around you, partially thankful that this first round will only focus on your bodies. He mouths a silent “I love you” and you slightly lean up to kiss him.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips.

Mat can’t help but take in your soft features and the way your eyes softly peer into his. He wishes he can caress your cheeks the way he usually would when you flash him a loving expression.

You smile at the way his hands flex over your hips. You know him well enough to know that he’d put his hands on your cheeks if he could.

Soft moments like these make it seem like everything around you disappears. The cameras aren’t on you or your baby daddy and it’s just you two in the room.

It sadly doesn’t last long.

“Pose 2!”

Mat moves to sit on the floor with one leg propped up. You straddle his lap and hold onto the sides of his torso. His hands go to your ass, giving you a hearty squeeze that makes you giggle.

“Sorry, I had to. Your ass looks too good in these jeans,” Mat muses, eyebrows lifting in a casual cool sense.

A red, hot flush fills your cheeks adding to your already glowing skin. You love the way Mat always gives you attention. It’s like he was born to compliment and love you.

He’s so sexy.

“Okay, this angle isn’t working so we need to see your side profiles. Mat, we need you to smolder and Y/n, do your open mouth pout with your head tilted back. You’re going to have your breasts right under his chin,” the photographer guides you.

Mat feels his chest tighten when he realizes everyone will get a good look at your boobs. He has a hard time not making eye contact with those who stare at you like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs in their entire lives. Even the bright flash can’t distract him. At least your thumb swiping at the skin of his torso helps him relax.

“Great! Y/n, you look amazing,” one of the assistants says, making Mat snarl at him. It’s almost like he isn’t even there, posing in the same picture.

“Okay! Next pose.”

Mat moves to fully face the camera while you move to his side, hugging his arm and blocking your nudity from the camera. As you do so, Mat watches the eyes of many men who can’t seem to look away. As you were adjusting your pose, your breasts were out in the open and those guys took it as the perfect opportunity to stare.

He lets out a silent huff which gathers your attention.

“What’s wrong?” You ask after a picture is taken.

“These men keep staring at you like you’re something to eat and it doesn’t sit right with me,” he explains, trying not to let his facial features show his jealousy. It doesn’t work, though. His face is set in a frown and his lips are pouty.

You kiss his jaw and nudge your nose into his skin.

“I love you, baby, but they’re just making sure we’re all doing what we’re supposed to do,” you reason with him.

You’re used to being exposed around many people and sometimes their eyes tend to wander for longer than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You can understand your boyfriend, though. He’s not used to everyone seeing you.

“Well, they don’t need to be staring at you,” he grunts.

You turn his face towards yours and slant your lips over his. Something about him being jealous turns you on. It shows just how much he craves you, despite being pregnant and it’s an ego boost.

“You’re so hot,” you whisper, eyes darkening with lust.

Quickly his mood flips and he’s matching your smirk with one of his own.

“One more before break!” You’re both snapped out of your lustrous haze.

For this photo, it’s just you. You lay out on the floor with your hair fanning out around your head. You cover your breasts with your hands just so the main focus can be your growing bump.

The main photographer lets her apprentice take a few shots. He’s standing above you, getting a bird’s eye view while Mat seethes in the back.

“Damn, you’re one lucky guy. The rack on her is insane,” Mat hears to his side.

His blood boils and the veins in his neck start to pop out. Does that guy know who he’s talking to?

“Excuse you?” Mat says finally turning to see who was audacious enough to utter those words.

“You’re one lucky man. I bet you hit that every night. I know I would,” the other guy groans, eyes locked in on you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Have some fucking respect and take your eyes off my wife,” Mat growls, stepping closer to the jerk.

He’s done with these guys thinking they can just stare at what’s his. There’s also no way in hell Mat would ever let a man talk so crudely about another woman, let alone his girl.

“Dude chill!”

“I’m not your ‘dude.’ You need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Mat almost roars and everyone stops what they’re doing.

You hurriedly pull on your robe and make your way to the scene.

“Are you okay?” You ask your man, hands coming to rest on his heaving chest. His skin is hot under your palms. His eyes hold even more fire.

“Everything’s fine because he will be leaving,” Mat claims, not asking permission for this guy to be thrown out.

“No way!” The guy yells.

“Can we get this guy out of here, he’s causing unnecessary issues,” you ask a higher up.

Everyone moves in a haste to get the guy off set and make sure everything is all good.

“Everyone take 30!”

You cup Mat’s cheeks and stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am now,” he whispers, pulling you into a chaste kiss that isn’t enough for you.

He moves you to a secluded corner, crowding you into the wall with his muscled frame. Mat inhales a deep breath and looks around at your surroundings. Even though you’re both hidden, people can still be heard and partially seen.

Allowing his emotions to drive his actions, he pulls your lips to his by the back of your neck. Your hands eagerly hold onto his firm body. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, dominating yours as one of your legs comes up to wrap over his hips. You try to grind against him as you feel the wanton need for friction take over.

“Are you wet?” He asks against the shell of your ear, his lip dragging down the side of your face.

“Yes,” you respond, nodding your head just in case he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s all for you,” you state, pulling him into another kiss.

“Damn right. You’re my girl and you’re carrying my baby,” your boyfriend claims, a hand rubbing your small bump.

“Fuck me, Maty,” you whine and pull him impossibly closer to you. You don’t care if there is people around or if he fucks you into the wall. You just want his cock inside of you.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling you back to the most recent setup.

It’s a king size bed made up with cream colored bedding. It’s displayed for the next round of photos, but Mat would never have sex with you in an uncomfortable position- especially while you’re pregnant. So for now, the bed is yours and he’s about to take you on it.

You pull him into another kiss as he lays you down, your legs coming to wrap around his waist. Your boyfriend sits up on his knees, his hands reaching out to pull off your jeans and robe. You lay bare in front of him, feeling warmth cascade over you. He pulls down his own pants and underwear, leaning over you to caress your body with his lips.

“Who do you belong to?” He questions, lips right next to your ear and his fingers collecting your wetness.

“You,” you whine and rut your hips up into his hand, desperate to feel him fill you up.

“Who?” He teases, fisting himself before guiding his tip to your entrance.

“You,” you gasp as he slides into with an ease that’s only possible with being pregnant. When you get wet, you get wet.

“Oh my god,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. The feeling of him sliding into you takes you to another planet.

“Look at you dripping for me,” he grunts, hands on your hips as he starts to fasten his pace.

He’s hard and heavy, snug between your wet walls. The thick head of his cock nudges deep inside of you, making you clench down on him.

“It’s all for you,” you moan and rut your hips up into his movements.

He cups your bouncing breasts, eliciting a squeal due to the sensitivity. Your arousal drips down his shaft, drawing Mat’s attention to where he’s splitting you open. Your pussy sucks him in and pulls away every shred of sanity he has left.

“Your pussy is mine,” he moans, pushing your legs as far into your chest as possible. He pounds into you, a thick finger coming down to circle your clit.

“All yours, baby,” you whine.

“You take my cock so well baby,” he praises you, words sweet but cocky.

His eyes are molten and you can feel the heat wash over you as he stares at you.

Whimpers and the squelching of wet skin hitting wet skin echo off the walls. You flutter around him, your greedy hands reach out to wherever you can reach. Your blunt nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red lines behind.

“I’m cumming,” you scream as you release around him.

Your entire body tenses up before the brunt of your orgasm crashes into you. Your body arches off the bed and full body chills work their way on your body.

“You’re so sexy carrying my baby. You enjoy being pumped with my cum, don’t you? I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re dripping with my cum,” he heaves out through his labored breathing.

His hips snap into yours and you can feel him pulse inside of you. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he stills his movements and then he pulls out to spurt the rest on your mound. His abdomen twitches, his own orgasm crashing into him with a heavy force. Sweat drips down his pretty face and his curls stick to his forehead.

As he catches his breath, he watches his release spill out of your spent hole. It’s a sight he’ll never get over, especially how you flutter around nothing because you miss the feeling of being full.

“I love you,” you sigh, finally coming back down.

He rubs his cock against your pussy, making sure to collect every single drop of cum. Soon he’s fucking his cum back into you and you feel another knot form in your tummy.

“I love you, baby. Your fucking pussy was made for me,” he responds, eyes closed and head tossed back.

His hips slowly rock into you and before you know it, your walls are collapsing on him again. You tremble as you welcome the surge of electricity to hurdle through your body.

“Just like that, baby. I love you,” he whispers against your lips. He continues to slowly thrust into you, hips moving like honey.

You softly push at him before you can feel the effects of your overstimulated muscles.

He carefully rolls off of you, but pulls you back into his side. He caresses your body with gentle hands- a stark contrast to the roughness he just displayed.

“Are you okay?” He kisses your temple, moving your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Perfect,” you reply as you kiss on his neck.

You rub at his torso and watch how he reacts to your touch. There’s nothing more appealing than your man becoming weak at the tips of your fingers. It makes your core tighten and drip with arousal, or it could just be his release pooling out of you again.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” he rasps, mouth coming down to catch one of your nipples.

You lean into his affection, blood pumping with fervor all over again. Being pregnant has made you incredibly insatiable and with Mat being incredibly beautiful, you cannot get enough of him.

“We have like 5 minutes left,” you inform him.

He cocks an eyebrow up and smirks at you. He quickly moves down your body, spreading you open, and eats your pussy like the starved man he is.

5 minutes later, no one questions your unkempt hair or the content grins you both wear.

a/n: Sorry this has taken so long😭 I hope you all enjoy this!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal angst #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #visceral in doses #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 1 month

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This Is Where You Stand With Me (part 2)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: none

Part 1 here

Y/N's POV

"Hola madre!" I say jokingly as my mother answered the phone.

"Too much influence from Sophie's boyfriend or what?" She chuckles.

"Yeah, something like that." I laugh adjusting myself on the couch. "How are you? What's new?" I ask.

"Nothing much, I'm just going back home from work. What's up with you?"

"I'm enjoying my day off from work." I say biting my lip not sure how's she going to react to my new "job" which I haven't told her about yet. But I'm certain she's not going to be thrilled about it.

"What do you mean y/n? What work?" As soon as she says "Y/N" I know there's no joking anymore.

"Well," I take a deep breath before I continue. "First of all, don't freak out, it's only my temporary job, you know while I'm here in Monaco with Sophie. And second of all, I started working for Ferrari practically. I'm managing their social media."

"Explain it a bit better, please. What does that mean?" She asks confused.

"Basically, I'm spending a lot of time with their drivers. I'm filming them for social media, like when they're getting ready for the race, asking them some questions, filming behind the scenes like what happens before the race, filming them training and stuff like that you know. And I edit those videos and then post them." I try to explain to her as simply as possible. but my mom, like most others, is not on the internet, she is not interested in the world of social media and probably still does not understand why anyone would be interested in any of this.

"So who are you filming then? Sophie's boyfriend and?"

"Carlos and Charles." As I say his name my mind wanders briefly to Charles and the grand prix from last weekend. I wonder how he is, and if he talked to Ava. and what happened between them afterwards. I also wonder if he has already thrown somewhere the bracelet I gave him. As I've already said, you just never know with him.

"Y/n?" My mom's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry my thoughts wandered for a moment. What did you ask?"

"I asked if you are satisfied with that job? Are you treated well? What are those boys like?" Like any mother, she worriedly asks a million questions and I, like any other daughter, of course, will not tell her everything in detail.

I have always been close to my mother, but I never liked to share every detail of my life with her, even though she wanted to know it. But I just wasn't comfortable with her knowing all my private things. I believe that you can be close to your mother, without her being involved in all your decisions, attitudes and thoughts. We talk more or less about everything, but I have set some boundaries for myself about what I want to share with her and I think that's exactly why we have a relatively good and healthy relationship.

