#and thinking i had consumed the media wrong. no i was right the first time. i'm never wrong about anything ever in my life

[aq2003]

crimes in series 3 ten isn't responsible for/didn't commit towards martha:

not returning her feelings

comparing martha to rose past episode 2, or even bringing up rose at all until it comes up in conversation with jack in the finale

whatever the AI generated human version of him did ("he's a character", "i can't control what he'll do", etc). and the decision to become human too: he initially wanted to give the family of blood a peaceful death and isn't wrong for that

not caring about her/thinking she's not good enough

leading her on so she'd think her feelings were requited and she'd stay with him (* i don't think this is supported by the text, but i do think it's an interesting angle that can be applied and if anyone subscribes to this i'd happily watch from the sidelines)

crimes in series 3 ten absolutely did commit towards martha:

trying to emotionally isolate himself while simultaneously clinging to her for companionship and support. there's mixed messages and then there's series 3 ten

general quick-to-agitation, which is one of his main personality traits, but because martha spends her whole time trying to prove herself (when she already proved herself to him VERY early on) she reads it as him being disappointed with her specifically

on that note, not knowing she spends the whole time feeling not good enough. he thinks making her a full-time companion and trusting her with as much as he does is enough of a gesture, but the fact he still wants to keep her at arm's length stands against that

the decision to take her on time/space travel adventures when he fully knows the allure of it and still spends half the season convincing himself that her staying with him will be temporary

traumadumping with the bestie i obtained 1 day ago !! surely this will not reveal to her i am in desperate need of saving from the unending void of loneliness even though i do not want to be helped

putting an inordinate amount of responsibility and pressure on her. i don't think he does this intentionally, but it's one of the defining elements of their dynamic to me. making your friend watch you constantly endanger and hurt yourself to the point where oftentimes theyre the only one standing between you and your death wish is CRAZY. putting your life in their hands, telling them multiple times to be down to watch you die is CRAZY.

him weeping over the master after all of that went down. like i so deeply understand why it rips out ten's heart when it happens but martha deserves to hit him with something for having to watch that after what happened to her family lmao

in conclusion: i don't even know lol. they're so much more complex and interesting than "ten has a bad rebound relationship" (their relationship is platonic! and i personally think they yield the most if you read them as such rather than the inherent pseudo-romantic allegory the show tries to push onto the doctor/companion dynamics before series 4). i love series 3 ten for many reasons (there's so many things wrong with him) like he is so flawed and awful and stuck in his head and unable to commit to whether he wants isolation or companionship. martha is a saint for helping him through it, and she makes the absolute correct decision in leaving (for reasons stated above). like she has a very bad time in series 3! ten does not properly convey to her how much she matters to him! and even after series 3 she commits to things trying to be more like him, trying to prove herself still, when she doesn't need to (and i don't think ten ever truly gets what she's still trying to do). like their dynamic is so crunchy to me i'm sorry. burn with me martha or whatever. and in series 4 ten does become more comfortable with showing outward affection towards her, he refrains from spilling out his guts like he did, bc he's started to stabilize and has learned from his mistakes. and that bit of growth is important to me. anyway idk how to end this uhh tenmartha cocaine bro

[scroogemcducksbastardchild]

it makes me a bit sad to see the asexual ineffable husbands fading into the background of the fandom. don't get me wrong, i actively enjoy and have no problem with content + headcanons that portray them as allosexual or allo-adjacent. it's fun and there are HELLA talented people literally everywhere you look!

but when i discovered good omens about a year before season 2 came out, it was the first time i had felt represented onscreen and within a fandom. here was an asexual love story widely accepted by the fandom, and it was beautiful! but i don't really get that vibe anymore for some reason? people who headcanon aziraphale and crowley as asexual (i personally headcanon aziraphale as a sex-favourable orchidsexual and crowley as a sex-ambivalent ace) have sorta been pushed into the corners of most online fandom spaces, and while i don't think it's intentional i do think it reflects a lot of the effects that amatonormativity has on the way we consume media.

we've been trained to favour depictions of sexual relationships in media because society tells us that they're more valid than non-conventional ones (think qprs, non-sexual romantic relationships, fwbs, etc). we're conditioned to view asexual romantic relationships as "boring" (steven moffat i'm looking at you). when we see a relationship like aziraphale and crowley's, which doesn't outwardly appear like a traditional romantic relationship, we're left wanting more and passing over the people who have already found everything they want in the ineffable husbands' relationship. i think the theories and fanart and writing are gorgeous and i'll never not love seeing a fandom (especially one so unbelievably close to my heart) thrive, but i miss seeing myself so wholly represented by the fandom's general treatment of its characters

(sorry if this was poorly worded i am. very tired right now and wanted to talk about my little guys /gn)

[sanguineterrain]

Hii so for the requests if this is too dark please just ignore 💜 how about jason x reader with "[ BACKUP ]   sender calls receiver panicking after committing a crime" where maybe reader gets assaulted and in self-defense kills the criminal and is panicking and calling jason because she knows he can help her and is the only one who won't judge her. Thank you for considering 💖

hey anon! i really liked this prompt, not to worry. it reminded me of that scene in the punisher when amy shoots the guy, but frank "kills" him, so i ended up incorporating that here 😅 thanks for requesting!

i also combined this with another request i got for the prompt "hide. hide now." with jason bc i felt they went well together :)

jason todd x gn!reader | tw: gun violence. reader shoots a man whose intention is to harm them. panic attack, blood. you are in charge of the media you consume! | 843 words

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

You don't know how you get back to your apartment. All you can hear is your pounding heartbeat and the footsteps of one of Two Face's men.

You shouldn't have been out this late. You shouldn't have been out alone. So many shouldn'ts run through your mind.

"Run all you want! I know where you live now, snitch! You ain't making it out tonight!"

You take the stairs two at a time, tripping over your feet. Sweat pours down your face. Your chest is tight with fear.

"Yoo-hoo," the goon sing-songs. "Where are ya, birdie?"

You unlock your phone and duck into the laundry room. Quickly, you pull out your phone and tap on your first contact.

"Todd."

"Jason," you whisper. The phone shakes in your grip.

"What's wrong?" he asks, instantly on alert.

"There's a—I was—I'm at home. I-I didn't know where else to go. Two Face's guy saw me, he chased me—"

"I'm on my way. Are you inside?"

"In... in the laundry room... Jay, I'm so scared."

"I know, I know, it's okay. I'll be there in two minutes. Go to your apartment and lock it. There's a gun taped behind the pantry cabinet. Don't hang up."

"I don't remember buying a—"

"I put it there. Go."

You don't even have the thought to be mad; Jason has always been protective of you, and right now, it might be the only thing that'll keep you alive.

"You there?" he asks as you stumble on your feet to your apartment.

"Al-almost—"

"I know you're up here, snitch!" the goon shouts from two floors below.

You gasp and nearly break your key in the lock. But you manage to get it open and lock it behind you, just how Jason ingrained in you to do. You find the gun exactly where he said it is.

"Okay. I have it. Jason, I've never—"

"I know. Listen to me—shit—okay, you see the safety? You remember what I taught you about taking the safety off?"

"Yeah, y-yeah." You take the safety off. The gun is heavy, way heavier than you remember it being when Jason had shown you how to fire it in a field outside of town.

"Alright. Now take the gun and hide. Hide now."

"Where? Jason, he's coming—" You're crying now, face slick with sweat and tears.

"Listen to me. I'm three blocks away. I will be there, okay? I won't let him do shit to you. Go to the bathroom and lock it. Be careful with the gun. Finger off the trigger."

You walk on jellied legs, half-stumbling to the bathroom. You do what he says and press yourself against the tub, gun under your palm. Your phone is on your other side.

"You still there?" he asks. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"I'm here. I think he's—"

You flinch hard as your apartment door splinters. You cover your mouth to hide your cries. The light is off, but you doubt this is the first time this guy's hunted someone in their apartment.

You hear the squeal of tires through the phone. Jason's close; he'll be here soon, he'll—

The bathroom door tears from its hinges. The doorknob makes a hole in the wall.

You don't think.

The shot is louder than you expect, and your ears ring from the sound. Blood splatters on your bathroom tiles. The goon hits the floor with a shout.

"Oh my God, oh my God," you babble, still squished against the tub.

"You bitch!" the goon shouts, blood bubbling from his mouth.

Jason runs in then. He quickly kicks the goon's gun away and steps on his chest when the goon tries to get up. Jason cocks his gun in warning.

"Stay down, shithead," he snarls.

"I killed him," you say, tears flooding your eyes. "I didn't mean to—I didn't—"

Jason kneels in front of you and gently takes the gun from you. You look at him, stomach rolling.

"I killed him," you say again, cringing as the goon yells in pain.

Jason shakes his head. "No. Hey, you didn't kill him. You defended yourself. You just shot him, okay? See, look—"

He fires a single bullet without looking. The goon is instantly silent. You wince.

"Okay? You didn't kill him. I killed him. Me. Not you."

You whimper, face falling into Jason's chest. He holds you tightly.

"I was so scared, but I didn't want to—I thought he was gonna—"

"Shh, shh. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay? I got you. You did good. You defended yourself. It was you or him and you made the right choice."

"Don't leave," you cry, clinging to Jason's tactical vest.

He squeezes you tighter, shielding you from the body.

