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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 2 years

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I am his, and he is mine

Summary: You’re married off to Ser Harwin Strong by your lord father’s designs, and the prospect of a marriage consummation terrifies you.

Notes: idk man I just need more Harwin Breakmybones smut. Harwin obviously isn’t with our queen Rhae Rhae in this. Also, pretending not to know what we do abt Larys here.

Warnings: virgin!reader, reader is intimidated by Harwin, first time, reader is extremely innocent, vaginal sex, oral sex (f!receiving), Harwin loves eating punani

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to a taglist!!

Marrying his bride the day he met her was never what he wanted. Harwin didn’t consider himself a romantic, but he thought it cruel to be bound to someone you didn’t know for the rest of his life. It was more unfair to you, being a woman and forbidden from seeking out others for love.

His father had meant well with this marriage. Apparently, your father was a childhood friend, and you the oldest daughter of a great house. Though Lord Lyonel wasn’t ambitious, he was loyal to his friends, and the king, who encouraged the match. So in a whirlwind of affairs, the betrothal had been arranged by ravens, and the marriage planned.

You had married in the sept of King’s Landing earlier this day, and though Harwin had written you a letter to calm your nerves, the first time he got any impression of you was when your father led you to the altar.

He felt sorry for you. Whatever dreams you had held for the future had been crushed the moment the septon bound you in marriage. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure if you were scared of him or not. His reputation was true to his character, and next to his wide frame, almost every woman looked frail.

And now, while the wedding feast was in full swing, he saw your hands shake as you attempted to cut your food. He tried to distract himself, looking around the room and attempting to take his mind off of the fact that his lady wife seemed to find him unpleasant.

King Viserys was sitting next to his father, leaving Queen Alicent to put on an icy mask. She was better at hiding it than his wife. Perhaps because she had been in King’s Landing for longer. Princess Rhaenyra, on the other hand, was deep in conversation with Lady Laena. The two of them had grown closer since the rift between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and if Ser Harwin was not mistaken, the Queen looked almost jealous.

Prince Daemon was currently returned from his latest exile, trying to rile up Otto Hightower. Judging from the strain in the man’s jaw, the Prince was quite successful in his venture.

Still, it was his wife that seemed the tensest in the room. The new lady Strong, and yet, you seemed to be anything but. From what he had heard from his father, you liked to read and was very well educated, but beyond that only quiet. You did not ride, or hunt, or keep an army of ladies around her.

For the latter, he was grateful, but for the others… It seemed you didn’t have anything in common. Harwin was as educated as a future lord needed to be, but he preferred to train and hunt. The first time he even heard you speak outside of her vows was to his brother.

“A gift, for the bride.” He said, offering you a book. At that, your face lit up.

“Thank you, Lord Larys.”

“I hear you tried to become a Maester once?” he asked, and you blushed.

“I was five and had not yet realized the Citadel accepted neither women nor children.”

Harwin smiled to himself. It seemed that, at the very least, you had some spirit. When his brother had left, he tried to find something to talk to you about.

“So, what topics interest you?” he tried.

“History and medicine.” you replied curtly.

“Yes, I imagine Aegon’s conquest is an interesting read.” He said. You tried to suppress a smile at that, and Harwin raised a brow.

“Is it not?” he asked.

“Forgive me, my lord, but every child is told the story of his conquest over and over. The histories of Old Valyria before the Doom and Nymeria’s conquest are much more interesting, especially since so much source material has been lost.” you said.

He could tell that you weren’t asked about these things very often, the words spilling out of your mouth so quickly.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Hunting and fighting.” He replied.

“Does that not get boring after a while?”

“It is to me what reading is to you.” Harwin said. He knew you were from the Westerlands, where people spoke more eloquently, and though he was from the Riverlands and had no use for flowery words, he tried for you.

Your silence returned when dessert was served. You dreaded the bedding, and Harwin didn’t think he had seen many brides that were as terrified of it as you.

When it was announced that the bedding would begin, you turned even paler. Before the lords attending could swoop in to grab you, Harwin quickly scooped you up into his arms. Wordlessly, he left, as the crowd let out disappointed shouts of protest.

He carried you all the way to their new, shared chambers, setting you down on the bed. Turning around, Harwin grabbed the pitcher of wine to fill up their glasses. You would need it for your nerves.

As he turned back around, he could see you lying on the bed, the skirt of your wedding dress hiked up to your thighs and staring at the ceiling stiff as a board. He would have laughed at the comical sight, if he hadn’t felt sorry for you.

Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, gently taking your hand.

“What were you told about the bedding?” he asked.

“My cousin told me it was painful, but my duty.” you replied.

“Sit up.” Harwin said, and you scrambled to follow his words, pulling the skirt back down.

“Your cousin must have a horrible husband.” He concluded.

“They- they do not value each other much.” you said carefully.

“Beddings don’t have to be painful.” Harwin began. He’d never been a woman’s first before, but he wasn’t inexperienced by any means.

“Oh.” Was all you said to that. It sounded more like a sigh of relief than a question.

“Did you not say you studied medicine?”

“The bedding was… seen as unseemly for me. It was forbidden.” you replied.

“I’ll be gentle, I won’t hurt you.” Harwin promised. Still, when he tried to come closer to you, you leaned away from him, trying to keep the distance. As if a kiss would kill you.

With a sigh, Harwin grabbed the dagger from his belt and your eyes widened even more.

“What…?” you asked.

“I won’t force you.” He replied simply, rolling his sleeve back.

“No.” you said, grabbing his wrist. It was the first time you touched him. “I- We have to someday. And I’d like to learn. I need to make my father proud.”

“Your father? This is about you.” Harwin tried. You gave him a half-hearted smile, and Harwin felt that he wouldn’t become friends with his father-in-law.

“If you want me to bed you, you should start by kissing me first.” He said, and you nodded.

“Will I be your first?” he asked. You blushed, lowering her gaze, and Harwin carefully tipped her face up.

“Good. Less pressure.” He joked.

“I suppose so.” you replied. “I promise, it wasn’t while we were betrothed.”

“And if it was, I wouldn’t blame you. Whoever he, or she, was they got lucky.”

You smiled at that, blushing due to his compliment rather than shame. With a determined look in your eyes, you put a hand on his face, pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t the chaste kiss they had shared in the sept, and it wasn’t heated with passion, but it was more than the trembling leaf of a woman that had sit next to him at her own banquet.

Harwin deepened the kiss carefully, his hands finding your intricate braids, impossible to tangle into. So he held you by the small of her back instead, kissing you until you broke apart for air.

“That was… dizzying.” you said. Your cheeks were flushed pink, and your pupils had grown dark, and Harwin could feel desire begin to grow for you. Carefully, he seated himself against the cushions, sitting you down in front of him, and beginning to take out the pins in your updo.

While he worked on the tight braidwork, he began to kiss up and down your neck, careful not to go too low too fast. You let out a satisfied sigh, clapping your hand against your mouth afterwards.

“They’re all gone by now. We were too boring, I suppose.” Harwin joked, and you nodded.

“You don’t have to keep quiet.” He encouraged. “It tells me whether I’m doing the right thing.”

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trust me.”

When he was done, your hair fell down your back in soft waves. Harwin briefly wondered if it was because of the braids, or if your hair was always like this.

Then, he moved onto your wedding dress. It was laced in the back, gold and cream embroidery hiding the strings, and you began to tense when he opened them.

“It’ll be more comfortable if you can breathe properly.” Harwin said, slowly pulling the stiff part of the dress over your head. The long skirt followed, until you were left in a thin shift. It looked like it was meant to entice him, barely transparent enough to see your shape, but nothing beyond that.

Harwin took his time laying the dress over a chair in the room, returning with the pitcher of wine. When he offered to refill your glass, you shook your head.

“I’ll be drunk then. I want to remember for the next time.”

“Already planning ahead?” Harwin teased.

“I don’t know. In case this time doesn’t get me pregnant.”

“You do know there’s more to this than getting pregnant, right?” he asked. You raised a brow, as if you did not believe him. “It’s… it’s supposed to be fun as well.”

“Can we start with kissing again?” you asked shyly. Harwin leaned over, kissing you softly. Your hands were unsure, cupping his face, roaming around his hair and awkwardly landing on his arms. Harwin readjusted them, putting one on his jaw and the other on his shoulder the way he liked it.

He really tried to hold back, but when you let another whine slip, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. You squealed, surprised, but once you were there, you continued with more enthusiasm than before.

Breaking the kiss, Harwin saw that your lips had become a little swollen. Mindlessly, he tucked a strand of hair back to where it had fallen out of place.

“I’m ready.” you said, lying back against the pillows with a look of determination on your face. Harwin snorted.

“You are not. If I do it now, it’ll hurt. Have you ever even touched yourself?”

Your mouth fell open at that, as if he was accusing you of fucking a horse, and your blush took ahold of your ears as well.

“I’m only asking to make you comfortable.”

“Never… inside.” you managed.

Harwin nodded, making his way down your body until he reached the hem of your shift. Gently, he began to pull it up and automatically, your legs crossed over.

When he tried to pry them open, you pulled away.

“I have had my maidenhead inspected.” you said, voice high-pitched.

“I wasn’t inspecting anything. Just… trust me on this.” Harwin asked.

It took you a moment, but eventually, you opened your legs back up, allowing him access. Harwin knew better than to stare (for now), and began kissing the inside of your thighs, making his way towards your cunt. When he finally tasted it, he felt like he was ready to die – until his lady wife scrambled backwards, trying to gather her bearings.

“This is wrong. It’s sinful.” you whispered.

“Not really. Asked my septon when I was a boy, and also, it feels good.” Harwin replied nonchalantly.

“I’ll take you by your word.” you said seriously.

You lied back down, and Harwin held your thighs, trying to make a squeeze somehow feel reassuring before he started again, slowly lapping up the wetness your cunt had produced. He could feel you writhe beneath him, but better yet, he could hear you moan.

Muffled pants and cries reached him, spurring him on. Very cautiously, he pushed in one finger, continuing to lick your clit to ease the way. It went in easier than he thought, and so, Harwin crooked it to make you feel even better.

He wanted to be your first in this as well, and he didn’t care if that was greedy.

He had to push you down by the stomach when your back arched. Harwin chuckled to himself as he worked the finger inside you, knowing exactly what he was doing.

After a while, he could feel your body begin to shake, and your legs wrapped around his head, pushing him down. He almost felt proud of you, even as he began to run out of air, but Harwin kept going, until you came, licking you like a starving man.

When you went limp under his touch, Harwin dared to come up from under your shift.

“And?” he asked.

“Whatever that was… I think I caught a glimpse of the Seven Heavens.” you sighed.

“You… came.” He replied, half-asking.

“Yeah. It was wonderful.”

“Did you never?”

“No. I didn’t dare.” you said.

“That’s a pity, to go so many years of your life without pleasure.”

“I see that now.” you quipped, and Harwin laughed with you.

You sat in silence for a while, you leaning against his shoulder with your eyes closed. Harwin felt that he was hard for you, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He could bed you some other time.

Sated with the knowledge that he had already done this for you, Harwin took off his wedding suit and changed into the long linen trousers that were laid out for him. He could feel your eyes burn into his back. Just to tease you (and not at all to inflate his ego), he flexed his back- and arm muscles.

He settled back into bed, staring at you until you realized you had been caught.

“Does my lady wife approve?”

“Mhm.” you mumbled, shamelessly staring at his chest. “I want another.”

“Another?” Harwin asked.

“Bed me. Make me feel like that again.” you mumbled through gritted teeth. Hesitantly, you let her hand wander under the blankets and into his trousers. His cock was still hard from before, and your eyes widened as you felt the girth of it.

“How will it fit?” you asked.

“You managed two fingers. I’ll help you work it out, but there’ll still be a small stretch.” Harwin tried.

Your hand was still frozen on his dick, so he carefully guided it to stroke him. All word about you rang true, you were a good learner.

Harwin closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall to concentrate on the sensation for a moment, before he stopped you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Please.” you replied. There was still a residue of nervousness in your eyes, but Harwin wasn’t going to say no to such an invitation.

Slowly, he pulled your shift over her head, tossing it aside carelessly. For a moment, he could only stare, causing you to cross your arms over your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Harwin said breathlessly. He wasn’t used to being gentle, but Gods be damned, he’d try for you.

Taking his pants off again, he began to kiss your tits, lavishly sucking more bruises into your perfect skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down towards you, and Harwin tried to suppress a groan.

“Good?” you asked.

“Yeah. Really good.” Harwin replied. Your response was to lightly tug his curls, a smirk on your lips. He kissed you again, this time forgetting everything about gentleness and going slowly, swallowing your sounds up with a kiss, desperately holding your face with his hands, dwarfing it in comparison.

His thumb stroked your cheek, trying to convey the awe he already held for you, and you raked your hands through his hair in response. His resolve was melting by the second.

Carefully, he angled his dick up with your cunt, teasing your clit with the tip for a moment, before he slowly sank into you. One of your hands landed on his hips, and Harwin froze.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, before you nodded.

“Just need a moment.” you managed. Excruciatingly slowly, Harwin sank in further, waiting for you to adjust, until he was fully inside you.

“Can I…?” Harwin began. You nodded, and he pulled back, before thrusting forward with as much self-control as he possessed. He expected you to cry out in pain, but instead, you met him with an unabashed moan.

“Fuck.” you panted, before catching yourself.

“I don’t believe you’ve sworn before.” Harwin managed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he thrust again and your answer was swallowed by another moan.

He tried to put all of his newfound devotion into his thrusts, to make you happy. To satisfy you, so that you would not grow to despise him, at the very least in this way.

All of his intentions of being slow and loving disappeared when you began to beg.

“Please, I need more.” you whispered. Even through the dim candlelight, Harwin saw you blush, but who was he to deny you?

So he picked up the pace, his thrusts turning almost brutish. He would have worried for you, if your eyes hadn’t been in the back of your skull, and your nails weren’t digging into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so.. didn’t expect this.” Harwin managed. You gave him a laugh, which immediately turned into a wanton moan under his ministrations.

“My pretty little wife, legs open only for me.” He praised. Harwin felt your legs wrap around his hips, desperate to create more friction, more intensity.

“Only for you.” You repeat, and Harwin can see the change in your expression, from tense to relaxed. Your posture is open to him (in more ways than one) and his heart almost sings at the thought that you might not despise him or be terrified of him after all.

Harwin manages to steady his mind into looking at you, and Gods, you look fucking angelic. Hair splayed out like a halo, mouth parted and face contorted in pleasure, trying so, so hard to keep your long-lost composure. Nothing feels more right than trying to break that composure, to make you melt into his arms even more.

To give up any thought of propriety and be his.

His thoughts run wild, his heart pounding in his chest with crazed abandon and he can feel himself coming close to the edge. He searches for the bundle of nerves between your legs, hoping to make you scream and when he finds it, it works so well he’s worried the entire Red Keep will hear you after all.

Desperately, he begins to rut into you, watching all coherent thoughts disappear from your eyes as he brings you over the edge a second time. Only then does he allow himself to cum, grabbing your hips harshly until he, too, is spent.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolls off of you, lying next to you and only grabbing your hand.

He turns to face you after a while, you doing the same. Your eyes meet and a smile appears on your flushed face.

“My body feels like it’s filled with lead.” You whisper.

“My lady wife. I never knew I could get this lucky.” He replies. Harwin got out of the bed, trying to find a washcloth. For once, you did not ask any questions, eyes closed in bliss. You let him wipe off the remainder of his seed, burrowing into his side as he lies down next to you.

“You are mine.” You whisper, hearing him chuckle at your words.

“Indeed. I swore it before the Seven just this morning.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Ser Harwin.” You sigh.

“So am I, my love.” He replies.

#harwin #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #harwin x reader #ser harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong fanfic #harwin strong smut #ser harwin breakbones x reader #harwin breakbones x reader #harwin x you #harwin smut #ser harwin x you #harwin strong x y/n #harwin strong fanfic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months

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book 7 part 5 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 5 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

If you’d like to watch a rough part-by-part summarized translation, please check out this archived stream!

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

Starting off strong with some lore on magic! Teleportation magic involves breaking oneself down and reconstructing elsewhere. If the distance from point A to point B is too large and/or the caster is in poor health, the magic may fail or be difficult to perform.

Hmmm... Lilia is reacting very emotionally to the situation, but it is Baul that is (mostly) rational and reminding Lilia to keep calm. I'd anticipate it being the other way around, so that's quite interesting.

HUH... Even Sebek is staying calmer here than Lilia is; Sebek recalls training with Lilia and how they were taught that they have to stay calm to think and plan effectively in tough situations. Ironic that the old Lilia was the type to go against the advice he would later give and instill in his pupils. Again, it goes to show how much he has changed since then.

AH, BAUL'S BEING A TSUNDERE AGAIN 🤡 He's telling the kids to stay behind because the situation has changed... "Don't foolishly discard the life Lilia-sama protected", "humans shouldn't be fighting alongside fae anyway", etc. (And, of course, Silver's the one to step up and tell him fae or human, it doesn't matter and he still owes Lilia his life all the time.) NOW'S NOT THE TIME TO TALK, GUYS... MALLEMOM'S GONNA BE GAME ENDED

Weird sounds downstairs? SILBEK KICK DOWN THE DOOR and we find some chefs in hiding. adhbasvfvuvfqeilfe;o THEY MISTAKE SILVER FOR THE DAWN KNIGHT... More sussy behavior implying the Dawn Knight must be his ancestor.

They ask for brooms to transport the injured faster. Silver's negotiation skills come in clutch again, he convinces the chefs to direct them to the brooms even though it would be helping the fae, the humans' enemies.

Not Sebek's stomach growling now of all times... NOT SEBEK DENYING IT SO MUCH (it's okay, they get pity and some food from the chefs!)

Found a room full of birds; they seem to be for transporting messages. Silver feeds them some of the bread they got from the chefs. Wow, Sebek's actually being sneaky/clever (?). He tells Silver he's loved by animals, so time to use that now so they can use the birds.

AKHBBGSKUVYEQFBI NOT GRIM WANTING TO EAT THE BIRDS

Bleh, we have another time-gated, character-limited map segment. Silver and Sebek take up 2 of the 5 slots. Again, the cards' health does not regenerate unless you land on a special square. Luckily for us, there is only a single path forward rather than a larger, sprawling map.

NO KIDDING, THE BIRDS HELP THEM FIGHT THE SILVER OWLS... Literally they're swooping in and tugging on the knights' cape and stuff... the squirrels nibbled away at their catapults' rope too... chucking rocks at them... THE BIRDS POOPED ON THEIR ARMOR TOO???????? Imagine training your whole life to put your life on the line for your home country, only to be literally shat on and defeated by woodland creatures...

Lilia: I hate children. Also Lilia: *rushes into battle to protect the children and gives them head pats for a job well done and asks them to be safe*

Silver continues to be a Disney princess!! They find some horses tied up and he's like "let's free them". Sebek drops some club lore; Silver is one of the better students in Equestrian Club when it comes to soothing the horses. True Horse Girl at heart, huh??

Silver and Sebek are surprised that what they learned in school is actually helping the in a "real world" sense. Man, I wish that was true of irl high school education too...

The Silver Owls recruited mercenaries from other countries to help them seize Briar Country's resources??? The others pitch in because they live in fear of a dragon attacking them.

They're going to teleport into the castle, but they can't teleport out since they can't guarantee the safety of Tamago-sama... They're going to use the underground waterways to escape!

There's a mountain range that protects another castle of the royal family, Black Scale Castle. Malleus's mom is currently in an unprotected castle, Wild Rose.

Wow, what a peaceful vista straight out of Sleeping Beauty. I sure hope it doesn't become tainted by blood being spilt and bodies dropping or anything craaazy like that/j

DAWN KNIGHT INCOMING???? Silver's ring starts??? Going off??? When he sees the Dawn Knight...

Heinrich reveal too! He seems like just as much of a scumbag as all the rumors say he is (he wants a dragon to ride, tells the Dawn Knight he's only good for his swordsmenship, etc). BRO JUST STRAIGHT UP SAYS HE WANTS TO TAKE MALLEMOM'S EGG AND RAISE IT TO BE HIS STEED... 💀 WTF THAT'S SO DARK

This asshole reminds me of Jack Horner from Puss in Boots 2: The Last Wish, who is another irredeemably evil man with a small face and a generally grotesque design.

Heinrich is after the castle and some very powerful magestone called "Princess's Glow"? Not sure, did not hear the second word well.

He's giving them 30 minutes to send the princess out for a one-on-one duel with the Dawn Knight. If she wins, they'll retreat (I DON'T BELIEVE THAT FOR ONE SECOND).

NOT THE CASUAL FAE RACISM... Heinrich calls Mallemom a "witch". If you'll remember!! In book 6, Lilia says that mages were once called witches, but implied that those terms are now outdated and considered derogatory.

The Dawn Knight is like Silver! He tries to tell Heinrich this isn't right, but Heinrich tells him that since his father took the Dawn Knight in as an orphan, the Dawn knight "owes" them. It's a twisted parallel to Silver and Lilia's relationship (because Silver says he feels like he "owes" Lilia and has to repay him).

Okay, so to review the family tree??? The king of the human faction is sick and they want the Princess's Glow to heal him. The king is the dad of Heinrich and Leah; the king would also later take in the Dawn Knight. Leah and the Dawn Knight are in love.

Malleus's mom's official name is "Meleanor" (a location name is written in English with this)i. The castle's halls really resemble those in Diasomnia dorm (I think it's a reused asset). (Now that I think about it??? Didn't they also reuse the VDC backstage background for the eastern fortress?)

SHE'S SINGING???????? A lullaby for her baby, it seems. Bruh... Malleus sang like a line from this lullaby before he game-ended everyone with his UM... HE REMEMBERED HER SONG FROM INSIDE THE EGG SHELL??????????

MALLEMOM REVEAL AW YEAH (she starts zapping Lilia with lightning lol; she's mad at Lilia for showing up late to defend her and her egg) SHE'S THE HOT GOTH GF

OMG EGG REVEAL TOO... UNBORN MALLEUS... (The egg looks like it has blot running down it too, which is insane)

ADBLIsfiablfa IT'S SO WEIRD SEEING HER SIMP ON MAIN, she says he knows her unborn child will grow up to be a beautiful man just like her husband... (Sebek is practically sobbing from happiness that he gets to witness Meleanor name Malleus.)

The ear shape is really coming back to bite them; Mallemom noticed them and now her anger is turning to our group. She forces us to kneel with magic... Jafar energy fr

"Princess Glow" is the green orb in Mallemom's staff!

Lilia tells some embarrassing stories of the princess's tomboyish youth; "And though you always scolded me, you never failed to join me in my mischief" -- Mallemom to Lilia

She agrees to duel the Dawn Knight while the others escape with her child... Now Mallemom and Lilia are fighting because Lilia refuses to follow through with her order.

NOOOOOOO SILVER JUMPED IN TO PROTECT LILIA FROM MALLEMOM'S LIGHTNING 😭 EVEN THOUGH HE KNOWS IT'S A DREAM, HE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE HIS DAD HURT

Lilia trauma time :)) "I can't lose both you (Meleanor) and Raverne (Malleus's dad)".

IT'S LIKE WE THEORIZED, LADS. Mallemom says that if anything happens to her, then it's up to Lilia to help Malleus hatch with the POWER OF TRUE LOVE... BUT LILIA THINKS HE CAN'T HATCH IT BECAUSE HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND A PARENT'S LOVE

OH MY GOOOOOOD THE PIPING HOT TEA, MELEANOR SAID LILIA PROPOSED TO HER WHEN THEY WERE YOUNG... OVER 200 YEARS AGO

sdhbfbiyoaifofi Mallemom says that Lilia "also loves Raverne" and that those two spent more time together than a "married couple". You could interpret this as Lilia being bisexual or just as them being really good friends, as Meleanor never specifies if Lilia “loves” Raverne romantically.

Suddenly, Lilia's special card name makes sense! Lilia is the "Right General", and Raverne is the "Left General".

The weather shifted according to Meleanor's anger. Like mother, like son... This woman also quotes Maleficent so much...

OOOOH we get to watch a battle between Mallemom (dragon form) vs the Dawn Knight. Mallemom uses all null/cosmic magic, just like Dorm Uniform Malleus. The Dawn Knight uses light type null/cosmic magic just like Silver does too!

Dawn Knight face reveal?! He's basically Silver copy-pasted but long blonde hair. Dude's really out here looking like a Sonic OC recolor/j

The Dawn Knight also has a crown-like ring on a chain. It's an item that was given to him by guardian fairies when he was young; there is no other like it.

YASASHII... The Dawn Knight notices our group has the egg and tells them to run. He doesn't want Heinrich to get his hands on it either... Crowley, takes notes 😭

UHHHHH SILVER'S CRYING AND SHOUTING... I think he realized that he's descended from the Dawn Knight, serving on the faction that's brought so much harm to his loved ones and home country. "Am I family to the enemy?!" His denseness is truly to his detriment here.