"Yeah, I mean it's not something I'll do forever, it's just a temporary type of thing, so while I'm here I might as well earn some money." I say. "And everybody's nice to me, of course, I already told you that Carlos is a wonderful person and boyfriend to Sophie, and Charles..He's not so bad either."

"You don't sound so convincing with the other one." She says referring to Charles.

"Don't worry really, both of them are very nice, it's just that I don't know Charles very well yet and I haven't spent much time with him so I can't say much about him." I say honestly.

While talking to her on the phone, I get up and head to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. While walking to the kitchen, I pass by the mirror and almost get scared when I see what I look like. Shaggy hair in a bun, without a hint of makeup, braless in an extra-large t-shirt with a print of Los Pollos Hermanos that also serves as my nightgown and house slippers on my feet. I guess I'm not one of those ex girlfriends that has a glow up after a breakup, but oh well.

"Well, as long as you're happy and safe, I'm fine with it." My mom says. "And besides, I think it's good for you that you left Manchester for a bit. Stay as long as you want."

"Really?" I am a bit taken aback and surprised by her words. "How come you think so?" I ask while waiting for coffee to be poured from the machine into the cup.

"I-I.." Just as she was about to say something the doorbell rings. Sophie went to lunch with Carlos, I doubt they forgot their keys.

"Mom, there's someone at the door, I'll have to call you a little later, okay?"

"Okay, we'll talk later, bye." She says and I hung up the phone.

I leave my phone on the kitchen counter and just as I'm about to go into the hallway to open the door, I accidentally pull the cup with my hand and spill hot coffee on my right thigh.

"Ouchh!" I almost scream in pain while the hot coffee continues to pour down my leg. "Fuck!!" My eyes get watery from the pain and stinging. Cursing my clumsiness I grab a cloth and wipe my thigh which is burning more and more and the doorbell keeps ringing. I go and open the front door when none other than Charles is standing leaning against the door frame.

"Charles, what are you doing here?" I ask with a sniff. I don't open the door all the way, but just peek out with my head. The last thing I needed is him here while I'm crying over my coffee burn and looking like I got mowed by a tornado.

"Y/n, are you alright? Why are you crying?" He asks, his expression immediately turned serious as he tries to enter.

"I just spilled hot coffee on myself. Please don't come in.." I really don't want him to see me like this.

"Let me help you." He says ignoring me and coming in anyway closing the door behind him.

"No, Charles..I-I'll be fine." I say pulling my t-shirt down with one hand and still holding the cloth with the other one.

"Let me see." He bends down and removes my hand with which I'm holding the cloth. "You got burned well." He says.

"Yeah, I can feel it. It hurts pretty bad."

"Come here." He waves his hand for me to follow him into the bathroom. It seems like he has already been in this apartment before. They probably had some gathering at Sophie's, so he knows where everything is.

"Sit there." He says pointing to the tub as he takes a small towel from the shelf under the sink and soaks it in cold water. I briefly feel a sense of relief as he kneels down in front of me and places a wet towel over my burn.

"You know, I really appreciate your help, but I feel terribly uncomfortable-"

"Yeah, I already saw that you don't have a bra on." He cuts me off and my cheeks instantly get as red as the burn on my thigh.

"You don't have to point it out like that.." I can't help but chuckle a little at his nonchalant response.

"You really do have to stop embarrassing yourself in front of me." He laughs.

"Why did you come here in the first place?" I ask shaking my head.

"I'm here to pick up Carlos. We agreed to go to the gym together, and he said he would be at Sophie's." He says taking the towel off my thigh and soaking it again. "So here I am. Where are the two of them anyway?"

"They went out for lunch. I think they should be back any minute now since they've been gone for a while." As he comes back with the cold towel I notice that he's wearing the red bracelet I gave him last weekend. He puts the towel over my thigh again and gently presses it.

"And what are you doing alone in the apartment, except destroying it?" I really like this funny side of Charles. For I moment I wished he could be like this all the time.

"Certainly not waiting for you." I playfully answer back.

"Yeah, sure you aren't." He says confidently and I roll my eyes at him. "I'm going to clean up that coffee you spilled on the floor." You can see the kitchen from the bathroom, so he definitely made sure I knew that he saw the mess I made.

While Charles is cleaning up in the kitchen, I quickly go to my room and put on shorts and a bra under my t shirt. Since he's already seen me at my worst, I decide not to fix my hair but to leave it messy like this. It's already too late now to look presentable anyway.

"Have you put on a bra yet?" He asks shamelessly as I enter the kitchen.

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be very inappropriate?" I honestly ask him.

"Quite rude thing to say to someone who just helped you."

"Thank you. Charles. For your generous help." I say slightly sarcastically through gritted teeth. "Do you want me to check when they're coming back?"

"Why? Can't wait to get rid of me?"

"No." I roll my eyes. "I'm just asking if you're in a hurry."

"I'm not. I'll wait for him. I hope they'll be back soon." He says taking a seat on the high chair at the kitchen island.

"Do you want something to drink while you wait?"

"A glass of water will do."

I reach for a glass from the top kitchen unit and in the process I scratch the injured thigh on the handle of the lower element. I wince in pain and curse under my breath.

"Be careful, where is your towel?" Charles asks me getting up from the chair. Before I can say I left it on the tub, he's already back from the bathroom with it. "Sit there." He almost orders me and I do it obediently while he soaks the towel again in the kitchen sink. He moves my hand from my thigh and puts the wet towel over it.

I don't know why, but I decide not to tell him that I can do it myself. And he doesn't say it either but proceeds to hold his hand a little longer over the cold compress looking down at it and gently pressing on it. I lift up my head to look up at him and for a second we lock our eyes together without saying a word.

"I-I.." In a moment of nervousness I wanted to say something just to break the silence, but luckily I hear the front door open. Charles quickly moves his hand away and goes to the opposite side of the kitchen island clearing his throat.

"Hello..guys..?" Sophie says as Carlos and her enter the kitchen looking very confused at the scene before them.

part 3

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manicpixiefelix · 2 months

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

Part 18.

Summary: Love as seen in the stars, in the flowers that bloom, in your best friend's eyes, and in the taste of him on Oliver's tongue as you catch him in the bathtub. Summer continues at Saltburn.

{ masterpost }

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

Warnings: SMUT; vouyerism, dom!reader, handjob, bathwater as lube, cumming almost untouched, pervert/enabler dynamics. I cannot stress to you enough that both the reader and Oliver are COMPLETE AND UTTER FREAKS ABOUT FELIX in the bathtub scene.

A/N: 6670 words. this chapter is very special to me for a lot of reasons, but mainly because there have been several scenes that i've been writing for a while now that have all found their forever home in this chapter. if you have any feedback or thoughts about this chapter or the story so far, i'd always love to hear them! also something something bath water something ;o)

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

----

Things were easier to navigate now that you understood Oliver. Or at least you thought you understood. Less fucking around with Farleigh and Venetia in Oliver's peripheries; when you put yourself on display, it was as an extension of Felix. If Felix had noticed the change, he hadn't commented on it. Considering how much effort you put in making him feel good and moan like a whore for Oliver's benefit, he probably appreciated it.

Things with Oliver himself were getting better by the day too, it seemed. More and more he was reaching out for you again. Sitting too close, sharing your space, seeking you out when his time wasn't filled with Felix. There's less tension too, on the nights you share in the lilac study. Oliver's been through the book you'd given him on the Estate, and has moved on to picking out books he'd found on your bookshelf, it seemed. You, having quickly identified the flower he'd mentioned as the honeysuckle, native to Australia, had also moved on to books from your Summer reading list for your upcoming year at Oxford. As the first week of Summer is coming to an end, it seems as though Oliver had finally settled in at Saltburn.

"Do you miss your room?" Oliver asks one evening. Without even looking up from your own book, you give a fond laugh, shaking your head.

"It was more just a formality half the time," you tell him with an easy smile, "a place to keep my stuff." Looking at him beside you on the sofa, you see he understands the implications, the holidays you and the others have reminisced about, the trysts masquerading as something much more innocent that you would share with them all when you were at the Estate. There's nothing judgemental in his eyes, there never was when it came to Oliver, "why?"

"It all just feels very much like you in there," he offers, gaze wandering as he speaks, "Felix's room feels very You-And-Felix, and I get bits of him in your room too, but it feels much more you." You're actually rather surprised by how well you understand what he means, "like up on your roof you've got these little stars. They glow. I didn't notice them the first few nights."

Your smile widens, all bright and warm, and you close your book.

"Do you want to have a sleepover, Ollie?" You ask with a childish kind of glee. The offer seems to take Oliver by surprise, but you lean forwards, "like an actual sleepover, like we're kids again."

"You still do just sleepovers?" Seems to escape Oliver without him quite meaning it to, and for a moment your expression does falter a little.

"Yeah," you can't help but feel a little self conscious, "promise I'm not trying to seduce your or anything," then, shifting your legs from him you shuffle back to sit cross-legged on the sofa, "we actually do them kind of a lot, or, well, I do. I think Farleigh and Ven have a few and I know when they get tipsy Ven and Fi have had a few. Sometimes after events when we were teenagers we'd all head back to one of our rooms and end up all passed in the same bed trying to fit in like sardines, all four of us."

"That's very cute," Oliver says softly after a long moment of silence, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he's smiling.

"Yeah," you grin once more, "we were."

Which is how you ended up back in Oliver's room, back in your old bed, looking up at the canvas that made up your ceiling, stretched across the full length of the room, rigged and taught, littered with a constellation of glowing stars. Oliver, laying still beside you, asks about it, and you have to explain that there was no way in hell you would ever be allowed to mark the actual roof of any room in the Saltburn Estate. Which he realises makes a lot of sense once you say it out loud.

"But you should see Felix's ceiling, it's much more impressive," you tell him softly, not even aware how your smile was coming through even in your words. Oliver, bedside you, was simply quiet as he gazed at the glowing dots, "haven't you ever looked up at the ceiling in Fi's room?"

"Not properly," Oliver admitted quietly, and the silence lapses out between you both for several contented seconds, "did you two do this?"

"I did," you said proudly, "and this is just from what I had left over."

"What do you mean?"

"About this time, uh," you considered for a long while, trying to remember the full context of the stars that littered both yours and Felix's ceilings, "seven years ago I think, Felix pretended to have gotten really into astronomy as an excuse to always be out of bed, out on his balcony at night."

"But... he wasn't really?" Oliver's head shifted on his pillow to look at you and your amused smile. You shook your head.

"He picked up smoking from Venetia, she was bribing him with cigarettes to hide both her own habit and the fact that she gave it to him."

Oliver shifts beside you on the bed, no longer content with looking at the stars you'd placed there, interested, it seemed, only in watching you.

"How old was Felix?" He's looking at you, clearly listening and invested, but he seems distracted by something.

"Fourteen," you sighed, "Ven was fifteen, which really isn't much better -"

"And how old were you when you picked the habit up from Felix?" Oliver asks with the faintest, knowing quirk of his lips. Embarrassed about how well he seemed to know you, your whole face scrunched up momentarily, "fourteen?" Oliver teased when you refused to answer, grin widening as you squeezed your eyes shut. Still, he went on, "so when you say Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago to hide his smoking habit, you mean you and Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago?" And this is when you feel Oliver's gentle fingertips touch your flustered face. His fingertips beginning to glide so gracefully along your features, as you relaxed into a simple, embarrassed smile.

You really weren't trying to do anything untoward with him tonight, you weren't lying about that. Still, you wouldn't rebuff any kind of gentle affection he had to offer.

"Well, yeah," you admitted, and Oliver makes a noise for you to continue as he seemed to be wanting to map each delicate feature on your face through touch alone, "but Fi ended up really getting into it. Went through this whole big astronomy phase that year - I say that year; he still really into it - but back then, it was..." you closed your eyes, letting yourself be immersed in the memory of how excited Felix had been. Felix was always a beautiful sight to behold when he was passionate.