"I'm not going anywhere. I got you, sweetheart. Don't worry. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

You sit like that for a long time, Jason whispering gentle reassurances in your ear as you cry into his chest.

"I promise you'll never be in this situation again," he whispers when your cries have become sniffles. "I swear."

[eveningepiphany]

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 4

my masterlist!

summary: suddenly it’s not just you and harry anymore, and not only do the general media want an explanation, but so do your friends and family. however, the two of you are only just figuring things out yourselves.

warnings: paparazzi, anxiety surrounding leaked images, fluff, comforting, confessions, make out session, sexual content!

a/n: no because i am so thrilled for you all to read this. these two are so much fun to write about. I hope you enjoy <3

(I was on the fence about including smut, but I decided i wanted to! if that’s not something you want to read, a little warning will come up when it’s about to begin. plot wise you won’t miss anything if you choose not to read it!)

———

There’s a certain type of love that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

And it’s an all consuming kind. One that when you think about it you feel it to the bone.

And oh, had you done a lot of thinking. Overthinking was pretty much all you’ve been doing the past two weeks.

You obviously are attracted to Harry. Physically, emotionally… just in every sense of the word. That’s nothing new for you. And even throughout the points of denial since forming a personal relationship with him. It’s the truth.

You’ve probably gaslit yourself out of it more times then you could count. However picture evidence of you holding hands with him in the homely streets of Italy is kind of a slap to the face.

And despite how cute you think the photos may be, you are still inexplicably panicked about them.

It’s the morning after the photos got posted. And you are genuinely still in shock. You struggled to fall asleep last night after the images first came out— your brain in complete overdrive for god knows how long until you fell asleep.

And this morning you’re ignoring the influx of messages and calls you’re getting from family, friends, and people you’ve met through love on tour.

Several texts from your own sister coming through half an hour ago. All of them including the word ‘fuck’. Shes definitely mad you didn’t tell her this had happened.

Either way, you’re left pacing the length of your hotel room. Heart still near racing in your chest as you try to figure out what to do, and how to handle something like this.

You held hands with him, you remind yourself. You didn’t get caught making out with him… the act for you came across as still something bordering platonic— even though you wished it were anything but that. This could eventually blow over.

You sigh out, leaning against the wall of your hotel, this was considerably more simple when the rest of the population had no idea it was happening.

Now they do, and they have a lot of questions. Plus, it makes it significantly harder when it’s about things you don’t even have answers to.

Harry hadn’t messaged you since everything had happened. If he even knows is beyond you.

But it felt wrong talking to anyone about it without talking to him first.

You felt a sense of guilt. Because this easily will stir up drama for him. Stuff like this spreads so fast, and you’ve seen it happen 100 times. But now you’re no longer in the back seat just watching it unfold. There will be articles, posts, even snippets in the newspapers about it. And whether or not it’s something he’s accustomed to, you still feel at fault. Like you could’ve been more careful, more considerate.

You move to sit on the edge of your unmade bed, staring at your phone that you’ve left on the bench top. How do you even approach it? What do you say to him?

You quickly decide you don’t really want to, at the moment. There is too much going through your head, and you’re still a bit freaked out about it all.

So another anxiety shower is. Which for right now, is your best and favourite option.

Standing up, you head to the bathroom, leaving your phone out in the room, allowing it to continue buzzing while you decide it’s time for some hardcore self-care to calm yourself down.

On the other side of things, Harry is also freaking out. He woke up to texts from a couple people, asking about a headline?

And for people he knows personally to be reaching out about trashy posts on the media, it’s almost always a bad sign.

One being from James, who has been off ‘The Late Late Show’ too long for him to withhold himself from making bad jokes when they present themselves.

Are they even allowed to put that many exclamation marks in the title? Overkill if you ask me. 😪😪

But when he reads the link and sees the image of himself with you, his anxiety immediately shifts from being personal.

[ 1 attachment link] : Styles Has Found His Next Musical Muse, But She’s Actually a ‘Hardcore Fangirl!!!’”

He’s almost positive you will have seen the leaked images. There is no way you would have missed this unless you were still sleeping.

Guilt nearly slaps him in the face. You do not deserve this. He already knows that you’re probably being slammed on Twitter and in comments of these pathetic articles.

And that is never nice. He hates it enough when it’s himself, and that’s after a decade of learning how to deal with it.

His concern for you leads to a text, one he doesn’t want to make, but does anyway. Purely for the fact he needs to know you’re alright.

Because the worst thing that could happen is you having some kind of anxiety attack after reading something online, and not having anyone there to be with you to talk you down. Regardless of how confident you can appear to him, he’s not taking the chance.

Hi love, can you please let me know you’re alright?

He sends it through, and then he typed out another one after it’s been about five long minutes without a reply.

I am very possibly overreacting right now, but do you need me to come over?

Another ten minutes go by,

I’ll be over in about 15. x

He is aware this may be over the top. You could be asleep. You could be just processing what’s happened— since he still remembers the first time things like this happened to him. And it’s a really weird experience.

But he is undeniably protective of you. That is one thing he can’t lie about.

And even more-so, he’s terrified this will scare you off. Because if it’s too much for you, he has no clue how he’d deal with it. Since it’s way too far out of his hands now.

Even though he knew well that this was a easily plausible situation. And it’s almost surprising how long they’ve gone without it happening earlier.

In his own time, he’s been overthinking plenty too. Wondering if it’s normal to want to lay your entire life down for someone two weeks after meeting them.

Maybe if he were 16… but pushing 30… it might be a bit harder to justify.

But somehow, despite knowing how stupid he probably seems, he leaves his bedroom after throwing on some shorts and a tshirt. Going out and grabbing the keys for his car from the kitchen.

Gemma is out there cooking toast, and she turns around to see him near running out the door.

“Harry!” She says, and when he stops to give her a quick greeting she interrupts him.

“Don’t worry so much.” She sighs.

Immediately confused, he frowns, frozen in place, “what…?”

“I’m assuming that this Y/N you’ve been on about really likes you too, okay? There’s no way she doesn’t. So just treat it like any other relationship or friendship you have. No matter the circumstances you met under. If you like her, you like her. Don’t let shit from the media get to either of you.”

Her advice comes just when he needs it, as it always does. And even though he acts like she doesn’t, she knows almost everything there is to know.

A small nod, “Thank you Gem…”

She gives him a warm smile, one that’s always encouraged him.

———

You hear the knock on the door while you’re standing in the bathroom, finishing applying a face mask. Stood clad in your shorts and black boob tube.

And after finally calming down a bit, it gives you another wave of panic. Since after waiting a few moments, the rapping on the door continues. You were hoping they would just go away, whoever it was.

You quietly leave your bathroom, going down the short hallway to look through the peephole in the door.

You don’t even get your eye up to it before you hear the all too familiar voice on the other side.

“Y/N, it’s Harry…” He was a bit muffled, but you didn’t even think as you start unlatching the locks on the door.

The look of relief on his face when you finally peek out is almost palpable.

“Hi…” you say quietly, pulling the door open further, letting him come in quickly.

He has two cups in his hands, and once he’s inside your room, he is fast to place them on the nearest free space.

“What are you—“ you don’t get through the sentence before he breaches the distance between you, tugging you into a hug, uncaring of the face mask residue getting on his shirt.

He squeezes you, “‘M so glad y’alright.”

You take a deep breath. So, he knows.

You feel immediately bad for not letting him know earlier, before he felt the need to come over.

“Did you call me? I’m so sorry, i was in the—”

“I texted you couple times— don’t be sorry. I don’t want it to seem weird I came rushing over… i was jus’ worried about you.”

You slowly draw back, “I was going to text you, I just didn’t want to… i didn’t know how to go about it, i guess?”

He pulls away, “I am so fuckin’ sorry this happened.”

“Why are you apologising? I should be…”

“Why should you apologise? You of all people do not deserve to be dissected by people in the media. Ive dragged you into something you didn’t deserve to be dragged into.” He says, sounding exasperated.

“You aren’t at fault for any of this, H. I feel like I’ve stirred up unnecessary drama up for you…” To this he immediately shakes his head.

“You haven’t. I was just worried about how you’d perceive it all… and fuck— i didn’t want it to scare you off.”

You both seem to realise that you were freaking out over each other. Starting to laugh together, realising how stupid you both probably sound.

“Okay… we sound really silly.” You sigh, moving to grab the cup he’d placed down prior to your very quick debrief.

“But seriously, Harry,” you lead him over to sit down on the edge of your bed with you, “I am still sorry. I feel like I’ve caused unnecessary… assumptions.”

He frowns a little, “assumptions?”

“About us. You know…” you shrug, eyes avoiding him, doing a terrible job at acting nonchalant.

“That we’re together? That what you’re so shy about, hm?” He teases, and you physically cannot handle the way he says it.

“I— well— Yes, sure that’s what I was going for.”

You gently scratch at the dried edges of your clay face mask, and he watches quietly, wishing he could see the blush that’s risen on your cheeks underneath it.

“Why were you showering so early— It’s like midday, I thought you said you showered in the evening?” He asks, out of the blue, causing you to frown.

Your answer comes out unsurely, “I have anxiety showers sometimes. It calms me down.”

He cocks his eyebrow, “Is that why you were literally dripping wet when i came over the other day?”