Uh-oh, Silver's being pulled into the "darkness" of the dream, thinking it would be better to just stay here than face reality... He's losing hope, DOING THE THING HE FORESHADOWED LAST UPDATE... IF HE EVER FALLS INTO THE DARKNESS, THEN PLEASE PULL HIM OUT... (Another map segment with Silver required; you have to find your way around in the dark.)

NOOOOO NOT SILVER SEEING HIMSELF AS THE DAWN KNIGHT THAT HIS DAD'S STRIKING DOWN IN VENGENCE OTL WHAT IS THIS, IT'S SO SICK AND TWISTED

400 years after conflict, the peace treaty was signed between fae and humans. Wild Rose Castle is now left in ruins; the rumors say it is haunted. The diurnal fae casted a spell on Wild Rose to keep humans away.

HUH???? LILIA FOUND BABY SILVER IN THE ABANDONED WILD ROSE CASTLE?????

Uhhh so apparently after the war we saw, another conflict broke out for territory and the Silver Owls got their asses handed to them.

LILIA UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL... HE CAN READ THE MEMORIES OF THINGS HE TOUCHES????? (Reminds me of "Dimensional Scream" from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of TIme/Darkness/Sky!) "Far Cry Cradle" is the name! We also get the chant: "As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye."

BABY SILVER?????

Silver was magically put to sleep for hundreds of years by some small (guardian) fairies?!?!?!?!?!?!? Because conflicts were still going on and his parents wished for him to live in a world free of war. When Silver meets someone who "loves" him, he will wake up from his magic-induced slumber. NOW THE BABY IS AWAKE AND CRYING

... Wait. Doesn't that mean. Silver is technically older than Malleus... since Malleus is only 178 years old and Silver's been sleeping for like 400 years????? OTL SILVER OLD MAN ERA??????

NOT (PAST) LILIA BEING TSUNDERE, he says he thinks the guardian fairies' magic is fading with time... he doesn't even consider that he'd ever love the baby...

"I'm not someone who deserves your love" - Silver, casually cuing all of our tears

Silver's hair was originally blonde; It became silver when he received a fairy's blessing (Lilia's). LILIA SAYS "May the Night bless you" and says that the day he found Silver is his new birthday. So the Dawn Knight has gold hair because it's blessed by a diurnal fae, but with silver hair like moonlight, Silver won't stand out in Briar Valley.

I CAN'T WITH LILIA, SILVER SAYS HE WAS NAMED THAT BECAUSE OF HIS HAIR COLOR IN A BIRTHDAY VIGNETTE... Yet here we see Lilia actually named him Silver as in silver moonlight to guide people in the darkness...

"Even if I have to give up my own life, I want to protect my child", that's a sentiment that both Lilia's princess and the Dawn Knight expressed. I think this kind of thinking probably helped Lilia put everything into perspective and better understand that humans and fae are actually very similar.

SILVER/LILIA HOME REVEAL, we're seeing some point later in time but before present day when Lilia is still raising baby Silver.

Lilia is singing the same lullaby as what Meleanor sang for Malleus in the egg!! Malleus pays them a visit and still doesn't really seem to understand humans (HE SAYS SILVER LIKE A MONKEY????) but also helps watch baby Silver... He even hums his mom's lullaby for Silver, but cannot seem to remember where he heard the song before.

It's so weird thinking about how fae take 30 YEARS TO LEARN HOW TO WALK... What do you do for those 30 years, just lie on your back????? OTL

LILIA READS SILVER BEDTIME STORIES

Oh, Lilia's understanding humans and fae a little better (around the time Silver starts to eat pureed foods). Both human and fae babies cry and sleep, etc. BHFABIYFVQIQEFL hE'S FEEDING SILVER RAT MEAT???????? Malleus has to have the castle prepare baby food for them...

WAHHHHH THAT ACRON BRACELET LILIA TREASURES IS SOMETHING KID!SILVER MADE FOR HIM... Squirrels helped him gather the acorns and woodpeckers helped him string the acorns together. The acorn amulet is meant to bring Lilia a long, healthy, and happy life (something Silver was told by forest fae). Even as a kid... Silver was hoping for Lilia's health... and now that I think about it, the acorn amulet is like a representation of Lilia's own deteriorating health over time... OTL

"I feel like I can live a thousand years with this (amulet)..." LILIA EVEN KEPT IT ALL THIS TIME AND CALLS IT HIS MOST PRECIOUS BELONGING... shUT UP, SHUT UP IM CRYING

ASKHBLIDIBIFIA WE'RE SEEING THE RAINING SCENE LILIA TOLD US ABOUT IN ONE OF HIS BIRTHDAY VIGNETTES???!?!?!?!????!? It's the day Silver realized he and Lilia aren't related by blood...

God, there are so many of the map portions... This time, Sebek is the required character!

The rest of the gang are transported to the darkness where Silver is wallowing?? Sebek sees some of his own memories which intertwin with Silver's (since Baul sometimes took bare of Silver or visited Lilia). It's also confirmed that Lilia went to Sebek's dad to ask for advice on how to raise Silver.

Back then, Baul asked Lilia to train Sebek since he's part human (and therefore "weak" in Baul's eyes). However, Baul still values his grandson and wants him to have a good education 🥺 (Sebek's older brother also graduated from NRC??)

Lilia tore up his invitation to NRC???? But it was his friend Raverne who came to him with the invitation pieced back together and kept it safe for the future in case Lilia reconsidered. It seems like Raverne really is a diplomat; he stresses the importance of humans coming to understand fae + vice versa, and how it's things like learning a common language that can help bridge these gaps.

Lilia confirms that Raverne must have "become a star" by now BUT UNTIL I SEE A CORPSE I'M NOT BELIEVING IT

Sebek's trying to get through to Silver, who's slowly being swallowed by the darkness... HE UNVEILS HIS UM, "Living Bolt"!! "Thrust through the clouds, o' lightning!" It seems to summon a powerful strike of lightning, but I'm not entirely sure what it does because the visuals of the game are a little confusing??? (Like it shows a white silhouette of Sebek moving around, so it makes me think he can... control the lightning??? Or he... becomes lightning itself to move around??? DON'T QUOTE ME ON THAT.) Sebek says he hasn't mastered it yet so maybe even he doesn't know what it can do.

With Sebek's UM, he's able to snap Silver out of it!

THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING... There's literally a battle between Silver and Sebek, which resolves with Sebek smacking some sense into Silver. Sebek calls him an idiot and tells him to stop saying he isn't loved, because it's rude of Silver to be this weak when Lilia raised him to be strong (ie "IT'S AN INSULT TO LILIA-SAMA", "IF HE SAW YOU BEING THIS PATHETIC HE'D BE SAD", etc). Way to go with your words of encouragement... 100/10 motivational speaker, Sebek.

Silver realizes that he has had Lilia's love and support all this time... "It's true love", Silver says. The true love that his guardian fairies said would wake him from his sleep... 😭I really appreciate how it was Silver who first snapped Sebek out of his dream-induced despair, and now Sebek is doing the same for Silver.

WAIT THAT'S IT?????? THAT'S THE UPDATE???? ?? ??? ? ????????? 🤡 TWST really said, "I'm coming for everyone's throat and I'm taking no prisoners" AND THEN DIPPED ON US AFTER DROPPING SO MANY BOMBSHELLS... This is just the fate of every book 7 main story update now, isn't it???!??????!?

asidoavyfqevofb I know a ton of really exciting and shocking reveals happened this time around, but while my mind is still racing to process everything... the one thing that sticks out to me is "Ace is the only one without a UM now". IT'S SO FUNNY HOW HE THOUGHT HE'D GET HIS UM BEFORE DEUCE BUT HE ACTUALLY ENDS UP BEING THE LAST OF THE ENTIRE MAIN CAST TO GET IT................. .. . . . .. ....... .. .. . .. ... . . . .. THERE IS SOME CRUEL, SICK IRONY HERE.

I pretty much said all my other thoughts as they cropped up along with the corresponding story beats!! But overall, I loved learning more about the characters and their shared history. Part 5 confirmed many theories, such as the Dawn Knight being related to Silver (and not his ancestor, but rather his actual dad), Silver being put under a sleeping curse that requires true love to break, how Lilia came to raise Silver, etc. It also recontexualizes lore we already knew, such as how Silver got his name, the Zigvolt family's involvement with Lilia, and how Lilia changed from his old self to his current self.

khbhasdsbkuavuofafabf I ALSO CAN'T BELIEVE LILIA X MALLEMOM IS A THING, THAT WAS ONE OF THE MOST SHOCKING REVEALS THIS ENTIRE UPDATE😭 All this time we were joking about Lilia x Mrs. Spade... turns out, Lilia was into someone else's mom... HE'S JUST INTO MOMS, I'M CALLING IT NOW/j

I'm surprised that we didn't get to catch up with the Shroud brothers whatsoever this time??? Not a single peep about Ortho (who has 'woken up and is actively working to help everyone) or even Idia (who is still stuck dreaming)... I really hope the next update addresses how Ignihyde is faring, cuz I miss them and want to know how they contribute to saving the day!!

As book 7 progresses, it progressively calls the image of a spinning wheel into my mind... This is the case especially for the flashback segments we see, which shows us how the various members of Diasomnia are related to each other, and, by extension, their other family members. Lilia is raising Silver, the baby of an old foe. Malleus is visiting Lilia, who is implied to have helped hatch him after his parents died and/or went missing. Lilia asks Sebek's dad for help raising Silver. Baul asks Lilia to help mentor his grandson, Sebek. It really harkens back to the "individually, we're threads on a spinning wheel, but we come together to make something far stronger" line that Lilia dropped at the end of book 6, proving that the spinning wheel and the threads of Fate within it are an important motif for book 7 🥺

I'm fine.

This is fine.

It's not fine

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queers-gambit · 3 months

Text

Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

prompt: ( requested ) when Oliver's obsession reaches new heights, you fear Felix might return the affection - resulting in bloody flower petals suffocating you.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 12.9k+

note: favorite trope here to stay

⚠️ you are responsible for the media you consume ⚠️

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU: depiction of physical illness, medical phenomenon, blood, self-destruction; alcohol consumption, brief illicit material use and brief depiction of physical aggression, Lord's name in vain, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), "friends to 'strangers' to lovers", fix it Felix, "best friends" trope too, dead parents / family angst. requires maturity and caution.

When the first semester at Oxford started, something in your gut twisted with an unknown anxiety. Something in the air churned, a tide was turning, and there was something deeply amiss that you just couldn't put your finger on.

Your roommate was kind, your grades average with those that took education seriously, and your professors were decently challenging but in a good way. You didn't know what was wrong, why you suddenly felt anxious, but then, after asking your best mate why he was late to class the day of his first tutorial, Felix answered, "Had a flat tire."

You nodded, handing him the joint as you sucked in a sharp breath to hold the smoke in your lungs, "So you booked it?"

"No, actually," he chuckled. "Nice bloke named Ollie stopped t'help, offered me his bike."

You laughed, smoke billowing out, "Yeah? Tellin' me he just stopped and gave you his bike? Come off it - nobody's that nice. You flirt with him or something, Fi?"

"No, no, I'm serious! That's literally what happened!" He nestled his arm around your waist, "No, seriously, listen, right, I was on my way t'class, on time and all, yeah? Got a flat tire on my way. This lad, Ollie - Oliver - comes down the path, stops, asks what's goin' on, said he was in my college, so, he offered his bike 'cause he'd get it later, said he'd wheel mine back and all."

"Fuck off!" You shoved your elbow into his ribs.

"You only think people are out to do the worst, darling," Felix chuckled, flashing you a blinding smile. Neither of you could anticipate the series of events that this interaction would kick off. "Besides, he saved my fuckin' arse, I got t'class with enough time, didn't I?"

"Hmm," you agreed, a knot forming in your stomach as he handed you the joint back; both stretched out in your dorm bed as the thunder storm raged just shortly after you got back from class.

Perhaps you were too much of a cynic. Perhaps you grew up in a rougher part of the city with considerably less money, being skeptical of gestures of kindness. Perhaps you only knew people to be disingenuous.

Maybe you were just used to hearing these incredible stories from Felix Catton - certified spoilt best friend.

You grew up together; meeting as young children because your parents worked for one of the Catton's companies, your fathers having been childhood best friends, joining you two at the hip. You and Felix were two halves of one whole, a single functioning organism; becoming inseparable. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, but in reality, it felt reassuring to have such a strong friendship that you never entertained the idea of romance.

Felix's friendship was genuine. It was built-on everyday, growing, evolving, forever changing to accommodate both your changing personalities. He accepted you for who you are, and it felt like he chose you everyday. Where others came and went, you remained. Where others abandoned you, there he was. There was no you without Felix and no Felix without you, and when the time came, you chose to attend Oxford together.

You knew how easy life was for him. You knew the silver spoon he was fed from. You knew he was the flame moths were drawn to.

Knowing Felix Catton was power-by-association, and you watched an endless slew of people come and go with the snuffed-out dream of being in his inner circle. You protected Felix (and the Cattons) from leeches and Felix protected you from, well, everything else. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, and then everything changed the summer before senior year of secondary school when you moved in with him permanently.

Summer had just started, you were only two months away from turning 18, and then, a drunk driver drove your mother and father into a tree on the side of a road. There was nothing to be done when your parents were finally found, the EMTs assuring you they were dead on impact and did not suffer. You had been at home with Felix, who let you paint his toenails, the house phone ringing shrilly.

"Hello?" He answered for you, reporting your family's surname's residence. He hummed, then paused, looking at you. "It's St. Luke's Hospital, love?" Felix handed you the phone with curiosity.

When you reached for the landline, the nurse reported you were needed and asked if you had the means to get to them. You begged to know what happened, but all she said was, "There was an accident."

Felix drove you to the hospital.

Felix held your hand when you were lead to a private room, meeting a set of police officers.

Felix held you when you stumbled in shock upon being shown your parent's demise and Felix held your hair when you threw up after identifying bodies.

And the Cattons stood with you when the man responsible was sentenced to life in prison. They stood in the rain when you tossed two stones in the stream.

You lived with him from that moment on and sometime after, you accepted how in-love with him you were. He had always taken care of you, but that summer, he took care of you; being the glue that kept you together, the binding force that brought you into being, the reason you didn't waste away, give up, or lose yourself entirely.

When your final year before university began, you had to stomach the idea of loving him at a distance. He'd always been popular, charismatic, the sun at the center of everyone's galaxy that pulled all towards his warmth and light. But after losing his virginity at age 15, Felix was constantly running through partners and you didn't want to interrupt his "sexual awakening" despite the knife to the gut each girl stabbed. So, you kept your feelings to yourself and tried your hardest to be a staple in his life, and when you chose to attend Oxford, you made peace with the idea that you'd go another 4 years in silent denial.

Something about Oliver's little act of kindness just made you uneasy.

And then, the following night, Felix spotted his new little friend when you were out at the local pub and invited Ollie to sit at the table with you lot. You sat between Felix and Farleigh, India on your friend's other side - his cousin something akin to your own flesh and blood. After all, you had known them all for two nearly decades; marking you as one of the very, very few who could put Farleigh in his place. Eerily, you both shared a look of mild distain, but for very different reasons.

You didn't think yourself a jealous woman, but after meeting Oliver Quick in person, hearing him speak, watching him watch Felix, and witnessing how he interacted with everyone else, you grew uneasy in his presence. The night you met him officially, there was a funny tickle in your chest, and after a few too many coughs escaped, Felix whipped around at you instantly. "You gettin' sick, darlin'?" He asked, words drenched in genuine concern.

Oliver thought it was curious to use a pet name for a pretty girl while a different one was sat on his lap.

"I'm good," you assured, thinking the rain caused this reaction.

But as the night wore on, you coughed more and more. When Oliver got up to get the next round of shots, Felix, ever the sweetheart who had money at his disposal, scolded Farleigh for instigating the poor boy and stood with a note in his hand. Only you saw the real interaction of Felix subtly paying for the drinks, and when he returned, he set a glass of water in front of you.

He made sure you didn't drink the rest of the night, but you didn't want to - starting to feel unwell. "Fi, I'm gonna go - "

"Oh, no, love, c'mon, an hour longer," he pleaded as you stood. But he paused, examined your face, then standing without another word and tossed his arm around you, announcing to the table, "Right, we're off."

He ignored the jeers and complaints because he was swiftly escorting you away, and only when Farleigh clocked this did he scold the table to shut the fuck up. When you stepped outside, Felix was turning to you instantly, holding your cheeks in hand and using his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth.

"You're bleedin', love," he muttered, showing you his hand. You frowned and wiped the area yourself, seeing the crimson stain on the pads of your fingers. "Fuck. All right. C'mon, we can get you to the infirmary - "

"No, I don't think it's - "

"You've been coughin' all night and now you're bleedin'," he snapped, shushing you, "we're goin'!" When you just stared at him for a moment, he sighed, "I-I'm sorry, that was a bit more aggressive than needed. I'm just worried, love, you shouldn't be coughing blood."

"Might've just been smoking too much, yeah?"

Felix spoke your name with a hardened edge, staring at you for a long moment as neither of you wanted to back down. Finally, he cracked, "You're not gonna go, are you?"

"Nope. C'mon, I'm tired."

"Well, I'm stayin' the night incase you throw up," he declared, giving in and leading you towards your dorm.

"No, go back - "

"Not leavin' yah, love," he refused. "So, c'mon, tell me," he changed the subject, "what'd you think of Ollie?"

You sighed, "Nice enough lad, I guess."

"Told you," he grinned, weighing your heart to your feet.

For nearly every instance there after, you dreaded hearing Ollie's name or seeing him pop up at events. But that first night, as Felix dozed off in your bed, you were set on your knees, dry heaving in vain to free your throat from whatever suffocated you internally. When you managed to trigger your gag reflex, a stream of alcohol came spewing out - dotted with long, pretty, bright yellow petals.

You stared into the toilet, blinking in shock.

You always thought Felix was the human equivalent to a golden retriever with the disposition of a sunflower. In fact, there grew a small patch of sunflowers at Saltburn just for you; you and Felix planting them one summer together, kept alive after your parents died to bring you a little sunshine when you felt overwhelmed with storm clouds. After all, they were your favorite flower... Now being hacked out of your lungs in a ghastly, tacky mixture of blood, clots, and mucus.

As the year went, you didn't have another episode, but still did any and all research you could on your current phenomenon, wanting to avoid the hospital if you could.

The year flew by without much of a hitch, outside of Felix snapping on Ollie and distancing the lad from the group. However, just before exams, Felix came to you in need of help; saying Ollie's dad died, and being as he had both parents, he wasn't sure how to comfort the lad. It struck a nerve deep within you, going with Felix to talk to Ollie, and by the end, your arm had slung around the scholarship boy in pity, trying to talk him through part of his grief.

You didn't know the lad did his research on you and discovered you lived with Felix in his grand fucking castle because you were orphaned just before turning 18. It was the perfect "in", in Ollie's mind; a way to weasel close to you, solidifying himself to Felix.

You didn't like Ollie, he still made you feel uneasy, but you did pity him enough that you tolerated him. Now more than ever. He was back in the group before the day was done.

However, when exams concluded, Ollie was acutely aware that Felix attended the celebration to your exams - dressing you, pinning you for your accomplishments. You dressed and pinned Felix after his. And you both showed up for Ollie's exams, though, you dressed and pinned Farleigh as Felix did Ollie. He supposed it counted, still having the object of his desire back in sight; within his reach; staring at him with pride and a hint of pity.

It was exactly what Oliver wanted.

"Well, aren't you gorgeous?" Felix complimented when you arrived in the courtyard, dressing for the end-of-year ball. He stooped down to wrap you in a hug, giving a spin, and setting you on your feet as you laughed at his usual antics. "Absolutely a vision, love, seriously," he praised. "And I have a li'l something for us, hey?" He held up the champagne bottle.

"Christ," you mused, "what's the occasion? They'll supply cocktails there, Fi - "

"We're going to a funeral."

"I'm sorry?"

He sighed, handing you the bottle to dig in his trouser pocket and revealed a stone painted with the word, 'Dad'. Felix looked sheepish, "I thought we could do it for Ollie, yeah? Lad's had a real rough go of it all - "

"I think that's a nice idea, Fi," you cut him off, smiling in assurance, opening the wire on the bottle. "But first, a toast," you proposed, "to the start of summer."

"And end of exams," he agreed, taking the bottle back when you handed it over and popping the cork. He cheered as you drank first, taking his own, wrapping you in a tight hug. "We survived," he laughed, sighing after. "Really glad you were here with me through it, love."

"Yeah, me, too," you whispered, holding back creeping bile when your heart began to pound with harrowing tension. "All right, pretty boy, c'mon, sun's setting."

"Right," he pulled back, "I told Ollie to meet us in the courtyard."

"Which one?"

"C'mon," he laughed, taking your hand and leading you after him. You danced after him on your tip-toes, avoiding using your whole shoe and the high heel that elevated you off the ground several inches. "Easy, watch it, careful now," he teased.

"Hey," Farleigh greeted, watching you two go with a smile.

He bet Venetia that this was the summer you two got together. Felix had confided in him that he was considering the idea of settling down, having sowed his wild oats and being tired of running through girls like he had this past year. Farleigh never thought he'd hear such words from Felix Catton, but after seeing you and his cousin running off, he knew, it was only a matter of time before confessions were made.

"There he is," You pointed.

"Ollie!" Felix called, both of you jogging up to him. "Hiya, mate."

"Hey," He greeted you both as Felix didn't stop.

"C'mon, then! Follow us!"

Upon arriving at a stone bridge that passed over a thin stream, you let Felix explain what you were doing and why you were there. "So, in my family, we have this tradition, right? When somebody dies, we write their name on a, er, on a stone," he showed Ollie the stone he made, "and we chuck it in the river. My great-grandfather started it when his son died in the war. We've only done it for Y/N's parents and my dog so far, but... You know, I don't know, I just..."

"It helped, a bit," you filled in when Felix looked at you. You took the stone from Fi's hand and handed it to Ollie, offering, "Felt like our own private goodbye."

When Oliver took the stone and looked it over, Felix anxiously excused, "This feels a bit fucking stupid now."

"No. It's not stupid," Ollie insisted sincerely - only looking at Felix, like the whole world did. "Thank you."

"It's something, right?"

This lead into Felix explaining "what to do", Ollie taking a moment after. When he looked over, he saw Felix had positioned you in front of him, arms wrapped around your neck to keep you close, both screwing your eyes shut in prayer. It would've been endearing had this been an honest memorial...

When the stone was throw, it clattering into the mud on the embankment... A foreshadow you should've paid more attention to. This lead into you three sitting on the stone bannister, skipping the ball, sharing the champagne, and after learning about Ollie's poor living arrangements, for Felix to invite him home with you two. To Saltburn, setting in motion a series of unfortunate events.

That night, you stayed in Felix's dorm, asking, "Are you sure about this?"

"Hmm?"

"Ollie - coming home with us?"

"Oh, yeah, love, it'll be fine," he promised. "Gives us one more person in the house, that's never bad, is it?"

You couldn't answer, you didn't know.

Your first night home was memorable in the sense that Venetia, Felix's older sister, insisted on 'girls night' and locked you both in her room. "So? Did you tell him yet?" She rushed with an excited grin, pouring you both a glass of wine. "Farleigh and I have a bet goin' - "

"Tell who, what?"

She glared, "Don't play coy. You're in love with Felix!"

"Venetia!"

"Oh, shove off, I won't tell him - but does that mean you haven't either?"

"If I did, you honestly think I'd be here?"

"Well, yes - "

"He doesn't feel the same," you insisted, "and if I tell him, he wouldn't want me here anymore, it'd be awkward."

"You're absolutely insane if you think any of that is true!"

"Ven."

"He's mad for you."

"He say that?"

"Well, no, but I can tell."

"It's not gonna happen," you sighed, shaking your head. "Not with all his interests, and those interested in him," you explained bitterly.

"I think you should tell him," she nodded. "It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, but it might give you both some relief. I promise, he doesn't want you out of his life, so, even by the off chance he doesn't feel the same, he'd still want you around. Oh, know what would be romantic? Writing him a note! You've always been a talented writer."

By the end of the bottle, you and Venetia had started drafting a letter; confessing your feelings and coming up with the grand idea to ask him to meet you in the maze if he felt the same. It was where you both went when wanting solidarity, being a place of worship for you both. The center of the maze was remote, private, being where your tears could be shed and secrets shared.

It felt fitting to meet there.

Your letter wasn't perfected to your standards until Ollie arrived. His first night, you began to feel that tickle in your chest again, and for some reason, you mistook this for 'butterflies' and decided tonight was the night. So, you snuck into Felix's room before dinner, knowing he was already out, and left your note on his bed; unaware that Oliver was watching through the crack in the bathroom door.

He slithered in when you were done, slowly approaching the bed, and fingering the letter. He plucked it in hand, opened the unsealed envelope, and read your confessional; requesting, that if he even had an inkling of returned affection, he'd meet you after dinner, in the maze. At the center, beneath the Minotaur statue.

Ollie stared at your flourish of a signature and instantly crumpled the letter, surging back into his room and shredding it into bits. He swept them away into the waste bin and adjusted his jacket.