"Little Felix," Oliver mused fondly, "bet he was desperate to be an astronaut." Oliver touches you like you're porcelain, so delicate and precious, his fingertips skimming your cheeks and brushing your eyelashes.

"Actually," you laughed a little, though not unkindly, at the memory. Opening your eyes, you turn just enough to be looking at Oliver, to catch the adoring look in his eyes as his hand stilled, now simply holding your cheek, "he wanted to be the guy who got to give speeches about the stars and planets and the universe every day at the planetarium," you recounted, "and become a Doctor of Astronomy so he could make the videos they play in the room with the domed roof that you get to lay back and watch in the dark," you grinned, "but also then he could still be the guy who gave the speeches, but he'd get to answer questions about his own movie about the universe as well." After a moment of silence, Oliver smiles so widely and genuinely; you know he can see it so clearly, "he'd be so good at it, wouldn't he?"

"He'd be cute," Oliver agreed softly, fondly.

"So for his fifteenth birthday, I spent weeks designing and figuring out how to rig this piece of canvas across his whole roof, since I couldn't paint or mark his ceiling, what with this being a heritage building," you explained, proud little smile on your face, "and I asked my nan about all these paints and fancy pigments and stuff that would last and would glow in the dark, because nan's a painter and she's always had this gift with like, making her paintings look like they glow," you turned to Oliver, expression so adoring, "but Fi turned fifteen while we were at boarding school, so the very next break we had, I convinced him to spend the first week visiting Farleigh and his aunt in America, while I was back here, spending night and day on this. I had the whole canvas stained navy, and nan even stayed here for a few days to help me with painting it all perfectly and making sure all my paints would do exactly what I wanted them to, and we painted this canvas-ceiling I'd set up for him to look like his favourite starscape at the London Planetarium." Giving a loud, contented sigh, you added almost as an afterthought, "there's probably a bunch of the print outs of references I used somewhere in the study; the Planetarium people were so lovely."

"Is that why Felix is doing a physics degree?" Oliver practically gasped like it was a revelation; right, you forgot Felix rarely bothered to explain anything about his academics to anyone. When you confirmed as much, Oliver seems somehow more shocked, "I never got the impression that he thought much of uni." It's... not an incorrect observation to have made about at least half of Felix's academic career.

"He gets weird about it, about talking about it and stuff, thinks he sounds like a nerd," you agree after a moment, with a fond laugh, "he's got this weird mind for physics and anything really related to space and stars and astronomy, but he'd rather complain about the electives that he takes despite knowing he'll hate them."

"Then why does he take them?"

"A lot of them are actually my core subjects," finally you admit, a little abashed, "he knows I'm not as fond of my course as he is of his, so he takes them out of solidarity and complains the whole time." You're pretty sure Oliver can hear the sickeningly sweet undercurrent of I love him, I love him, I love him in your tone, but you can't help it. Neither of you have much more to say on the matter, but you think you know what Oliver's thinking. Something about favouritism, about best friends, about how he's pretty sure that Felix Catton wouldn't do that for anyone else.

And he'd be right.

"Hey Ollie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I move closer?"

"'course," his voice is warm and soft and before you even move he's coaxing you closer to him, arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

"Thanks for letting me sleep over," you yawned, but the affection in your voice was sincere. A chuckle rumbles through Oliver's chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you for suggesting it."

Oliver's warmth is familiar and foreign all at once. How is it that you could have missed someone so much despite only having spent one night beside him.

However the following morning, over breakfast, Elspeth gives you a reminder about an upcoming event that you'd been trying desperately not to think about.

"Y/N, darling, I just thought I'd remind you about the Arts Collective dinner we'll be hosting in a few days," her voice is carefully neutral as she brings it up. You freeze, "Duncan needs to finalise the numbers today so the kitchen can start figuring out what we need to order. We'll be gathering in the fairy garden for drinks and canapes beforehand." What she's really trying to ask is if you'll be in attendance considering your mother's name is on the guest list. Before you can properly answer, however, she turns to Farleigh and asks if he's still intending on joining the garden portion of the gathering.

"As usual, I will I'll indeed be showing my face for wine and cheese," he says, though his smile is tight, "at my mother's behest."

"I'll be taking dinner in my study that night," you force a smile at Elspeth, and she gives you the same kind of look that was so often directed towards Pamela. Pity. Sympathy. You poor, dear, thing, I understand. In a moment, however, she brightens once more and asks if Oliver would like to join the pre-dinner gathering, or if he'd simply like to attend dinner, dismissively assuming that both of her own children would be forgoing the garden themselves - she'd be right.

You can feel Felix looking at you as you return your focus to your breakfast, but you remain uncharacteristically stoic for the rest of the meal. As your plate is taken away, you try to shake your negativity, looking up and around as you ask if any of the others have plans for the day. Swimming, reading, lounging around; leisure, as always. But you feel as though you'll get lost in your own head if you don't do something with yourself today.

So instead, you find something suitable to garden in, and spend a good deal of the day in your garden, uprooting all of the purple pincushions in preparation. It's satisfying to be working with your hands, satisfying to be ripping the flowerless stalks up by the roots and disposing of them in a bucket to later be composted. You'd brought your iPod and little speaker and make a day of it in the garden, waiving the staff off who offer to help, only asking them what the garden needed that day.

You till the soil you'd just disturbed, mixing fertiliser in in preparation for the plants due to be arriving in a day or two, and water the rest of the plants in both rings. You take great care, admiring each flower in bloom, and even the more utilitarian ivy that curled across the latticed archway of an entrance.

Some of the staff members bring you food and water throughout the day, and for each one that does, you invite them to stop and sit and talk for any time they had spare. All seem surprised by the invite, and even moreso when you seem to know them by name, and how eager you are to ask them about themselves. They also all seem grateful to get off their feet for a few minutes.

Duncan sits very awkwardly opposite you at the picnic table. He does not touch the food he has brought you, even as you push it to the middle of the table, as an offering. Duncan does not ask questions. Duncan has never much liked speaking unless spoken to. But still, you know he's more than willing to refuse a request for company such as the one you'd made, so you take the kindness for what it is. He watches you down the bottle of water he'd also brought like your life depended on it.

"How long has it been since you last applied any sunscreen?" He does finally broach the surprisingly comfortable silence. He'd provided you with a tube of the stuff as you'd announced your intentions to spend the day gardening, and now it sat at the other end of the picnic table with the gardening tools. You promise to reapply after you'd finished your lunch, but smile at him warmly. He gives one of his awkward smiles back, and asks if you need a hat, which you decline.

"Your mother has confirmed that she will be in attendance with the Arts' Collective," he says, and you go still, "what would you like to be brought for dinner that evening?" The confirmation stings, but you know this is Duncan's way of showing he cares about you. You get to pick your own dinner, unlike most other nights, and he won't subject you to the cruel anticipation of wondering just whether your mother really would or would not be in the same house as you.

Trying your best to smile, you let him know that you'll think about it, and get back to him tonight. With a faint nod, Duncan stands smoothly, and leaves the garden once more. He'd always been good to you, in his own way.

By mid-afternoon, you've done all you can, and head back to the house to soak, and perhaps even have a sulk about the upcoming event, in the tub until you had to get ready for dinner.

Except Felix doesn't even knock before he bursts into the bathroom, already in his suit with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He's practically radiating joy as he informs you that he and the others had managed to get their hands on several bottles of champagne and are going to hit the tennis courts before dinner.

Black tie tennis and getting absolutely shitfaced sounded great right about now. You were already feeling pretty recovered from the day seeing as you'd spent over an hour in the bath already, so much to Felix's delight, you agree to join them with a delighted grin. From somewhere behind him, Venetia also orders you to wear something flashy.

"If you're in a black suit too I swear I'm going to scream!"

Which is how you end up in your bright red suit pants with the red, silk paisley embroidery, and matching suit vest, buttoned up, with nothing beneath it. It's also the kind of thing you can move in, throw yourself around in, which is perfect for how the five of you play tennis.

Champagne bottle in one hand, tennis racket in the other, the sunset paints you all a joyful gold. Swapping in and out on all sides to play even games, you find yourself forgetting everything that had been weighting you down, instead drowning in your friends laughter. So often your gaze is caught by Oliver and Felix, cheering, drinking, playing. Love swells in your chest at the sight.

You all share giggles over dinner, and while Elspeth and James and Pamela can all clearly tell that you're all already drunk, the way the five of you are all grinning softens their exasperation.

After, not wanting this rather fantastic evening to end, you end up on one of the many balconies or patios, you're not sure which, sharing a sofa and several cigarettes, and the last of a bottle of champagne with Felix. He's got his head in your lap, pointing out constellations, but all you can see is him, the stars shining in his eyes and wide, excited smile he always got when he was rambling about something he was passionate about. Good how you loved his passion; you wished Oliver were here to see him like this. Of course Oliver loves him, and of course he's desperate for Felix to love him back; to be loved by Felix was -

"You're thinking about Ollie, aren't you?" Felix's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you can see he's grinning up at you, nothing but affection in his eyes.

"I'm thinking about you," you corrected, carding your fingers through his hair.

"You're always thinking about me," he says it so easily, so dismissively, throwing the idea away despite how vain it would sound if it weren't rather true, still he takes on a teasing tone, "you get this look about you when you think about Ollie," he reaches up and pokes your cheek.

"He loves you," you give a contented sigh after a moment, expression turning soft, of course he does, how could he not? But that's also kind of a given.

"And you," Felix's jabbing finger turns to a gentle hand holding your face, "that's why we're being absolute sluts, isn't it? Trying to get him to make a move?" And you laugh, loud and bright, in agreement. But then, after a moment, there's a change in Felix, something in his eyes. It's not jealousy, but it's more serious than before.

"Fi?" Your voice is soft, and he smiles at you, overwhelmingly adoring.

"I've been getting to watch you fall in love," he said gently, incredulously, "how weird is that?" Something tightens in your chest.

"Again," you correct. Felix gives you a vaguely confused look, but you can't help but shake your head at your beautiful fool of a best friend, "you get to see me fall in love again, Felix." You roll your eyes, but as he's hit with the implications of your words hit him, a beautiful flush works its way up his cheeks. He actually has to cover his face with his hands, embarrassment and joy lighting up his expression.

"You're so sappy," he crows, "you are so fucking sappy!" You practically cackle with glee draping yourself over him, onto his chest, the two of you awkwardly wrapped up in each other on this little sofa. As your laughter dies down, you give a faint hum.

"But he's not your competition, for the record, he never really was -"

"I'm not jealous! I've told you that!" Felix insists, "I thought I made that clear!"

"You have, Fi," you laughed, "but what I'm saying is... well, he knows I love you both, and he loves me, but he's not -" ever going to love me the way he loves you, God, you can't say that. It takes the last bit of self restraint you have to bite that back, shifting to get a little more comfortable, you reach out and stroke Felix's hair.

"Fi, I have spent months watching him fall so in love with you, the way I often hope, or," you laughed a little self conciously, "feared, the rest of the world would," and slowly Felix uncovers his face, those big, brown eyes of his full of all kinds of hope and affection, "he was never your competition, Fi, he's mine," you joked.

"Oh," the flush on his cheeks only grows steadily darker, and the faint exclamation comes out as more of a breathless gasp, "Ollie's your competition for..." He grins sheepishly, like he just wants to hear you say it.

"You, Fi," you tell him with an affectionate grin, but for it up with a nonchalant shrug and teasing smirk, "though competition implies that either of us would make you choose."

You would never let him know the full truth. You'd let him believe wholeheartedly that while you both loved Oliver, he reciprocated that wholeheartedly. Which was... mostly true. True enough that it kept Felix happy and you happy enough.