He pins you with his gaze, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. You were hoping he broke the silence himself, but it was clear he was waiting for a response.

You blurt out, “You make me nervous!”

To this he laughs, “I make you nervous?”

“Not… all the time.” You amend, “Just sometimes.”

You remove yourself before he can ask more questions, and you go to wash off the face mask in the bathroom, while he’s still stifling his laughter.

You emerge after washing it off with cold water, and his eyes follow your every step as you go to sit back down.

“Yknow, Y/N, if I didn’t know any better I’d—“

He’s cut off by a bang on the front door.

You were only scared for a second, until you heard a shrill feminine shout from outside it. One you know to be your best friends classic angry voice.

You were relieved for only about another second before you realised, she will probably break that door down if you don’t let her in.

Oh god.

“Y/N Y/L/N. LET. ME. IN!” You can picture her angry little face. And you’re almost a bit terrified of her.

But you have to hide Harry. Like you have to actually hide him.

“Harry— you— fuck, get up—” You whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible, grabbing his wrist.

“What is happening?” He sounds awfully confused as you manhandle him around the hotel room, trying to find an adequate place to hide a 6 foot tall man from your fired up best friend.

“She may kill you— she loves you— but she’s very mad at me right now, because I didn’t tell her about,” you pause as you try to label again whatever the two of you were, “us… this… whatever you want to deem it.”

You realise the cupboard is about the only reasonable place, unless you make him climb down the balcony.

“Are you—“

“Y/N! i already KNOW you’re in there!” She calls from the door again.

You tug the door of it open, “Get in!”

You half push him inside it, “I’m so sorry, but just, just sh okay??”

He nods hastily, and you quite literally shut him in there.

“I’m coming!” You shove the takeaway cups into a kitchen cupboard and rush to the door.

Letting her in, she practically storms past you. And you pray to god you can get rid of her in a short period of time.

“I’m sorry!” You say to her, grabbing her hands.

“How could you not tell me something like that?!” She barks, shaking your arms like an angry child.

You do feel bad, because you would also be pissed if it were the other way around.

You try to explain, clutching her warm palms tighter, “To respect his privacy! I wanted to, so, so badly but I just… I didn’t want it getting out.”

She groans, pulling you in for a tight, yet still frustrated hug.

“But you know I wouldn’t have told anyone!”

“I do, i know. I’m sorry.” You embrace her, “but every time we were together there were other people… and I just hadn’t figured out how, let alone talked to him about it.”

She calms down a tiny bit, and sometimes the best way to describe her is like a miniature tornado. Her anger is very quick to bubble over and turn her into this fired up, yelling ball of energy. Yet it dissipates shortly after she lets it all out.

“Okay, well I get that, of course. But… wait are you two actually— have you slept with him?” You pull back from the hug and give her a shocked stare. Her ask stuns you for a moment.

You’re hyperaware that he is listening to this conversation.

What is he thinking right now— you can’t help but wonder. And you have to physically force yourself to push the thoughts that come with such a question aside.

“I— why would you ask me that!” You hiss at her, sounding guilty, even though you’re just throughly embarrassed.

“Because he's Harry Styles!” She exclaims, “who happens to be a very gorgeous man, and I would not be surprised if you wanted— I don't know— in his pants?”

“We are just friends!” You drag your hand down your face. Internally pleading that she stops saying embarrassing shit.

“Whatever you little liar. Acting like as if you haven't said on multiple occasions just how bad you wan—“

“OKAY!” You interrupt, trying to keep the frantic tone out of your voice, “I get it. I really do, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But look, I have so many people I have to call and— i think my whole family also want me dead— so can we maybe get a coffee tomorrow? Talk it over, and you can ask all the questions you want.”

At your proposal, she seems to realise you mean it. And despite the confused look on her face at the fact you’re kicking her out to call what is basically her own adopted family, it seems she understands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna seem pushy. I was… just also in shock. Tomorrow at 10?” She smiles.

You start both walking over to the door, “that’s perfect.”

Tugging her into another hug, she huffs out an ‘I love you.’

You laugh and give her a chaste peck on the side of her head, “I love you too. I promise I wanted to tell you on my end. I just didn’t want to fuck anything up…”

She nods, pulling back, “I know. And if you need anything, or anyone before I see you tomorrow, don’t forget I’m only a few floors up.”

“I won’t.” You open the door for her, and bid a final goodbye. And once it’s shut, you realise how badly you want the ground beneath your feet to literally swallow you whole.

Despite the embarrassment, you quickly rush over to let Harry out of the cupboard you’d shoved him in.

And as he steps out, adorning a smirk and clearly stifling a laugh, you apologise profusely.

“God— I am so incredibly sorry.”

A proper abashed grin spreads across his face, one that flashes his dimples. Reminding you of the sign you took to the last show, telling him how pretty you thought his smile was. You still think the same.

“Kind of exciting hiding in a cupboard. I never even did it as a teenager.” He chuckles, brushing a few stray curls from his eyes.

“Do I look a little more youthful? As gorgeous as ever?” He teases.

“I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, she has a… she lacks a filter.” You excuse, cheeks flaming as you try to dig yourself out of the hole your best friend has unwittingly buried you in.

“That's okay love, but I am a little curious…”

You frown at his careful words.

He takes a step closer as he continues, “what so badly did you want to do to me that you told all your friends about?”

At this, you completely turn your face away from his green-eyed stare. Because you cannot trust yourself.

He doesn’t realise the dangerous game he’s playing with you right now. Especially while he’s standing in-front of you like this. Tattooed arms out, beautiful face and jawline on display.

“Y/N, darling. I asked a question.” His voice has turned to honey. He’s talking you in a way he never has before. With a tone that is almost demanding an answer, laced with a undertone of seduction.

“Stop it.” You hiss, flicking his solid chest with your hand.

He steps forward, and you step back in response. He backs you up all the way to the edge of your bed.

“Stop being a flirt.” You scoff, finally holding eye contact for more than a second.

His pupils have blown out a little, and the stare he’s giving you is something you want burned into the underside of your eyelids.

“Why? Is it working.” He chuckles, demeanour softening a tiny bit as his hand slides down your arm.

You don’t reply.

“Please tell me, Y/N. I want to know. Y’know I’m nosey.”

“Resorted to begging, I see.” You snort, heart still hammering behind your rib cage.

“If it works, I can do plenty of it.” He playfully remarks.

You try to not reply again, but you’re met with a silence. Somehow he knows you’re going to fill it with a fumbled half-confession.

“I don’t even really remember. I was probably tipsy on some wine. Said some stuff to… the girls. After a show.”

“After a show?” He smirks, “Which one?”

“Barcelona. And maybe back at… another. One or two others.”

“But that’s all I’m saying!” You interject, hoping he takes that as enough of an answer.

He laughs at your attempted defiance.

“Anyways, what even— what are you getting at here?” You ask, because truly, his flirting is heavily confusing you. In every way possible.

“Remember when you told me I had a the prettiest smile?” He lightly grazes your hip with his warm hand.

“I— yes. That was like, 2 weeks ago. What’s your point?” You are biting at your bottom lip.

“Don’t get feisty.” He coos, “Everytime I smile around you, I think of that. And then, I wonder what other things you think about me. What other parts you see of me and consider as pretty.”

“And, can you blame a man for wanting to know what dirty things you’ve said about him to y’friends?”

Jesus Christ. A part of you melts at his words. He is watching you like a hawk, gauging your every little reaction. But you’re clinging to any part of you that’s trying to keep this from heading in that direction. Even though you know it’s not because you don’t want to.

“We really shouldn’t… H.” You state, voice almost shaking with an unspoken need. One that you’re trying to keep from bursting through the seams.

“Why not, Y/N?” He asks, making it sound like a challenge. Causing him to be met with a quick jump in your voice.

You are pulling at every part of your strength right now to justify why this is a terrible idea.

“Because, Harry. I am a fucking fangirl for you. Not in a casual way either, like bordering a little bit insane! It’s horrifying, and very embarrassing! And this is a horrible idea, because I don’t think you understand the kind of—“ You don’t get to finish whatever you were about to say, because he kisses you. With his all.

It feels like he pours every once of his being into it. The way his smooth lips press into your own, fuelled by a heat that is felt in the very pit of your stomach. Your knees almost buckle at the sensation.

You grab his shoulder to stabilise yourself. And your lungs are already drawn of all their air.

In actuality, it mustn’t have lasted very long— maybe a couple seconds— before he pushes the back of your knees against the bed, forcing you to sit down.

He draws in a breath after you seperate, “I don’t care if you have photos of me on your fucking bedroom walls, baby.”

“Could not care less, look at you.” He leans down now, kissing over your lips again in separate, doting pecks, “y’so gorgeous, and genuine. I love that you love what I do.”

You’re in a bit of shock, looking up at him with widened eyes. Because obviously you’ve imagined kissing him before. Probably a thousand times. And that dream has somehow sprung to fruition.

How exactly? you’re still unsure.

“I— Harry.” You say, with no real purpose, clutching onto his broad shoulders.

The way you whine out his name drives him almost insane, and he drops down onto his knees between your spread legs. Giving him easier access to kiss your mouth.

His hands snake around your waist, and he lets his lips slot back over yours.

You loose yourself in the act, your own fingers skating up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

It’s so fucking soft. And you use it to press his face closer to yours. He’s surprised when you’re the one to part your lips and dart your tongue out first.