"There you are!" Felix smiled, finding you in the hall. "Don't you look nice, darlin'."

"You always say that."

"I always mean it," he grinned, escorting you to the dining room.

Dinner was... Interesting, to say the least.

You were distracted by nerves only Oliver clocked, Venetia giggling and Felix the center of attention - as usual. He reached out a few times to grab your thigh, asking muttered questions in your ear, making sure you were all right after he noticed you had barely eaten. Oliver had to hide his amusement as you just seemed anxious, and when dinner was ended, he watched you scurry from the room as if the Devil was at your heels.

"Oh, is my darling girl all right?" Elspeth asked in concern.

"She had a lot of wine," Farleigh smirked.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Catton waved off, and Felix stood from the table shortly after.

Oliver stalked by the windows that evening, catching sight of you, still in your evening gown, cutting through the mist to head into the maze. He smirked, hearing Felix in his room - but then catching sight of Venetia through a different window. A different part of his plan roared to life that night; meeting the sultry sister under the moon, both knowing you were waiting in the dark for Felix.

You paced in the cold. Your dress drug through the grass, bare feet tickled.

The hour drug by slowly. You lit another cigarette, watching the mouth of the maze.

The second hour rushed by. Your stomach knotted.

Three, four hours ticked by. And you were left standing alone, in the middle of the maze, coughing and wheezing.

You dropped to your knees when your ailment turned physically violent; fingernails digging into the mud as you choked and heaved, trying in vain to clear your throat. When you stuck your fingers down your throat, you threw up bile, dirt, acid, wine, and long, bright yellow sunflower petals - sobs soon wracking your entire being.

He didn't come... He didn't come. He didn't come.

You threw up twice more, blood staining your chest and dress; teeth outlined in red, the dewy taste of pollen left on your tongue. You sobbed until your head hurt, and sobbed some more; confusion and heartache taking over. When you managed to find your feet, you felt lighter, thinner, smaller, less of yourself than you have ever before.

A piece of you had officially cracked away, being spewed into the mud and grass at the base of the Minotaur statue.

When venturing back to your room, you gasped when you nearly smacked into Duncan. You stared at one another in mild shock, his eyes taking in your state and you quietly begged, "Please... Don't say anything to Sir and Mrs. Catton. I don't want them t'worry until I know what's wrong. I-I'm going to the doctors, Duncan, please, give me time to figure this out."

He nodded sadly, shocked by the blood left behind. The following morning, he didn't wake you... He let you sleep, demanding you be left alone to the waitstaff. When Elspeth questioned your absence at breakfast as Ollie entered the dining room, Duncan was heard, "Miss L/N was up early this morning, went for a run. She went back to bed, said she didn't sleep well."

"Oh, the poor darling," Sir James Catton tutted.

"Morning," Ollie greeted, careful not to let his excitement show over your empty chair beside Felix. Venetia was staring at her brother in near anger, confusing him, but distracted instantly by Oliver's arrival. Sir James greeted him first, Venetia followed, and Felix invited the lad to help himself to a meal.

You had sobbed the whole night, puking bits of blood as the flower petals tightened your windpipe; the tackiness making them stick like glue. You didn't know what to do - there was no way you could face the Cattons now, not after Felix surely told them that you would leave Saltburn (for good) soon.

But sometime after breakfast, there was a knock at your door.

"Come in," you bid quietly, debating if you should start packing or not. When Felix entered, he was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling softly.

"All right, love?"

"What?"

He chuckled, "I'm asking if you're all right, we missed you at breakfast."

You just blinked stupidly, "Uh, y-yeah, guess I am."

"Good," he chirped, approaching you and handing over the flowers. "Got these for you, thought maybe you could use a bit cheering up?"

"Why would I...? Felix, is there - is there anything you want to say to me?"

"Uh, no? Not really, I mean, I was gonna see if you fancied coming with us to the field?"

You stared at him in confusion. "You... Don't want me to go?"

"Go? Go where?" He laughed, "Cause yes, I'd like you to go with us... To the field? I just asked you - you sure you're feeling all right?"

"Um, y-yeah," you swallowed thickly, petals peeling back down your throat. "Thank you, for these," you accepted the flowers.

"Figured, with your parent's anniversary comin' up, should keep you close, you know?"

You shook your head, "Wasn't even on my mind, Fi..."

"And I just put it there, Christ, Felix, fantastic job," he cursed himself, hand through his hair in stress. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean - "

"You didn't, it's fine - I-I mean, I'm fine," you assured, trying to stave off tears. "Actually, Fi, I'm feeling a bit tired, think I'll nap."

"Duncan said you were?"

"No, no, I didn't get back t'sleep," you nearly whispered, needing to clear your throat again. "You lot have fun, I'll find you later."

"Sure? 'S Ollie's first time," he taunted. "Don't wanna miss that, do yah, love? And we're reading The Half-Blood Prince together, can't miss that."

"I'll catch up tonight, promise," you nodded, "just tell me what chapter you get through."

Felix stared at you, reaching to pinch your jaw and pet his thumb down your cheek. He whispered, "Sure you're all right?"

You nodded, shaking off his touch, hating how easy it was to fall in love with him. "Just tired, pretty boy. Promise."

"All right, well... Find us later, yeah?"

"'Course."

But you didn't leave your room for three days, unable to control the vomiting spells, the blood, the pain, the petals... The gutwrenching heartache. Venetia checked on you damn near every other hour, sitting, resting your head in her lap, stroking your locks in comfort as you sobbed.

"Tell me what's happening?" She begged, unable to get it out of you yet. But you felt another wave, jumping from her embrace to rush into the restroom; sliding on your bruised knees in front of the toilet. She followed, and like her brother's done many times, gathered your hair to hold back. "Jesus fucking Christ!" She gaped, seeing the blood and long, bright yellow petals. "Are those - what the fuck is that!?"

You heaved greatly, throat shredding as blooms and stubby stems cut up your esophagus. When you stared at the devastatingly beautiful blooms coated in your blood, floating atop of the water, you looked up at your friend and confessed, "I'm in love with your brother."

"I know, babe - "

"And he doesn't feel the same," you sobbed; breaking down, panting for breath, Venetia dropping to your level to pull you into her chest. "I-I-I left him the letter, Ven, I-I-I asked him to meet me..."

"He didn't show?"

"I waited hours!" You wailed, finally breaking down after the past couple of years caught up to you. "He never came! An-And then, he shows up with flowers - with fucking sunflowers! - acting as if he never saw my letter! Acting as if he didn't know! Like - Like it's easier to ignore than confront!"

"Oh, sweet girl," she whispered, gently rocking you both as you couldn't catch your breath.

Neither of you attended dinner that evening. Felix showed up again, like he had everyday, asking if you were hungry while holding a plate of toast and mug of tea. But you had passed out in Venetia's arms, the fake blonde waving her brother away, doing her best not to snap at him - remembering she made you a promise that she wouldn't interfere. You feared if she got involved, you really would be asked to leave Saltburn and you had nowhere else to go.

The following morning, you were up before Venetia.

"Hey," she grunted, stretching in your bed after spending the night. "You all right? What're you doing?"

"Goin' for a run," you answered, lacing your trainers.

"How do you feel?"

"Well," you sighed, "pretty fucking foolish, but it's summer. Yeah? Best not to dwell on what I can't have..."

"But it's killing you, love," she sat up.

"I'll get over it," you assured, not believing yourself. "If he can act as if nothing's happened, so can I. Do me a favor, though, love?"

"Anything."

"Sit between us?"

She frowned, watching you head out of the room. When she peered from the window, she saw you setting off around the ground and flopped back into bed for another hour.

"Oh, there you are!" Elspeth gasped when you entered the dining room that morning - jetting out of her chair. "Oh, darling, are you all right? Gave us a fright - thought you were sick or something!"

"Just a wee stomach bug, I promise," you accepted her embrace.

"I'm glad you've joined us," she whispered. "Felix has been dreadfully annoying."

"I can hear you, Mum," Felix groaned when you two pulled back. "Ven, hop down one," He told his sister.

"No, no, stay put, love, I can sit here," you assured the siblings, taking the seat on the other side of the sister.

Felix frowned instantly. "Don't think I've ever seen you two sit apart all these years," Sir James teased, reaching to pat your hand. "Good to have you join us, darling."

"Thank you," you whispered, Duncan placing a plate before you.

"How come she's served?" Ollie wondered without thinking.

"Miss Y/N has been unwell," Duncan replied stiffly.

"Oh, tell the truth, Duncan," you smirked, "I'm just your favorite."

It spurred the family on, Farleigh offering you a look of confusion from across the table. You waved him off, not once looking to your left at Felix - only ever answering Venetia by looking directly at her, avoiding her brother.

Felix felt something in his gut shift as you avoided him more and more. Venetia all but moved into your room, or you into hers - not wanting you alone in this time of duress. Meaning, each time Felix tried to get you alone for questioning, his sister was driving him away. When hanging out as a group, you no longer were at Felix's side, but opted for Venetia and Farleigh's.

It left a gaping hole for Ollie to fill - happily.

"Did I do something, you think?" He asked Oliver one day, floating in the lake, watching you braid Ven's hair as she read from her copy of The Half-Blood Prince.

"No, just maybe," Ollie shrugged, "it's, I don't know, girl stuff?"

"I'm her best mate, she never avoids me like this," Felix frowned. Oliver hated how genuinely hurt Felix sounded. "Seriously, what did I do?"

"I couldn't say, mate. Maybe just let her cool off, come to you when ready," he advised, watching Felix nod sadly and stare at you from behind his sunnies. He craved Felix's attention that you so effortlessly warranted.

You didn't sit with Felix during movie nights anymore, opting for the furthest seat on the floor at Sir James' feet. You didn't spend the night in his room once, nor let him into yours. You weren't on his tennis team. You didn't share sunbeds.

You no longer met for midnight swims, something that made Felix explicitly sad. He waited with his feet in the water, but this time, you were the one who never showed up.

You didn't sit with him at meals, making his family acutely suspicious. Yet neither of you seemed at odds - so, what were the truly worried over? You acted as if there wasn't a thing wrong, but they all noticed the sickly state you took on.

You thinned out, you barely ate a fourth of your meals, you went on runs as often as you could - even in the sweltering heat. You barely slept, creating bags under your eyes, dull, lifeless hair, and a concerning docile attitude. It was as if you were haunting the castle, barely visible, making yourself into a shell of who you once were.

You simply weren't yourself and the Cattons had no idea how to help. Elspeth sent tea to your room. Sir James let you pick movies for family movie nights, but you never seemed interested. Farleigh tried to engage you on the daily, but nothing seemed to register. Even Oliver put on a show by approaching you at the lake, sitting beside you, trying to strike a conversation.

"Sorry, Ollie, I was about t'go for a run," you eased.

"Been goin' on a lot of those. Want company?"

"No," you refused.

"Sure it's a good idea?" He asked. "Been throwing up a lot, might make it worse."

This made you freeze from where you had stood, slowly turning to look down at him. "Excuse me?" You seethed. "You spying on me?"

"I can hear yah sometimes," he nodded. "You're hiding it from the others, aren't yah? The blood, the tears... The way you're wasting away?"

From a short distance, Felix recognized the angry look and body language you wore. Slowly lowering yourself, you hissed to Ollie, "You keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll make sure you're on the first train back to fucking nowhere tomorrow morning. Hear me? You don't know shit about a Goddamn thing, you don't fucking know me, and if you're smart, you'll shut the fuck up, Oliver."

He watched you with a small smirk; standing over him before vacating the lake's shore.

That night, Oliver heard moaning from the adjoining bathroom. Upon his 'investigation', he spied Felix in the clawed-foot bathtub; steam wafting from the water, sweat beading down his skin, and bicep pumping vigorously as he pleasured himself. But what infuriated Oliver was the subtle, nearly slurred and unintelligible moan of your name from Felix's mouth. It seems, despite his best effort to drive a wedge between you two, there was lingering emotion that neither knew what to do with.

You were withering away, and Felix was self pleasuring to you.

Oliver had to up the ante, but how? You avoided the Cattons on a rotating basis - not letting any of them too close to figure out you were devastatingly ill, except Venetia. And the sister wasn't about to spill this darkening secret of yours, she was loyal to a fault.

Only Oliver seemed to know this dark little tale, figuring Felix hadn't even admitted his feelings for you to himself. Perhaps why he found relief in the tub, releasing into the water with a tear falling from his eye over the idea that you no longer wanted to sustain a friendship. It was all terribly confusing for the summer residents at Saltburn. And yet, in an effort to feel closer to Felix than you ever had, Oliver climbed into the draining bathtub and slurped Felix's cum as if it were water from The Holy Grail.

It made him feel superior. It made him feel as if he were winning an endless race. Made him feel like he was validated in pushing you out in favor of himself - no matter the history between you and the Cattons. Made him feel like he was solidifying himself amongst the distant royalty and you were giving reason to be thrown out of Saltburn.

But he would underestimate the power of family.

He got a little too cocky the night he met Venetia outside, in the moonlight, with Farleigh watching from his window.

The following morning, there was a pounding at your door - a rare night Ven didn't sleep with you. When you opened the door, Felix came pushing in, looking purely distraught.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me for whatever reason - but I fucking need to talk to you, okay? Please - I-I feel like I'm about to lose my mind, Y/N, love, please - "

"What's happened?" You asked, shutting the door. "I was about to head out - "

"Please, love! Please!"

"Christ Almighty, all right, the fuck's goin' on with you? Hey? Looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke," you approached him, caressing his bicep. "What happened?"

"He kissed her."

"Come again?"

"Fucking Ollie - Oliver! He fucking kissed Venetia!"

"When?"

"Last night, Farleigh saw them."

"Oh, love, c'mon, you know Farleigh doesn't like Ollie."

"So, he's lying? You think he's lying?"

"I didn't say that, but you're all worked up. C'mon, just breathe for a minute, gonna pass out from the way you're huffin' and puffin'."

"Please, be serious! This is serious!"

"I know it is, I'm just trying to be rational."

"So, Farleigh's lying."

"Well, I don't think so - kinda a huge lie t'tell, innit?"

"I thought so," he snapped, hand through his hair in anxiety. "I-I mean, how could he? How could Ollie do this - I-I mean, my sister? My fucking sister?"

"Love, if you're this worked up, just go talk to him," you tried. "Ask Ollie point-blank what happened."

"Would you ask Venetia?"

"No, darling, that's not how this works."

"Well, how will we know who's lying? Farleigh or Ollie?"

"I don't know - is this even something to lie about? What did Farleigh say?"

"He saw them - tonguing - practically eating each other!"

You sighed, "Love? You're not gonna want t'hear this."

"God, what?"

"Venetia's a big girl, she can tongue and eat who she pleases."

"It's bad form, though, innit? I mean - he's my friend, my guest, here under my invitation, and he gets with my sister?"

You shrugged slightly, "I don't know, Fi, but she's allowed to do as she pleases; Ollie, too. It's not like either are dating someone, hey? What? You jealous? Of your sister?"

"Fuck off with that, know that's not it," he snapped again.

"What is it, then?"

"It's another Eddie situation!"

You sighed, "Fi... You can't horde people, right? Ollie bein' here, he's free game to you, Farleigh, Ven."

"And you?"

"Fuck no, lad gives me the creeps," you blanched.

"Still?"

"Yeah, fuckin' still. Call it intuition, but there's something off, Felix. I know you don't want to hear it, but when I have ever been wrong? Huh? Tell me."

"You've not been."

"Exactly - I know a leech when I see one. So, you draw your assumptions, but perhaps what Farleigh saw is true, perhaps not - but you'll get more answers by confronting the truth than ignoring it."

He sighed, dropping to your bed, shaking his head. "Well..." He mumbled, "What do you think?"

You paused, "Doesn't matter."

"Does to me. Please, love, it's Eddie again and I don't - "

"All right," you relented, sitting beside him. "My money's on... Something happened, it's just a matter of what, exactly. How about we go to breakfast, see what the energy is there."

"Feels like I can't stomach anything."

"Your mother and father will be upset if we don't go down, c'mon," you whispered, standing, offering your hand. "I'll sit with you, and if you get upset, you can just lean into me, yeah?"

He took your hand, but didn't get up. He just stared at where you were conjoined, rubbing your hand with his thumb. "Does this mean we're fine? That things are... Are things okay between us?"

"Never not been fine, Fi."

"You've avoided me since we got here."

"I've been dealing with shit - "

"That you won't tell me about," he scoffed.

"Yeah," you agreed, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, "you're right, I won't tell you 'cause I can't yet. I want answers first... Then we can talk. I've gotta figure this out for myself, Fi."

"Well, I can help, you know?"

"No, you've helped plenty," you alluded. "C'mon, breakfast."

"Fuck's sake," he grumbled, finally standing, but tightening his grip on your hand. You lead the way to the terrace the Cattons decided to dine at that morning, being the last two to arrive.

There were two seats side-by-side.

"Good morning," you greeted the family that took you in, Felix silent and angry as he took his seat - but still pulled yours out.

"Morning."

"Good morning, darlings," Elspeth breathed from the head of the table.

"You sleep well?" Ollie asked as Felix whipped his cloth napkin to his lap.

"No, not really, mate," he grit, not looking at the boy and instead, reached for your hand. You handed him a cigarette, placing your own between your lips - both forgoing morning meals.

"We're 30 for dinner tomorrow night," Sir James informed the table. "Stopford Sackville has cried off."

"Oh, dear, that's a shame," Elspeth feigned sympathy.

"God, I forgot about fucking dinner," Felix tilted his head back, speaking between his stick as you lit the end of yours - then reaching for his after nudging his bulging bicep to warrant his immediate attention.

"Wait, who is coming to dinner, again?" Farleigh asked.

"The Henrys," Ven reminded.

"No, please!" Farleigh whined quietly.

"Who are the Henrys?" Ollie asked.

"Dad's friends," Ven filled in, Felix glaring at you as you laced your hand with his and squeezed in warning. "They're all called Henry."

"Not all of them," James corrected. "Just most."

"It'll be fun," Elspeth assured.

"It'll be being molested by Henry," Ven continued, swallowing a bite of croissant. "You know which one."

"Oh, I'll put you next to Oliver, then, he can molest you instead," Elspeth quipped, Felix strangling your hand.

"Don't," you whispered, Ollie's head cocking at Ven in an unspoken conversation. She hummed an amused chuckle. Felix glared at them both before looking back at you, silently begging you to let him snap. "Not right now, please, just breathe," you whispered in his ear, ensuring none others heard you.

"Oh, Oliver, I was going to say, we should do something fun for your birthday. Y/N's is at the end of the summer, we can combine efforts! A proper party! No Henrys, something actually fun. What do you think, darling?"

"Mum, you know Y/N doesn't celebrate anymore," Felix seethed with offense.

"Oh, I know, but it might be fun - a combination party?" She offered. "Darling?"

"If Oliver and Y/N would like it, I think it's a splendid idea," James agreed with his wife.

"I think Oliver looks like he'd rather throw himself out of a window," Farleigh chimed, everyone knowing to avoid asking you your thoughts since you couldn't celebrate without your parents - it just felt wrong. Like a betrayal. So, you no longer celebrated the day of your birth, but the Cattons looked for any reason to throw a party.

"What kind of party?" Oliver asked Elspeth.

"I don't know, whatever you want!" She insisted. "What do you think? About 100 people?"

"A hundred?"

"Or two! It invariably ends up being two, doesn't it, with this sort of thing?" She asked her husband, who hummed in amusement. She told Ollie, "Invite whoever you want. All your friends."

"What friends?" Farleigh leered.

"Oh! Oh!" James folded his paper messily in excitement, jumping to attention, "How about fancy dress?"

Ollie reached over and nudged Felix in curiosity, picking up on his angry demeanor. Your best mate looked down at you, making you lean your chin on his shoulder. "Oh, yes!" Mrs. Catton agreed.

"I can wear my suit of armor, Elspeth!" James giddily exclaimed with a childlike grin that made your heart weep gently.

"Good idea, darling," she agreed as Venetia stood hastily from the table; all knowing where she was going, and what she was going to do. "We could have a theme!" She distracted, you watching Venetia and knowing you needed to follow. She'd been caring for you in your illness, you could at least hold her hair back, too. "What about Midsummer Night's Dream?" Elspeth looked around for opinions.

"Lovely," James prasied.

"Bring on the slutty fairies," Farleigh mused.

"Awh, lovie, you'll still be the sluttiest fairy, don't worry," you teased, glancing back again and seeing Venetia escape inside.

"You wanna match my sluttiness?" He asked you.

"As if that was ever in question," you shot back, Felix offering you a small look. "I'll be right back," you excused yourself, standing from your seat but bending at the waist. You whispered in Felix's ear, "I've gotta go, 'M sorry, just keep calm, love. You're all right."

"Find me later," he requested, holding your hand a moment longer before letting you escape.

"So," James grinned as you walked away, leaning in towards his son, "how are things with you two?"

"Yes, darling, you two seem better! Did you finally tell her how you feel?" Elspeth asked.

If Felix was surprised by his parents knowledge, he didn't show; instead scoffing lightly, "Yeah, right..."

"Oh, darling - "

"She doesn't feel the same, Mum," he refused, sighing deeply - making Oliver's stomach coil. "Just leave it, all right? We're just friends, only ever gonna be just friends - she's part of the family. No need to mess all that up."

Farleigh smirked subtly and took a drag from his cigarette.

While hosting the Henrys for dinner, you felt another tide turn while sitting amongst the rich and fabulous. You knew them all, of course, grew up knowing them and attending these dinners with your parents. But something was amiss, something churned your stomach and clenched your heart.

You felt your chest tickle and tighten, the desperate need to cough nearly strangling you; Oliver paying close attention to your struggle from beside Felix. You coughed unexpectedly, seeing blood splatter onto your plate and without a single person noticing, you got up, excused yourself, and rushed from the dinner table with a hand over your mouth. Duncan swiftly cleared your place setting.

"Hear that, love?" Felix turned to look at you, only finding an empty seat. He looked around in case you were mingling, not spying you, and slowly got to his feet.

"Where are you going, darling?" James asked, "Sit, sit - "

"I'm only going to check on Y/N," he explained.

"No, no, sit, sit, sit, we know she's been fighting her stomach all summer," James waved off, and slowly, Felix went against his instinct and sat down. Venetia felt her heart steel in annoyance, wishing her brother would just wake up and realize what was happening.

When Oliver caught Venetia's eye, she questioned, "Felix warned you off, then?"

"Well, maybe we just need to be a bit more careful," he hushed.

"No, thanks," Ven refused, not one to sneak around her own home to satisfy her brother's jealously and possessiveness. "It's just sooooo disappointing," she snipped. "You're just another one of his toys."

"Like Y/N?"

"Y/N's not a toy," she barked.

"You're upset," Oliver noted.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm used to it - honestly. I mean, he never liked sharing his toys. Even the ones he doesn't want to play with anymore."

Oliver cocked his head, wondering, "Well, he's kept Y/N around this long."

"Y/N isn't a toy, Oliver, not to Felix, not to this family," she sneered in anger. "And he won't ever grow tired of her, she doesn't hold a temporary position in his life - unlike most." She chuckled dryly, "Honestly, do you not get it by now? She's the gatekeeper, and you're just a passing interest. You won't ever truly be his because she already is, and there's no replacing Y/N L/N - not to Felix, not in this lifetime." She offered a fake smile and turned from him to face her left, distracted by one of the Henrys.

Oliver knew all that, and he was working on removing you from the portrait - but it seemed, maybe he didn't have to work too hard. A rare disease had infected you the moment Oliver Quick laid eyes on Felix Catton - eating away at you internally, making you lose interest in yourself, plaguing you with self doubt to the point you couldn't look in a mirror without seeing a stranger. When Oliver decided to act against the pretty, rich boy, he started a chain of events that lead here: him, in a tux, at a dinner party, and you, shattering the frail skin on your knees from how hard you dropped to them - spewing blood, wine, and sunflower blossoms.

You choked harshly, make up ruined from your blood, sweat, and tears; hacking out most of a put-together flower. Your throat was shredded, dripping blood down into your lungs to slowly fill them again - floral growth breaking the barrier of your organs, sending unimaginable pain through your body.

You heard the karaoke begin, heaving over the sounds of drunken antics. You slowly crawled out of the bathroom, sniffling as you used your bed to lift your fragile body to your feet only to strip from your gown and crash into bed. Weakness invaded your muscles, exhaustion coated your bones, and your eyes stung with the endless supply of tears that would stain your cheeks.

Morning came far too quickly, and with it, Farleigh's forced departure from Saltburn. You were all dreadfully confused, Venetia explaining he'd been caught nicking items from around the house to sell for a profit - perhaps feeling desperate, wanting to help his mother without needing to ask for the help.

You weren't sure what to say to the situation, so you said nothing, but felt desperate to scream for your own help at the top of your lungs. The closer Ollie's birthday drew, the more you bent over the toilet, the more blooms that tore from your lungs and esophagus. You were at a loss over what to do, fearing you were too late for a doctor, and on the hottest day of the year, while everyone was outside by the water, you were inside, scouring the vast and random library.