Yes, Oliver loves Felix, and therefore loves you by extension. Only you knew how sharp that distinction really was.

But you realised Felix was right; he was watching you fall in love with Oliver, and you too had been watching him fall for the boy as well, even if it did seem to be a slower process than it had been with you. You reasoned that Felix had far more reason to be cautious with his heart, especially with men. The first and last boy you'd seen him fall in love with broke his fucking heart at Saltburn, you knew part of him was terrified for history to repeat itself. But clearly he couldn't stop himself from falling in the end.

It was a waiting game now, either Oliver makes a real move and proves his love and loyalty to Felix, or Felix makes a real move and proves to Oliver that his affections are entirely, overwhelmingly genuine. So you'd be the proxy when you had to be, something a little safer for them both while they built up the courage.

Though you're not above stressing this tension that's building between them. The bend before the break, how far it would go before it snaps and you can all stop dancing around this thing that you all clearly want.

And an opportunity arises in the days that follow.

Saltburn creaks it's own kind of melody, it always has. You've become used it, learned the ebb and flow of the house and it's noises, the way it settles itself as it cools from the Summer afternoon heat. You know which door is shutting in the rooms adjacent to yours and Felix's just by the sound of the latches alone, and you know all too well which floorboards squeak along the halls you frequent.

On Felix's balcony, winding down for the day with a book as he takes a bath before bed, you don't hear the creak of the little hall between Oliver's room and the bathroom. The blinds are drawn over the bathroom window, but you catch a faint bit of movement in the mostly dark hall and give pause in your reading.

You could barely make out the arch of a shoulder through the break in the blinds, but you could tell that beautiful, bathing Felix had himself a captive audience. Part of you wondered if it was by chance or by choice, if Oliver was watching or simply listening, and if Felix knew either way. He'd have to; there's no way Oliver was adept enough at moving through Saltburn silently that Felix hadn't heard that awful floorboard that creaked right before the bathroom door.

Oh there was purpose to this, you were sure. Felix knew the feeling of Oliver's gaze upon him, the want he so callously toyed with, seeing it in Oliver's eyes all too often. All the world's a stage for Felix Catton, you just wonder what kind of reaction he's trying to pull from tonight's audience. Settling back in with your book, all you can do is wait.

When you hear the water start to drain from the tub, you still take your time, give them both time for anything to occur, before you feel a sense of disappointment or defeat in your heart.

"Can I come in and brush my teeth yet?" You knock loudly at his door and hear Felix laugh on the other side.

"Since when do you knock?" Wrapped in his robe and sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Felix is drying his hair with his towel as you come in. Before you can answer, he follows it up with, "since when did you care if I was in the bath for that sort of thing?"

"It's called respecting your privacy, Fi," you tell him, swanning past him to get to your toothbrush. You do give pause, however, stopping in front of him, and he lowers the towel, as if in anticipation. For a moment you lift his chin, loving the way he grins in almost sappy anticipation, and you give him a quick peck on the lips before you're moving on again and he's back to getting the water from around the edges of his face and ears.

Oliver, who'd watched the whole exchange after slinking into the bathroom from the opposite door, looks quickly at himself in the mirror as you join him in collecting your toothbrush.

"Do you want me to start respecting your privacy?" There's half a joke in Felix's voice, since it's a strange sentiment for you both, especially at Saltburn. Oliver's gaze flicks to you, then to Felix in the mirror.

"If I needed privacy I know you'd respect it," toothpaste on your brush, you leave Oliver's side of the bathroom to join Felix, the two of you having devolved from a real conversation, into some kind of silly, mock-conversations entirely consisting of eyebrow movements, and trying not to choke on your laughter as you brushed your teeth.

Oliver was watching, of course, Oliver was always watching, but you kept noticing the way he'd glance at the bathtub as it continued to drain between the three of you, stealing focus. There was tension in his shoulders, in his gaze, in the way he held himself. Never turning away from the sink - you'd bet he was hard. Oblivious Felix - at least that's how he appeared - was doing nothing but the most mundane bathroom task, which still wasn't able to help Oliver's current state with the way he was glowing, content and beautiful in the steamy bathroom, hair still slick and curling and clinging to his beautiful face.

You watch Oliver swallow hard in the mirror, but then his gaze meets yours. In this moment you don't do anything, you barely acknowledge what you saw, but you see the rapid way he starts to blink as he looks away, as if hoping he'd imagined the look in your eyes.

You finish brushing your teeth in silence after that, only stopping to wish Oliver good night after Felix does, the two of you closing your door to the bathroom.

"I'm going to finish my chapter then I'll be right with you," you tell Felix with a warm smile, picking up your book on the balcony as he yawned loud and wide. He tells you there's no rush, that he'll be out in only a few minutes. True to his word, after a long day, his deep breathing starts to take over not too long after the lights go out.

Except for the one in the bathroom. Just as you'd expected.

You turn out the lamp on the balcony, and move quietly through the darkness. Yes, you know the way Saltburn creaks and moans, know how to make yourself known, or how to slip through the shadows like you're made of them. The old house is well maintained, the hinges on doors don't creak if you move them right, you can slip into the role of observer with ease if you know how.

Behind you, you close the door almost all the way, making sure the latch sits flush with the door for privacy without it's click of proper closing giving you away.

The water is still draining from the tub, Felix's water, and Oliver there along with it. The running water echoes through the old pipes, but not loud enough to cover the lewd noises you hear from the bathtub. The slurping, the moaning, the grateful sighs of contentment to be afforded this moment of perversion.

You let him have his moment. Then you let the door click shut.

Immediately Oliver sits up, panic on his face; he looks like he wants to say something, to explain himself, say anything, but he can't seem to find the words. It's like he was expecting Felix. Or even if he was expecting you, he was expecting judgement. When you remain quiet, remain observant, you watch his panic fade to something wary.

Why? You knew exactly what he was doing, why are you just standing there, watching him? You can see the questions in his eyes, and feel your heart rate pick up. Slowly, you move towards him. Slowly, you let yourself smile.

Oliver sits back in the tub, never taking his eyes off of you, the way you stalk around the space, predator and captured prey, caught red handed. Your fingers trail the lip of the tub, graceful, threatening, until you get to him, his shoulders pressed against the porcelain. His expression is taut, defiant, ready to push back against any kind of mockery or blackmail attempts, you assume.

No, you want him to relish this moment.

You curl your fingers in his hair, leaning down by the edge of the bathtub to make sure he finally sees how pleased you are by this development. The moment he realises, you can see his thinly veiled panic turn to a conflicted kind of desire. But you don't give him another moment before you crash your lips to his, wasting no time, licking at his lips to deepen the kiss, to taste Felix on his tongue.

And you climb into the bath with him, sitting on your knees between his spread legs, mouth on his like you're desperate to devour each other. Oliver is pressed against the edge of the bath, one arm along the edge, the other braced beside him, his mind still catching up to the moment even as he gasps into your mouth.

You break the kiss, the faintest hiss from your kiss-bruised lips being all he needs as a reminder to be quiet. Everything about him has changed, has become needy, pupils so shiny and dark with lust you could lose yourself in him. Instead, you let go of his hair, taking his jaw in a forceful grip, tilting his head to the side roughly, fingernails digging into his cheek. But his eyes flutter closed, choked kind of whimper escaping him, half muffled behind your hand over him mouth as you carefully angle his head back a little further.

He'd indulged himself in Felix's bath water, pressed himself into it, tried to lose himself in it, and the remnants of those moments of extasy clung so delicately to his skin. You take your time, kissing delicate drops of Felix's water from Oliver's beautiful features like a lover, temple to cheekbones down to his jaw. When you finally relax your grip on him, his head tilts enough for him to meet your gaze. Oliver is yours, totally and completely at your mercy. Good. Once his gaze moves to your mouth, to the pleased, hungry smile you wore, he couldn't look away.

With your hand trailing down his body, teasing against his ribs and belly until your nimble fingers find their way beneath the elastic of his pyjama pants, he tries to meet you in the middle, tries to kiss you, but that's not how this game goes.

The hand you'd been using to brace yourself over him pressed against his chest, pressing him back against the porcelain, and you go with him, your cheek pressed to his, lips by his ear, his heavy breathing, desperate panting in your own. The hand on his chest finds his necklace, entangling two fingers in it until it became tight enough that you could feel the hard way he swallowed when you finally wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock.

"Good boy," you purred into his ear as you worked your hand up and down his cock, already leaking precum into his boxers. Oliver bites down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, and you have to fight to keep your own whimper quiet. The two of you find a rhythm, panting echoing in each other's ears and Oliver's hips rocking to meet your hand each time.

When you move away, Oliver looks momentarily despairing - no, please, don't stop! - in his eyes, but you reassure him with a languid kiss as you ease his pyjama pants down enough to properly free his cock. Now, when you sit back on your heels, he watches you with a dark kind of want in his eyes. Like a cornered animal, unsure of what to expect, but full of anticipation nonetheless; he watches you reach behind yourself to the drain, to the last remnants of Felix's bathwater still clinging to the metal and porcelain. You gather as much of the liquid as you can across your fingers, palms pressing into the mostly diminished puddles.

You can see it when Oliver realises what you're doing, the way his eyes transfixed on your hand as you wrap it around him. Already slick with his own precum, your hand glides with the remnants of Felix's water. Oliver's head drops back against the edge of the tub, mouth open and desperate and gasping, his eyes closed. God he's gorgeous like this.

He coaxes you up to him this time, and you let him, press yourself to him, rocking gently along with the movements of your hand and his hips, close enough to fucking to tease you both. For all this was about Oliver, every part of you felt alive and on fire with need, and seeing him like this, getting him into this state and knowing how he looked at you, how much he wanted you in this moment, it was doing things for you. Fantastic things.

When he gets close, he wraps an arm around you, hand holding the back of your head in a far firmer grip than you'd been anticipating. But there's a thrill about it, about how he holds you so tightly, his lips by your ear as you obligingly speed up to meet the frantic pace of his hips.

"Felix~" he keens, a desperate whimper in your ear amid dizzying, gasping breathes, hot against your neck. And again, Felix's name pulled from Oliver's lips like a desperate prayer for only you to hear. Something about hearing it tips you over the edge, and you realise how close you are in this moment. All it takes is you making the faintest whine, a noise of encouragement -

"Felix, please," Oliver gasps, and your breath catches as you see stars behind your eyes. You barely feel it when Oliver sinks his teeth into your shoulder once more, his orgasm hitting mere moments after yours, cumming all over your hand and his stomach. Finally, Oliver lets you go, eyes wide as you lean back with the widest, satisfied smile. There's blood on his lips, watching you with this unreadable expression as you sit back on your heels again.

Your head's still spinning, endorphins pulsing through your blood alongside the adrenaline.

Neither of you move for a long moment, still sizing each other up it seemed, at least until you raised your hand. Oliver all over you. You won't be the one to back down; his eyes meet yours and you smile, all satisfied and wolfish as you slowly lick your fingers clean. He's transfixed again, watching the way you lap him up.

No-one's ever looked at you like that, like they're desperate for you to devour every inch of them. But the moment can't last, not outside of your memories at least.

You leave in silence, just as you'd arrived, leaving Oliver alone in the bathtub, watching you like he can't quite be sure it wasn't all a dream. You hope he dreams about this, about your blood on his tongue and Felix's name on his lips.

Except you reach for the door handle only to realise it's cracked ajar. Its closed over, door almost flush and closed, but not quite. Huh. You could have sworn... But you shrug off the thought, slipping back into your room and making sure to shut the door properly behind you.

Pyjama pants and underwear both damp for several reasons, you pull them off and quickly toss them into the laundry hamper. At this moment, you can't bring yourself to bother with anything more than a new pair of underwear before you're crawling into bed beside Felix. Who's on his side.