Skating along his pink bottom lip as an invitation.

He accepts it happily, clutching at your waist while he lets his tongue dip into the heat of your mouth. You can’t help but groan at the sensation, and feel the warmth start to gather between your thighs.

He was kissing you like a starved man. And slowly everything you knew started slipping from the forefront of you mind. All you could feel and focus on was him.

How his muscly frame filled up your senses—and the area between your knees— paired with the glide of his tongue over your teeth.

—((sexual content from here and onwards))

His hands tracing over several parts of your body, even going to pull you closer with his hands cupping your bottom. Squeezing at the swell of your ass playfully.

You bite your teeth down onto his lip and drag it backwards, eliciting a moan from the back of his throat.

Your hips push forward, brushing the front of your shorts on his torso, causing his jaw to go lax.

The two of you seperate for air, panting, and his eyes veer south, looking at where you’re pressed against him.

“Fuckin’ Christ. Look at you, needy little thing.”

You bury your head into his neck, kissing along his sharp jawline. Unable to control your slowly circling hips.

“So, y’willing to share what it is you wanted to do to me yet? Given that you’re practically grinding on m’chest.”

You hum a maybe, and he lets out a deep laugh.

“After Barcelona,” You start, and he works to coax the answer out of you with his hands and lips.

“Mmhm…” he acknowledges, mouthing against your clavicle.

“You had looked so good that night… and I got a little tipsy after the show, back at our BNB.”

“You were in those low rise black pants, and that tiny cropped vest. And my god— i said to all the girls that if you were down, I would happily let you take me. Anyway you wanted.”

“Anyway?” His hoarse voice asks.

“Anyway. Fingers, tongue... cock.”

At the first mention of something genuinely sexual, he almost looses it. Envisioning your spread legs with his head pressed between them.

“But I didn’t just say that because I was tipsy. Or because of the outfit you wore.” You allude quietly.

He can’t wait another second before he’s pressing his already swollen lips back against yours. And hard.

“Want everything off you.” He fists at your boob-tube.

Your body is hotter than a thousand suns, and your need for him is literally tearing through you.

It’s clear this was your tipping point. There was no going back to something casual and platonic. The way your whole body ached to have him was unfathomable.

“Strip me.” You beg, arms lifting so he can tug the thin black material over your head, leaving your breasts in a strapless bra.

He runs his tongue over the exposed skin, hands sliding to the clasp at your back to get it off you.

He moans aloud once he sees you, briefly recalling the times his gaze has dipped to your cleavage in those little sundresses you wore while you were out together, and how he would always be wishing for a moment like this.

He laves his tongue over your nipple, before quickly occupying himself with the button of your shorts.

“These off too?” He confirms, voice gravelly with want.

Hastily, you nod, “Yes, all of it.”

Your sheer eagerness is turning him on even more. You always seemed a tiny bit reserved, so hearing you beg for your clothes to get torn off…

“Ass up,” he asks, watching as you lift it from the bed so he can tug the shorts from your waist and down your legs.

Left in nothing but your underwear, he slides his hand over your front to see how wet you were.

You moan as his fingers brush over your clothed-clit. And you notice now that your arousal has wet through your panties.

“Fucking hell. You realise you’re absolutely drenched, right baby?” He near moans, rubbing a gentle circle over the fabric.

“I—shit— I’m sorry, didn’t think I’d gotten so…” You’re almost a little embarrassed at the amount of arousal between your legs.

He hooks his fingers into the crotch of your underwear, peeling them down your thighs.

Your bare cunt had him almost light headed. You were genuinely glistening, and your slick had already spread to the hood of your clit.

“Darling don’t be sorry. Y’got the prettiest little pussy. Cant believe you’re this wet.”

“What did it for you, huh?” He asks finger running through you, eliciting a groan from both your throats.

In a pleasure-filled haze, you slur out a reply, “You. Just all of you.”

You squirm under his featherlight caress, and take a moment to watch him gaze at you. There is nothing but this look of admiration and desire in his eyes.

“Wanna see you, Harry.” You plea, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He waits not a second to slip it over his head, and your hands immediately run down his torso. Staying quiet as he lets you indulge.

This is something you have thought of in a million different ways. His chest is built like that of a Greek gods, and his tattoos are an added bonus.

You feel the ridges of his abs under your fingertips, and you trace over the butterfly tattoo as well.

His breath flutters in and out of his nose. But using your hands doesn’t satiate you.

You need him on your tongue.

“Stand up.” You ask, and he doesn’t question you, he just obliges.

You keep him stood between your bare legs, but lean your neck inwards, tongue jutting out to run a solid strip up his stomach.

A rumble comes from him, akin to a growl as you move to of his pecs. Gliding your tongue over the hair-dusted flesh, and enveloping his own nipple into your mouth.

You’d never done this before, since sucking on a guys nipple is less of a commodity… but the reaction it works out of him is perfect.

The way he throws his head back, sharp jaw tilted to the celling, and hair falling from his forehead.

“Oh… oh god.”

You draw back, grabbing his shorts and pushing them down. Kissing both the laurels that sit atop his hips before cupping your hand over his bulge, covered by black Calvin Klein briefs.

“Can I take you out, please?”

“Such nice manners, good girl.”

Good girl. The words float around in your head, and something else inside of you comes undone.

Not sure if it was your self respect… or some other part of your morals. But you could go feral simply over those two words.

You bite down on your lip as you tug the briefs down, watching his cock slip up.

Lord.

You almost salivate. It’s perfect in every way you’d want it to be. A flushed red tip, dotted with beads of pre-cum. And of course it’s big.

For an already perfect man, it’s hard to believe you can strip him completely, and still not find a single flaw.

“Staring pretty hard… you a little intimated?”

“It’s big.” You state, hand coming to wrap around its thick base. “Want it in me.”

He leans down, picking you up by your thighs. You laugh in reaction, him manhandling you into the centre of your still unmade bed.

There was a sense of intimacy that was being shared as he pulled you forward, so you were straddling his hips.

Both of you leaned forward to lock lips, kissing feverishly as you touched over every inch of skin you could. Eventually, both of your hands falling between the others legs.

You stroked over him, and he careful slid his middle finger into you.

He worked you until you were near dripping down his hand, and were scraping your nails along his shoulders.

“Harry— need you…” you beg.

“Want me to take you right now?” He asks, cock throbbing in your hand.

“Yes. I can handle it. Promise. I’m clean and on birth control if you wanna go bare.”

“Only if you’re sure. I trust you.”

“I am… just want to feel you.” You plead.

“Need you to tell me how y’want it first, pretty.” He coos, curling his finger inside you.

You moan in response, and he slides it out shortly after so he regains your attention.

“I—“ you stutter, now feeling empty, “anyway you want, I said that earlier.”

“No, baby, how do you like it?” He asks again, smiling against your skin.

“Anything, hard or gentle, I’ll come either way. Look at you— as if I wouldn’t.”

He pulls your core to his, rubbing the tip against your slick hole, “Then tell me as we go how you’re doing, and what you want or need okay. Want you to feel really good, m’kay?”

You nod, and he starts to sink into you, already pulling a moan from your lips at the stretch.

He on the other hand struggles to hold himself together as your warm walls part for him.

“Fuck, fuck… you’re so tight, Y/N.” He groans, pulling you down nearly all the way— stopping before he reaches the base of his cock, taking a moment to adjust so he doesn’t come before he’s all the way in.

“Mm-“ you whine out, nails digging into the warm muscle on his back, “Harry…”

Once he’s composed himself, he lets your hips sink the down to the base of him. You both take a moment to feel it. Panting, because the heat and the connection you’re both sharing is only describable as euphoric.

“Y’okay?” He sighs out, clutching your waist with firm hands.

“Yes… so fuckin’ full.” You moan out, hole fluttering around his length.

He carefully draws his hips back, pulling out a little only to push it back in.

Just that small movement has you reeling. And you’re quick to realise that this is probably going to be the best sex you’ve ever fucking had.

“Look at that, your cunt swallowing me up. So fuckin’ hot.” He whispers, slowly starting to pick up the pace.

His fingers move to play with your clit, and he notices the reaction that courses through your body the second he rolls it between his fingers.

You buck your hips against him, and he brings his lips down to suck on the side of your breast.

“Mark me.” You encourage, wanting him to leave you with bruises from his mouth.

“Dirty thing,” he moans, fucking up into you, “so fucking wet too. All f’me isn’t it?”

The dirty talk causes you to clench around him, and he picks up on it.

“Jesus, you really are? Like when I say dirty stuff too, clearly.” He grunts.

“Yes, fuck! Please touch me.” You ask, needing to feel more of him, to the point it consumes your senses.

He touches you almost everywhere, with his hands, lips, tongue. All over your body until you genuinely can’t think of anything else.

It leaves your body shaking, and he can tell you’re not going to last much longer going by the clenching of your cunt.

“I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing around me like tha’.” He curses, keeping a fast pace with his hips as you feel the beginning of your high approaching.

It starts to bubble up in the pit of your stomach, “God— you’re so deep.”

“Yea, love? Feel me all the way up here?” He splayed his hand on your lower abdomen and you nod.

“Gonna come soon… please.” Your thighs are going weak from trying to hold your body up, and he notices, flipping you around so he’s on top of you.