"Miss," Duncan leered from behind you, no longer causing fright. "Is there something I can help you locate?"

"No, I'm just doin' some more research, Duncan, thank you, though."

"On what's wrong, Miss?"

"Yeah," you frowned, storing another book. "Nothing answers my questions, nothing explains this condition."

"Hm," he considered, "may I?"

"Please," you gestured him forward, watching in mild curiosity as he moved the ladder, ascended, looked over the spines of the many books and then made his selection.

"I've read every book in this library, and think this might help," He explained, handing you the dark green book about Japanese lore and watching you instantly finger through it.

You eyed him for a moment, asking, "You haven't told them, have you?"

"I found your request for privacy reasonable," he nodded, "and have not told the masters of the house."

You nodded, breathing in relief. "I promise, I'll tell them soon - when I figure this out."

"I think you already have," he mentioned, glancing at the open book in your hands. When you looked down, you had paused on a page titled: Hanahaki Disease.

The chapter was filled with detailed accounts of previous patients and sufferers; all giving a recollection of their battle with the unknown illness. You looked up at Duncan in shock, rereading the passage that told you what you needed to know:

"Hanahaki Disease can be fatal by making the infected vomit flora; either just petals or full blooms. There are three known variations of the disease, but all are caused by unrequited love - making the process often long, drawn out, and incredibly painful. The first variation involves the infected confessing their love to their desired, and that love being returned. This is the cleanest way to cure Hanahaki Disease. The second variation includes the desired not returning the known affection, leaving the infected to undergo surgery, a viable but messy recovery. The operation removes the plants growing in the lungs, but in turn, also removes all known traces and memory of the desired - but it does result in the infected being cured. The third and final variation is the worst, where the infected confesses, the desired does not return any affection or want, and leaves them to suffer until the bitter, bloody end. Without care or caution, this disease can become unmanageable with common side effects including but not limited to: blood loss, weight loss, avoidance, isolation, fear of food, fear of living, fear of affection, miscommunication, blood from other bodily orifices, and uncontrollable depression, anxiety, and other mental afflictions. Most infected never fully recover from the aftermath of this disease, and even when their love is returned, they are often haunted by the damaging effects of unrequited love."

You stared at the passage in shock, looking up slowly to spy Duncan staring at you in pity.

"I had a companion like you are to Mr. Felix, once," he confessed. "I was dedicated to my job, loyal to the Cattons, and in turn, he suffered greatly because I couldn't love him how he deserved." Duncan blinked at you twice in the silence that stretched between you. "My advice, Miss? Do not wait - you should come clean to Mr. Felix, let him decide how he feels, and should he not return your affection, I will take you personally to the hospital, where you might choose to undergo the procedure."

"And lose all memory of Felix? Of the Cattons? Of Saltburn?" You asked in desperation, tears swelling in your sunken eyes. "Not likely, Duncan, they're my family. I couldn't bear to forget them, even if it means I should live - I wouldn't be alive anymore. Not without him, not without this family that took me in without a moment's hesitation. I'd lose myself."

"But you'd have the chance to discover something new," he argued gently. "You have your own decisions to make, Miss, but I can only tell you my deepest regret was being so far up Sir James' arse that I missed the life that passed me by. And now," he sighed, "I live with the fact that I condemned my beautiful Roger."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Duncan..."

"I do not wish to see you suffer more than you have been," he frowned. "But I understand the fear you have, emotions are terrifying, especially for the young. But love is not conditional, Miss... Remember that. And having only a part of Mr. Felix would result in losing yourself entirely, whereas losing a part of him would result in you rediscovering all you are. Just... Just something to think about."

"How did you find this?" You asked softly.

"After Roger, I had no reason to care for much else other than the written accounts of those who passed before me. It felt like I was given a life to live, if only vicariously. I've read them all," he reminded, gesturing to the grand library, "and when I found this, I knew I had my answers. That being afraid costs us more than being brave."

You read the book in its entirety. You soaked in every recorded account.

Duncan's words weighed on your heart, and the last few nights leading up to Oliver's party were spent on bruised knees. Venetia still slept in your room a few nights a week, begging you to seek medical attention, and you promised her, after the party, you'd take action. She didn't need to know you were lying just yet.

But as it seemed, your lies were minuscule in comparison to others.

The day of the party arrived, Felix taking Ollie out for a drive as a birthday present. Where their destination was, you didn't know, you couldn't care, because watching them drive off the property dropped you to the ground as your heart felt as if it were physically shattered. You couldn't breath, the sunflowers strangling you from the inside, and after watching the love of your life drive off with another lad, you felt as if your fate was sealed.

That was it.

He didn't love you, he had Ollie. There was only so much love to be given at a time, and Ollie soaked it all up. You didn't stand a chance, you knew Felix's infatuation was out of control with Ollie's pitiful background piquing his interest. You felt like old news, you felt abandoned, alone, cold, heartless...

"What're you wearing tonight?" Venetia asked, tossing pieces of clothing around. "Felix is wearing these sort of golden wings, want to match?"

"What are you wearing, love? Maybe I'll match with you?"

"No, no," she grinned, "I've just found the perfect outfit for you!"

She squealed in excitement, turning to show you the dress seemingly made out of strips of fabric and a corset; creating an ethereal look and design. The color was pale, moss green with shimmering pale golds and nudes paired amongst the fabric. It created an illusion that the mini dress moved and swished around your thighs, and when she handed you golden gladiator sandals, you were sold.

Venetia spent more time helping you get ready than she did herself. She ensured your hair was pinned off your neck, that your make-up was mystical and covered in glitter, corset cinched at the waist to show your figure, and that you had a smaller pair of golden wings to top off your slutty fairy look.

Farleigh would've been proud.

The dress showed off your back, only thin straps keeping it in place as the wings were small enough that you weren't hidden under them. You showed more skin in that dress than you had all summer, your thinning frame tailored under Venetia's talented fingers.

Her hands clapped when you showed her the final look.

"Love the spider web chain," you complimented, clipped her in.

"Sure?"

"It's a look, Ven, you're stunning," you complimented, smiling at your friend with genuine kindness. "C'mon, I think I can hear people arriving."

Once more, Venetia squealed and snatched your hand, racing from her room and leading you into the party on the grounds as the sun was beginning to set. After greeting Elspeth and Sir James, complimenting their chosen costumes, you were sucked into a night of young debauchery; Venetia pinned to your side.

And thankfully, she was there to witness the moment you gave up. Moving through one of the darkened rooms, you were mingling with old classmates, happy to see familiar, friendly faces, and just as you turned, your glass shattered to the floor with the last bit of your heart and composure.

You saw Felix, clear as day, dancing with none other then fucking India - the girl you felt most in competition with, besides Annabel. He was so close to her, they were practically fucking; seemingly distracted by one another, they didn't even notice the party.

"Oh, love," Ven turned to you, but you just gave her a pained look.

"I'm gonna go," you rushed.

"No, wait - "

"I need to be alone, Ven," you insisted, the tears starting as your chest felt too tight in the crowded room. "I told you, I fucking told you, he doesn't feel the same," you sniffled, her eyes widening as you felt a familiar metallic taste in your mouth.

When your hand lifted, you smeared blood from your lips and nostrils, blinking in recognition - knowing what was to come next.

"I-I-I have to go, 'M sorry," you rushed, blood oozing and dripping down your neck in artistic scribbles. You didn't bother hiding this time, turning from your fellow drunkards to escape outside - heading for the maze, like you always did when needing to be alone.

Your room wasn't safe, anyone could find you there. The entire home was overrun with party-goers. The grounds surrounding Saltburn unsafe for your breakdown, as well.

So, you raced to the one place you felt safe anymore: the maze.

Your blood stained the shrubbery as you stumbled through it, trying to hold together, but the moment you reached the Minotaur statue, your legs gave up, mud squishing to your knees, and instantly coughing, hacking, and heaving blood from your lungs.

Long, pretty bright yellow sunflower petals came out in an abundance, the most it's ever been, before you were vomiting full blooms again.

You felt woozy, dizzy... Less than human.

You just wanted it to stop.

When you left Venetia's side, she noted you beelining outside and knew immediately where you had run off to. In unfiltered anger, she turned and shoved through the crowd up to her brother, grabbed him by the strap of his wife beater, and yanked him after her.

"Oi! Hey, hey, hey, Venetia! What the fuck are you doing!?"

"You've fucked up!" She raged, ignoring the looks from others and lead him outside so they could hear each other.

"Are you out of your mind?" He demanded.

"Are you!?" She sneered. "The fuck are you doing!?"

"What?" He scoffed, "What am I doing wrong, dancing at our party? Hmm?"

"With that skank!?"

"Hey!" India barked, having followed them outside.

"This doesn't concern you!" Ven barked, Felix feeling on-edge with his sister so enraged.

"You're talkin' about me, I think it does!"

"Ven, what the hell's gotten into you - "

"It's about Y/N!"

Felix froze for a moment, then looked at India, "Go inside."

"What!?"

"Piss off, India! She's right, this doesn't concern you!" He snapped, the girl scurrying away with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. When Felix looked at his sister, he demanded in a rush, "What about Y/N? Where even is she - "

"I promised her I wouldn't intervene, I swore I wouldn't say anything - especially to you, but you're such a fucking idiot, if you're not fed anything, you don't get it!"

"Is this really the time to insult me?"

She glared, steeling her jaw and gritting, "Y/N's in the maze."

"Okay? She goes there - "

"No, listen to me," Ven sneered. "She's been in love with you, Farleigh and I both figured it out - but it was really fucking obvious."

Felix blanched in shock, "What?"

"She's in love with you, you fucking idiot! She's been sick the whole summer because you can't love her back!"

"How - what are you on about!?"

"She's been throwing up blood, you're honestly killing her by doing what you're doing with all these girls! By ignoring whatever you feel - by denying it repeatedly! It's not fair! All she's done is love and support you, care for you, protect you, and you're fucking killing her!"

He blinked, "She loves me?"

"Yes, you fucking imbecile! And tonight was her last straw, I fucking saw it! She lives here, you jagoff, and you're dancing with India - right in front of Y/N? In her own home? Where she's supposed to be safe!?"

"I-I didn't - I didn't know!"

"No shit, because you're both fucking idiots who talk about everything except your feelings! Do better, Felix! Now, go! She needs you to be a fucking man - go! She needs you, Felix, she's in the maze, don't fuck this up more than you have!"

He didn't hesitate to shoot off in the direction of the maze, Farleigh catching sight and pushing his brows together before realizing he was sprinting after you - I mean, who else would Felix move that fast for? Into the maze Felix went, and Farleigh knew, everything was about to change. Elspeth and Sir James didn't notice a thing, too distracted by their party, but there was another watching; a set of dead, ghostly blue eyes nearly glowing in the night as they locked onto their prey fleeing the party.

Felix sprinted his way through the maze, an expert at navigating, and when he made it to the center, his own heart constricted to a suffocating depth.

"Oh, my girl," he rushed to your side, getting on his knees and holding your weakening body as crimson dribbled from your mouth. The pool of blood was grand enough that he worried how you'd make it through the night; floating sunflowers a hauntingly beautiful sight in the dead of night. "Hey, hey, you're okay, you're all right, I got you - I'm here," he whispered, smoothing hair from your face. "It's me, it's your Felix, love, just focus on me, yeah?"

And finally, with a sniffle that did little to nothing, you looked into his eyes with yours rimmed in red. "Fi..."

"Don't talk, save your energy, I'm gonna get you somewhere safe - "

"I've gotta tell you something."

"Tell me after we get to your room, yeah?"

Your head shook, "If I wait longer, it'll get worse."

"Sweetheart, please - "

"I'm in love with you," you finally confessed to him, unable to look him in the eyes for a second longer. You stared at your demise, blood soaking into both your knees. "Have been, I think, since I moved in here," you whimpered, "and after my parents died, I fell so fucking in love with you that it hurt. But out of fear of losing this friendship, I couldn't - I couldn't tell you. And now, it's killing me, but you deserve to know: I'm so fucking in love with you, makes me physically ill. I-I can't do this anymore, Fi, I just can't - the pain is too much and I've already lost so much - "

"Felix?" Ollie called in a drunken whine, entering the center.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, man!" Felix snapped, whipping around to glare at Ollie as you folded into his chest out of sheer pain. Of course, in the midst of your confession, nobody but Oliver fucking Quick would show up. "Get out of here! Now, Ollie, I'm not fucking joking!"

"Is she all right?" He asked, stumbling a bit.

"What the fuck are you still doing here!? Get out, fucking go, this doesn't concern you!"

"We need to talk, I need to talk to you!"

"It's fine, talk t'him," you wheezed, trying to get to your feet, but failing out of sheer weakness.

"No, you need to fucking go, Ollie! Now! Y/N and I need to talk a helluva lot more than we do!"

You used his shoulders to stand, "Talk t'him, Fi, don't let this shit happen t'someone else." He glanced to your blood as you let go of him, stumbling just out of reach, towards one of the maze exits.

"We need to talk, Felix!" Ollie demanded as you slipped out of sight.

"No, you know what? Fuck you!" He barked. "You're not what's important right now, Ollie! For fuck's sake!"

"Don't go after her," Ollie sneered, stepping in Felix's way when he climbed to his feet and meant to go after you.

"Fuck is wrong with you, mate!?" Felix raged, shoving Ollie back several steps. "Hey? So fucked in the head, you think you take precedence over my girl?"

"Y-Your girl?"

"Fucking Y/N!" He shouted. "Yes! My fucking girl, that I was so blinded by you to fucking see what was wrong! Now fuck off!"

"She's nothing - "

"SHE'S FUCKING EVERYTHING!" Felix shouted, you pausing in the maze when you heard it. "You and I can talk later, if I even fucking want to, but right now, my girl needs me - not fucking you!"

"I see she's got you so blinded - "

"You think Y/N's the problem here?" Felix sneered, getting in Ollie's face; fisting the lapels of his blazer. "Huh? You blaming her?"

"No, just saying - "

"All the wrong fucking things," Felix shoved him back again. "She's all that fucking matters to me!" He shouted again, you slowly nearing the entrance into the center of the maze, remaining hidden behind a shrub. "Not you, not all your lies - but her! It's always been her, but you fucking knew that, didn't you!? You saw what we were, what we had, what we could've been, what we were dancing around, and just had to wedge yourself between us, yeah? I didn't see it before, but your fucking lies - all your fucking lies, you were trying to ruin the best thing in my life! And you might've just succeeded!"

"She doesn't deserve you! None of them do!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver!?" Felix cried, "Leave me the fuck alone! Leave us the fuck alone! Leave my family the fuck alone! Christ! Please, stop!"

"We need to talk!" Ollie now approached Felix, making him back up into the statue.

"We can't - we can't, are you fucking crazy? Haven't you ruined enough!?"

"Me!?" He snarled. "I didn't ruin shit, it was her! It was all her, don't you see? You pitied us against each other, I had to do this! For you! You can't just throw me away!"

Felix lost his temper, shoving Oliver again, "Get the fuck away from me! I can! I can and I will throw you away - for her! I'd do anything for her, don't you fucking get that!? I didn't see before, but now I do, the slimy, scum you are - and I'd throw you away a hundred times if it meant being with her! Fuck out of here, leave us alone!"

Oliver shouted as he grabbed Felix's shirt, "Look, I just gave you what you wanted!" His voice lowered to a quiver, "Like everyone else does. Everyone puts on a show for Felix! So, I'm sorry that my - m-m-my performance wasn't good enough, like Y/N's always is."

You crept from the shadows, neither lad noticing; intrigued by the words being slurred, shouted, and weaponized.

"I think... I think you need to see somebody," Felix whispered, not willing to admit aloud that Oliver was scaring him. "You need help, okay? Seriously."

"No. No, I don't," Ollie sneered - sounding almost sober. "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you."

And there it was - another confession. Your heart (or whatever was left of it) felt heavy, like it was being constricted and anchored to your feet.

Felix whispered, "I love Y/N, mate, you have to know - wasn't exactly a huge secret, except to us. To her and I, not you and I, Ollie."

You felt something akin to shock spark in your gut, blooming an unknown warmth through your body.

Oliver begged, "You're the only friend I ever had, Felix." His thumbs pet Felix's face despite him trying to wriggle away; being touched by the psychotic liar terrifying him - but no more than the feeling of dread he had watching you stumble away. "Okay... I mean, doesn't this just prove how much - how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you? I'm still the same person! Yeah?" He whimpered, "I'm still the same person."

"I don't know what you are," Felix whispered in reply. "But I do know you," he paused, confessing, "you make my fucking blood run cold." His head shook, "I know friendship - and it's not this, Ollie, it's not built on lies and deception. Y/N? She's everything to me, mate, and you tried to ruin that. You're a fucking liar, Ollie."

He gagged a little, releasing Felix to stare at him with a sense of defeat. Oliver gagged again, shoving the opened champagne to Felix's chest, muttering, "Wait there a sec," before stepping away to throw up on the opposite side of the statue. He knew the other boy wouldn't be able to resist an open bottle of alcohol.

However, Felix felt it was his opening to escape, and when he looked up, he caught sight of you.

Your finger rose to your lips in a silencing motion, glancing at a puking Oliver, and Felix didn't hesitate to drop the bottle and race for you. When his hands smoothed over either of your cheeks, he checked behind him - seeing Ollie still at a distance - stooping to scoop you in his arms, whispering, "We have to go, love, fucking now."

You agreed and let him rush away into the maze, and before you could exit, Oliver was heard bellowing, "FELIX!"

"What the fuck was all that?" You asked, hiding yourself in his neck; neither caring for the blood being stained.

"I'll explain everything in a minute, love, let me get you somewhere safe," he rushed, the party sounding around you once more. He deflected anyone who got in the way, shoulders bullying past people, ignoring his name being cried out. Up the stairs, down a hall or two, and he was rounding into your room. "All right, hang on," he deposited you on your bed, rushing into your restroom and locking all the doors except the one connecting your room. The main door was also locked.

"What's going on?" You asked.

"He's a liar," Felix panted, wrangling from his wings as he approached you. "But it doesn't matter right now - what matters is our truth. You were interrupted before, but I have to tell you, sweetheart, that your affection isn't one-sided. Okay?" He knelt before you, taking both cheeks in hand. "You're not alone in this, I-I should've told you so much sooner, but I love you, too. No, no, I'm - I'm in love with you and I'm so sorry I didn't say it. Hear me? I'm in love with you, Y/N, I'm so sorry I was selfish, that I didn't see the pain you were in that I was causing."

"Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

"It's all my fault."

"I should've said something, too."

"You're the one who's been suffering all this time, this is on me. Okay?" His head shook, wiping the streams of blood from your nose and lips. "You're a fucking wreck, darling, should've said something so much sooner - saved you from all this pain."

"I was afraid, and didn't want you to know."

"I made you feel as if you couldn't talk to me," his head shook. "Listen to me, I-I have to go warn Mum and Dad about Oliver, but you stay here - "

"You're not leaving," you insisted. "Call Venetia's cell or Farleigh's, tell them whatever you're worried about, and stay here, with me, where you're safe. I don't know what I heard, but I don't think Ollie's well in the head and he's gonna gun for you."

He sighed, "They won't answer. The party's - "

"Just try..."

He agreed and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, dialing his sister as he got you a wet cloth. She answered when he was knelt in front of you again, wiping the remnants of your near-death experience from your face as he explained at a rapid speed a condensed version of events.

When Venetia assured she would tell Elspeth and James, he hung up and brought you in for a tight hug. "Should've told you," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," you whimpered, holding onto his neck tightly.

"C'mon," he sighed, pulling back to gaze at you, "let's get you changed and in bed - 's been a fucking nightmare tonight."

"How fitting."

"How so?"

You half-smirked, "A Midsummer Nightmare's Dream, innit?" He matched your fleeting amusement.

That night, you and Felix slept beside each other in a secure and locked room; both unconscious when Oliver approached your door and tried to get in before being apprehended by two footmen. He was locked in the basement for the night, given the chance to sober up before morning, when the police would be phoned.

When the sun broke the horizon, Felix woke with a start. You were already awake, looking up at his pale face, begging him to tell you the truth behind Oliver. He looked as if he would be sick, giving you a detailed summary of what happened the day before - all the lies Ollie told, how his parents were alive, well, and very kind. How nothing he's told Felix was true - all some form of fucked up lie to make him seem more broken for Felix's endearment.

"Am I that bad, love?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"No, you're just... You just have an affinity for broken things," you answered. "And he gave you what you wanted, tenfold."

"I feel so stupid."

"For being kind?" You shook your head, caressing his cheek.

"Not very kind t'let you suffer in silence, was it?"

"You couldn't have known how bad it all was, I wasn't exactly truthful either."

"You protected yourself, while Ollie... Ollie put on a fucking show to get attention, to seem so different, make me feel like I'd be a fool to ignore him," he scoffed. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "But I meant what I said - you're fucking everything to me and I'd throw everyone away if it meant being with you - keeping you."

It felt so good to assure him, "You have me, Felix. 'M not goin' anywhere."

He smiled gently, sighing in relief, asking, "Can I kiss you now? Please, love, think we've waited plenty long enough."

You didn't answer, you only lifted you lips to his and sealed your fate - meshing into one heart, soul, and one being. Two halves, made whole; cut from the same cloth and stitched together. His tongue swept across the seam of your lips, mingling with yours and never knowing when he had felt so complete while kissing a woman.

Because he hadn't. Everyone else before you was a place holder, temporary, a fleeting interest. You were a part of him, never wanting to experience life without the other, but as the house slowly woke up, you were both reminded of reality...

There was still a madman to be dealt with, and Felix wanted a front row viewing to ensure Oliver Quick was truly gone and your lives in a relationship could finally start.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

other Hanahaki Disease fics:

featuring: Eddie Munson from Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

Tears in the Rain

Gone with the Sin

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once-upon-an-animation · 3 months

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There are many things that frustrate me with the writing of Annabeth in the PJO TV Show, but I think one thing that I haven’t seen people talk much about is the mini-arc of Percy needing to help Annabeth with her sense of fun/humanity.

Just so we’re clear, I absolutely hate this arc.

Prior to the show’s premiere, I believe there was a quote from Rick discussing new-ish things that we’d see in the show, and one of those things was Percy helping Annabeth “tap into her humanity”. I can’t find the exact quote, but it should be on the series update Twitter account if you search it.

When I first read this quote, I wasn’t exactly sure what it meant, but I thought maybe we’d get an expansion of the theme of forgiveness that we got in the original books, or maybe we’d get an arc about Annabeth’s pride and how that gets in the way of her relationships with others. Or maybe they’d try and break down the ways in which Annabeth helps to uphold the gods’ ways of doing things, and align her more with the mortal point of view (which they essentially did, but not the overall point).

What I certainly wasn’t expecting was for them to strip Annabeth of most, if not, all of her smaller/softer traits, and give her this unusually stoic and stiff personality, where she suddenly has no familiarity with casual aspects of the mortal world (movies, Disney world, common idioms), and needs Percy to introduce these concepts to her in an effort to “unlock” her humanity.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Words cannot emphasize enough how much I despise this arc. Not only is it entirely nonsensical for Annabeth not to be familiar with these things (she was with her dad at least until the age of 7 and she goes to a camp full of other children who are regularly in contact with the mortal world; do you seriously expect me to believe that at no point in her 12 years of life, she never saw a single film, heard of Disneyworld, or heard common idioms and slang terms from her camp-mates? Seriously???)

But ALSO!

Book!Annabeth had PLENTY of humanity to go around! Even with her pride and initial coldness towards Percy, she plays hackeysack with him and Grover on the first day of their quest! She has a cute silly crush/admiration/infatuation on Luke. She nerds out big time over the St. Louis Arch! She’s the first to steal clothing from Waterland! She screams and cries when she encounters the mechanical spiders! She has an expression of sadness when she shares her backstory about Thalia and Luke! She gets lost in her little construction game at the Lotus, so much so that Percy has to use her phobia to pull her out of the trance! She grabs Percy’s hand when they first enter the Underworld because she’s scared! She tears up when it’s time to leave Cerberus!

And you stripped her of all these things, because you’re so desperate to overemphasize the Percabeth romance, and you felt that it was absolutely necessary to have Percy educate Annabeth on “unlocking humanity”??? Why!!!!

Not only did Book!Percy help Annabeth discuss things about bad parents and approaching forgiveness, but Book!Percy already had something important to offer Annabeth: loyalty, trustworthiness, and reliability. You didn’t need to take away her already-present traits and wits to convince us that Percy was the type of person she needed in her life, because we can already see what he offers her in the books. So why oh why did you feel the need to give us the silly “tap into your humanity” arc? Why did you turn her personality into something that it wasn’t? Why did you take away her depth just so her character could better serve Percabeth?