Huh.

Felix never sleeps on his side because it messes with his shoulders. He's also still, like he's holding his breath. When you curl an arm over him, cool hand resting on his chest, you can feel his racing heartbeat. Finally, his breath comes stuttering out. Pressing yourself up against him, you hum faintly, hand drifting lower, teasingly. You rest your hand low on his belly, between the gorgeous, defined lines of his hips, but refusing beneath his waistband. There comes a faint huff from Felix, but it's indecipherable; he's still on edge, clearly having realised that you'd connected all the dots.

When you speak it's practically a moan, voice low but sharp in his ear as you let your fingers dip lower. What a night it will be to remember, spent keeping your boys happy.

"Fi, you fucking pervert."

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

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the-nysh · 11 months

Text

Rewatching Trigun's 98anime (subs this time, being used to the eng dub) since I was curious to note the characters' shifting pronoun usage.

For reference, Stampede Vash always uses the softer, more humble, modest, boyish 'boku' - as expected (like Trimax Vash), even after his glow up in ep12, he still regards himself the same way. While Knives (Nai) exclusively uses the harder, more assertive, masculine 'ore'...ever since he was a little baby, which immediately differentiates them apart, but is...extremely (lmao) edgy of him.

But in the 98anime? Oh my god, it's all flipped around and completely different! Which quite interestingly reveals a lot of contextual nuances to many characters, and quite frankly rewatching in Japanese trying to catch all these things only thoroughly kicked my ass throwing in so many difficult-to-understand, unexpected curveballs; I'm both shook and humbled by what I've heard!

Because 98 Knives refers to himself as 'boku' O____O;; even during his most 'villainous' lines yelling at Vash too. Him having that casual but 'polite' poised dissonance in his voice comes off extremely unnerving;;; when he speaks of horrible things thru such an 'innocent' self-perception like that. (Even Legato uses 'boku' like him! Same in Stampede.) Damn I'm disturbed. He and Vash notably both used 'boku' when they were kids, but Knives in particular never really stopped saying that from their childhoods, so that says a lot about him. (His "did you just shoot me [boku]!?" comes off very uncannily childlike. No wonder Vash freaked out in guilt.)

But 98 Vash? Whoa, he requires a whole damn essay flips around ALL the time, interchangeably using BOTH! :O Often switching pronouns between 'ore' & 'boku' within the same episode, or even as quickly as every other sentence, even towards the same person. Depending on the immediate context/topic of what he's saying and the emphasis on how he's saying it. Via all his posturing, which 'persona' he switches into, his familiarity/humbleness/honesty/trust--even hostility towards certain people, and his mood's silly vs seriousness levels. Often reflective of how determined/confrontational/casual he is vs being walled off (masking) to openly repentant, lost or distressed too - but not always! It's Extremely inconsistent fascinating but confusing!!! Because there's no....fixed 'rules' to his usage. For ex he'll often use 'ore' casually within his own internal monologues to his more bombastic public self-introductions, or even when he's at his most serious in private moments about grave matters, like settling his past during his scar scene with Meryl. Even Eriks!Vash still uses 'ore' when confessing his guilt to Wolfwood about the Fifth Moon! So there feels to be a general preference for using 'ore' when he (internally and externally, both in casual and serious contexts) needs to show his 'determination' - aka being the man (the ideal 'Vash'?) he wants to become.

But then he'll flip around using 'boku' for some of his most exasperatingly fake ✨playful✨ bits when he's kidding and messing around in mock courtesy (bonus: he even uses 'watashi' as a joke for his ridiculously long 'formal' name introduction to Wolfwood).....AND 'boku' will be used for his most sincere humble (polite) conversations back with family members he knows at Home, and when he connects back to his childhood with Rem in his dreams. The Diablo ep is a good example: he uses 'ore' throughout the ep until he reverts to 'boku' after speaking to Rem deciding not to kill, and that humbling shift, like to that of a lost younger boy, makes so much sense. The shift happens again when Eriks!Vash thinks about Rem feeling just as lost: "what should I [boku] do?" And after the tragic incident at Home when he's depressed and masking himself behind his glasses, while quietly reflecting to Wolfwood with a reproachful, "Everyone who touches me [boku] dies." ...Before immediately changing back to 'ore' in the next sentence firming his resolve to face Knives.

But in general it really depends and you have to listen hard (pay close attention) to hear how much contextual teasing, sincerity, irony, genuine respect, or...humbling self-reproach and self-depreciation he uses. Indicative towards how much (or how poorly) he internally regards himself and how he externally presents himself to others, because it changes. All the time. His personal pronouns aren't fixed! ...Basically, I'm just as confused as Meryl (and it really makes narrative sense why she's so confused by him), not knowing which 'persona' is the real him! x'D

...Oh but a really good moment, in ep24 when Meryl pleads at him to be honest with her for once about all the tragedies, he uses 'boku' explaining everything to her about Knives. That's....really good. :O Like umm...him using 'ore' before with her (in the scar scene) kind of erected a subtle barrier when he refused to elaborate further, but using 'boku' so sincerely for her request.....like it..extends her the same humble level of courtesy/trust he'd use towards the 'family' he loves back at Home (+Rem)....but it's so loaded, cause he's being honest but still...distant telling her why he's better off alone. :')) Man...(the aaangst) Oooooh, but then ep25 is very telling too, cause he's mentally lost for the whole ep, always using 'boku' so anguished and self-deprecatingly....until Meryl saves him and he gives her his softest genuine 'boku' yet, after he recovers back to himself donning the red coat again, thanking and assuring her he'll be alright. :'D (Hooray~) Before internally switching back to 'ore' on his final quest setting out alone for Knives. Ep26: he still keeps that distinct assertive 'ore' in front of Knives "I [ore] will survive!" and 'boku' for Rem: "I [boku] will continue to believe in you, but will look to my own [jibun] words for guidance." :')) (Bonus: 'jibun' is added when he philosophically thinks in terms of 'oneself'/'myself' from now on.)

Bonus nuance: while younger Vash may have dependently followed Knives' lead around--back when they both used 'boku' together, older (current) Vash--using 'ore' with him, feels like he's grown to assume the role as the more independent, responsible older brother now, when he finally understands how to put Rem's last words to 'take care of Knives' into practice. :'))

So tl;dr: Vash tends to have a casual leaning preference for using 'ore' in most situations both private and public, but especially for whenever he asserts his determination involving Knives with a confrontational edge. 'Boku' is used exclusively (politely, with genuine deference & care) towards extended family members he loves (like Rem, Brad, Doc, and eventually.....Meryl; using the softest 'boku' towards her I've ever heard. ;.;) And for whenever he humbles himself in distress, feeling lost in turmoil or self-reproach. But it's not set in stone! Since both pronouns can be used sincerely or ironically in jest, for whenever he's feeling silly or playing a bit (donning a mask), easily switching depending on presentation or context too. 98 Vash simply does what he wants! While Meryl screams in confused exasperation!

As for 98 Meryl, she often uses the book-standard, more formal/professional 'watashi' when introducing herself (Stampede Meryl too), and her speech patterns are typically very polite and pleasant to listen to (with many lovely 'desu-wa' sentence finishers.) ...Until she changes to the informal, more feminine 'atashi.' Ex: when screaming at Milly to let her go (to Vash) as the city blew up during the Fifth Moon incident. The raw sincerity in her voice for that change is so...🥺 of her. Note, cause most other girls - from Rem, Milly, younger kids like Lina, to older (but youthful) grandma characters all informally use 'atashi.' So for Meryl to drop her usual formalities when her honest feelings come out ("I [atashi] need to go there!" - to the epicenter where Vash is) means a lot. :')) ...Ah! Cause she slips to 'atashi' again in ep25, in front of Vash (while he uses 'boku' at his most mentally lost and openly wounded state) at his bedside. o///o Oh my... Using 'atashi' again while crying to Milly in regret that she couldn't confess anything yet to Vash on his sendoff. So yes, Meryl's feminine 'atashi' side shows whenever she expresses her honest feelings. :'3

Now 98 Wolfwood is a special case, cause he speaks primarily in Kansai dialect, which is extremely hard for me to understand what he's saying in modified/shortened slang all the time. (Compared to say, Meryl who speaks very cleanly and polite.) I've heard him use 'ore' when offering kids food, the more rural/casual form 'oira' when confessing his turmoil to Milly at his most vulnerable, 'uchi' when talking about 'our orphanage,' 'washi' (the 'old man' form of watashi) when speaking in more formal/aged terms of 'God', to the slang form 'wai' (he casually prefers this one a lot, and Stampede Wolfwood uses 'wai' too, esp when introducing himself to new people, for most of the few eps he's even in, and it makes him sound like...way older than he actually is?) to even 'jibun' when talking about himself with distance in flashbacks. The impression he gives off is like that of someone who's come from a rural/street kid (orphan) background...but who speaks like a chill elder now?? who's aged far too soon for his years. That's my best interpretation of what's happening. (His slang 'wai' even slurs to sound like 'oira,' almost like 'wai-ra' sometimes; gah it's really hard for me to discern, I'm sorry.) Bonus: he teasingly calls Milly 'my honey' in english, while she playfully answers him back with the pronounced 'a-na-ta' (dear), so they def have an inside thing going on. Bottom line, he's very complicated *bangs head on desk* and his accent is too unfamiliar/beyond my meager course level to fully grasp! :'D

To sum up (to the best of my hearing comprehension):

Stampede Vash: always boku, modest and unassuming towards everyone 98 Vash: BOTH ore & boku; not fixed. Casual preference for ore vs more humble courtesy using boku, but it's extremely context/mood/persona dependent, since he can mask & switch for jokes. Has a serious confrontational/determined edge using ore vs Knives--as if Vash becomes the older brother here, but always reserves the softer boku towards Rem and the found family he loves Stampede Knives: always ore, ever since he was a baby; so much edge 98 Knives: boku, coming off unnervingly childlike vs Vash's ore Meryl (both): watashi, but changes to atashi (98) when her honest feelings towards Vash show Wolfwood (both, Kansai dialect): primarily wai, but can use many other forms Legato (both): boku Roberto: ore Milly: atashi, but can mask using watashi when she's not fine Rem: atashi (98) & watashi (Stampede) Stampede Luida: watashi, but atashi when casual with teen Vash Brad (both): ore Dr. Conrad: watashi Stampede Elendira: watashi Stampede Zazie: boku

Now besides the animes, since Trimax is a whole other overwhelming complicated beast, and since I don't have access to check (nor would I even be able to easily read/understand) the Japanese raws, I'd be VERY interested in someone's investigation and breakdown into the manga's pronouns, especially for Trimax Vash, since I've heard that beyond 'boku,' he shifts and evolves throughout his journey too, possibly ending on a very soft wizened, matured 'watashi' that I'd love to hear more!

#trigun #commentary #meta #long text post #me thinking this would be a fun and interesting rewatch activity #*gets Immediately Pulverized by unexpected curveballs and difficulty*#ohhhhhhh my college courses in japanese aren't strong enough for this #that i know i could not survive trimax's raws; i'd be destroyed instantly

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eufezco · 10 months

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sister's fiance!Joel x reader

smut ! i've not written a single thing for three months so sorry if this is really bad

You promised yourself it wouldn't happen again but it felt dirty just the way you both looked at each other.

The first time it happened was one night you visited their house hoping to find your sister, but she was still at work. Joel insisted on you waiting for her and told you he didn't mind adding a plate to the table for you. You thanked him deeply and asked for Sarah. You were kinda close with her since you sometimes helped her with homework and looked after her when your sister and her dad went out. Unfortunately, Joel told you Sarah was out for the night as he poured you some wine, so it was just you and him in the house. And thank god because your moans were loud, and your sister would have freaked out watching the scene, as well as Joel helping you to jump on the table and the red wine being spilled on her new white carpet.