The new angle has you biting down on your palm to try and stop yourself from crying out.

“Taking it so well. M’not far off either, baby.” He groans, his thrusts faltering as he bottoms out.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, allowing your tongue to swirl over them before he is removing them. Taking them down to rub over your swollen clit.

The added stimulation is what’s going to tip you over the edge.

“H—fuck—Harry! I’m gonna come!” You moan out, nails scraping down his bicep.

“Good fucking girl,” he prompts, fingers flicking over your clit, “let it all go for me, gush all over my cock.”

His words send you spiralling. And they’re the final push you need before your cunt clamps down around him with a loud moan tearing out of you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” You’re writhing around him, and he curses at how tight you’re clenching him.

“That’s it, keep fucking going— ride it out on me.” He hisses, hips finally faltering as he feels his cock come inside of you.

Twitching between your warm walls as his stomach muscles contract and ripple with the intensity of his release.

He near buckles on top of you, his body weight pressing against you. And The two of you are panting, still shivering out slight aftershocks of your orgasms.

His forehead rests against yours, and you lean forward to brush a kiss against his parted lips.

Gently, he pulls himself out. A tiny hiss coming from his lips at the sensitivity.

He rolls over, bringing you to lay down on top of him. And you feel the partial heaving of his damp chest below you.

“Thank you…” You mumble out, sounding almost shy.

He picks up on it, “Don’t sound so nervous, darling. Y’were amazing.”

This brings a smile across your lips. It’s safe to assume that maybe things around you are complicated. But actually between the two of you, it’s anything but.

You like him, so much. So you just say it.

“I like you, Harry.”

And he affirms your statement with a kiss to your temple, and says quietly, “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

And this feels like an unspoken agreement that maybe the media is only going to get more riled up about the two of you as time goes on, but what you have is something genuinely worth fighting for.

Plus… they already know so, what’s the worse that could really happen now?

———

that was a long one!! hope you all loved it, and thank you so much for the support on this series. and don’t worry, you will definitely still be seeing more of them in the future. 🤍

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18 @laurxn-robinson @kkr102 @superlegend216 @jerseygirlinca @cherrysulewski

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

[queers-gambit]

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

[penguwastaken]

Nobody Understands Mukuro Ikusaba (aka Mukuro Character Analysis)

...except for the people that do (lol).

But first I want to clarify what I mean by this title and why I even wrote this thread in the first place. Mukuro is my second favorite Danganronpa character, only beaten out by Kyoko. There's a lot of reasons why I really like Mukuro, but one of them is her writing.

I think she's one of the best written characters in the series. But unfortunately, she also happens to be one of the most misunderstood characters as well. Not even by the people who don't like her, but also by her own fans.

"Mukuro has incestuous feelings for Junko" "Danganronpa 3 retconned her character" "Mukuro was just a plot device" These are all claims that baffle me because simply just consuming the media will say otherwise.

To many, Mukuro is either a one note incest freak or a pure innocent cinnamon roll who did nothing wrong and both of those interpretations are wildly incorrect. I've been meaning to write this post for a while, but we're finally here.

Nobody understands Mukuro Ikusaba (a ""🧵"") (Spoiler warning for the entire series)

Story Overview

We don't actually know too much about Mukuro's backstory aside from the fact that at a young age, she was separated from her younger twin sister Junko. Before being taken away, she claims that she was homeless and after she was taken she was forced to become a member of the military group Fenrir.

So clearly Mukuro never really had the chance to have a normal life, and more importantly: never had a chance to feel the care of another person.

Her sister, who Mukuro had not seen in years, suddenly got in contact with her and called Mukuro over to participate in her plan to overthrow Hope's Peak Academy (and the world). Mukuro, who already felt bad for losing her sister and was desperate for any kind of affection, accepted and began working for Junko.

Junko took advantage of Mukuro's desperation and had her basically work as a servant to her plans. She started by having Mukuro wipe out the entirety of a middle school in order to prove Mukuro's skills and how far Mukuro would go for her.

With that out of her way, Junko made Mukuro obey like her servant in order to overthrow Hope's Peak and cause the tragedy. Mukuro did so without batting an eye and disregarding any second thoughts she might have had, all while facing Junko's abuse.

During her time attending Hope's Peak, Mukuro met Makoto Naegi. Unlike most of her classmates, Makoto was friendly to her and showed her compassion. This confused her as we already established that Mukuro wasn't used to affection. Because of this and her tendency to latch onto anyone who shows her even an ounce of care, she began to develop feelings for Makoto (that even Junko acknowledged).

In the past two years, Ikusaba had gained an interest in the world beyond her sister. And in that world, Makoto Naegi--the first person who smiled at her and bridged the gap between her and the world--had become like a sapling of sincerity taking root in her heart. -Danganronpa IF confirming Mukuro's feelings for Makoto

"Upupupu… I wonder what kind of fun you were having in the infirmary? Did you take care of your rival in love, or did you wish them a happy marriage? Either way, don't you think our nice guy Naegi standing side-by-side with Kirigiri makes for a wonderful picture? If this were a thriller, they'd be the last surviving couple!" "Upupupupu… Or how about just killing all of the others? If everyone but you and Naegi die, then the two of you can spend the rest of your student lives together! After all, we can't even hold a trial if there's only two people left. Maybe it'll be best if you just hole up here, safe in the building forever!" "And what're you going to do once he goes back to his old self? It's not as if you were dating Naegi, right? You were just watching him from afar all this time! Now this is a shock. You can shoot right through people's heads and hearts without even blinking, but you can't even steal away some skinny little boy's heart! You want me to tell you who Naegi had a crush on before his memories were erased? Upupupupu…" -Junko teasing Mukuro about her feelings as she aids Makoto in Danganronpa IF

Once the tragedy occured, Mukuro was locked inside of Hope's Peak with Junko and the rest of their classmates and she helped orchestrate the killing game. She disguised herself as Junko, under the impression that Junko would fake her death and they could spend the rest of the game together.

This is when the seeds of doubt began to sprout inside of Mukuro. I wouldn't say that she necessarily began to go against her sister, but she definitely was starting to get a little more hesitant.

"It was only recently that she began to question her mindset. Hearing about this plan from Junko and watching the world burn at the hands of people in Monobear masks did nothing to sway her, but when she heard that Junko was intending to plunge Naegi and the others into a game of murder, something within her began to move. The seed of doubt soon took root, sprouting into a thorny vine that twisted around her feet. And the moment she met her friends for the first time under the identity of Junko Enoshima and realized their memories were truly gone, the vines quickly tightened around her ankles." -Danganronpa IF describing Mukuro's feelings when the killing game began

To Makoto and the player who are under the impression that this is Junko, they assume that she's referring to not wanting to be a model anymore. But given her backstory of never being able to live a normal life and always having to fend for herself or follow the orders of others, we can infer what she actually means. She expresses disappointment in the fact that she never really had a chance to do what she wanted.

This all culminates in the moment where Junko was supposed to fake the death of Mukuro, but that isn't what happened. Instead, Junko killed Mukuro and betrayed her. To say that Junko felt no remorse from this action would be a lie, however. Junko only did this because she knew it would hurt both of them.

...but what if that wasn't what happened? What if Mukuro wasn't killed? What would happen then? That brings us to:

Danganronpa IF

Danganronpa IF answers the hypothetical question of what if Mukuro survived Junko's attack. Of course this means it isn't canon, but due to Kodaka being involved with its creation and its existence as an event that hypothetically could have happened, it is canon compliant. This means that while the events didn't happen in canon, they could have and things like characterization are all accurate. Think of it like an extended free time event. While the events themselves aren't canon, the things they say and imply are. I'll also be referencing Danganronpa IF a lot because since it's told from Mukuro's perspective, it gives a lot of insight on her thought process.

After regaining his memories, Makoto recognizes and rescues Mukuro seconds before her would-be death and he gets impaled by one of the spears. Mukuro rushes to save him, abandoning her disguise and goal.

During this time, Mukuro does a lot of thinking. Why did Junko try to kill her? For all the time they've been working together, Mukuro always assumed that her job was to prop Junko up and help her achieve despair.

It turns out that Junko didn't want Mukuro to obey Junko's every order, Junko wanted Mukuro to retaliate. She didn't want Mukuro to submit to her, but instead to fight back.

With this Mukuro changes her mind, choosing to fight Junko instead of assisting her. Not because she's on the side of hope, she never cared about hope or despair, but because she only wants what's best for the only person in her life who cared for her.

"'That's why… I'll take responsibility. I'll make you happy, Junko . I'll make youdespair. I'll save Naegi-kun… I'll make sure none of our friends die. I'll get them all out of here. And I'll kill every last one of the ones on the outside. You planned this for years and killed so many people to make this work… so I'll destroy every last trace of it.' She was not driven by resentment at the sister who abandoned her. Ikusaba would do all this for her sister's sake." -Mukuro changing her approach to making Junko happy in Danganronpa IF

Who is Mukuro Ikusaba?

Now this is the part where I finally exit the synopsis phase and finally get into the character analysis, explaining why Mukuro acts the way she does in all entries.

Now, I want to begin with a common critique of Mukuro's character, specifically one that's attributed to Danganronpa 3. The one that says that Mukuro's behavior is not only out of character, but also claims that she has romantic feelings for her sister.