I don’t even necessarily agree with the criticism that this version of Annabeth feels like it prioritizes Percabeth more, but I can see why people made that complaint. Y’all took away so much of what made this character endearing, because you felt like it was a much bigger priority to have Percy help her unlock humanity than to let her be human prior to meeting him and outside of him. Not only does her personality get shafted, but her relationships with other people get shafted too! Her interactions with Luke are affection-less, she sent Grover off on his own in the Lotus so she could go off with Percy, and I don’t even think that she and Chiron interacted once this season; I don’t even think she mentioned the part about her calling him to come pick her up after she attempted living at home again!

But don’t worry; we’ll get plenty of scenes doubling down and tripling down on how Percy is the center of her world now! Yay!

#rick riordan #annabeth chase #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo tv show #percabeth #pjo tv crit #anti pjo #anti percabeth

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fru1typunch · 8 months

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Here's a little post ranting about the Floridian education system and how it fucked over public school librarians this year, from the adult child of one who spent his whole summer helping his poor mom try and keep up with Desantis's ridiculous requests.

Every school year, the librarian always gets a couple weeks with a "closed" library to take inventory of the school's stock at the end. Normal stuff, y'know, if a bit tedious and boring. Scan every. Single. Thing. See what you have and figure out who last checked out what you should have, that sort of thing.

Well, Ron Desantis, in his genius, decided that concept had to be applied to all the books in the entire school to determine if they're "appropriate" (by his batshit conservative standards).

My mom didn't JUST have to do the usual inventory thing for her own library. She ALSO had to do something similar but far WORSE for her entire school's personal classroom libraries.

The objective of this SCHOOL WIDE requirement was to "approve" every book in the school as "appropriate". Every. Single. Book. In. The. School. Not the school library, no, the SCHOOL. All classrooms.

My mom's an elementary school librarian. There's around 1000 students at her school, give or take, and around 50 or so classroom libraries to sort through. And this was supposed to be done over summer, before the kids came back in the fall. Entirely unpaid.

She had to personally approve around 25,000-30,000 books school wide based on whether or not they're "appropriate for kids" (again, by Desantis standards), entirely unpaid, in about 2 months. Keep in mind these classroom libraries had been pre-existing for many years or even decades in most cases, so it's kinda useless to just now care about whether the books are "appropriate".

Mind you, you can't read that many individual books in under two months and then approve them in the system if you tried, even if most were children's books. She spent every single day of her summer, her only real time off each year, logging into the online portal and manually approving books from 8 in the morning to 8 at night, looking them up and trying to determine if they might be okay by the new standards since she couldn't possibly have the time to read them all and check, and again, entirely unpaid on her own. Teachers were scanning in their classroom's books to the system to be approved by her in real time, so she really never could get very far ahead. At most she'd knock out a few hundred a day, which I think is wildly impressive given the circumstances.

Even with all that work, she couldn't open her library for nearly a month into the new school year this August because she spent every school day finishing that approval thing for the classroom libraries for teachers. At least by that point she got paid for it. She was also way behind on getting her library ready for the school year, she really hadn't had time to prepare like normal. It was a crazy stressful time for her all around, moreso than back-to-school time normally is each year.

I helped as much as I knew how to, which mostly just meant looking books up for her or texting back and forth with my friends that work at Barnes and Noble or Books A Million asking if they could skim through certain books that might pose a threat at times, and coming up to the school with her sometimes while she worked on approving books and I worked on preparing her library for "business" again.

My mom was upset because she didn't have time for a real summer vacation, the most she got to do was occasionally visit the beach a few hours away for a day trip. (On one of the beach days, she even took her blessed laptop with her to work on it in the car ride over.) She was in the thick of it neck deep all on her own for months with hardly any time off and no pay to show for it.

It's frustrating because if she were to have approved a book that a parent later complains about, it could mean bad news for her. Again, no way in hell would she have been able to both read every single book, determine if she thought it was okay by Desantis's standards, and then approve every single book within the system. She did her best, but she's still nervous someone will complain.

All this conservative bullshit around books is hurting so many kinds of librarians and educators in so many ways, so just take a moment sometime soon to appreciate your local librarians and public school teachers putting up with this crap. They could use the love. Maybe some strong alcohol. And a big wad of cash, they do a lot of shit unpaid.

And do vote these assholes out of office that are making these poor librarians' and teachers' jobs harder with no additional support or pay.

#rant post #fuck desantis #ron desantis #florida #library #public libraries #school libraries #librarians #love your librarians #public school #public school system #education #education system #banned books #politics #be nice to teachers

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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 1 year

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Love in the Rain

*not my GIF Summary: Nikolai is your best friend and you’re hopelessly in love with him, too bad he’s engaged to Alina Starkov. But maybe a storm and a love confession could change everything. Requested by: kateswone - Could you do a Nikolai x reader one, where there's a lot of pining and in the rain confession in the end? - This started as a drabble and somehow became 6000 words 🙈 I hope you like it! Word count: 6K ish Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Minor Alina Starkov friendship and brief mention of Dominic Vertov, mild angst/pining, fluff, idiots in love, smut, fem!reader, fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!), suggestion of oral sex. Fun fact, this was my first ever request! I had so much fun writing it, so if anyone would like to request something in the future please do, my inbox is always open and anonymous asks are on too 😊

You had always known you were illegitimate, born to a nobleman and his housekeeper. Though their union may have been scandalous, you believed with all your heart that they had loved each other.

You had few true memories of your mother, who had died when you were very young, but you remembered the happy years you had spent with your father, who had been warm and loving. He had always treated you as his daughter and never made you feel less than. Unfortunately when he died, yet another casualty of the Ravkan war, you had finally found out what it truly meant to be illegitimate. A bastard child could not inherit and your father’s estate had been entailed away to some distant male relation. The new master of the house had not wanted the trouble or expense of raising a child, and your father’s will did not include any incentive for him to do so. So you were promptly dropped off at an orphanage and at 8 years old, you had found yourself completely alone in the world. You had little to call your own except a book of fairy tales that had once belonged to your mother. Some of the pages were frayed around the edges and the cover was battered and worn, but it was your most treasured possession. The stories were all of a similar ilk, cautionary tales with brave princes fighting dragons and ogres, and princesses held hostage or locked away in towers. The heroes always triumphed and the damsel was always saved, and they all lived happily ever after. You would read the stories over and over, dreaming that one day you too would get your happy ending. Adjusting to life in the orphanage had been difficult, you were used to fine food, to goose-down pillows and silk, but now you ate meager rations, wore clothes of peasant rough-spun and slept on a mattress stuffed with hay. You tried your best to acclimate and vowed never to complain, but your high rank of birth made you unpopular, both with the other children and the staff.

They made it clear that they resented your good manners and education. They mocked the way you spoke and how you held yourself, deliberately excluded you from games and always saddled you with the worst of the chores. No matter how hard you tried, you did not fit in. So any time an opportunity presented itself that would allow you time away from the orphanage, you took it. That was how you met Nikolai. You were 12 and him 14, and you were on the Vertov farm for the summer to help with the wheat harvest. It was hard work but the Vertovs were good people and they treated you kindly. They invited you to eat dinner with the family every night and one night, their son Dominic brought along a friend from the palace. With his golden hair and shiny boots, Nikolai looked as if he had walked right off the page of your storybook. He took the seat next to you and when he engaged you in conversation it seemed like he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. You quickly found that he was as charming as he was handsome, a fairytale prince brought to life and you warmed to him immediately. In the weeks that followed that first meeting, Nikolai was at the farm almost as often as you were. He rolled up his sleeves and mucked in with the work, spending long days in the fields alongside you and Dominic. Sometimes the boys would tease you, but it was never mean-spirited in the way that it was at the orphanage and soon the three of you became firm friends, joking and laughing together as you worked. Nikolai in particular was easy to talk to and over time you confided in him about how awful things were at the orphanage and how much you missed your father. In return he had told you a bit about his life at the palace, his complicated relationship with his brother and the rumors of his own parentage. You both knew what it was like to feel that you didn’t belong, and having someone else who understood made you feel less alone. Before long you had developed a crush on the prince, though it wasn’t your fault. He was always looking at you, and smiling in that way that made butterflies take flight in your stomach, always telling jokes and trying to make you laugh. He insisted he sit next to you whenever he stayed for dinner, and he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room that mattered. As September came to an end, so did the harvest and you were to return to the orphanage. You had cried saying your goodbyes, and Nikolai had enveloped you in a hug, squeezing you tight and promising he would see you again soon. Just a few days later, a messenger had arrived to notify you that there was a place for you within the Queen’s household. It didn’t take long for the young prince to seek you out once you arrived at the palace, but when you thanked him for bringing you there he had acted the picture of innocence, declaring he had no idea what you were talking about. His mother chose her own ladies, he insisted, though his mischievous grin suggested otherwise. Although she was surely aware of your illegitimate status, the Queen graciously allowed you to adopt your fathers name at court, and the other ladies accepted you as one of their own without question. You found it was remarkably easy to settle into a happy existence at the palace, especially since Nikolai was a constant presence, always there to help and encourage you. No matter how busy he was, you could always depend on seeing him at least once a day. Sometimes he would seek you out at breakfast, stealing fruit from your plate and winking at you when his mother scolded him, or stop you in the hallway to ask about your day while the other ladies giggled behind you, but his favorite time to visit you was late at night, when everyone else was asleep. He would sneak into your room, face lit by dim candlelight and sit cross-legged on your bed, talking endlessly about anything and everything - palace gossip, an idea he had for an invention, places you both wanted to travel, dreams for the future. Even when he went off with Dominic to complete his military service, and then off to sea, he somehow still found time to write to you several times a week until he returned. Now almost 12 years had passed since he had rescued you from your life at the orphanage and Nikolai was no longer a prince, but he was still your best friend. Which only made the fact that your childhood crush had blossomed into unrequited love that much more difficult to bare. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The state banquet was in full swing and you were seated near one end of the long table. The Kaelish ambassador sat to your right and another man on your left, though you could not recall his title. Both men had been talking almost non-stop for over an hour, each competing for your attention, but you had long since tuned them out. You couldn’t stop your eyes wandering to where you knew the King sat, at the head of the table. He was deep in conversation with Alina Starkov, who held the place of honour by his side, but his eyes met yours briefly and the corner of his mouth tipped up into that boyish smile you loved so much. The Kaelish ambassador laid a hand on top of yours on the table, trying to regain your attention and Nikolai’s smile dropped from his face, a small crease appearing between his brows in its place. You turned away, breaking the eye contact so that you could politely extricate yourself from the ambassador’s grasp. When you looked back, the King had returned to his conversation, the Sun Saint once again holding his full attention. You watched as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, and she tipped her head back to laugh. You studied her as you sipped your wine. The Sun Saint and the saviour of Ravka. You wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t even allow you that you thought bitterly, because not only was she beautiful, she was also brave and kind. Even her laugh was pretty, a light, musical sound. Despite the fact that she had grown up an orphan like you, she had a way about her that just screamed royalty. She would make a perfect Queen for him. You pushed away your plate of half-eaten dinner, your appetite quite ruined. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai watched you from the opposite end of the table. Alina was talking and he knew he should be focused on her but in truth he was barely even listening. You looked stunning tonight, even more so than usual, and he was having a hard time taking his eyes off you. Your gaze finally fell on him and he smiled back at you, warmth blooming in his chest at having your full attention even in the crowded room, but then the Kaelish ambassador touched your hand with his and Nikolai’s heart sank. You were a beautiful and intelligent woman and yet you were still unmarried, so it was no surprise that any man seated next to you would be vying for your affections. Nikolai knew he had no right to be upset, given his own engagement to Alina, but truthfully, he was a selfish creature at his core and he did not want to see you with anyone but him. As you turned to the ambassador, Nikolai forced himself to shift his attention back to Alina, he couldn’t stand to watch the other man flirt with you. Alina was giving him a knowing look and he didn’t like it. The last thing he wanted was a lecture on the dangers of unrequited love from the Sun Saint. Humor was his favorite method of deflection, and it had always served him well in the past, so he leaned in close, quietly making a joke about the unfortunate looking man sat opposite them. Alina laughed and the moment passed just as he’d hoped it would. He made a concentrated effort to keep his eyes off of you for the rest of dinner. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After dinner, the King and his fiancé led the procession, their arms linked together delicately, as everyone moved to the ballroom. You trailed behind, tempted to just duck out altogether and go back to your room where you could be alone. Then the Kaelish ambassador appeared at your side, offering to escort you in and dashing all hopes of escape. You looped your arm through his reluctantly and allowed him to take you into the crowded ballroom. Your eyes swept the room involuntarily, seeking Nikolai out as always. You found him off to the side of the dance floor, talking with Alina again, their arms still linked and their heads bent intimately close together. You ignored the bloom of pain in your chest and forced yourself to look away. You turned to the man at your side instead, plastering a smile on your face. “Are you enjoying your time in Ravka, ambassador?” You asked. “Very much so,” he smiled, “but then, what man would not enjoy your charming company?” You looked away, feeling your cheeks heating up at the compliment. “That’s very kind of you to say, ambassador.” “Please, call me Cillian.” “I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” you demurred. “I insist,” he said, taking your hand. You caught sight of Nikolai in your peripheral vision, he and Alina were moving towards you and panic clawed at your throat. You didn’t have it in you tonight to pretend to be happy for them. “Alright,” you allowed, giving him the coyest smile you could manage, “but only if you will agree to dance with me.” The ambassador - Cillian, looked thrilled and you felt a stab of guilt, but you let him lead you away from Nikolai and out onto the dance floor all the same. The orchestra struck up a new tune, blending seamlessly from the last and Cillian pulled you in, one hand clasped with yours and the other at your waist. You tried to keep your eyes entirely on him, studying his features as you moved together through the steps of the dance. He was several years older than you, you determined, but not old, and he was handsome enough, with dark auburn hair and emerald green eyes. He wasn’t Nikolai, but then, no one could measure up to him in your opinion.

When the dance ended, Cillian disappeared to go and fetch you both a drink. You waited for him at the edge of the crowd, and watched as Nikolai escorted Alina out onto the dance floor. The music started up again, a slow, romantic melody and Nikolai held Alina as close as propriety would allow, one hand pressed to the small of her back. At first the two of them just swayed together in time with the music, completely caught up in each other, and then Nikolai whispered something in her ear and finally started to lead her in the dance. They moved beautifully together, perfectly in sync and suddenly you felt so sick, you couldn’t stand it. You turned on your heel, pushing your way through the crowded ballroom and towards the exit as fast as your feet would carry you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai stared steadfastly ahead as he led the guests into the ballroom, Alina on his arm. If he allowed himself to look around, he would only look for you. He stopped walking as he reached the opposite side of the room, deeming it far enough away from the door and other people to be acceptable. “You might as well look for her,” Alina said, leaning in to him, “I know you want to.” “Who?” he asked, playing dumb. “You know who,” she pressed patiently, “you should go find her and tell her how you feel.” “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice coming out entirely too high to be believable. He cleared his throat conspicuously and she gave him that knowing look again. “Oh come on,” she said, rolling her eyes, “a blind person could see that you’re in love with her.” “I’m not -“ he started automatically, but he cut himself off when Alina raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Okay, I am,” he admitted, “but I can’t tell her that. She’s my best friend.” “All the more reason to tell her,” Alina reasoned, “all the best relationships start out as friendship.” “No,” Nikolai insisted, “she doesn’t see me that way and I can’t risk losing her.” “With great risk comes great reward,” Alina shrugged, “that sounds like something Sturmhond would say, don’t you think?” “Sturmhond isn’t here,” he muttered, but a nagging voice in his head told him she was right. “Look, there she is now,” Alina said, and Nikolai couldn’t help himself. He turned his head, following her line of sight until he spotted you in your pale blue gown, talking with the same man who had held your attention at dinner. You were smiling and your cheeks were flushed as the ambassador took your hand. Before Nikolai had even had a chance to react, Alina was grasping his arm tight and dragging him through the crowd towards you, but by the time they reached you, you were already out on the dance floor. Jealousy coiled sharp and hot in Nikolai’s gut as he watched the other man hold you in his arms, moving you effortlessly across the floor. You stared into his eyes, as if he was the only person you could see and Nikolai’s heart ached. He couldn’t bare to watch and yet he found he couldn’t look away. As soon as the music ended, he pulled Alina onto the dance floor without even asking, determined to distract himself. “I can’t dance,” she hissed, clearly annoyed despite the smile fixed to her face, “I don’t know how!” He laid his hand lightly on the small of her back, helping her sway gently in time with the beat. “Sorry,” he whispered, “just let me lead, you’ll be fine.” He began to lead her through the dance, keeping his frame firm. Luckily the melody was slow and even, so it was not difficult for Alina to follow him, but he looked up just in time to see you fleeing the ballroom and then both their footsteps faltered. He murmured a hasty apology to Alina, abandoning her on the dance floor to pursue you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You ran aimlessly until you somehow ended up at the palace gardens. You just needed to get away, couldn’t bare to witness the happy couple for another minute. The rain was pouring down in sheets, the stormy weather a perfect mirror to your emotions. You stepped out into the downpour, and instantly regretted it as the rain soaked through your gown with every step you took, but going back inside was not an option. You kept your head down and ran towards the gazebo, seeking shelter there. Water dripped down your face, mixing with your tears as you finally allowed them to fall. The sound of the rain was loud in your ears and you were so caught up in your own misery that you were taken by surprise when he spoke. “Are you ok?” Nikolai asked, “what are you doing out here?” You whirled around, finding him standing behind you under the gazebo, presumably taking shelter from the storm as you had done. He looked just as wet as you felt, his blonde curls dripping onto his forehead and the white of his shirt almost translucent in places where the rain had soaked through completely. You wiped discreetly at your tears, clearing your throat but you didn’t answer him. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. He removed his jacket, offering it up to you. “You’ll catch your death out in this storm without a coat,” he chided. When you made no move to accept it from his outstretched hand, he stepped closer, huffing impatiently and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think that’s going to do much good,” you said, and his face twisted in confusion. He looked down at the sodden garment in his hand, suddenly realizing how wet it actually was. “I suppose not,” he conceded with a chuckle. He moved to the low railing so that he could lay his jacket over it, then he leaned against it, swiping a hand through his wet hair to brush it back from his face. “What are you doing out here?” You questioned. He gave you a wry smile, “I asked you first.” “I needed a moment alone,” you admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. He raised his eyebrows in question. Seeing you with Alina was killing me, you thought. But you couldn’t say that out loud, so instead you said, “The Kaelish ambassador proposed to me.” The lie tripped off your tongue so easily, you almost believed it yourself. Nikolai barked a surprised laugh, “Sounds like he’s had too much kvas,” he snorted, “I hope you let him down gently.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Actually, I told him I’d think about it,” you said, swallowing down your hurt. Was it really so unbelievable to him that a man could want you? “You can’t be serious?” He exclaimed, all trace of amusement suddenly gone. You shrugged your shoulders noncommittally and silence stretched between you. Nikolai scrubbed a hand over his face in apparent frustration, standing to pace uneasily. “You can’t marry him,” he said finally, his face unreadable. “Why not?” “He isn’t right for you,” he muttered. “You barely know him,” you bristled, feeling your temper begin to rise. What right did he have to decide for you? “Neither do you,” he countered. “Do you even love him?” “What does that matter? Marriage is an economic proposition,” you argued. “He’s handsome and rich, and he treats me kindly. As far as husbands go, I could certainly do much worse.” “As your friend, I am telling you that marrying him would be a mistake,” Nikolai insisted, his voice rising, “you cannot possibly be happy with a man you do not love.” “As my friend,” you spat, “you should support my choice, just as I did yours. Perhaps I do not love him now, but I will be well taken care of, and I may learn to love him in time.” Nikolai shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t. You’ve always wanted a love match.” “Yes well, we can’t always get what we want,” you said softly, looking away. “Not everyone can be as lucky as you and Alina.” “Alina and I are not a love match,” he frowned, “Surely you know that? Our engagement is purely a political alliance.” “Political, of course,” you huffed sarcastically. “It certainly seems that way when you’re fawning over her at every opportunity. Don’t lie to me Nikolai. You’re clearly in love with her!” “I do not fawn!” He objected angrily, “and I am not in love with Alina! How could I be, when my heart wholly belongs to you?!” You glared at him even as tears filled your eyes. “Now you’re just being cruel. To say such a thing when you know -“ you cut yourself off, your voice breaking. “When I know… what?” he demanded, moving into your personal space. Your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. You curled your hands into fists, fighting the instinct as you tilted your head back to look at him. “When you know that I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered. You hadn’t meant to admit it, but you were so tired of pretending. “I know no such thing,” he said, his forehead creased into a frown. He lifted his hand to push your damp hair back behind your ear and the touch made you shiver, “I am a man of many talents, it’s true, but mind reading isn’t one of them.” “Don’t be glib,” you muttered, bringing your hands up to his chest, ready to shove him away but he captured your wrists, tugging you against him instead. Your heart was pounding and you were sure he could feel it. He said nothing, just searching your expression for something, and then his face lit up in a bright smile, all of his righteous anger melting away in an instant. “Saints. I’ve spent 10 years dreaming of this moment.” “Don’t,” you warned, your tone sharp, and his frown returned. “Don’t pretend to love me back, that isn’t fair.” “I’m not pretending,” he promised. You eyed him skeptically. “I love you,” he said earnestly, “I have loved you from the very first moment that we met, and in every moment since then. Every time we have been together and every time we were apart. In every look we have shared and every word we have spoken I have felt it, I have known it deep in my soul, and I cannot go another second without you knowing it too.” You stared at him, willing yourself not to cry as you tried to process his admission. You waited for him to take the words back, to laugh and say he was joking, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes briefly, his expression serious. His mouth pressed into a thin line, like he didn’t trust himself not to say more and when he opened his eyes, they were so full of love that you could scarcely believe it. Your heart soared with joy. “I love you too,” you assured him and he dipped his head to kiss you, finally, reverent and sweet. You pressed yourself against him, needing to be closer and his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up as you opened your mouth to him. His free hand went to your hair, gently pulling out the pins that held it in place, until it tumbled down around your shoulders. Later, you wouldn’t be sure if it was you or him that had turned the kiss hungry, but the shift felt so natural, like coming home, even as heat spread through you like wildfire, desperate and out of control. When your mouths finally separated, you were both breathless. You panted, trying to catch your breath and he placed a kiss below your ear before he gently sucked and nipped a line down the column of your throat and across your breasts. His clever tongue swirled over your nipple through the fabric of your gown and you gasped, arching in to him. He tugged at your neckline, seeking access to more skin and growled in frustration when it didn’t give way. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled him back up so that you could cover his mouth with your own again. He reached around to the back of your gown, nimble fingers making light work of the dozens of tiny buttons tracing your spine. As he reached the final button, you suddenly remembered that you were outside. It was dark, and the storm made it improbable that anyone would happen upon you out here in the gazebo, but improbable was not impossible. “Wait,” you murmured. To his credit, his hands stilled instantly, albeit reluctantly, and he raised his head to regard you. “Not here, someone might see us.” “I don’t care,” he said, his mouth returning to your throat and you struggled to recall why you were objecting. “Nikolai…” you tried again weakly. “I must have you,” he insisted, his voice rough with arousal, “I cannot wait a moment longer.” And really, how were you to argue with that? You dragged your hands down his chest, grabbing the hem of his shirt and he smiled as he lifted his arms, helping you pull it up and off over his head. When he slipped your gown from your shoulders, he sank to his knees along with it, pressing teasing kisses across your abdomen as the fabric pooled at your feet. Your hands grasped his shoulders as he lowered your underwear, baring you to him completely and a sudden wave of shyness over took you. You carded your fingers through his hair, fighting the urge to cover yourself. “Perfect,” he murmured, raising his eyes to meet yours. The desire in his gaze was so intense that it seemed to simmer in the air between you and just like that, your embarrassment dissipated. He tugged gently on your hips, urging you downward and when you joined him on the floor he tipped you backwards so that you were laying on your gown. The damp fabric was soft against your skin, cushioning your body from the unforgiving wood beneath it. Nikolai lay down beside you, propped up on one elbow and ran his free hand across your collarbone and down your side, his fingers skimming the underside of your breast, tracing your ribs and fluttering lightly over your stomach until they reached the apex of your thighs. He circled your clit, slow at first, gentle, and then gradually increased in speed and pressure as your body responded. He slipped his tongue into your mouth at the same time as he slipped a finger inside you and when you shuddered, he added another, curling them just right in a way that had you moaning his name. Your whole body felt tense, every muscle straining for release and he dipped his head to capture the dusky peak of one nipple between his teeth. The extra stimulation was all that you needed to reach your peak, and you clutched to him desperately as the wave of your orgasm crested, your core clenching around his fingers as he coaxed you through it. “Saints, you’re so beautiful when you come,” he confessed, his voice low and gravelly. You wanted to kiss him, but he seemed so far away and you still felt fuzzy, your limbs not quite under your control, so you settled for pressing a kiss to his shoulder instead. Luckily he seemed to understand what you needed, he hovered over you, careful to keep his weight off you as he claimed your mouth again, but you were impatient for more. You nipped at his bottom lip, pulling him down on to you, wanting to feel every inch of his body against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him ever closer and swallowed his gasp when his clothed arousal made contact with your center. You reached a hand between you and tugged at his laces, eager to rid him of his breeches. He rushed to help, pushing them down so he could kick them off as soon as they were untied. He settled himself between your thighs, his cock dipping between your folds almost of its own accord and you suddenly couldn’t wait to have him inside you. You watched as he lined himself up with your entrance. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Nikolai pressed his forehead to yours, looking down the length of your bodies so he could watch as he entered you for the first time. The sound you made as he pushed inside was almost enough to undo him, and he had to close his eyes, fighting for control of his body. Only once he was certain he would not embarrass himself did he begin to move, burying himself in your heat only to retreat, over and over in a punishing rhythm that forced the air from his lungs and had you writhing beneath him. He groaned as you moved your own hips against him, meeting his thrusts on the downstroke, chasing your own pleasure as much as his. He straightened, raising himself up slightly so he could take you in, wanting to absorb every tiny detail of you beneath him. The way your hair was spread out around you like a halo, the pink blush that spread across your cheeks and down your chest, the perfect cupids bow of your lips, kiss swollen and cherry red. He wanted to commit the moment to memory, never wanted to forget the sight of you, sinful and gorgeous, and utterly wrecked. He lowered his head so he could nip gently at the expanse of skin just above your collarbone. You keened in response, tipping your head back to bare more of your throat to him and he felt a surge of something dark and possessive, an almost overwhelming sensation that made him want to sink his teeth in, to suck a bruise into your skin and mark you as his. But he would never do it without your permission, so settled for slanting his mouth over yours instead. He hitched your legs up higher on his waist, changing the angle slightly and allowing him to slide even deeper. You cried out as he finally hit that perfect spot inside you and he groaned. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made. He chased every moan, every sigh, like an addict looking for his next fix and he knew that even if he got to make love to you a million times over, it would never be enough. You were the sea and he was a sailor lost to the rip-tide, ready to drown in your depths. His hips began to lose their rhythm as he felt the first tendrils of his impending climax creeping up his spine and he was torn between the near desperate need to come and not wanting this to ever end. He slipped his hand between your sweat slick bodies to circle your clit as he worked his hips harder, determined that you should reach completion right along with him. Your nails dug in to his shoulder involuntarily as your orgasm hit you and you whispered his name like a prayer. The spike of pain only heightened his pleasure as he followed you over the edge, spilling his seed deep within you. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - You turned on to your side so that you were lying face to face, so close that your noses were touching, your limbs tangled together and sweat cooling on your skin. The rain showed no sign of stopping and you knew that you should get dressed, go back inside before you both caught a chill, but you were content to bask in the afterglow for as long as possible. Nikolai seemed to be in agreement. He made no effort to move beyond stroking his fingers up and down the length of your arm in a slow caress, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. “Marry me,” he murmured and your tender heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t know what to say, so you settled for just a slight shake of your head. Nikolai sighed dramatically. “Before you give me your final answer, I should tell you that declining the King’s hand almost certainly counts as treason.”