The following times were purely lustful. Your sister only crossed your mind when you watched her eyes glowing as she looked at Joel. Not even when you were lying in her bed with her fiancé on top of you and their photos on the bedside table looking directly at you. But as the wedding date kept getting closer, the feeling of regret began to haunt you. But then his strong hands were on your body again, and his lips devoured your neck, and you could hear your sister's car pull into the garage as Joel fucked faster into you with one of his hands around your neck as he mumbled into your ear how he wanted you to hold his cum inside when you greeted your sister.

She loved how close you were with Joel. You were even closer to him than she knew, so close that his fingers caressed the inside of your thighs while you were at the table, a very risky move considering that your sister was sitting in front of you two, and then, minutes after, he was on his knees on the bathroom floor, eating you out under the floral skirt you were wearing as you tried to keep it quiet. Your sister truly did love you being close to Joel. She loved that you two could spend some time alone and that it would not be awkward. How was it gonna be awkward when he was shoving his cock down your throat and then bending you over the sink he came to your house to help you fix?

"You didn't open the door for me last night."

"I told you this can't go on, Joel."

He was standing behind you, with his hands in his pockets and his back leaning against one of the doors of the restrooms, as he looked carefully at your reflection in the mirror. Three days ago was his bachelor party. He told you that it was not going to be anything special, just a couple of drinks with his brother and some friends, and then he'd be home.

You didn't think he meant your home.

You hadn't seen each other since then. He has been busy with the wedding and you thought it would be best if you two stopped seeing each other as soon as possible.

"You've said that so many times it's meaningless at this point."

You softly shook your head in disagreement with his words. You shook your hands before grabbing a piece of paper to dry them off as you turned to face Joel. He had that devilish smirk on his lips.

"I'm being serious, Joel. I don't know what else you want from me. This has been fun but also wrong. You're marrying my sister in less than an hour yet you're here–”

"And that tells you nothing, huh?"

"Joel." You stopped him there. He was going to marry your sister. You didn't care if you had to disappear from the country or join a convent and become a nun, but he was going to put that ring on your sister's finger. With his hands still inside his pockets and his eyes locked on the floor, he approached you. Slowly walking and giving you enough time to try and escape him, but poor you. You ended up trapped in between the sink behind you and Joel's body.

"This dress looks amazing on you." You avoided eye contact with him. He played with the thin strap on your shoulder. He had you where he wanted, with no escape. "You know I helped your sister to choose it?" It was hard to breathe with him so close, and all that came through your nostrils was his intoxicating perfume. "All I could think about when she was showing me those stupid bridesmaids' dresses was how they would look on you, and I knew this would be the best one."

"Joel–" You let out his name in a sigh.

"And I was right because–fuck" Joel chuckled in mid-sentence. Before he could finish, your lips were already on his.

The kiss was messy, and you hesitated about where to place your hands; only two seemed too little for how much you needed to touch him. You tugged at the root of his hair, destroying the hairdresser's work, and then you moved them to squeeze both of his cheeks to deepen the kiss as much as possible. But your hands ended up focusing on taking off his suit jacket, and then your fingers skillfully started to unbutton his shirt. It was easy for Joel to slide your panties down your legs and turn you around to face the mirror.

You bent over the countertop, resting your entire upper body on it and making your ass fully at his disposal. Joel unzipped his pants and pulled down his underwear just enough to free his cock. One of his hands wrapped around his shaft, stroking himself as he let out a groan, and with his other hand, he caressed one of your ass cheeks. You spread your legs apart and Joel teased your wet hole with his tip before finally pushing himself inside of you.

You both let out a moan at the same time when Joel bottomed you. He pressed his chest against your back, his hips thrusting hard into you and his fingers digging into your skin there to keep you in place. You tried your best to quiet your moans, but there were times when you couldn't help but let out some whimpers and curses. Joel had to move one of his hands to wrap his fingers around your neck, not to choke you but to make you throw your head back.

"That should be you wearing the white dress. It should be you who—fuck, It should be you who I wait for at the altar." Joel groaned in your ear as his hips kept hammering into you. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, sucking on your sensitive skin there.

You would never tell him how much you liked hearing that, the reaction his words had on you, and the way you would have loved to tell him that you felt the same way. But he had a duty to your sister; you both had to make that sacrifice for all the damage you had caused her without her knowing it.

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

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❝the witch hybrid and her companion 2❞

✭ pairing : father Carlisle Cullen x reader x imprint Seth Clearwater

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is a young witch who Carlisle had saved from the Salem witch trials, she had been been on the verge of being fully brunt to death when he had grabbed and rescued her, she was fifteen when he had turnt her thus making her the first hybrid of both witch and vampire species.

✭ authors note : this is part 2 to this request and I’m resuming from where I left off at

✭ twilight masterlist

In the days following the revelation of Seth's imprint on (Y/N), Carlisle's overprotectiveness had reached new heights. He wanted to know her whereabouts at all times, even when he was at work. While his intentions were rooted in concern, (Y/N) found his constant vigilance suffocating.

One afternoon, feeling frustrated and in need of some space, (Y/N) decided to return to the Quileute pack's house. She was aware that her presence might not be welcomed by everyone, but she couldn't bear the overbearing atmosphere at home any longer.

As she arrived at the pack's house, Paul's abrasive greeting didn't surprise her. "Oh great, the freak's back."

Seth, sitting nearby, growled in response, his protective instincts kicking in. He shot Paul a warning glare before getting up and rushing to (Y/N)'s side. His face lit up with a lovesick smile as he hugged her tightly. "I've missed you," he murmured.

(Y/N) blushed and fidgeted under Seth's warm embrace, feeling a mixture of flattery and embarrassment.

Sam, observing the scene, approached with a curious expression. "Why are you here, (Y/N)?"

Unable to meet Sam's gaze, (Y/N) buried her head in Seth's chest and mumbled, "Just wanted to talk with Seth for a bit."

Seth tightened his hold on her, as if silently claiming her presence. He responded with a determined nod, his expression reflecting his unwavering affection for her.

Sam exchanged a knowing glance with the other pack members, recognizing the depth of Seth's imprint bond with (Y/N). While some tensions still lingered, they understood that this connection was beyond their control and something that needed to be respected.

(Y/N) and Seth, in that moment, found solace in each other's presence, away from the complexities and expectations of their respective worlds.

“Here follow me, I know where we can hang out at.”

Seth gently led (Y/N) toward the beach, their footsteps leaving imprints in the soft sand. The sound of the crashing waves filled the air, and the moon cast a shimmering silver glow over the ocean. It was a tranquil scene, the perfect backdrop for their conversation.

They found a quiet spot on the shore, sitting side by side, their toes sinking into the cool sand. They watched the waves roll in and out, the rhythm of the ocean providing a sense of calm.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Seth turned to (Y/N), his eyes searching her face. "Something's been bothering you, hasn't it?"

(Y/N) sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it's my father, Carlisle. He's been so overprotective lately, and it's suffocating."

Seth chuckled softly, understanding her frustration. "I get it. My big sister, Leah, can be the same way. They care deeply for us, (Y/N). They don't want to see us hurt."

(Y/N) nodded, appreciating Seth's perspective. "I know, and I love him for it, but I also need some space, you know? I want to have my own experiences and make my own decisions."

Seth grinned, his expression warm and supportive. "You're strong, (Y/N), and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You can handle it. Just be patient with him. He's learning too."

They turned their attention back to the waves, their conversation bringing a sense of understanding and reassurance. In that moment, (Y/N) felt grateful for the bond she shared with Seth, one that allowed them to share their concerns and find solace in each other's company.

As they watched the moonlight dance on the water, they knew that the challenges of their supernatural existence were vast, but with each other's support, they could navigate the complexities of their worlds and the relationships they held dear.

Seth's curiosity lingered in the tranquil night air as he turned to (Y/N) and asked, "If it isn't too much trouble to ask, what was it like back then for you?"

(Y/N) contemplated the question for a moment, the memories of those dark times resurfacing. "During the Salem witch trials?"

Seth nodded, his eyes reflecting genuine interest.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, her gaze distant as she began to recount her past. "My mother and I lived in fear, but there was a strange kind of harmony to it. We were both witches, you see. We learned magic from the grand witch, the first to be burnt alive in those trials."

Seth listened intently, captivated by her story.

(Y/N) continued, "The grand witch had been an outcast, feared and shunned by the townsfolk. But she wasn't wicked; she was just misunderstood. My mother and I were the only ones kind to her, and in return, she taught us her magic."

Seth's eyes widened with understanding. "So, you and your mother were accused because of your magic?"

(Y/N) nodded sadly. "Yes. They found my mother using her magic to make the crops grow during a particularly harsh season. The townsfolk believed it was witchcraft, so they killed her. A few months later, they came for me, fearing I was a witch like her."

Seth's expression turned sympathetic as he listened to the harrowing tale. He couldn't imagine the pain and fear (Y/N) must have endured during those dark times.

(Y/N) sighed, her gaze returning to the moonlit waves. "It was a time of persecution and ignorance, Seth. I'm just grateful that I found a family who accepts me for who I am now."

Seth reached out and gently squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, offering silent comfort and understanding. He had glimpsed a piece of her past, and it only deepened his admiration for her strength and resilience.

Seth's curiosity continued to drive his questions as he turned to (Y/N) once more. "Can you tell me what it was like when you were turned into a vampire?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her memories of the transformation still vivid and painful. "It was... excruciating. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. The venom burned like a thousand fires, coursing through my veins."

She shivered as she recalled the sensation, her voice quivering with the memories. "It was like reliving the flames from the stake all over again. But there was something else, something deeper. My own blood fought against the venom, resisting the change."

Seth's expression turned sympathetic as he listened to her describe the agonizing process. "That sounds awful. How did you make it through?"

(Y/N) took a deep breath, finding strength in the presence of her friend. "I had Carlisle with me. He saved me from the pain of the stake, and he was there to help me through the transformation as well. He's been my savior in more ways than one."

Seth nodded, his respect for Carlisle growing even stronger. He couldn't imagine the strength and resilience it took for (Y/N) to endure such a traumatic experience and emerge from it as the person she was today.

As they continued their conversation under the moonlit sky, (Y/N) and Seth found solace in sharing their pasts and the challenges they had faced.

As (Y/N) and Seth continued to share their stories and experiences, it became clear that their bond was growing stronger with each passing moment. (Y/N) had learned about Seth's curiosity, and now it was her turn to ask about his life.

"I'd like to hear more about your life, Seth," she said, her eyes filled with genuine interest. "Tell me about your family."

Seth smiled, appreciating her curiosity. "Sure, (Y/N). Well, it's just my mom and my sister, Leah, now. Our dad, Harry, passed away when I was pretty young."

(Y/N) nodded in understanding, a sympathetic expression on her face.

Seth continued, "After Dad's death, it was just the three of us. Leah took on a lot of responsibility, helping our mom, Sue, raise me. She's always been strong and protective."

(Y/N) listened intently, gaining a deeper understanding of Seth's family dynamics.

Seth's smile grew as he recounted more of their story. "Leah shifted first, a few weeks before I did. It was a tough time for us, but she managed to navigate the challenges of being a wolf. When I eventually shifted too, it was a relief to have her by my side, guiding me through it."

(Y/N) was struck by the strength and resilience of the Clearwater family, especially Leah and Seth, who had faced significant challenges at a young age. Their bond as siblings had undoubtedly played a crucial role in helping them weather the storms of their supernatural existence.

As the conversation with Seth stretched into the late hours of the night, the moon hanging high in the sky, he eventually noticed the time. With a concerned expression, he spoke up, "It's getting pretty late. I could ask my mom if you can stay over if you want."