First point out of the way, Mukuro's blushy and flustered attitude is nothing new when it comes to her character. It's been an aspect of her since the very beginning of her characterization.

"'I don’t know if… she attracts despair, or despair attracts her, but… she’s lived her whole life with despair by her side. She lived while immersed in despair. That’s why she began looking for despair in others; she began to enjoy pushing people into despair. But you know… that’s normal. It’s no different than someone cursed by misfortune falling into hatred for those who are better off than them. But what’s special about her was that… she learned to enjoy inflicting despair upon herself. That’s how the link to despair began: as she chased down despair, she pushed it onto others along the way. Doing so caused her to crave falling into despair even more… and because of that chain to despair, the Ultimate Despair was born.' While she spoke, it was like she fell into a fever; the expressions on her face slowly turned into ecstasy. It was so completely absurd that it would have been difficult for anybody to think of it as anything but a joke, but I could tell that this was real. It might have been the hazy memories of Junko Enoshima inside me that led to that conclusion. 'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged." -Mukuro describing Junko in Danganronpa Zero

The second (and more important) point to address is the one that Mukuro holds some kind of romantic feelings for her sister. Now, in all honestly, I can't hold this against anyone for thinking this even if I think it's a wild misinterpretation of her behavior. Danganronpa has a track record of using incest for comedic effect (to always poor results). However, Mukuro's relationship with Junko is not used to comedic effect and it's portrayed in a negative light. Not only that, we know that Mukuro does not enjoy behaving that way.

"'She hoped that, perhaps her sister on the screen would say something like 'Not! You seriously thought I'd say something that sappy? Jeez, you're annoying! Can't you just disappear forever or something?'. She hoped that Junko might criticizeher and call her useless. Ikusaba was no masochist, but she would have preferred to hear scornful laughter and be shot at rather than continue to endure this pain." -Danganronpa IF explaining Mukuro's "masochism"

Mukuro doesn't behave the way she does because she has feelings for Junko, she does so because she believes that's how Junko wants her to behave. Danganronpa Zero and IF makes it clear that Mukuro was wrong about how Junko wanted her to behave.

“'You don’t get it right? That’s fair, I don’t think anybody could… But you know, only I can understand it…' Consumed by ecstasy, even Ikusaba’s breathing had begun to turn ragged. 'Only I’m able to understand her… That’s why she needs me. She still hasn’t realized it, but… maybe she’s only pretending not to. Ufu… It’s because she’s so shy. Ufufufu…'” -Mukuro explaining that Junko needs her in Danganronpa Zero

"Ikusaba knew that not even she herself was her own ally. After all, despite the fact that Junko had betrayed her and very nearly killed her, Ikusaba still believed that she was the only one who could understand her little sister. And that was why she felt that she had to protect her. That's right… you were just being you, Junko. You just wanted despair, right? It's because you love me. You wanted to kill me and fall into despair. That must have been it" -Mukuro in denial in Danganronpa IF

"Ikusaba believed that she alone could understand the despair known as Junko Enoshima. It was a ludicrous notion. The moment Junko said, 'I love you', Ikusaba realized--to her agony--that she never truly understood her sister. Only now had she come to realize Junko's feelings." -Mukuro realizing that she didn't understand Junko in Danganronpa IF

Because of Mukuro's incorrect interpretation of understanding Junko, Mukuro believes that Junko expects her to respond to her abuse with acceptance and masochism. Even if she was uncomfortable to, as long as it made Junko happy, that's what mattered. Of course, we learn that Junko wanted Mukuro to respond her abuse with retaliation, and as soon as Mukuro realizes that her behavior immediately shifts. Mukuro holds a great deal of admiration for Junko, so much so that she only wants to do what would please Junko the most.

She does not have romantic feelings for her sister and to say so misses the point entirely. She isn't behaving that way because she's a masochist, she behaves that way because she believes it's how she's expected to, even if she's visibly uncomfortable. Once she learns this isn't what's expected, she immediately changes course.

Danganronpa 3 also has official relationship charts that depict the relationship between characters. In this chart, crushes or explicitly shown romantic feelings are labeled with a heart (as seen with Kazuichi's attraction to Sonia or Toko's attraction to Byakuya). Mukuro's relationship does NOT feature this heart. You would think that if Mukuro's very obvious admiration towards Junko was romantic it would have a heart, but it doesn't because it isn't. If what I said before didn't convince you, I think this itself is proof enough.

Mukuro's admiration doesn't extend to just Junko though. Due to her unfortunate upbringing, Mukuro has a tendency to get attached to anyone who shows her the affection she's desperate for. So much so that her behavior changes completely around the people she cares about.

"The mass of monochrome spun round and round, making it look as though they were projecting a hypnotic image from three directions, but Ikusaba remained expressionless. In fact, the bizarre sight unfolding before her compelled the Super High School Level Soldier to regain her focus. She was an entirely different person from the girl who had panicked at Naegi's injury in the gymnasium." -Mukuro while fighting in Danganronpa IF, behaving completely differently from when she panicked over Makoto's injury

"Not only that, if anyone who knew her as the Super High School Level Soldier and mercenary were to see her now, the difference in her attitude might even make her look like another person altogether. And Monobear continued to drive the girl into a corner." -Mukuro panicking over Makoto's injury in Danganronpa IF

"The mask of ice she wore around others was entirely unlike the face she showed her sister, making it almost seem as though she had multiple personalities." -Danganronpa IF explaining that Mukuro's behavior around Junko is different from her typical icey expression

This is why around most people, Mukuro has a pretty blank expression. However when she's around Makoto or Junko, the two people who she cares about, she displays a much more soft and emotional side.

That being said, an often overlooked aspect of Mukuro is that she actually has a slight ego and is proud of her skill. This is especially obvious in her fight with Peko in Danganronpa 3. Of course, if I spent years in the military without getting a single scratch, I'd probably have an ego too.

Mukuro is also capable of turning off her feelings and going into a "killing machine mode" whenever the situation demands it, mostly when she's carrying out some mission. It's not because she doesn't feel bad for what she's doing or isn't having any second thoughts, it's that she pushes any doubts to the side to focus on getting the job done.

"In battlefields, where she made her home, her main mission was to kill and survive. And in that setting Ikusaba was invincible. She could put her own emotions on a leash in order to become a killing machine." -Danganronpa IF explaining how Mukuro is capable of ignoring her own feelings

"With a single whisper that was drowned out by the sound of gunfire, Ikusaba went completely silent. Thanks to her status as a member of Super High School Level Despair, her heart was filling with joy. And as if to offset the sudden surge of emotions, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared." -Mukuro turning her emotions off while fighting in Danganronpa IF

So Basically...

Due to her upbringing Mukuro is someone who gets attached to people easily, particularly those who give her attention. Junko took advantage of this to make Mukuro essentially act as her servant. Believing that Junko expected her to return the abuse she faced with enjoyment, she forced herself to do just that. Even if it made her uncomfortable, making her sister happy at her own expense is better than being alone. She's capable of turning off and ignoring her emotions to following orders when necessary and is generally a proud and skilled soldier, though she has a softer side that she only shows to people who she cares for.

That is who Mukuro Ikusaba is.

Conclusion

There's a lot of reasons I really like Mukuro. I think she's silly and cute and I like her singing voice. But I also think her characterization is really good in all of her appearances. I think a lot of the critiques made towards her (especially towards her appearance in Danganronpa 3) are misguided or just a result of her being misunderstood.

She's not a plot device or a character exclusively there to act as an extension of Junko. She's filled to the brim with character depth and interesting writing and has plenty of characterization on her own. I'll admit that her presence in Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc is a bit limited, however she doesn't just become an important character in four other entries without getting some kind of development.

Many think her characterization is inconsistent or different across entries, but I honestly think it couldn't be any MORE consistent. The only times where I'd say she acts out of character is in the comic anthologies, but those are non-canon media that's kinda known for flanderizing characters for the sake of comedy.

Basically, I like Mukuro. I hope I managed to change some minds or shed a new light on her to anyone who didn't before. And if you already liked her, I hope maybe I could make you appreciate her a bit more or just help you explain her in some way.

anyways follow me on twitter cough cough

Also special thanks to Twitter user @LKSixtyfour for their tweets about Mukuro's characterization, many helped me organize my thoughts to form the thread that you just read.

Edit: didn't make any changes to the post, just fixed some typos

[itsvelyria]

"as sad taylor swift songs"

vvv vague references to depression for danny

(not really a representation of the songs as a whole but rather how i interpret each phrase i cherry picked)

Charles Leclerc

and say the one thing, i've been wanting, but no~ 🩵

your phone lights up the dark of your room, you should be asleep at this time of the night. there hadn't been any new messages since Tuesday but here you sat, scrolling aimlessly on social media, waiting by the chat like you were 13 again with your first crush. the squeal of glee and the uncontrollable smile on your face when they would text back — that's how he made you feel. and though the little voice in your head is telling you that everything was wrong, there was no way you would debase your feelings to refute the way your brain was wired to think of him at all times. but as you were flicking through gossip sites, the back of a head that haunted your dreams and nightmares was staring right back at, pressed up against a shorter brunette one — maybe it was time to listen to your brain and not your heart.