“You’re already engaged,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes. “Not if I don’t want to be,” he said easily. “I don’t care about making a political alliance and I’m sure Alina doesn’t either. She’ll likely be relieved to be rid of me, as will her tracker.” “You’re the King,” you reminded him, “You can’t just marry whoever you want on a whim.” “Actually I can,” he smirked, looping an arm around your waist to pull you even closer. “I can do as I please, because I am the King. A perk of the position is being able to indulge all of my whims.” “We both know that’s not true. You have to do what is best for Ravka, and making a bastard orphan your Queen is not it.” “Why not? They already have a bastard King, why not complete the matching set?” he grinned. “Nikolai…” He sighed exasperatedly. “If you come up with any more objections, I’m going to get my feelings hurt.” “But your advisors -“ you argued. “Are just that, advisors. They give me advice, but I do not have to take it. In fact, I much prefer to completely ignore them whenever possible. It keeps them humble,” he winked. “Nikolai, be serious,” you admonished. “I am,” he protested, “I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I have given Ravka everything I have, I am allowed to be selfish in this. I want you and I shall have you as my wife, provided you will allow it.” Your stomach did a little flip and you bit your lip, trying not to show how affected you were by his words. “I don’t know,” you mused, your tone teasing, “I have had several offers for my hand this evening. I shall have to consider my options.” “Of course,” he agreed, nodding sagely before his smile turned wicked, “but perhaps there is something I could do to tip the balance in my favor?” He nudged you gently onto your back and shifted over you so that he could trail a path of teasing kisses across your collarbone and down the length of your body. “Mmmm” you hummed airily, pretending to think about it. You threaded your fingers through the mess of his curls as he reached the apex of your thighs. “Perhaps.”

#nikolai lanstov x reader #Nikolai Duology #nikolai lantsov #Smut #fluff #pining #idiots in love #Grishaverse #Zoya is my queen but not in this fic #i wrote this

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mclennie · 5 months

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A thing I really love about TBOSAS is its exploration of human nature through the characters, using the ideas of philosophers like Hobbes, Locke, and Rosseau. In fact, it's so important to Suzanne Collins that you make these connections that their most famous works are quoted in the novel's epigraph.

Gaul represents Hobbesian thought in the story, believing humans are hardwired to be cruel, selfish, and willing to kill each other to ensure survival. She tells Snow that the arena is "humanity undressed" and that even Snow, who had the right upbringing and education, quickly becomes a murderer inside the arena (tbosas 243).

It's always been interesting to me that she likens the arena, an environment controlled by the Capitol, to the State of Nature Hobbes writes about.

First of all, the State of Nature is supposed to be a place without any sort of interference, and in an arena, that's just not true; the Capitol controls weapons, food supply, and dangers like mutts. Secondly, the State of Nature was never a real place but more of a thought exercise, but Gaul seems to take this exercise at face value.

In Leviathan, Hobbes says that in the State of Nature, there exists a perpetual state of war, with no moral right or wrong, and to escape this "nasty, brutish, and short" life, humans must create a strong central state to impose order.

Snow's journey in the novel is to decide which worldview he ascribes to, which makes the arrival of Lucy Gray Baird into his life even more important.

Now, Lucy Gray is more in line with Rosseau's view that humans are naturally good, but society is the one that changes that. This is her line of thinking when she tells Snow: "People aren't so bad really[.] It's what the world does to them. Like us, in the arena. We did things in there we'd never have considered if they just left us alone," (tbosas 492).

What I like about TBOSAS is that unlike other prequels centered on the villain, it's not preordained by fate that Snow was meant to be an authoritarian dictator. He has a choice. He meets Lucy Gray when he's leaving childhood, stuck between two forks in the road, and he can choose whether to stay on the right side of the line, as Lucy Gray later mentions. But he decides not to.

He chooses wealth, fame, and power over love and goodness.

It's very telling to me that out in the woods with Lucy Gray, before their relationship quickly sours, he wonders what they should do after they meet their most basic needs. What would they do without books or music? What's the point of survival for its own sake? He even discounts having children with her because he says it would be "too bleak" to condemn a child to such an existence (tbosas 496).

Love is not enough. Not if you subscribe to a worldview where individuals are inherently cruel and if you think control is the only thing preventing chaos. When he turns his gun on Lucy Gray it's the ultimate rejection of her worldview, and his complete turn into Gaul's influence, one where it's every man for himself.

#coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #catching fire #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg #tbosas #i also want to talk about Sejanus bc I think he falls in line with Locke but I didn't want to make this post too long #meta

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rae-and-mezo · 1 year

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Can you do when yn treats the house elves like their her children and the boys (ominis,sebastian, gareth,and amit) or the girls (poppy,natt,imelda, and Anne) get jealous or you can put whatever reaction!😊 please do this I'm begging 😭

A/n: I love this!! Some of them are shorter because I didn't know how to expand on their general opinion. I tried so hard to not repeat myself!

Characters: Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt, Garreth Weasley, Amit Thakkar, Poppy Sweeting, Natty Onai, Imelda Reyes, Anne Sallow

Sebastian:

Honestly, he's kind of annoyed.

Like the treatment of Elves is infuriating, sure, and he agrees with being kind obviously. But do you really have to cancel a date because Ticky the Elf wants to perform a dance for you?

And why do THEY get forehead kisses every day and he only gets them when he's sitting down? Maybe it's because he's just tall but HEY.

At first the elves are scared of him, and he hates it. He goes out of his way to show he means no harm but didn't intend to get roped into the mess.

Why do they want him to come see the room MC had them decorate in the room of requirement?

Why the hell is one asking him what MC prefers: Vanilla or Chocolate? They want to make her a cake? Okay...but he expects a piece.

Slowly he comes to love them as MC does, like a dad with a kitten.

Ominis:

My boy is...confused? But delighted.

The Gaunts had a house elf! Her name was Cinder, and she was more like a mother than Mrs. Gaunt. He always treated her with utmost respect and the way his parents treated her made him sick to his stomach.

His whole Hogwarts career he has tried to be very polite to the elves, letting them know someone cares.

And when you show him your army of elf friends, he is delighted!!

Asks them all their names and some more general questions.

One of them learned a new song or something of the like? He is listening with a patient smile on his face even though it is the worst thing he has ever heard.

They don't really understand his blindness actually. They're supporting but ask him tons of questions. I think Ominis would really like educating them about how he experiences the world as long as they aren't being patronizing.

He adores listening to you interact with the elves!!

He asks them so much advice and input on how to show Cinder he appreciates her. Like...does he give her a gift? Will this upset her? Is this too much?

Also, he remembers like everything. Tries too at least. You come into the common room late, telling him about how you were helping an Elf read a muggle book? He asks you if you've gotten to his favorite part. That particular elf tends to like the romance novels, and chapter nine is when the hero gets the girl.

In short, he loves the elves almost as much as you do!

Garreth:

He's so dumb. I love him.

Coming from a poorer family, Garreth had never seen a house elf until Hogwarts. They were strange creatures.

And then you have a whole crew?? Okay, but he wasn't expecting it.

He...he has trouble seeing them as sentient beings. I hate to say it, but he does! Of course, he respects all they do for the castle, but at first, he doesn't understand why you like them so much. He treats them not unlike a pet.

You tell them to be polite and introduce themselves, and he is so weirded out by each one introducing themselves and shaking his hand.

They pick up on his hesitation and come to you with their worries and after a lecture from you, Garreth is ready to try again. Reluctantly, but he is.

Is it possible to embarrass yourself in front of a house elf? If it is, Garreth does it. He's so scared of saying or doing something wrong that he ends up embarrassing the hell out of himself.

He grows to see them as they are: intelligent and sentient creatures that have a lot to offer. After a while he is comfortable enough to give them high fives in the hallway, or gift them things (mostly prank items, and then he has to teach them it is meant to be funny and not an attack-)

Amit:

He honestly has learned not to think twice about anything when it comes to you.

So, when you ask him to meet you in the room of requirement and you're surrounded by elves? A little strange, but it doesn't deter him from asking if you got all the notes down for DADA.

The elves scatter when he speaks, running to look like they are working. It surprises him, and even more so when you hush him as you coax them all out.

They do NOT like him at first because he comes at inconvenient times and how are they supposed to prepare you hot chocolate before bed when you're off looking at star charts??

And meanwhile poor Amit is working hard to get their seal of approval because anything you like he does too. It's very important to him!

Well one day they mention that they like the Gramaphone and the pretty music but the Gramaphone isn't working as of late. It gives you an idea, and now Amit is standing in front of a mini crowd playing his little violin heart out.

The elves kinda overwhelm him with how many there are and how needy they are to you, but it amazes him how you are so patient with them.

If there is a house elf language, he is learning it. Both to impress you and try to win over your little army.

Basically, he is slightly intimidated by the elves, but he loves you so he tries his best to get along with them. He definitely is no longer taking the food at dinner for granted, that's for sure.

Poppy:

She's so sweet.

At first, worries that the elves might have malicious intent because of how often they were pulling you away. But quickly she realized it wasn't the case.

The elves already adore her as she has always been incredibly sweet to them. Plus, in third year she saved a baby house elf which sparked her interest in them as more than servants.

She's more like their friend than parent, though, she thinks it's incredibly sweet how loving you are towards them.

Gets them ALL christmas presents. every single one. Doesn't tell you about it and holds you when you're overwhelmed by the kindness!

They will all follow her around, and she responds to every one of their jokes and makes sure she never leaves them out of conversation.

Makes funny faces at them from across the hall just like she would any other friend and it makes them feel welcomed.

After late nights in the vivarium, Poppy is dragging you to the kitchens. Even though you don't have to be dragged there. You two sit on the counter and recount your adventures to the elves while they busy themselves making you a snack. If there are dishes to be done she offers to help even if they decline.

Natty:

Always up for some adventure! Finds the elves fascinating honestly.

"Theoretically, if a master gives you a sock to wash, are you free? Can you choose your own clothes? Wait, if you can, are you allowed to shop for them? That would be so-" "Natty..." "Right, sorry."

She treats them like she would treat anybody else tbh. In her home country, she never had house elves and the concept of having someone thanklessly serving you makes her sick. So, she does her best to show her appreciation.

However, the elves will NOT take time she wants to spend with you away. They want to talk to you? Fine, but Natty is there too.

Tells you later how cute you are when you're interacting with something you love.

She gets the elves to help make you a GIANT Christmas present.

She and the elves see each other as equals and are friends!

Imelda:

Another jealous one. Omg.

Sure, elves are mistreated. It's wrong. But maybe they deserve to be kicked around a little when they KEEP YOU FROM QUIDDITCH PRACTICE!

Would never harm the elves or speak harm about them, but they have come to recognize her glare meaning "Hey, it's MY turn with my partner."

One elf in particular is pretty snippy and Imelda gets into fights with him almost every time they see each other.

Oh, the elves know to keep your broom in pristine condition. It seems to make you happy that it never needs work, and they have an agreement with Imelda. A polished, clean, and ready broom for your nightly rides means another hour where she doesn't come in and bother them.

She is NOT above coming into the kitchens just to annoy the house elves. They unfortunately know this.

Imelda would never ever see the house elves as anything less than what they are, but she doesn't hesitate to use her advantages.

She taught a group of the younger elves to swear. You still haven't quite forgiven her for it.

Anne:

I love Anne sm :)

Your relationship with the elves...doesn't surprise her in the slightest.

She doesn't understand, as Elves aren't anything special in her eyes. They're sentient creatures that have feelings and thoughts, just like humans do. Why would she treat them differently than anyone else?

The elves are very sweet, but c'mon. She was going to teach you to garden Hemlock without poisoning yourself!

Honestly, she doesn't mind that you baby them, but she definitely has sat you down and explained they don't need babied.

Admires you and how you treat them! Just doesn't understand it, that's all.

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literary-illuminati · 3 months

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2024 Book Review #12 – What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher

I initially meant to read this back last year when it was up for a Hugo nomination, but well – honestly I forgot my copy in an airport waiting room and it’s presumably now living a good life somewhere in a New Jersey compose heap. But a friend had a copy and said they enjoyed it, so! Stole it for a few days, and very glad I did. It’s a quick, fun shot fungal gothic, great for stormy nights.

The basic plot is, well, it’s very explicitly Fall of the House of Usher with a slight admixture of Ruritanian Romance. The Ushers are a genteely impoverished family of minor aristocracy in Ruravia, a less than impressive principality in Eastern Europe. Alex Easton, Roderick Usher’s former commanding officer in some recent war (the Gallacian Army they served in having a habit of getting into these quite habitually) receives a letter from Roderick’s sister Madeline begging company and help, as she is deathly ill. Of course by the time Easton arrives the pair of them look like they’re one stiff wind away from dying, and the estate and the lands around it are both decaying and full of unnerving strangeness. The only person who seems happy to be there is Eugenia Potter, an Englishwoman and amateur mycologist studying the great variety of mushrooms and fungus to be found in the area.

So yes this is very much aiming to be Gothic Classic, at least in aesthetics and trappings. An overgrown and decaying estate several times too large for the last remnants of the family who now occupy it. Genteel madness and disease, hidden behind polite euphemisms and high walls. A deep, atavistic horror at parasitism and the desecration of the human (especially the well-bred, young and female) body by an alien presence. There’s even a cowboy for some reason. It definitely all works for me, but then my exposure to the genre is all a bit second hand.

Speaking of parasitism – mushrooms! The book expresses decay and desecration basically entirely through the idiom of fungal infections, both in terms of metaphor and imagery in descriptions and just in the actual source of the horror here. The lights in the tarn are fungal blooms, Madeline’s disease and her reanimation are both the result of almost drowning and inhaling that fungus into her lungs, and so on. There are two really effective horror beats in the book for me – the image of an infected hare which had just had its head shot off slowly jerking back to its feet as a dozen others placidly stood there and watched it be shot, and the moment of realization that Madeline’s oddly long and wispy body hair is in fact mycelia growing out of her skin – and both play off of this pretty directly.

I very awkwardly didn’t use any pronouns for Easton when giving the plot synopsis because the book actually plays around a bit with gender and pronouns in a way I’ve always loved and wish I saw more of. Easton is Gallacian (unrelated to the actually existing Galicia, I think), and the Gallacian language has a variety of pronoun sets beyond just he and she – one for children, one for God, and one (ka/kan) particularly for soldiers. Which, due to the exigencies of early modern warefare’s manpower requirements, eventually led to both men and women being perfectly eligible to become ‘sworn soldiers’. So y’know, Enlist today! Service guarantees citizen-transition!

(But actually I enjoy the thought and at least superficial sociological plausibility/consideration of what gender means in Gallacian society a lot more than how a lot of modern spec fic just kind of assues that every culture in the world has the perspective on gender of a well-educated 21st century progressive, material conditions be damned).

Anyway yeah, overall very entertaining read. Though Goodreads tells me it’s now the first in the series, which given how cleanly this one ended is not something that fills me with an abundance of faith.

#book review #what moves the dead #t. kingfisher #horror #sff

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 5 months

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Shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Warnings: mentions of sex, SB bringing home ladies, reader is still pretty young in this part, HL having to educate his sister on what cheating is 🙃, Soldier Boy continues to mentally scar his children lol, mentions of infidelity/cheating

Words: 1314

Summary: While Soldier Boy entertains ladies in his bedroom, Homelander shields you from their moans and takes you outside to look at the night sky.

btw, happy new year guys! :)

🌸Did you get enough love my little dove 🌸Well you do enough talk my little hawk

When Homelander started hearing the moaning coming from the other side of his bedroom wall, he immediately swings his feet out from under his blankets and bolts out of his bedroom and over to your room. Within the next few minutes Homelander knew that the moaning and other noise will just get louder and louder. He had a short amount of time to get you out.

Over his arm is hung a bulky pair of headphones and a warm blanket.

You stir when you hear your door open, lifting your sleepy head up from the pillow. "What're you doing?"

"Dad has one of his. . . lady friends over. So you know what that means."

All sleep evaporated from you when you register what this entails. "We're gonna go visit the stars!"

He has to stop you in your excitement from running out of your room. "Hold on. Slippers and coat." Homelander forces you back around after he puts the headphones over your small ears.

You follow him out, unaware of the sound of skin smacking against skin that made Homelander's eartips redden from sheer embarrassment. Children shouldn't have to hear that. And damn his enhanced hearing that picked up every sharp note and shrill moan.

Outside was cast in a dark blue tint with just the moon and stars as the only light source. That was one of the good things about living further from most other neighbors. Less light pollution.

The woods in the back of your house was your playground. Countless hours spent out there with Homelander, living in your imagination and being just kids for once instead of weapons of mass destruction. You were free out there. The two of you could be whoever you wanted to. Vogelbaum, Edgar, not even Soldier Boy could follow you out there. Towering trees and scattering bushes was your sanctuary.

In the heart of it stood the little wooden shed you and Homelander had built as a type of playhouse. That was where you stored things that Soldier Boy would otherwise deem as nerd shit or something only pussies would do. Which you never understood what he meant by that and Homelander was never privy to tell you. You didn't need the same mentality that Soldier Boy had. Homelander wanted you to have an open mind. To not become a jaded person like their father.

There were folded blankets stacked off to the side for when you and Homelander have picnics or star gazing nights like this. Hidden between two blankets was the dismantled telescope Homelander had smuggled in as well as a few books on astronomy.

Homelander easily locates the bulky flashlight that they used to read their books late at night. While he's grabbing the books, you gather the blankets and telescope.

Shuffling out with arms full, you ask "Do boyfriend-girlfriends usually have lady friends?"

He frowns, really not wanting to answer. "What are you talking about?"

"Well" you smartly start, as if you knew all about the adult world "Dad is boyfriend-girlfriend with Crimson Countess, right? But then he has over his lady friends. And they make the same noise Crimson Countess ma-"

"Okay, okay. I get it." Hurriedly cutting you off, Homelander decides right there was a good enough spot to settle down in as he drops his books. He doesn't want to look at you as he fidgets around; pulling the telescope from the safety between the blankets. "No. Usually couples only see one another. No one else. It's called cheating when someone isn't loyal to their partner."

A soft breeze rustles the leaves around Homelander's ankles, startling him for a moment. You're seated on the blanket with another wrapped around your body to offer you warmth and watch him. "So dad is cheating on Countess?"

Damn Soldier Boy for making Homelander have to tell you these things that you shouldn't know about. With a meticulous touch, he connects the telescope's sleek metal components, each piece fitting together like a perfect puzzle.

After extending the tripod, Homelander bashfully nods. "Yeah. He cheats on her. . ."

You're quiet, ruminating over what this meant which your brother is grateful for. He hated ruining the tint of your rose colored glasses. If Homelander had it his way, you would always stay sweet and innocent with no bad thoughts in your head.

Adjusting the focus on the eyepiece, Homelander tests it out on the starry spectacle above. "It's all set. Here, look. I think I see the sagittarius constellation. Or. . . maybe its scorpius. . ." He balances the flashlight in the crook of his arm to reference the book he held with his hand.

"Is cheating normal?" Sounding so small in that moment, he turns his attention over to you. Your little brows were scrunched together. Disney princess movies definitely didn't involve this. The prince always got with the princess in the end. They never divulged what happened after the movie was done. Did Prince Charming actually cheat on Cinderella after that beautiful ending?

Firm hands land on your shoulders and looks you square in the eyes, holding it with sincerity. "If a guy ever cheats on you I want you to laser his face off. You want someone who'll be utterly devoted to you."

"Oh, so someone like you?" You instantly come to that conclusion with a bubbly smile. He was the only person to ever display such characteristics in your life. Soldier Boy tend to leave you and Homelander to your own devices many days of the week. In the morning sometimes there'd be signs that he hadn't come home at all. Homelander was all you had.

He wants to agree with you, wants to tell you that you should just stay by his side for the rest of your life. That was his ultimate dream. For the two of you to always be together.

There were always moments in his day when Homelander would be looking at you, the apple of his eye, and remember that once you grow up you may decide that it was time to part from your older brother. Get out from under his protective wing to explore what the world had to offer by yourself.

A day where you would no longer need him.

Out there by yourself there was potential for harm to befall you. Not physical harm, he doubts you'd let anyone lay a hand on you. Emotional harm was what worried Homelander most. If a guy were to break her heart, he'd pulverize them without question.

You were like his bright moon among a never ending void of darkness.

"Yeah. Someone like me." Homelander finally replies, hoping his melancholy didn't surface to his face.

Looking through the telescope, you marvel at the shimmering lights of the stars that hung over you. "Some day I want to try flying all the way up there." Your breath comes out in a small white puff from the cold.

That was something you always said. "I know you will."

Pulling away from the telescope, you have a hopeful smile lighting up your face. "And you'll be there with me, right? I don't want to do it alone."

Before he could reply, a haunting melody emerged—a distant echo that had you forgetting about the telescope and running to Homelander's side.

"What is that?" you whisper into his arm.

Homelander had heard the call before though and simply chuckles at your cute reaction. "That's from a loon."

"A loon?"

"It's a type of bird that sometimes likes to come out at night." Homelander motions for you to be quiet so you could hear the mournful symphony as another loon adds it's voice somewhere in the distance. Each call was a lyrical punctuation.

He lets you marvel in it before the calls died down, returning the forest once more to a still quiet.

I'd go to the moon with you, my little loon.

Thanks for reading!

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #the boys fanfic #the boys series #the boys imagine #the boys #the boys x reader #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys homelander imagines #the boys homelander fanfiction #the boys homelander fanfic #the boys homelander #homelander headcanons #homelander

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bohemian-nights · 2 years

Text

Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 2

Word Count: ~3,458 words

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; Mention of oral sex

Description: Dragonstone was the place of Naerys birth, but it did not feel like home.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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115 AC- Dragonstone

Dragonstone was the place of Naerys birth, but it did not feel like home. Nearly everything about the seat of her ancestors' was grim. The island itself was bleak with the smell of smoke lingering in the air. Aegon I was said to have enjoyed the smell. The princess found the smell headache-inducing if she was outside for too long. The actual castle was even more dreary. One could not turn their head without meeting a dragon motif or statue carved within the walls. Talons, wings, tails, and fire encircling every surface.