(Y/N) smiled warmly at his offer, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "That's really sweet, Seth, but I should head back home. My family's been worried about me enough as it is, especially my dad."

Seth nodded in understanding, realizing the importance of (Y/N)'s family. "I get it. Family comes first."

As they began to make their way back to the pack's house, Seth walked alongside (Y/N), the night air filled with a sense of companionship and understanding. When they finally reached their destination, Seth turned to (Y/N) with a soft smile.

"Well, (Y/N), thanks for coming to visit and sharing all those stories with me."

(Y/N) returned his smile, feeling a sense of connection she hadn't expected when she first ventured out to the pack's house. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Seth's cheek. "Thank you for being such a good friend, Seth. I'll see you soon."

Seth's cheeks flushed bright red at the unexpected kiss. He stammered a grateful but slightly flustered reply, "Yeah, definitely. See you soon, (Y/N)."

As (Y/N) turned to head back home, she couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in her heart. The supernatural world was filled with complexities and challenges, but it was also where unexpected friendships and connections could bloom, leaving a lasting impact on those who dared to embrace them.

As (Y/N) returned home, the familiar embrace of her family awaited her. Carlisle, who had been anxiously waiting for her, enveloped her in a tight hug the moment she stepped through the door.

"I'm so sorry for my behavior, (Y/N)," Carlisle whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I just worry about you, and I love you deeply."

(Y/N) returned the hug, her heart warmed by her father's concern. "I love you too, Carlisle. I'm grateful to have you as my father, even if I'm adopted."

Carlisle smiled, a mixture of relief and affection in his eyes. "You will always be my daughter, no matter what."

Feeling reassured, (Y/N) couldn't help but yawn. The long evening and heartfelt conversations with Seth had taken their toll on her.

Seeing her exhaustion, Carlisle gently said, "It's getting late, (Y/N). You should go to bed."

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before making a request. "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Sing me the lullaby you used to sing when I was younger?"

Carlisle nodded, his heart swelling with love for his daughter. He followed her to her room, and as she settled into bed, he sat beside her. He began to softly sing the familiar lullaby that had always brought her comfort.

"The monsters gone, and it's on the run,

And your daddy's here.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl."

As the soothing words filled the room, (Y/N) felt her eyelids grow heavy. She closed her eyes, listening to the familiar melody, and soon, the embrace of sleep overcame her.

Carlisle watched over her for a while longer, a wistful smile on his face. His little girl was growing up, and with each passing day, she was embracing her own unique journey in the supernatural world. He knew that their family's bond would remain unbreakable, no matter how much she changed and grew.

With a final loving glance at (Y/N), he left her room, closing the door gently behind him. The night settled over the Cullens' home, and Carlisle couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and connections that bound their family together, even in the face of the challenges that their extraordinary existence presented.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight scenario #twilight masterlist #twilight x y/n #twilight x you #seth clearwater x you #seth clearwater #seth clearwater imagines #seth clearwater x reader #seth clearwater x y/n #seth clearwater imagine

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jubileemon · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel: Poison Song

The song became controversial due to the visuals that accompany it were seem as portraying the topic of sexual abuse in an insensitive and some sort of sick fetish, but not from Angel Dust's perspective. Let me explain:

Valentino's Obsession and Control

Valentino's behavior towards Angel extends beyond professional boundaries, crossing into personal and sexual territory. His obsession with Angel Dust is evident in his relentless pursuit and control over him, which includes forcing himself upon Angel Dust and engaging in non-consensual acts. The series does not shy away from depicting the grim reality of such abusive relationships, challenging the audience to confront the severity of these issues.

Angel's inability to break free from Valentino's grip is symbolized by a contract that legally binds him to his abuser. The series hints at the possibility of escape, suggesting that the contract's dissolution could be the key to the sinner's liberation. However, the power to terminate this contract lies with Valentino, leaving Angel in a state of limbo and dependence.

Coping Mechanism and Self-Destruction

Angel was bound by a contract to Valentino, faces a harrowing existence under his dominion. Valentino, who is both Angel Dust's employer in the adult film industry and his abuser, employs gaslighting tactics to keep Angel Dust in line. The series showcases the psychological impact of such abuse, with Angel Dust being subjected to poor mistreatment and threats that leave him feeling trapped and hopeless.

Angel Dust's coping strategy involves substance abuse and self-sabotage, hoping to become so broken that Valentino will lose interest in him. This tragic approach to dealing with trauma is a reflection of the harsh reality faced by many abuse victims, who sometimes resort to self-harm in an effort to become unappealing to their abusers.

It is worth noting that Valentino is the one who should be freaking out in this scene, not Angel Dust, because actually managing to piss off Lucifer's daughter is like a mouse finally poking a lazy cat into action. But Charlie's demeanor is so unthreatening that even when she is clearly going to break Valentino like a twig for his behavior, Valentino isn't threatened and Angel actually stops Charlie from attacking him, seeing her as the one in danger. This is noted to be a favorite tactic of real-life abusers, in which they psychologically bind their victims so badly that they themselves will refuse help from people who would've saved them with little effort.

Angel's meltdown when Husk rejects him one too many times is both this and even more sadder, reminding us that Valentino's abuse has all but fully convinced Angel that his only worth is sex. As well as after Husk called him fake right before the meltdown, his eyes glow magenta and he gets up in Husk’s face.

The Music

The 'Poison' music video serves as a metaphorical exploration of Angel Dust's entrapment and addiction to the toxic relationship with Valentino. Visual elements such as pink smoke-like chains represent Valentino's control, while the ambiguous nature of their sexual encounters raises questions about consent. The video culminates in a scene that encapsulates the fear and distress Angel Dust experiences, highlighting the cyclical nature of abuse.

At one point in the song Angel straight up says that he can only blame himself instead of pinning any of it on "the poisoner" for all the abuse he's being put through. A harrowing reminder of how too many a victim feels like they've brought their suffering upon themselves or, worse, believe they deserve it.

Throughout the sequence, Angel is trying to maintain his "mask" of super-confidence and semi-aggressive sexuality on camera... but the mask keeps slipping. His face flashes from resigned, to frightened, to just plain tired, before he has to fake enthusiasm again. Worse, Valentino appears to be deliberately throwing Angel off his stride whenever he successfully gets into character: for example, when during the dance sequence between Angel and Valentino, Angel's doing a good job of appearing graceful and seductive...until Valentino literally yanks Angel's soul-contract chain to bring him crashing to the ground, a move that clearly startles Angel.

During the final dance sequence, the Angel we see "happily" dancing on stage is contrasted with his "real" self shown on screens surrounding him, going through the agonizing abuse that Valentino subjects him to. When Valentino arrives and drags Angel off to be raped again, it's flipped on its head — now the Angel on stage is fearful and upset while his screen counterpart "happily" continues the dance. "I disassociate, disappear" indeed...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin analysis #vivziepop #angel dust #character analysis #song #song analysis #hazbin hotel poison #valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valdust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #abuse #toxic relationship #huskerdust #poison hazbin hotel

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hotvintagepoll · 18 days

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Propaganda

Nancy Kwan (The World of Suzy Wong, Flower Drum Song, Tamahine)—Nancy Kwan is my faaaaave like you don't understand!! watching her dance in her beautiful chic boudoir in flower drum song—the GRACE of it, the STUNNING BEAUTY. she is everything i've ever wanted to be and more. theeee most beautiful woman of the 60s i don't care what anyone else says! my queen my icon my legend!!

Mary Pickford (Coquette, Tess of the Storm Country)—She was a pioneer in early cinema! She acted, wrote, and produced numerous films and was one of the founders of the United Artists film studio, along with Charlie Chaplin and her husband, Doug Fairbanks. At the height of her career in the 1920s there was nobody more famous. She was widely known as "America's Sweetheart." She won an Oscar in 1929 for her performance in Coquette (1929) and then a lifetime achievement Oscar in 1979.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Nancy Kwan:

"askgdshadlg women"

"2 Golden Globes. Was in 15 movies to 1970 and many more after."

"have you seen her? she’s beautiful and love her so much. she also did ballet before acting."

"She was one of the few Asian American starlets of her time, she is graceful beautiful and she had to work a lot at making it big under the circumstances (20th century Hollywood)"

"Ok, this is super niche, but movies for Asian American girls growing up in the 80s was limited. Nancy Kwan is really freaking gorgeous and, while her character in Flower Drum Song is problematic nowadays (i heard she cried when asked to do the lingerie scenes), having an Asian American woman on screen with her own prerogative+agency was formative."

Mary Pickford:

Mary Pickford wasn't just a silent star, she was a huge historical figure for film. I really cannot emphasize how involved she was in creating and shaping the film world. She was completely passionate about the theater world (from a young age!) and still revered even after she lost relevance. Her tenacity, her beauty, and her intelligence is what made her the first actress labeled as "America's Sweetheart." She just has this glow, a wonderful sweet disposition, and warm heart. She often introduced other women to motion picture and helped them showcase their talent. She was an astute business woman, although when asked about this she said "Well you know this business angle is much exaggerated, because most people don't expect much sense of a woman 5 feet tall. If I were 5 feet 8 they would say I was a very poor business woman!" She was friends with Amelia Earheart and had terrible luck in love. Please just learn about or give thought to my sad small sweet girl.

She was an absolute pioneer in the very early days of feature films. She co-founded United artists and managed her career brilliantly.

"America’s Sweetheart”, “Queen of Hollywood”, her and Douglas Fairbanks were the og it couple, owned her own movie studio, had both a drink and a hairstyle named after her

#mary pickford #nancy kwan #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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wordsinhaled · 8 months

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augh, y'all. The Ball episode is so lovely?? ?? it is just the most episode. i'm emotional about it so you're gonna hear about it.

okay, it's the way crowley is indignant that anyone could ever suggest anything against aziraphale's pureness of heart, even while knowing aziraphale's a bit of a bastard and finding that wonderful about him. and his vehement objection that he'd ever relegate aziraphale to anything less than the most important person in his life. the way crowley is like "oh. i have had. a Realization," after talking to nina, and he has to go and get day-drunk to deal with the enormity of it, and he asks aziraphale if he wants a glass, probably thinking - maybe aziraphale will sit with him and maybe they'll Talk About It. and... "smitten, I believe."

and the way the whole time after his conversation with nina crowley's just subtly different around aziraphale from then on - watching him just a tiny little bit differently, partially like he just can't look away and partially like the realization is sinking in, "this is actually the person who's walking around with my heart and doesn't know it, and i actually have to grapple with that" - you know??? the way crowley's always marveling at aziraphale from beside him - "can i watch?" and then the way aziraphale ushers crowley out of the bookshop so he can make his preparations. the sweeping music while aziraphale miracles the beautiful glowing chandelier and crowley stopping in his tracks outside the window to look at it...

the way crowley rushes into the bookshop from outside and stops short by the door just boggling because the entire place is transformed and aziraphale did all that. aziraphale is absolutely freaking out about asking crowley to dance just before he does it; his eyes dart all over and voice goes all funny with nerves and everything, because he's thinking oh god, i planned this whole thing just for this, and now is the moment. the way aziraphale knows every step of the dance and crowley doesn't really follow the steps of the dance beyond the bare minimum (there's a point where he even sort of shrugs, when that's not the dance step) but he's still taking every opportunity for them to touch. the way they almost hold hands and their fingers nearly twine together each time, while they barely touch the other shopkeepers only as much as necessary.

crowley's "i won't leave you on your own," and aziraphale's answering "i know." the confirmation that aziraphale can stand up for himself perfectly well, but knows it makes crowley happy to be a rescuer and indulges that about him in their relationship - coupled with crowley's "he's unpredictable" from earlier which shows crowley knows his madcap angel can get out of anything but that he enjoys letting himself be rescued. (it's an echo back to the bastille scene too, really, where crowley's basically like you called me here for this??? because you wanted to have crepes??? and aziraphale's like and so what if i did? it's their thing, their thing they both enjoy so much.)

the way their love in so many ways is about knowing one another and understanding one another and giving each other what they need. and the fact that even with all their roadblocks in communication they STILL know and understand one another best, because they've each been witness to the other's first moments of genuine joy and pleasure. (i have a separate set of thoughts about that that i won't go in here because this has gotten long, but -- )

they!!!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #just having feelings here don't mind me

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youareabird · 1 year

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Water Under the Bridge

A month has passed since you decided you didn't like Bella. The way his brown hair laid to their shoulders, the way her eyes would widen in excitement; showcasing the big brown orbs you grew to distaste. No body knew why. Why there was tension floating between the two of you or why you both seemed to dislike one another.