Carlos Sainz

tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch~ 🩷

every inch of your skin was on fire, like it was rejecting the touch of the man above you. if you squinted enough, blocked out the light from the living room behind his broad shoulders, you could have mistaken him for a certain Spaniard. except the Spaniard wouldn't have chosen to lay his focus on your neck like this guy you picked up at the club. you couldn't, for the life of your alcohol-riddled brain, recall his name. but you could remember the ghost of a touch down between the valleys of your breasts and that was enough to pry a spine-shivering moan out your throat. maybe if you pretended enough and swallowed the hot tears back, you could pretend he was the person you wanted instead.

Danny Ricciardo

she would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head~ 🧡

he knew it when your frame had started curled in on itself under the covers. how you brushed past the stereo you loved to fiddle with on Saturday mornings. how you told him that you'd rather stay home on days you had plans. he felt this clawing in his insides whenever you barely spared him a glance, like he was the extra on a film set who was just waiting around for something to happen. so he did what he did best. he'd called up your mom to ask for her recipes to cook for nights you were too tired to move and offered to dry your hair whenever you wandered around wet hair. when you were fast asleep, cuddled up in his arms, he hoped you could hear when he told you how much he loved you and how he'd always be here.

George Russell

will you still want me, when i'm nothing new~ ❤️

even with your eyes closed on the red-eye flight, you could picture your colour-coded and meticulously organised calendar in your head. that and the thousands of messages from your mother, disappointment reeking from them at your missing of your nephew's baby shower. he was 1, he'd get over it. amongst the messages was two calls to your boyfriend, both left unanswered. the silence feeling like a prelude to something inevitable. images of him laughing with a colleague, your calls ignored, flashed in your mind. the little seed of self-doubt had planted itself a long time ago and bloomed into a voice in your head, relentlessly questioning your every move, every word. you hated it, but when the fire you started grows uncontrollably and you can't stop it, what could you do but let it consume you whole?

Lando Norris

no one could touch the way we laughed in the dark~ 💛

it was like a bad smell you couldn't ignore, the second you stepped onto the hiking path. you refused to come but was convinced otherwise by your group of friends. and with each crunch of the wet leaves under your boot or the distant sound of rushing water, you saw faint wisps of smoke in the shape of someone drawn from your ancient memories, holding your hand and leading you up the slope. hallucinations of a familiar laugh clouded your mind with the hike passing like a daze. the waterfall was still as beautiful as you remembered with the tree where he had secretly carved both your initials just a few steps away. your boyfriend pulled you closer, breaking your trance. his grin radiating at you, you felt the old memories slip away back into the shadows, cupping the chin of your new love.

Lewis Hamilton

you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye~ 💜

sometimes when he glanced at old pictures, the indifference in his chest made him feel like he had moved on. and it should. with every second that slipped out of his grasp, the pain in his heart had dulled and he was busy enough without having to schedule mourning into his calendar. but the glare of his phone burned the picture into his retinas while he was waiting for his next race to begin, he missed the pang in his chest when you first ended the relationship. it was almost like he was losing every shred of you and the ugly feeling in his head raged on. and the next moment, he would turn the phone off, throwing it across his room to bury his head in his palms, the anger redirecting on the pathetic little boy inside him. he should have moved on by now, he knows he should have, but as he glanced at all the faces in the stands, part of him wishes one of them was you.

Max Verstappen

then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet~ 🩶

you can see it in the darkening of his eyes when he answered his calls. or how his lips pulled taunt after a bad race. he had mentioned some things in passing: details of his childhood glossed over like it was nothing more than a dusty spine of a long-forgotten book. coupled with stories from his family, you had pieced together enough of the puzzle he kept his past. and that tugging in your heart wasn't pity; you could never pity him. but you weren't sure what it was either. and so you kept it quiet, tucking it away in a box, focused on the one thing that did matter — his present. maybe one day, you'll take the box out and rifle through its contents with your lover, but for now, just seeing him hold that trophy was more than enough.

[justadeadreaper]

Summoning a spirit and more...

TW: Animal death, Disembowelment/Gutting, Nearly being SA'ed, Murderer and subsequent death, Demon summoning gone wrong, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

When your friend had asked you if you wanted to try and summon a Demon you had not expected this. Well, kind of. You had heard of multiple ways to summon Demons from all the media you had consumed which mostly ranged from sacrificing a virgin or by creating a summoning cycle or by just contacting one through an ouija board. You had expected the latter to just be cooped up in the abandoned house that seemed to haunt your friend’s street as you had an ouija board and a few candles littering the floor.

But no.

Your friend had to go all out. And by all out you meant all out. It sent a shiver up your spine to the point you thought that this was not the first time they had done this unlike what they had claimed when they had brought up the idea to you. This all seemed too professional, too thought out. But, what did you really expect? You knew how seriously your friend took shit like this, how much research would be put into things they seemed to enjoy and this seemed to just be another case of that passion acting out in full force.

You stood before the asylum your friend had asked you to meet them at. You pulled out your phone to check if you had the right location and time.

Meet me at the Anneliese Sherman Hill Asylum. Check.

2:50AM don’t be late! Check.

You had actually come a few minutes early to make sure you were there on time for whatever your friend wanted to do, you wanted to be a good friend after all. On the other hand you thought over if this was a good idea. You were in the middle of a forest in front of a ruined and abandoned asylum that you knew junkies would visit to shoot up as it looked like a light breeze would be able to knock it down. What if this was all a prank and your friend had actually tricked you into coming here for no reason? What if they lured you here to see if you would actually come so the whole school could laugh at you?

You were by yourself, you did not want to go in alone because God knows who or what could be in there. You were an easy target after all, any lunatic could grab you and do unthinkable things. Your paranoia made you think of all the missing posters that covered your small towns of young adults like you who had gone missing to never be found or the headline on your local new station of bodies that had turned up dead and raped with their hearts missing. You shuddered. You had known some of those people who had been left as nothing but bodies for people to gawk at and say how you had met such a terrible fate. 

As your thoughts began to overwhelm you and plague you with all the horrid outcomes that could come out of you going through with this you heard a noise from above. It broke you out of your train of thoughts especially when you realised that it was your name.

“Y/N! Hello Earth to dumbass! Anyone there?!” Regan called out as half of their body hung out of a fifth story window.

“Regan? Dude what the fuck! Get your ass back inside before you fall out!” You shouted back up as you watched how they nonchalantly stayed where they were.

“Are you my mom or what?! I’m not gonna fall! I’m perfectly fine!” they called back down to you with an almost song-like tone to their voice.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass! Go back in and come down here so we can get on with this!” you responded as their joy seemed to put you more on edge than anything else.

“Yes mother! Anything you say mother!” Regan grumbled as they went back inside so they could descend down the stairs and come fetch you to go through with your plan.

Insane bitch. But were you not just as insane for going through with this? Who cares? At least they showed up.

It only took a few minutes before Regan opened the door with an obnoxious creak. They saw the sour look etched onto your face and could not help but pout back at you.

“What’s up with you? I thought you were a night owl.” Regan whined.

“An asylum?” you sighed.

“Yeah, so?” Regan answered with just as much sass as you.

“Really? It’s an asylum.” You responded as you pointed at the building behind them as if they were an idiot who did not realise where the two of you were.

“By God! I didn’t notice that earlier! How did I not realise?! I must be an idiot!” They turned around to face the building acting like they had never noticed it before as they dramatically put their hands to their face to make the most over the top shocked face they were able to muster that was still somehow riddled with their usual sarcasm.

“Very funny,” you near enough snarled, which only brought a smirk to be smothered all over their face.

“Oh I know,” Regan responded.

“But seriously? An asylum out of all places?” You asked as you tried to swallow down the fear that had started to build in the pit of your stomach while you began to walk up the stairs to meet Regan at the door.

“Of fucking course! You know that asylums are some of the most haunted places in the world! It’s why they’re always used in horror movies or those shitty YouTube videos about ghost hunting. And since they’re so connected to the afterlife it will only make it so much easier for a Demon to come through.” Regan nodded as they pushed open the door so both of you could come inside. The inside was not any better than the outside, it was far worse than you could have ever imagined. Regan had turned on the torch in their hands and began to point it around what once would have been a reception area which now looked to be a demolition site. Most of the ceiling had fallen down exposing the skeleton that once had stood proud as it kept the asylum up but now was drooping as if it could fall to pieces at any moment. The wall paper had been peeled off most of the walls to lay in piles on the floor as the walls now were coated in a constant dampness that built the perfect playground for black mould to spring to life. The two of you began to climb the stairs, having to dodge certain spots where the wood was too weak from rot or where the rot had already fully eaten through to create holes big enough for two adults to drop through into a black void.

“Yeah they’re so haunted because of all the shit that happened here. I’m just saying if I was brutally tortured and treated like a useless baby as staff act like I’m a fucking idiot all because I had a disability I would haunt the place I died. Would probably try and get my revenge on the staff,” you muttered after you had truly seen the state of what once would have been a thriving business even if it had a gruesome history.

It only took a few minutes of climbing the stairs like an obstacle course to reach the floor that Regan had set up for the two of you to summon the Demon. It was unnerving, the whole place was unnerving but this floor was different, extremely different. All the hairs on your arms to the back of your neck had stood up, your whole body was on edge as all your senses seemed to be heightened that you were able to sense everything. All the dampness you had felt when walking through the other floors seemed to have disappeared completely, replaced by an overwhelming staleness that seemed to burn your nose while your lungs felt as if they were tightening at the staleness that overwhelmed them like it was depriving them of oxygen.