Her new husband had taken his mistress and set up camp upon her family’s ancestral seat some years back, but he was gone within half a year. The castle had not been occupied since. Naerys uncle the king meant to give the island to her cousin Rhaenyra as his heir, but it had remained unclaimed. It was little wonder Rhaenyra had not taken up residence there.

The island held little apart from dragonglass which was worth next to nothing. The small fishing village and port at the base of the island boasted of little trade. Dragonstone stood more as a testament to the might and reach that Valyria once held in the known world rather than a proper home in which she was expected to raise children.

Naerys new home was so unlike Hightide. Her uncle's seat held life within its white stone walls. Even her Velaryon family’s ancestral seat of Driftmark seemed less gray than Naerys current residence.

Naerys pondered on why her uncle had asked for the old outpost in the first place. She hadn’t wanted to ask why he had, but curiosity got the better of her after their nightly Valyrian lessons one evening. Lessons that Daemon had insisted upon as he had wanted to rectify her education which he saw was less than fit for a Targaryen bride.

“You have been learning Valyrian since you were a babe and yet your cousin Aemond has a better command of our ancestors' tongue” Daemon had sneered at her. A boy of five name days with Hightower for a mother. Her uncle saw her young cousins as little better than bastards. Naerys was of pure Valyrian blood. Her mother had been of house Velaryon and her father was a Targaryen. She should know better.

Daemon had threatened to take her over his knee and spank her when she had mispronounced words. Several times in fact. She had begun to wonder if he would actually make good on his word until he made her strip naked to recite the Valyrian alphabet after she had mixed up some of the letters.

The punishment had been effective. Her Valyrian had improved greatly since that humiliating night. Naerys had managed to please him by reciting a chapter in Valyrian. It was a children's book, but she had done it all the same and Daemon rewarded her with an answer to the mystery, to Naerys at least, behind why he had chosen Dragonstone for them.

“My brother believes that dreams made us kings.” Naerys knew that Daemon greatly cared for his brother, but her husband took little stock in his beliefs. “Dreams saved us from The Doom. Dragons made us kings.”

Her husband motioned to the painted table in front of them. They would often take lessons in its chamber. As if to emphasize his point further, he placed a wooden piece down on the table. The spot that depicted Dragonstone was a mere speck on the map of Westeros in comparison to even Driftmark, but from the island where they stood, Aegon and sister wives were able to conquer kingdoms. Kingdoms that had stood undisturbed for thousands of years

Daemon was not a hard man to understand. She knew that he saw her as little more than a vessel that would bring his own children into this world. It was the reason why he would spend their nights perfecting her Valyrian or why he would praise her for her dragon-riding abilities. Her blood was the reason why she was chosen. It was too soon to panic, but Naerys felt like she was failing to do her duty as a wife.

“These things take time my prince,” Maester Orlys had said after her latest moonblood’s appearance. Five moons into their marriage and she was not yet with child. “The princess is young.” Dragonstone was hardly a place of excitement. Visitors were few and far between.

Naerys had tried to make friends with some of her maids, but Daemon had laughed when she had told him of it. There was no one who was her equal on the island apart from her husband and he barely acknowledged her presence outside of their Valyrian lessons, their weekly dragon rides, or when he tried to put a babe in her.

“Perhaps a change in scenery might do her some good.” Driftmark and Kings Landing were suggested.

Naerys doubted they would journey to court anytime soon. Her uncle grew sicker by the day. His hand, Lord Lyonel Strong, and the small council ruled mostly in his stead. Although Lord Strong was no Otto Hightower, her new husband cared little for her brother's new hand.

“He’s a dull brute sweetling,” was his simple reply when she had asked why he disliked the hand at dinner two moons after their arrival. He had been in one of his better moods. They had gone riding that evening. The rest of their meal, however, was a quiet affair. Daemon sent her to bed once she had finished with an absent-minded kiss.

Naerys would later find out from Rhaenyra during one of her visits, which were far too frequent for the young princess’s taste, that her husband partly blamed Lord Strong for his second banishment from court. He had been the one to suggest that her husband’s head be taken for the alleged defilement of the crown princess. Only the king's love for his rogue brother had saved him.

Daemon conceded to their maesters advice. They were set to leave for Driftmark, when a raven from her aunt Princess Rhaenys arrived. Laena had gone into labor and had chosen to give birth upon Driftmark's shores. Her husband, Lord Strong's eldest son Ser Harwin, had gone with her. Daemon was not overly fond of the lord’s son either. Their journey was canceled. Ser Vaemond, Naerys mother’s brother, was sent for instead.

Her uncle's party was a lively bunch. The spirited knight had brought his lady wife, a pleasantly plump woman with a penchant for gossip, his sons who were just as arrogant as their father, their wives rather plain things, and his grandchildren with him. They had filled up Dragonstone's dreary halls bringing with them much-needed cheer. Not since the early days of King Jaehaerys rule did Naerys believe that its halls had been graced with such life. Even Daemon seemed to enjoy their company.

“If you will recall my prince,” Ser Vaemond had begun as he and Daemon sat by the fire five days into his stay. The two had been laughing and drinking beforehand. Recollecting on their war days mostly, but the merriment had stopped with her uncle’s next words.

“My late sister was always a sickly woman. I believe our dear little Naerys has inherited her constitution.” Ser Vaemond had always been a prideful man. Daring to speak his mind no matter the cost, especially with some liquid courage in his belly.

Daemon drifted his violet gaze toward where his young bride sat on the other side of their hall playing a game of Cyvasse with one of her cousins. His hands gripping the armrest of his chair with enough intensity to turn his knuckles white. Naerys attempted to keep her concentration on the game, but Vaemond was as loud as he was boastful.

“It is a shame that your brother would not allow you to take Rhaenyra as your second wife.” His dark brow was glistening with sweat as he took another sip of Dornish red. From the corner of her eyes, Naerys could see that barely contained storm brewed upon her husband’s face.

Ser Vaemond was either too drunk to care or did not notice her husband's increasing irritation with him. “She would have given you sons by now.” The hall went silent. Her uncle’s words were quite clear. Daemon would have had his heirs. Sons that would have one day inherited the iron throne. Instead, he was stuck with a sickly little bride who had yet to give him so much as a daughter.

“Mind your tongue Ser Vaemond lest you lose it.” Her husband's face had turned to stone as he stood up to tower over the drunken man. “Your sister gave my brother Naerys. My wife, your niece, will be the one to give me my heirs.” Daemon stormed over to where Naerys sat, snatching her from the game, wordlessly taking her to her chambers.

Daemon lovemaking had been vigorous. Her husband has always been passionate; he was more dragon than man some days, but Naerys had never been on the receiving end of his intensity. His fire was usually reserved for the training yard. His affections both frightened and thrilled Naerys more than she liked to admit.

Daemon had only stopped that night when she had made the mistake of grazing the scars at the base of his neck after she had pulled him up from between her legs for a kiss. It had been an accident of course. Her uncle made her taste herself on his tongue a couple of times before, but he had always pinned her arms above her head when he had.

Naerys had been distracted by the taste of her slick on his lips when he had yanked her hand from his neck. Her husband had redressed quickly and was out the door dismissing her apologies without so much as a glance spared her way.

Ser Vaemond made no move to give Daemon his opinions on anything else. He had taken to avoiding the prince altogether for the rest of the duration of his stay, but the damage had been done. In the weeks since her uncle’s visit. Naerys felt more alone than ever.

Daemon had ceased their Valyrian lessons. He had cited that her Valyrian was “adequate enough.” His visits to her chambers were few and far between and never with the same intensity that he displayed that ill-favored night. Even their rides over Blackwater Bay had come to a halt.

Naerys felt herself growing restless. The weather had not helped. It had been raining for the past week. Daemon had forbidden her from flying. Naerys had not ridden in a storm. She was simply not experienced enough to navigate the open waters of the bay in one.

“It will rain today sweetling,” her husband said as he came into her chambers, interrupting her breakfast. It was the first time he had spoken to her in two days. Daemon always knew what she was up to. She suspected that one of her maids was a spy of his. “Best to stay in the library.”

“I am not a doll kepus.” Daemon had requested she call “valzȳrys” him after she saw fit to call an “uēpa vala” once she had learned how to properly pronounce the words. Naerys had begun to call him “kepus” as a compromise. It was only fitting since he treated her as if she was an errant child one moment and a misguided wife the next. “Nor am I your child.”

“Of course not. You're my wife Naerys.” It was said in a teasing tone as he inspected some of her silver curls that had loosened from a braid in her sleep. Naerys did not miss the look he gave. The same look a parent might give to a child when they do not want to be questioned. However, Naerys would not back down this time. Rain or no rain she planned on going for a ride. She needed the fresh air. She had been cooped up inside Dragonstone’s walls for far too long.

“I will accompany you.” Daemon left the room before she could voice her objections.

Rhaenys had taken Naerys to claim Silverwing for her dragon mount on the eve of her fifteenth name day. The dragon had not had a rider since her great-grandmother Queen Alysanne had passed. If her cousin Laena had claimed Vhagar the oldest at twelve name days there was no reason why the young princess could not claim the most docile of the dragons. The she-dragon had accepted Naerys as its rider with little fanfare.

To Naerys, dragon-riding was one of the best if not only freedoms that she had. Her schedule as a child was always dictated by lessons. Not much had changed now that she was a married woman. She was only now beholden to her husband's wishes and scolded like a misbehaving youth, but on the dragon's back, she came into her own.

While her Valyrian was less than ideal her flying was not. Her uncle had encouraged her to keep to the skies. Daemon never seemed to find fault in her flying. He had even made Rhaenyra and Laenor watch her flying during one of their visits. A look of pride was clear upon his face.

“Issa byka ābrazȳrys istan vēttan kipagon.” He had said to them once she had landed back at the spot from where they had watched her fly. Rhaenyra had turned red at his words and looked as if she wanted to storm off back into the castle while Laenor simply chose to focus on the muddy ground below. Naerys was able to piece together his meaning from her cousin's reactions.

Daemon had simply laughed and ushered them back inside. That night Naerys noted that she had not heard the faint opening or closing of any doors nor the sounds of light feet upon the castle's stone floors usually accompanied her cousin's visits. Rhaenyra and Laenor had left before breakfast the next morning. Rhaenyra had not been back since.

By the time they had made the trek to the cave where their dragons lay it had begun to rain in earnest. Silverwing and Caraxes resided in the same cave along with Vermithor, Sliverwing’s mate. The older dragon tolerated Caraxes' presence, but he mostly kept to the back of the cave away from the younger male.

“We can check on the dragons, but we are going back inside.” Her husband stopped them at the cave's entrance, turning her to face him. The prince had to tilt her chin up. Naerys had tried to walk ahead of her husband but his long limbs met her brisk pace without much effort. She was quite agile and his grip was rather loose. She wriggled free from her husband’s hold with ease.

“Where is your sense of adventure kepus?” She began to saddle Silverwing with a grin turning to face her husband. Daemon did not look amused. He had not moved to ready Caraxes. Remaining at the mouth of the cave with a frown.

“Naerys I mean it.” She pretended to not hear him as she seated herself and spurred her dragon on. The last thing she heard was her shouting at Silverwing to stop in Valyrian. She did not obey his commands. They both knew that he could not keep her from riding.

It had been a relief when they had reached the open sky. The rain pelted around Naerys but she had not minded the cold droplets that rained down her face. For the first time in weeks, she felt alive.

Naerys heard the sound of wings in the distance. She turned around to see Caraxes and Daemon not far behind. The rain had blocked her visibility a bit but could make out that her husband was still sporting a frown.

“Stay close.” Daemon's voice boomed out. Naerys dismissed his chiding once more. She urged her dragon to climb higher wondering if they could break through the clouds to look at the storm below them. The thunder came before they could reach their destination.

Silverwing was a nimble pretty thing, but Naerys was a fair-weather rider. Daemon was right when he had said she remained untested on the open sea. She could sense that with each bang of thunder that came, Silverwing began to grow more unsure of herself and her rider's commands. A particularly loud bang that rattled Naerys' bones caused Silverwing to bolt off further into the storm.

“Lykiri Silverwing.” Naerys could not see beyond her dragon's head. The dragon's sudden darts loosened her grip upon the saddle.”Silverwing lykiri.” The princess tried once more, but Silverwing would not listen.

Another crack of thunder set the dragon off again diving for whatever surface lay below. Silverwing had moved too suddenly. Her rider's grip on the saddle had finally slipped. Naerys felt herself falling as she was thrown off her seat.

Instead of hitting the open water as she had expected, the princess felt a pair of hands pulling her up onto another saddle. Her husband wordlessly positioned her on his lap as she struggled to make sense of where she was. The rest of their ride was in silence. Daemon only began to berate her once they had landed back near the dragon's cave.

“When I tell you to stop, you stop,” everything sounded as if she was underwater. Naerys' head was still in the clouds. Thunder was still banging in her ear. Daemon shook her then, breaking her from her trance. “Do you understand girl?”

Dragons were temperamental creatures. As much as their house liked to believe they were Gods among men who had tamed these great beasts of fire they were in truth mere mortal men. Made of flesh and blood as any other. They were beholden to these creatures as much as they were to them if not more so. “You would have been dead if I had not come with you.” It came to her then.

“You could have been rid of me.” Her husband looked at her as if she had grown a second head. Which caused her to let out a laugh. How could he not see it? Daemon could be on his way to the capital once the storm cleared. He had not wanted to marry her truly. He had only wanted a Valyrian wife. A dragon rider with the blood of old Valyria. His heart lay with another.

Rhaenyra was married, true enough, but accidents happen every day. A little sweet sleep or a drunken brawl at some tavern and the crown princess would be a free woman once more. Or perhaps Laenor would allow Daemon to give her cousin children of unquestionable Valyrian blood.

Alicent’s questions would seize. Daemon could have his heirs. Rhaenyra her crown. It could all stop. If her husband had let the storm take her it would have stopped. If Daemon had not saved he would have been free. Well and truly free.

Naerys was brought from her musings when she felt herself being wrapped in her husband’s arms. “I chose you, dōna hāedar. I have no taste for another.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. She looked up to meet Daemon's red-laced violet gaze. He did not laugh at her. There was no mischief in his eyes. Nothing of malice or deceit.

Naerys did not know what possessed her, perhaps she was still in shock, but she reached up with a small brown hair to curl her fingers around the short silver hair at the base of his neck. She pulled him down with a soft tug. Naerys still had to crane her neck to look up at her husband, but they were more on equal footing.

She reached up using her other hand to trace his lips. This time it had been Daemon who had drawn her in. He tasted of smoke, the sea, spiced wine, and something heady and warm that she could not name. Daemon had only stopped to pull away for air after she had begun to sink further into him from a lack of oxygen.

The storm had begun to let up as they stood there breathing each other in, their foreheads lightly touching, before her husband picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than Dark Sister. Naerys could not help but let out a girlish giggle at the sight they must have made which prompted her husband to land a firm swat on her backside. At that too she let out another round of laughter. Daemon had not left her bed that night or the night after.

Translations:

Kepus: Uncle

Uēpa vala: Old man

Valzȳrys: Husband

Issa byka ābrazȳrys istan vēttan kipagon: My little wife was made to ride.

Lykiri: Calm down

Dōna hāedar: Sweet girl

Ao3 link:

#daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x oc #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x black!oc #daemon targeryan #prince daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon fanfiction #houseofthedragon #hotd fanfiction #managed to post this before thanksgiving 👏🏽#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x black!reader #bnhotdfic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

Note

Hey headmage! You know that one question all teachers will get in their life...

Tell us about your first love!

*eager looking eyes*

I wrote this one in a somewhat vague manner aka it's to throw a bone at the "Crowley is Malleus's dad" theorists out there www; it's up to the reader to interpret it as they please; it isn’t meant to refer to one specific character.

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

Crowley regarded you with a careful, uncharacteristically patient look—as if picking apart your soul and the fine layers that sheathed it. You were an open book, so wide-eyed and eager to learn of young, blossoming love.

“Feeling daring today, are we?” he chuckled lowly. “What naughty students I have, sticking their noses where they don't belong."

Crowley swung one leg over the other, crossing them as he reclined into his armchair. "As it happens, I am feeling more generous than usual today, so I will humor your request."

Your ears perked. You arched over his desk, primed to listen intently.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away... I found myself at a grand palace hosting a ball. Where, you may ask? I cannot say. However, it is only natural for important people in high places, such as myself, to be invited to these sorts of functions.

“Often it is political matters and power struggles at play—dull subjects to children, I'm sure. I happened to take an interest in the cuisine they were serving that evening, and so I made an appearance."

Crowley paused dramatically.

"Little did I know, that was where I would happen upon... Well, surely you understand who I am referring to?"

“Your first love?” you squeaked.

“I noticed them immediately. Call it ‘love at first sight’ if you wish.

“Their presence was far too powerful to be contained within that room. It was a quiet kind of strength, like the roiling of thunder before a storm arrives in full. Oh, but it wasn’t just their aura alone. No, no, they also boasted great beauty, grace, and intelligence!! And yet…”

“And yet…?”

“They were alone.” Crowley spoke the word quietly, as though it were cursed. “… I suppose it happens. People who stand too high in the world are lonely there, frightening off those unworthy to be in their presence. I understood, of course, being in a similar position myself, so I sought to offer my kind hand to console them. It is in my nature as an educator to serve as a bridge between people."

“You made the first move,” you gasped, your cheeks warming. Scandalous.

“I paraded right up and introduced myself! And—can you believe this—they gave me the cold shoulder, then attempted to scare me and shoo me off!! But I certainly didn’t quit. I fetched them punch, I sang them sweet serenades, I cracked jokes of the highest caliber… all so that they would look my way, even to spare a passing glance.”

“So you were a simp.” Somehow, it fit perfectly with your current understanding of Crowley.

He bristled at the casual accusation. "I wouldn't say that--"

"Definitely a simp," you repeated.

"Y-You may think whatever you like, but the fact is that my efforts eventually bore fruit!!" Crowley declared proudly, his chest puffed out. "They gazed at me and remarked that I was ' a strange one'!"

"That doesn't exactly sound like a compliment..."

"Perhaps not," he laughed lightly, "but it was that one comment that served as my foot in the door. Before long, we were chatting like old friends. They smiled--because of me. For me."

His voice warbled, wobbling with sentiment as the painted the scene. You could almost see it now: Crowley, tall, dark, handsome--but bumbling--courting a frigid noble. Breaking their barrier, melting that ice.

Like something out of a fairy tale, you think. A distant royal falling in love with their messenger bird.

"We laughed and talked all evening. We shared food and a dance. We never wanted the clock to strike midnight."

Crowley sighed wistfully, dragging a talon across his desk—as if marking another year apart from his beloved. "They truly were… the apple of my eye, my flower of evil."

"Did they return your feelings, headmaster?" you asked, leaning closer. Completely enraptured by his tale. “Whatever happened to them, anyway…?"

“Ah, now that,” Crowley tutted, wagging a finger, “is a story I shall keep to myself.”

“W-Wait," you protested, slapping a hand on the desk, "you’re really going to leave me off on a cliffhanger like this?! You were just getting to the juiciest part!"

“I believe I’ve already divulged far more than the average student needs to know of a teacher's love life," the headmaster replied. "You may use your imagination to fill in the rest of the gaps! It shouldn't be a challenge, seeing as you are quite familiar with my charm, fufufu."

"Does that mean you did get together after all? Were you actually married this whole time and we never knew? Do you have kids?!" you pressed. Each question became increasingly conspiratorial--but you were 100% serious, 100% committed to the bid.

"I'm afraid not, Prefect! You must make do with what you currently have."

"What I have isn’t enough," you groaned deeply. "Urgh, PLEASE answer me, headmaster...! I need to know, or I'll combust!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Reader #self insert #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk

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jackoshadows · 1 year

Text

How is Jon Snow ‘idealistic’?

He’s one of the most pragmatic Starks in the books, which is something considering he is only 14/15 when the story starts. There’s a reason Maester Luwin tells Jon that ‘bastards grow up faster than other children’.

It’s Jon Snow who stays up at night worrying over his future and not any of the responsible adults, because he knows the realities of being a bastard. It’s Jon who makes the hard decision to go to the Wall because he has no place at Winterfell, not Ned or Benjen. Ned refuses to deal with this until Catelyn forces his hand.

It’s Jon who explains the unfair rules to Arya about the difference between Robb and Bran practicing in the courtyard with the prince while Jon sits it out. It’s Jon who reassures Arya when she goes to him afraid that she too is a bastard. It’s Jon who leaves his name out so that the other Stark kids can get a direwolf.

Yes, Jon does not know how much the Night’s Watch has fallen as an institution in terms of it’s members now being outlaws, rapists and murderers. That’s because no one tells him the truth and not because he believes in songs and fairy tales. Benjen only tells him that it’s a hard, tough life with life long celibacy and not about it’s current status as a penal colony.

That’s why Jon ends up appreciating Tyrion Lannister as a friend, because Tyrion is the only person who does tell Jon the truth. That’s why Jon is hurt, that his own father send him to the Wall without telling him what the Wall has now become and then giving him a choice.

[Note: In fairness to Ned and Benjen, they both probably still think it a great honor to be a brother of the Night’s Watch. Like all the Starks before them they hold the Night’s Watch up as this important historical institution that has to be honored and then fail to actually support it in terms of funding and manpower]

Jon not recognizing that his fellow peers don’t have his education at the start of AGoT? That’s not idealism. That’s him not recognizing his privilege. At Winterfell he’s the bastard compared to his Stark siblings, always judged as less than them by nature of his birth. It’s only once he gets to the Wall that he realizes, with Donal Noye’s help, he has had it better than the other new recruits.

Jon wanting to be a ranger? That’s ambition, that’s self-confidence. Notice how after Sam Tarly explains that being a steward intern meant being groomed for leadership, Jon is immediately accepting of the decision.

Jon being angry and bitter at the unfairness of his world is not idealistic. Being angry about inequality and only being able to imagine a fairer world in dreams is the opposite of idealistic.

Jon’s not trying to end world hunger or trying to legitimize all bastards or set about righting all the wrongs of Westeros. He’s trying to do the best he can at world’s end on a little patch of land called the Night’s Watch for his fellow crows and freefolk there.

When Jon sends out the paper shields to the Crown in KL, he is angry and cynical and knows they will not send him any help. He is cynical about goodness and integrity which is clear from his interactions with his deputies at the Wall.

If anything, Jon Snow is ruthlessly pragmatic. Whether it’s taking child hostages, or telling the Freefolk that they will only get more food if they work for it or hiring spearwives to defend an entire castle or taking on Satin as his steward because he is good at it or using Wun Wun to rebuild or doing actual science experiments, all his decisions are immensely practical - which is why 99% of his policies keeps clashing with the outdated dogma of the likes of Bowen Marsh and Septon Cellador.

‘You Know Nothing’ is a play on Socrates ‘I know that I know nothing’, an acknowledgement that he has yet to learn a lot despite being Lord Commander. The people he holds in high esteem are the likes of Donal Noye, Maester Aemon, Qhorin Halfhand and Samwell Tarly.

It is true that all the Stark children growing up in the relative safety and comfort of home and family have lofty ideals as children. That’s the innocence of children. And then they grow up. This quote encapsulates that:

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror. Now he was a man grown and the Wall was his, yet all he had were doubts. He could not even seem to conquer those. - Jon, ADwD

Jon Snow is keenly aware of how hard his job is in terms of actually being able to help people. Idealistic is not a word I would use to describe him.

#Jon Snow #asoiaf

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unohanabbygirl · 1 year

Text

Hiding in plain sight pt 2

So I’ve decided to continue this drabble and turn it into a complete fic. In the meantime while I plan the long version please enjoy this sneak peek.

Warnings: mention of past non con

- - -

The knights give Luke a choice, come with them of his own volition or be taken by force. Everything in Luke is screaming at him to fight back, to rage that this was all a big mistake. However, as he felt Osferth tremble in his arms like a leaf, unconsciously letting out the scent of frightened omega he knew what choice he had to make.

As the men escort them out Luke keeps a tight hold on his son, making sure to assure him that everything will be fine in the end. Humming a soft melody that his own mother once sang to him whenever he awoke from one of his many childhood nightmares.

Luke doesn’t know if his words are meant to comfort Osferth or himself at this point. All he knows is that his pup calms down considerably, letting out little whimpers as he buries his face in Luke’s neck as if trying to hide from the strange men.

They make it to a small carriage and are pushed inside. Luke hisses at one of the knights as they hold onto Osferth’s hip on the guise of ‘helping him’

Osferth goes still at the touch and his scent rottens, letting out a smell similar to spoiled meat. He’s a newly flowered omega, a late bloomer whose only interaction with an alpha since his presentation has been his great grandsire during his short visits. Corlys is much older and not as strong as he once was, his scent is no where near as powerful as it was a decade ago.

The man laughs at the protective stance Luke takes, calling him a weak bitch and slamming the carriage door in his face, almost getting his fingers caught in the door.

The omegas can hear the mocking laughter and quips about weak whoring omegas from the men as they prepare to take off.

Luke hugs his son, still shook by the Knights unwanted touch. Osferth was scared and Overwhelmed and confused. Luke never felt like such a failure as his precious pup began to sob.