But it was known. From the words of hate to the silent actions of ignorance, it was known you hated each other.

The first scene on screen threw everyone off guard. Bella and you had shown chemistry between one another, making the cast and crew forget about the feud. It was set in the script that you would be playing the love interest of Ellie Williams in 'The Last Of Us' season two.

"I think I like you a little too much." You said softly, raising both of your hands as far apart as possible. You hair laid around your face, perfectly splayed out on the pillow beneath you. "Like look at that!"

Bella's breath hit your face as they laid inches from you. Her face as splashed of blood coating it, hair pulled into a half bun. It was messy considering the state he was in. "You're ridiculous." She groaned, eyebrows scrunching as they pushed your hands down into your lap.

She was laying on her back, face pointed towards you as their hands stayed intertwined with yours. The soft glow of the room gave a comfortable aura which was cut shortly by a stage hand yelling, 'CUT!'

The feeling of hands leaving yours came faster than wanted. You pushed your coworker away from you with a force stronger than expected. "OW!" Bella yelled in response. She sat up in haste, leaning back on their hands as they looked at you. Bewilderment coated his face as they looked at you, "What was that for?"

You shrugged in response, "You were too close."

"That was a freaking scene!"

"And they said 'CUT."

"Oh my god." They whispered, finally removing themselves from the bed they previously occupied.

You watched them walk away, leaving you in a seated position. "Y/N, That's a wrap for the day. You can leave."

---

Hours passed since your day ended. The everlasting stench of fake blood and dirt had been washed away from the crevices they laid. You found yourself lounging in the trailer that belonged to you, snuggled into the small cot with a book in hand.

A knock sounded from the door, "Come in!" you said loudly. The door creaked open slowly as the person opening it stayed quiet. Bella's head popped through the little crack.

"Hey." they said softly, walking completely into the trailer and shutting the door behind. Her hair was pulled into a pony tail and any splatter of blood that was once there, wasn't any longer.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What's up?"

Bella didn't reply to your question, in return, she lifted up the script. Their feet carried over to you, settling down in the empty spot of your couch. You exit the cot to grab the script of your own. Sitting down on the couch besides the person you distaste the most.

"What scene?" you asked as you began flipping through the pages.

The soft thump of papers sounded from beside you, "There is no scene."

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, you set the script onto the couch beside you and looked over at Bella. "What?"

"I don't need help."

"Then why are you here?"

"Cause," they through threw their hands up for dramatic effect, "I know you hate me but I like you a little too much"

"You're quoting me, now?"

"That's all you heard?"

"...I don't hate you, Bella." you admitted quietly. Looking down at the hands in your lap.

Silence emitted through the air as Bella didn't respond. Looking up from your lap and towards her, Bella's face stayed unconvinced. "....I don't!"

"Then why do you act like you do?"

"I don't know...I do like you...we just had a good feud going..."

He sat there with eyes wide open, mouth blubbering like a fish. "Okay, let me get this straight..." they paused, eyebrows furrowing, "You acted like you hated me for a...feud?"

"...Yes?"

#tlou #bella ramsey #hbo the last of us #bellaramsey #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #bella ramsey fanfic #bella #ellie williams #bella ramsey x reader #lgbtqia

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beaniebeensbaby201 · 1 year

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NETEYAM X HUMAN READER

A/N: potential spoilers down below for those who have not watched ATWOW

Spoilers in the ending where I put an A/N so do not read that please

ALSO THIS ISNT REALLY A SCENE FROM THE MOVIE SO PLEASE DONT HATE

A/N: I'm still knew at putting links in but this is part 2 if anyone has tips on how to use tumblr that would be great

You may NOT copy this, with or without my permission.

Summary: Y/N grew up with Jake and Neytiri's children as her parents were killed during the first war. She was the same age as Neteyam. They grew up together. They both harbored feelings for each other, but they both knew they couldn't be together due to them being different species.

I was the only one who knew how Kiri felt. Everyone would call her a freak, and I was a human who didn't belong here. Yet, somehow, the family showed me that it is okay to be different, that I was no outsider to them.

Night had fallen as I was with Neteyam. We both spoke on our feelings to each other, but we could never act on them. I was human. He was Na'Vi, who was destined to Mate with the next Tsahik. He was to be the next Olo'eyktan, and I would be just a regular human.

"What are you thinking about?" Neteyam asked, as I was unusually quiet.

"Nothing." I lied.

I stared at the stars above us as we were riding on his Ikran. It was rare for us to ever be alone, as I was always with Kiri, learning how to heal from her and Mo'at.

"You're lying." I sighed, he didn't even have to see my expression to know I'm lying.

"I don't want to ruin the moment Nete." I rest my head against his back, as I heard him let out a sigh.

My arms circled around his body, I was smaller than him, as he was an alien, who would grow to be ten feet tall.

"We're going to be having this discussion sooner or later by my parents." I squeezed my eyes shut as I buried my face deeper into his back.

"I know, I know Nete. But can we just have this moment?" He huffs in response as I scoot closer so my legs entangled with his as he pats his hand on my thigh.

"Fine, but we are talking about this whether you like it or not." I stayed silent, I know it'd be impossible to run away from this no matter how much I want to.

I lift my head so I was resting my chin on his shoulder, our cheeks touching.

Neteyam's ikran starts to fly down as we were heading towards the forest.

"Nete, where are you taking us?" He didn't respond as he stared down.

I let Neteyam take my hand as we walked together in silence.

"Neteyam?" I called out, but still no response.

He finally stopped as we were at the Kasvapan River. The water glowed different colors, as I saw some fan lizards and I tapped one, I stared in awe as they started to spin in circles in the air.

"Why are we here Nete?" I asked, as he sat on a rock, his feet resting in the water, his head hung low.

"I want you to be my Tsahik." I gasped.

"Nete you know-" He cuts me off.

"I know that you are human, I am a freak." I slapped his shoulder lightly.

"You are not a freak Nete, you are beautiful. The way you care for your people, you are kind. You are brave, I love you, Neteyam. You will find the perfect woman to be your Tsahik." I spoke sadly, I was kneeling beside him on the same rock.

"That's the thing Y/N!" He growled in frustration, his eyes tearing up just the slightest bit.

"Nete." I grabbed his face, my fingers barely able to fit under his chin.

"Neteyam, look at me." I demand softly, his yellow cat-like eyes stare back at me.

"Eywa will find you a better Tsahik. You will be a great leader, you will fall in love and find the perfect mate. Even if it is not me." Neteyam started to cry, as well as I do.

"I see you, Neteyam. Forever you will be in my heart." Neteyam's shoulders started to shake as he continued to sob into my shoulder.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" I continued to rub his back as I hug the Na'Vi.

I too started to cry.

"I don't know Nete. But we will heal in time." My body was hidden by the blue wounded Na'Vi as we both cried.

"I love you, Y/N." I wish I didn't have to wear this stupid mask, I want to be able to kiss him, but we will never got to kiss.

"I love you, Neteyam."

3rd P.O.V

It was the next day as Neteyam and Y/N barely spoke a word to each other. Everyone in the tribe found it odd that the two best friends were nowhere to be seen together. They were always attached at the hip, or one would be flirting, and the other would be flustered. Y/N was with Kiri as she was trying to get her mind off of last night.

"You're quiet today Y/N. Did Neteyam say something to you?" Y/N bites the inside of her cheek.

"We were talking about the future. We're both hurting right now." Y/n whispered. Kiri was her girl best friend, she would go to Kiri sometimes for advice about Neteyam, or in general to talk and hangout.

"He's eighteen now, soon he will be the Olo'teykan. He will find the perfect Tsahik, and I will be y/n. The helpless little human who fell for a Na'Vi." I let out an angry huff.

"You are not helpless. Believe me, I understand." I sighed. Shutting my eyes tightly.

"I love him, kiri. I don't know what to do." I sobbed. The young Na'Vi throws me into her arms as I sobbed.

"We will figure it out." She promised.

Kiri and y/n went silent as they continued to make medicine. Neteyam had announced earlier today that him and his brother were going on a mission.

"They're back!" Tuk announced, causing Y/N to be the first one to rush out of the little home.

"What happened?" Y/n gasped as she rushed to Jake, who was holding Neteyam.

"I'm fine." Neteyam grunted.

Y/N pursed her lips as she stared at Neteyam. He had a wound on his chest and his head was bleeding.

"Sit." She demanded the boy.

He complies as she continues to ramble in Na'Vi, as if she were Neytiri, as his mother would pace out of habit.

"I'm fine y/n." Jake slapped his oldest son upside the head.

"You need to be taken care of." Y/n and Neteyam have not said a word to each other. Jake even noticed the slight tension between them.

"What's going on between you two lately? You're usually running around or doing something." The two continued to stay silent as y/n tended to the slightly wounded boy.

"It's for the best, sir." Neteyam was the first to speak.

"For the best?" Jake stayed silent for a moment, then he realized. They were falling for each other.

"He's the next clan leader, I'm a human." Y/n spoke, Neteyam, let's out hiss when she dabbed on his cut too harshly.

Neteyam knew she was getting worked up over the topic, as he placed a hand on her waist to calm her nerves.

Jake noticed the silent exchange. He felt bad for the two teenagers, if only it were easy.

"I mean, we can't even kiss because one of us would die from the toxic air that kills humans. I feel like Eywa has cursed me to fall in love with your son, only for me to never be able to be with him. I feel like this is her revenge because of what the humans have done before I was born." Y/n rambles, finally getting something she's always wanted to say off her chest.

The three grew silent, not knowing what to say to her strong outburst.

"Eywa does not give revenge." A woman's voice appears, as she realizes it was Neytiri.

"Then why has she given me a broken heart?" She continues to stare at Neteyam.

"I mean, I can't be with him. We can't be together we're different species. I don't have an avatar that I could transfer my soul into. It was just best that I stayed away from him!" Y/n stops as she let's out a few sobs as she runs out of the home tree.

Jake ran after her. She ended up sitting high up in the tree as she cried in her legs, hugging them closer towards her small body.

She felt a presence behind her, but she continues to sob. Jake sits down in front of her. She hugs herself tighter as she shakes her head in her knees.

"I know this is hard, believe me. Things will get better." Y/n scoffs in response.

"He's the next clan leader, Jake. He is destined to be a leader, I'm just a small human who will just put you all in more danger. I don't belong here. It would be best if I just stayed away from your son. Just until our hearts won't ache anymore." Jake runs his hand over his face.

The girl stopped sobbing, her eyes puffy her eyes were blood shot from all the tears.

"It's for the best for now, Jake." She climbs down the tree with ease, Neteyam taught her how to climb when they were in the forest one day and wanted to race. She didn't know how so that day the siblings taught her how to climb.

A/N: I Was thinking about a part w where she was with the sully when they get kidnapped and that she was the one to get kidnapped and not spider and she gets shot instead? Idk lmk what you think.

#avatar #neteyam x oc #neteyam x reader #kiri sully #jake sully #neytiri #tumblr fyp #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #james cameron

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