He always tried his best to educate Osferth, making sure to never shy away from the topic of dynamics, especially what’s its like to live as an omega. The uncomfortable heats, enhanced sense of smell, and physical changes in your body as it now sees you a vessel to carry children were all things he was open and honest about.

His son hadn’t presented until the year before at sixteen, even later than his mother as it was normal for presentation to occur around twelve or thirteen.

Luke always saw the signs though, the way Osferth never liked to roughhouse with the other pups in their old village, his sensitive and emotionally vulnerable nature, how he’d rather cuddle and chat with Luke instead of going out and being adventurous.

He hated any and all things violent no matter what they were. Corlys would often bring storybooks as gifts during his visits as Osferth greatly enjoyed reading. He usually brung tales of brave knights and bloody battles, yet his great grandson shed away from the frightening fables.

On a random visit one day mid spring Corlys came with five books in tow once again. But this time the tales were of fae like creatures and beautiful princesses. Osferth enjoyed them greatly, face lighting up as he read the words aloud while Corlys listened happily and Luke prepared dinner.

All omegas weren’t like that. Some did prefer fighting and dreamed of being war heroes, but it was most common for them to be softer and less inclined to harsh lifestyles.

Luke himself had been that way, shy and soft, despising the heavy weight of a sword no matter if it was wooden or steel. The only time he had physically hurt another was that night in Driftmark.

The only reason no one ever took note of his lack of alpha characteristics was because his mother and father were alphas just as both their parents before them. However, his true father Ser Harwin had been a beta with an omega mother. A fact no one took into consideration when thinking of Luke’s second gender, sweeping the truth under the rug as if that would make it go away.

Had his mother acknowledged his true sire and see his actions for what they truly were rather than lying to herself perhaps things would’ve worked out differently. Perhaps she would’ve thought harder before agreeing to send him to Lord Borros shitty castle.

“You will be welcomed, you have Baratheon blood from your grandmother Rhaenys.” She said softly, the look in her eyes betraying her own words.

He would’ve never been held down as Aemond forced his knot inside of him. Grunting in his ear like a crazed animal as he used the blood from Luke’s stolen maiden head as lube.

Luke’s jaw clenched as his fists curled up in anger. After all these years he felt nothing but hatred for Aemond. Doing what he did to him then leaving without a second glance like Luke was a worthless whore.

Sometimes he wondered how he could look at his son, the spitting image of his cruel sire yet have his chest fill with warmth. He met other omegas in the past years who were in similar situations to himself, raped and left with a child. They all loved their children dearly, but couldn’t stand look at them as they served as a permanent reminder.

Luke gently touched Osferth’s cheek, patting it lovingly as he whispered that everything would be just fine and they would return home as soon as possible.

The carriage took off with Osferth shedding a single tear as the view of the home he lived in for most of his life and housed so many happy memories disappeared into the distance.

“Mother, please tell me what’s going on. What do these men want with us?” Osferth cried.

Luke bit his trembling lip, knowing that he could no long lie to his babe. He stupidly thought he could hide Osferth from the truth forever, allow for him to live a normal peaceful life without the judgmental stares and inhumane treatment of those deemed to be bastards.

The blanket of legitimacy Corlys placed over him would mean nothing to a court of vipers, regardless of it was his mothers court now.

“There is much I have never told you my love. You may be upset now, but please remember that my intentions have always been protect you.” Luke confessed as he held Osferth’s hand to his beating heart.

All he could do was hope his love didn’t resent him after.

#lucemond #omegaverse #a/b/o #aemond x lucerys #hotd fanfic #drabble

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honeybadgerwritings · 2 years

Text

Let Me Teach You

Pairing: Peter Ballard x Fem!Reader

Requested: 001 (henry creel) 34, 35, in comfort, and 37 in smut I feel like those sentences could make a really hot hurt and comfort smut 🥵 pretty please with extra cherries and sprinkles on top 🥺

Prompts: “Shh, just look at me baby.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

“Let me teach you.”

Warnings: Smut, Overstimulation, hint of Voyeurism, first time,

Summary: Super long PWP with you and Peter 😘

A/N: I usually refer to 001 as Peter instead of Henry, so that’s what I’ll be doing in this fic. Hope that’s okay! It’s mentioned in this fic that reader is an adult. I’m writing this with the mindset that she’s around 20/21. Thank you for reading! Also not proof read!

18+ Content So Minors DNI

~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes you think back to the lack of freedom and education that you were given in Hawkins Lab and it makes you shudder. It really was a nightmare. You were never allowed to shower alone, you couldn’t make any noise once you’d entered your room, you couldn’t go anywhere without the orderlies watching your every move, and nobody ever taught you anything that didn’t have to do with your powers. They would only throw you in the rainbow room filled with a bunch of different puzzles and children’s books for three hours a day, thinking that was all you ever needed.

And for a while it was. For the first many years of your life you were entertained by these things as most children were. But the older you became, the more tiresome you grew of them. You wanted to learn something else. Something more. Something new.

That’s why you befriended Peter so quickly. Being a fully grown adult and knowing nothing more than the words you’ve read in children’s books was frustrating to you, and he could see that. He would always enjoy teaching you new things, new words, and new experiences if it meant he got to see your face light up each time. It was easy to feel lonely at the lab, which is why you two found solace in each other.

After a few months, your friendship began to grow into more, and while you didn’t understand the concept of a “boyfriend” or a “relationship,” Peter was more than happy to enlighten you. But this time instead of explaining, he showed you. Sneaking into your room after lights out to talk for hours, spending more time with you than anyone else in the rainbow room, quick kisses and lingering touches when no one was paying attention. It was something new, and it made you happy.

You shake your head at the memory, eyes focusing back in on the 002 tattoo that you had on your arm. You realized that you had gotten lost in thought thinking about the lab. The two of you had escaped six months ago after you had been caught together and they tried to separate you.

After that, Peter had told you everything about his past and his powers and you were stunned to say the least, but you didn’t love him any less.

And now? The two of you were hiding out in a cabin somewhere in Maine. Peter had found a full time job working at the bakery across town, and you found a part time one at the library just down the road. You loved it. You loved being able to spend your entire day reading books and learning new things. It helped that your schedules were pretty similar.

On the days that the two of you both worked you could take the bus together, but after work you would have to walk home. You got done with work an hour after Peter did, so while he got to take the bus back home, it would unfortunately stop running before you were clocked out. You didn’t mind though, the walk was peaceful. At least, when it wasn’t winter.

Right now though you were at the front door, where your hand had been sitting on the knob for the last 5 minutes, right where your eye caught the tattoo. You sighed, shaking your head again before pushing the door open. You had expected to see Peter in the kitchen cooking dinner like he usually was when you arrived home, but he wasn’t there. Infact, he was nowhere in sight.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you heard noises coming from down the hall towards your bedroom. As you got closer you could tell that the noises were coming from Peter, he was calling out your name and he sounded in pain. You immediately worried that they had found you. The lab. And now they were in there hurting Peter. You began to panic at the thought of him laying there helplessly calling out to you. You quickly and quietly made your way to the door, pushing it open just a crack to see inside.

Peter was lying on the bed, panting and moaning. You frowned in confusion, only able to see him from the waist up. You peeked your head in just a little bit more, and you had to hold in a gasp at what you saw.

Peter had his hand wrapped around his length, and he was stroking it. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed as he moaned your name over and over. Sweat was dripping down his temples as he moaned again,

“Fuck Y/N, you make me feel so good baby.”

You bit your lip as you realized, he was making himself feel good while thinking of you. A weird sensation formed in your lower stomach as you slowly backed away from the door, making your way back down the hallway. You opened the front door quietly, making sure he wouldn’t hear, before shutting it behind you and sitting down on the porch bench. You wanted to give him privacy, you didn’t want to let him know that you had seen him.

But you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks when you thought about what you had seen.

The way your name left his lips sounded almost angelic as he desperately bucked his hips up into his hand. The memory alone was enough to make you drool, and you rubbed your thighs together to try to ease the tension in between your legs. You had read about this somewhere, in one of the library books. It was a random one that you had picked off the shelf that seemed to be popular with some of the older moms in town. There were a lot of surprising scenes written in that book, including one that was very similar to what you had just witnessed Peter doing.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the front door swung open and Peter stepped out, looking around at first with a slightly worried look in his eyes before they eventually settled on you.

“There you are, I was starting to get worried.”

Your eyes scanned over his body, the one that had just been completely naked just moments ago, and you started to imagine that it had been you stroking him, making him feel good.

A hand waved in front of your face as you were dragged back to reality.

“Sweetheart? Are you with me?” He asked, worried. You gulped and nodded in response, standing up abruptly and stumbling. He put his arms on your shoulders to steady you, and all of a sudden you were imagining them elsewhere. You imagined him squeezing your breasts as his lips made their way down the side of your neck, desperate moans leaving your lips as you clung to him.

You snapped out of it to find him staring at you.

“I-I’m sorry... what did you say?” You stutter. He raised an eyebrow at you before pressing his hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “I asked if you’re feeling alright...cause it sure doesn’t seem like it.” He flips his hand over, gently dragging the back of it down to rest on your reddened cheek. “I don’t think you have a temperature, but your face is still very warm.” His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he tries to determine what’s the matter with you.

“I’m okay really, I’m just...tired. From walking...you know?”

He nods slowly not really seeming convinced, but you don’t give him enough time to question you as you quickly pushed past him, rushing inside and leaving him out on the porch. He stands out there for a moment, pondering, before eventually shrugging and stepping inside, closing the door behind him.

~~~~

It’s been a couple of hours since your interaction with Peter on the porch, and you haven’t been able to make eye contact with him since. You had spent most of your time in the bedroom continuing to daydream and fantasize about Peter while trying to keep the feeling in your lower stomach at bay.

Now you were sitting at the dinner table with him, attempting to enjoy the nice dinner that he had made for the both of you. But it was hard to even think about food let alone eat it when he was just sitting so close to you. A lot closer than he normally did.

“Is something wrong with the food baby?” You heard him ask. You shake your head, taking a bite to prove your answer. You continue to eat in silence for a few more moments which is not normal for the two of you, and you both know it.

“Y/N.” You hum in response, not looking up at him. “Y/N.” He repeats, placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You tense up at that, your thighs pressing together once again. “Y-yes Peter?” you stutter out.

You can feel his eyes studying your form for a few moments. “I find it strange that you haven’t so much as looked at me since you got home.” He speaks lowly, hand tugging your plate of food away. You gulp nervously, and think that maybe you could ignore him for a minute longer, but he slides his fingers beneath your chin, pressing upwards until you look at him. You watch as his eyes scan over your features like he’s searching for something, speaking just moments later, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to look down but his fingers are ever present and you crack under his gaze, "I just- god, Peter, I’m so embarrassed-” his brows started furrowing, so you find yourself rushing the rest, "-and I don't want you to think I'm weird or anything but when I came home I saw what you were doing in the bedroom and now it feels like somethings wrong with me because I think I enjoyed watching you and- and I don’t know why I feel like this but I can’t get it to go away I’m just- I’m sorry I-” you rambled, breath picking up slightly and tears coming to your eyes in embarrassment as you tried to explain yourself.

Peter lowers his way out of his chair, crouching down in front of you to hold your face in his hands. “No...no no no sweetheart don’t cry please. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” You look at him with big doe eyes, sniffling.

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head, a pitiful smile gracing his face, “Not at all. It’s actually kind of...adorable.” He tucks a hair behind your ear, his touch causing you to shudder. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Peter and a lustful glint forms in his eyes. He trails his hand from your ear down the side of your neck, to your arm, before eventually placing it on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Heat rises to your cheeks as you squirm beneath his touch, thighs rubbing together. He watches your reactions closely, a smirk forming on his lip as he watches you bite yours.

“P-Peter...” You stutter out, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I can help you sweetheart... I can help you feel better.” His eyes never leave yours as his thumb makes his way towards your inner thigh, gently stroking, “Is that what you want?”

You nod slowly, “I-It is but... I don’t know how to-”

“Let me teach you.” He cuts you off, his other hand stroking your cheek, “Let me teach you something new hm? I know you like it when I teach you things.”

A quiet, desperate whimper leaves your lips at his words and your legs begin to tremble underneath his touch. You take a deep breathe before answering with a nod,

“Yes please.”

Peter smiles, standing up and offering his hand to you. You instantly take it, following him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind the two of you and spins around to find you standing in the middle of the room, eyes to the floor and twiddling your thumbs nervously. Peter chuckles at the sight of you, and you look up at him innocently.

“Why don’t you lie back on the bed for me sweetheart?” Peter asks sweetly. You nod, doing as he says. Once you’re situated he climbs on top of you, his lips immediately findings yours. This you were used to. You could spend all day kissing Peter with your hands tangled in his hair and you’d have absolutely no complaints. But then he started moving out of comfortable territory. His lips made their way from yours, down your jawline and eventually to your neck, where he began to gently suck and nibble at your skin.

You were tense at first, unsure of what to do, where to put your hands, how you should react. You were so...nervous. Peter glanced up at you, taking this in. He gently grabbed your wrists, maneuvering them so they were wrapped around him and resting on his back. His head dipped down against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss there before murmuring, “Don’t think so much, just let your body take control.”

His lips find their way to your neck once again, and you began to relax, tilting your head back to give him more access. Your hands roamed his back as breathless pants and whines left your lips while he marked you. You could tell that he relished in the pretty little noises that you were making, as gentle moans made their way from his mouth to the flushed skin of your neck. It wasn’t long before red and purple hickeys decorated your skin and Peter pulled back, admiring his work.

“What a pretty sight you are.”

You blushed heavily once again at his words before you pulled him back down to you, your lips meeting his once again. His hands began to roam your body, making their way from your face, down your chest, eventually resting on your hips.

“Is it okay if I start to remove your clothes darling?” He asks you gently. You bite your lip nervously, unsure if you were ready for that. “I don’t want to do anything that you’re uncomfortable with.” He adds, giving you a reassuring smile as he places a comforting kiss to your temple. You ponder for another moment before a burst of courage surges through you and you nod.

He tuts his tongue in response, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “How about we use our words hm?” He states, a stern tone added to his voice. You take a breath before responding with a very meek, “Yes Peter.”

He smiles, satisfied, before leaning in to kiss you again, murmuring a small “Good girl” against your lips. He slowly guided the hem of your shirt up and over your head, leaving you in your jeans and your t-shirt bra. His mouth practically watered at the sight of your breasts.

You whimper pathetically in response to his gaze, and he gently reaches around you to unclasp the hooks of your bra, pulling it from your body. He stares down at your breasts in awe, reaching up to fondle them in his hands as you bite back a moan.

“God you’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, leaning down and taking your right nipple into his mouth, gently sucking as his tongue circles around it. He looks up at you while he fondles your other breast, watching you fall apart underneath him. You were writhing, your hands running through his hair as content little hums left your lips. He switches positions, giving your other breast some attention before he starts to make his way further down, from the valley between your breasts and down your stomach, eventually reaching the hem of your pants.

He delicately unbuttons them and wraps his fingers around the hem. He pauses for a moment to look up at you with smirk before he drags them down your thighs, taking your panties with them. A gasp of surprise leaves your lips, realizing you’re now completely bare in front of Peter. His eyes somehow manage to grow even more lustful as he stares at your drooling cunt.

“Is this all for me?” He asks leaning forward, his breath hot against your core as he swipes a finger up your slit. Your hips buck up and a strangled moan escapes your throat when he does so. “You poor thing, you’ve been this worked up for hours haven’t you?” His thumb gently circles your clit and you can only mewl in response, hips bucking again.

“I’m gonna make it all better baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

That’s the last thing he says to you before he licks a long strip from your weeping hole all the way up to your clit, beginning to suckle on the sensitive little nub. You gasp sharply, thighs attempting to close around his head but pushes them back apart, holding them still.

You desperately try to cling onto something, anything; eventually settling for Peters hair. You tug on it, holding on for dear life as he eats you out. His bright blue eyes watch your reactions intently from between your legs as you completely fall apart. He’s locked onto the way that your eyes roll back into your head, moaning and panting his name repeatedly from those cute lips.

He begins to prod one finger at your hole, gently circling the tip around your soaked entrance. Your eyes widen in realization and you tense up immediately. Peter pauses, pulling his finger away slightly, gauging your reaction.

“I’m just going to stretch you out a bit okay sweetheart? Want to get you nice and warmed up to take my cock.” You blush at the way he worded it, and nod nervously. He slowly pressed his finger against your hole once again, “It’s going to be uncomfortable at first but I promise I’ll be gentle okay?” You nod once again and his eyebrows furrow, his grip on your one thigh tightening. “Words baby. Use your words.”

“Y-Yes Peter.”

He wastes no time before slowly pressing his finger inside of your tight hole. You squirm in discomfort at first while he pulls his finger out, only to slowly thrust back in.

“God you’re so fucking tight Y/N...you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You bite your lip to prevent the whine attempting to leave them. You feel him dip his head down once more as he begins to suck and swirl his tongue around your clit again, distracting you from the discomfort. After a few more moments of thrusting you began to enjoy the feeling of being stretched out around his finger. “M-more please Peter...I want more.” You beg, almost pathetically.

“Such a polite little thing you are. Of course my love, you’re taking me so well already.” He prods another finger at your hole, sliding it in very easily as he goes back to attacking your clit with his mouth. This time the stretch burns, but in a good way, and your hips buck up to meet his hand once again. You begin to feel an intense sensation building in your lower stomach as your moans start to grow louder and louder.

“O-oh god Peter, it feels so good I-I...”

He hums in response against your clit as he thrusts a third finger inside of you. Your hands grip his hair harshly, sweat drips down your face, and your muscles begin to tighten as the pressure in your core builds to a climax. The hand that had been holding your thighs apart slid up to your lower stomach and pressed down lightly.

And just like that you were too far gone.

Choked out moans and pants leave your pretty little lips as you come hard around his fingers, your drooling cunt pulsing around them.

“Shh, shh," he hushes you. “There you go baby, all over my fingers. Such a messy little thing you are...” He continues finger fucking you through your orgasm, his thumb circling your clit. Eventually though it’s too much, you’re too sensitive.

You squirm away from him, whining, and he shushes you as he gently removes his fingers from your poor sensitive little cunt. “Alright baby, alright. It’s okay.” He says to you, before licking your cum off of his fingers, relishing in the taste of you. He slowly climbs back up your body, hovering over the top of you as he slams his lips against yours. You begin to undo the buttons of his shirt, and you can feel how hard he is through his pants as he grinds down against your leg, causing you to gasp. He smirks down at you, gauging your reaction.

“You see what you do to me baby? You feel how fucking hard you make me?” You nod innocently, the thought of him being inside of you almost making you drool. He sits up, straddling you as he removes his shirt and begins to undo his buckle, before sliding his pants and then his boxers down his legs, until he too is completely naked.

You stare in awe as his cock bobs out of his boxers. It was throbbing red and the tip was glistening with precum, he was a decent size and it was so....so thick. You knew that the stretch would most certainly burn more that it did with his fingers. This time as you were staring at it, you actually began to drool and he chuckles at you. You watch him lean over to the bedside table, pulling out a little square packet, tearing it open and rolling the rubber content from inside over his cock. You didn’t know what it was, you didn’t care. You would ask about it later because the only thing you cared about right now was him.

He slowly crawls back on top of you, resting his forehead against yours. He makes sure you’re still fully into this by asking you, “Are you sure you want this sweetheart?” You nod eagerly, pulling him into a kiss as you feel him lining up his cock with your already ruined cunt.

He pulls his lips from yours and gauges your reactions as he slowly begins to push his cock inside of you, your walls attempting to adjust to him. You hiss in pain, tears pricking your eyes as you grip Peter tightly, nails digging into his back.

“P-Peter i-it hurts...”

He moans at how tight you are around him, but is more focused on your comfort than his own pleasure. “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

He pushes his cock the rest of the way inside of you, just barely bottoming out as his balls rest against your ass cheeks. You groan and whimper in pain as you try to adjust to his size. Your cunt flutters and pulses around him, still sensitive and he groans. “God sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight around me. Taking me so well. You tell me when you want me to move okay baby?”

You gasp out in pain as he shifts just slightly inside of you and you nod, “Y-yes Peter.”

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours in an attempt to distract you from the pain. His lips feel soft and warm against yours, and they taste like the vanilla chapstick that he loves so much. His hands reach up to cup your face lovingly as you make out, and you smile into the kiss.

After a few more moments of kissing, you nod your head to him, signaling for him to start moving. And he does, very slowly. It definitely still hurts, enough to make the tears that were pricking at your eyes fall down your cheeks. A small pained cry leaves your lips as he thrusts again and again.

“Shh, just look at me baby,” He whispers, continuing to stroke your cheek, “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so fucking well. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but your perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. It’s like you were made for me. I love you so fucking much.” He rambles, pecking your face in between every sentence until you begin to giggle.

“I love you too Peter- ah!”

You were cut off by a moan as he thrusted deep inside of you once again, the pain beginning to dissipate, slowly being replaced with pleasure. A smirk forms on his face as he thrusts into the exact same spot, causing you to mewl in response.

“There we go darling....feels nice doesn’t it?” He asks you, “I’ve been waiting for so long to fuck you like this and ruin your pretty little cunt. I’d touch myself every day when I got home just imagining I was fucking you.”

Your eyes roll back again at his words and you moan, “O-oh god Peter...I feel so full.” He grunts into your ear as he reaches down, toying with your clit again, using his thumb to circle it as his thrusts begin to pick up the pace. Your hips desperately buck up to meet his and you can feel the pressure beginning to build again.

“God you’re so fucking tight baby, I’m so close, so fucking close.” He pants, leaning his forehead against yours. He starts rubbing your clit even faster and his thrusts start to become more sloppy. Your pussy starts to pulse around him again as you grow closer and closer to the edge.

“Peter I’m gonna- oh fuck I-”

“Cum for me baby, just relax and let go for me. Let yourself feel good.”

And you do. With one final thrust of his hips inside you your vision goes white and you’re taken over by pure bliss. Your head falls back and your back arches as you cum hard all over your boyfriends cock. Peter thrusts two to three more times before he releases as well, panting and moaning as his cock twitches inside of your poor abused little pussy.

He wishes he could fill you up with his cum and watch it leak out of you while your cunt is still sensitive and pulsing, but he knows you’re not ready for that yet. Instead he slowly pulls out of you, taking off the condom and throwing it in the trash. His eyes drift over your form proudly as you lay there exhausted and out of breath.

He leans down to admire the aftermath of your cunt, and moans as he watches it continue to twitch and pulse around nothing as your hole leaks onto the bedsheets. He smirks and decides to do something a little bit evil, and cleans you up with his tongue. He’s quick to hold your legs down as he licks all of your juices up. You immediately cry out, feeling extremely sensitive and try to buck your hips away from him, to no avail.

His tongue finds its way inside your hole, fucking in and out of you just as his cock was only two minutes prior. The feeling is so intense for you and you try to shove him off with your powers, but to no avail. He was already stronger than you, and you were just a weak little thing right now. He senses your attempt however, and looks up at you pouting.

“I was just trying to clean you up darling, but it seems I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson.” He smirks at you, before pinning your hands to the mattress with a flick of his head. He re-pins your thighs down with his hands and continues his attack on your poor little hole with his tongue, occasionally circling it around your sensitive and tortured clit just to make you squirm and whine.

“P-please Peter it’s so sensitive I-I....”

“Shhhh, just one more for me baby. You can do that can’t you? You can be a good girl and give me one more.” You nod, as best as you can, wanting to please Peter as he fucks you with his tongue. Your orgasm builds a lot quicker this time and he knows it.

Peter closes his eyes as he continues to eat you out, focusing all of his energy into your poor little pussy, wanting you to cum as hard as you possible could. Your eyes widened as the pleasure grew immensely and your legs began to tremble. By this point you were yelling Peter’s name in utter ecstasy, as he forced another orgasm out of you. The feeling was so intense that you cried your way through the orgasm, your whole body trembling.

You fade in and out of consciousness for a few minutes, your body trying to play catch up with everything that had just happened. When you finally came to, the sheets had been changed, you were completely dressed in your pajamas and your hair was wet. You felt... clean.

How long were you out for?

Peter steps into the room a moment later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He hadn’t noticed you had awoken when he dropped the towel, pulling on a clean pair of boxers before crawling into bed with you. Just as he does, you roll over to face him. He looks at you in total surprise.

“I thought you had fallen asleep for the night.”

“Yeah well I thought I’d fallen asleep for 2 minutes.” He chuckles at that, pulling you into his chest. “No baby, you’ve been out for the last hour. I cleaned you up and everything...guess I really did a number on you hm?” He looks down at you, stroking your cheek as it turned a bright pink.

You’re silent for a few seconds before you look up at him. “Peter?” You ask, and he responds with a hum of adoration. “Thank you,” you whisper, tracing imaginary shapes onto the bare skin of his chest, “For everything. I love you.”

He smiles at that, pulling you in to kiss your forehead, “You know I’d do anything for you sweet girl, I love you too.”

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