The two of you continued your walk as you went deeper into the floor. The hallways were covered in graffiti ranging from phrases to names to dicks with the latter covering most of the walls as they were most likely made by the immature teens from the local highschools that had come here to ditch school and get high or had come to the asylum for fear tests to see if they were cool enough to be part of the group with whatever group had sent them in there. You had continued to walk until you reached another large door that Regan pulled open with a huff to reveal the room they had set up.

It must have originally been a social room that had been turned into a restraintment room when the asylum became overwhelmed with too many patients. Chairs, tables, medical beds, restraints, toys, anything you could think of had been piled into the room but it did not have the former glory it once had once had decades ago. All had slowly rotted away with time with the rest of this damned pace but that did not matter to you, neither did the shattered windows that leaked in some of the cool night air and moonlight as its glass decorated the floor. The only thing that mattered was how Regan had set up the room.

For you to see there were candles scattered all over the floor and on certain pieces of the furniture in either bundles of three or seven. Most were burnt around halfway down as the wax trickled to the ground, melting into the cracks of the floor as if they were filling them in. Set up on an old medical table was an altar that had a black cat tied to it as it was connected by a simple chalk line to a summoning circle that spanned over most of the floor as an ouija board laid directly in the middle of it all. It was all too much, you knew that if you were in a horror movie that you would be the first to be taken out by whatever entity had decided to go on a killing spree that day. This looked like it was directly out of a horror movie and you did not want to be part of it. You wanted to immediately turn around and run away but something was stopping you, like a dark force beyond your comprehension had taken control and forced you to stay there and continue like this was a normal everyday thing.

The two of you slowly walked over to the board and sat around it, one of you on each side. Slowly you both put your fingers on the planchette and began moving it to spell out both of your names. First Regan’s and then yours.

“Anyone here with us?” Regan asked.

Ding, ding, ding.

The old church bells rang out, far in the distance from the safety of the town to officially announce that it was finally 3AM, the witching hour. The pit in your stomach seemed to grow to the size of a blackhole as you prayed that nothing would happen as you had wished you had brought some holy water from the church. 

The planchette moved.

Yes.

“How many are there?” Regan asked another question as you preferred to stay silent. The planchette continued to move as it slid towards a number.

One.

“What are you?” you asked as you hoped it was just a tortured spirit.

The planchette rapidly moved from letter to letter to spell out the word you dreaded.

Demon. Regan only smiled as you let out a breath you had never realised that you had been holding.

“Do you want us to free you?” Regan asked.

The planchette moved once more.

Yes.

“What will you give us in return?” Regan questioned.

The planchette moved for one last time.

Anything you wish.

Regan then got up and walked over to the altar. They reached over somewhere and pulled out a knife that you had not noticed earlier.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you asked Regan as they lifted the knife above their head.

“It needs a blood sacrifice to come through,” Regan answered.

“That’s a living fucking cat you can’t fucking do that!” You shouted back as you got up to stop them.

But you stopped in your tracks once you saw the look on their face once they turned to face you. Eyes once warm and full of life were now filled with this cold uncaringness that froze you still as it chilled your spine. Regan was normally so nice and loving but this was something different. This was not the Regan you knew. For a brief moment you thought that they were the Demon instead of the thing they were trying to summon.

“Don’t worry, I got her from a local shelter. Poor thing was in a coma, so they were gonna put her down anyway. I’m just doing it so at least her life could be useful in one way,” Regan shrugged coldly which only sent another shiver down your spine.

Although you were not able to fully process their words before they drove the knife right through the innocent cat’s body again and again and again. Blood splattered onto them in a bloody fountain while some leaked out from beneath the cat and dripped down over the edge of the metal bed as it collected in a puddle before spreading out and hitting the chalk that made up the summoning circle. The blood by some supernatural force started to multiply and flood the chalk with the crimson liquid before it came to life with a sudden burst of flames that knocked you to the ground with a thud.

Your head hit the floor and everything seemed to blur as you let out a pathetic groan. Even with the blur you could see the flames as they spread around the room causing everything flammable to catch alight to be turned to ash by its gluttonous hunger. You had started to accept your fate of being engulfed by the flames as all your body felt like it was being weighed down by a thousand suns making it impossible to scream. That was until you heard that glass shattering scream followed by a maniac laughter that echoed around the room. You just had to look up, how could you not?

Your eyes strained to try and figure out the shape hunched over the altar as your whole body screamed out not too as you began to force yourself to sit up. It only took a few moments before you saw it.

It was a disgusting thing you had never seen the likes of before. A ghastly mass of muscles and eyes that shambled in its movements, the only thing keeping it together were the scales scattered over the exposed flesh that glistened in the flames by the mucus that coated the veins that pulsed alive with the demonic blood that spewed through them. It made you sick. Especially when you saw the seven long, obsidian claws that were driven right through your (now ex) friend’s chest, blood gurgling out of their mouth with bubbles as it spilt onto the floor.

That thing unrolled a tumorous tongue from its skewered maul that was made up of eyes upon eyes piled onto flesh, exposing the rows upon rows that covered the inside of the dog-like jaw. The thing pulled it upwards, licking up all the blood with a guttural groan as if such a thing gave it a sickening pleasure.

“Thank you for summoning me, finally don’t have to use an avatar to have my fun now,” it told you with a sadistic smile on its face, it did not need to even move its mouth for its words to come out, you could still hear its raspy voice anyway.

It turned its head back to your friend and used its claws to carve its way down your friend's chest before pulling back their skin to expose their wet inside to the smokey air. First it took their intestines out and wrapped it around their horns which spiralled upwards as if they had once been joined together to make a circle. Then it pulled out Regan’s heart and chucked it into its mouth and chewed on it for a few seconds before spitting it out in disgust.

“Ugh, disgusting... impure..." It growled before turning to you.

It turned its claws downwards and slowly let Regan drop off like they were a toy that had unsatisfied it as it let their body crumple with a thud. It slowly began to crawl to you as it spoke again with that haunting voice that seemed to fill your body.

“I’ll have fun with them later but how about I try a pretty thing like you out first?” it asked mockingly as if it was trying to toy with you in what should have been your last moments.

You tried to desperately crawl away but your body was too weak from the floor to move to save yourself from whatever it wanted. You wanted to scream and shout to try and get someone to notice you so they could save you from your gruesome fate that played out in front of you. But your voice seemed to have vanished, replaced by the burning in your lungs that was caused by the smoke that seemed to fill the room as the oxygen was quickly used up.

Admittedly you sometimes wanted to die when life became too much and the voices seemed to drown out any rational thought but you had never planned to die like this at the hands of that beast. You kept trying to squirm away until it pounced onto your back, pinning you to the floor with an excruciating weight that stopped all of your movements as the little breath you had left was knocked out of you. You wanted to kick yourself free and beat the shit out of this sick fuck but your body had decided otherwise. In all honesty you began to give up especially when you felt its drool and breath run over your neck as it thrusted against your thigh. Tears started to swell up in your eyes as you wanted them to stay put but stream down all at the same time as that sick fuck began to laugh.

Then nothing.

It seemed to stop laughing or moving or even moving. Its weight then fell on you with full force keeping you pinned more than you thought it could before. Then you began to feel wet. Wet all over. As if a warm liquid had been spilt all over you. Then suddenly all the weight seemed to be pulled away as you finally seemed to be able to breathe a true breath even if it was filled with smoke.

You could not understand why it had suddenly stopped. Maybe it thought about how atrocious it was acting? Impossible. So you decided to turn around even if instincts were telling you not to and instead run.

As soon as you turned around you wanted to scream at what you saw. Laying in front of you was a dead Demon laying in a pool of black blood that had soaked into your clothes and behind it, oh God what the fuck was behind it. It looked like a man but it was too tall as four wings sprouted from its back while horns sprouted from its head much like the Demon it had killed but these ones were joined together to create a circle that emitted a light. From beneath the robes, chains, and bones that obscured its body you could see some clearly defined muscles riddled with scars that would have made you slightly blush if you were not thinking about the long metal blade it was pointing towards you as murderous eyes hid behind a skull of a more humanoid demon.

You coward in fear thinking it would kill you like it had done in fear. You whimpered as you pulled your body into itself in a pathetic display and it seemed to... hesitate? You reopened your eyes to look at it as its eyes seemed to be filled by something but you could truly not tell what. It looked away as if thinking for a minute before turning back to you as it lowered his sword.

“C’mon..." it said in a gravelly voice that seemed British as you first heard it.

You did what it said as you felt like you had no other choice as it could clearly kill you. You slowly got up with wobbling legs as you walked over to it to take the bandage hand it had offered. As you took its hand a beam of light came through the roof and not a second later you felt yourself being pulled up with great strength. You screamed as you felt yourself being pulled tight against its chest. Your arms wrapped tightly around the creature as you could feel the toned abs beneath the robes causing a blush to lightly dust your cheeks.

Below you saw the asylum as it burnt away to cinders with the body of Rean, the poor cat, and the Demon inside. Then you turned to see the being that had saved you once more as it continued to fly upwards. That was when you realised what it was. An Angel.

People joked about how Angels actually looked terrifying and that was why they said ‘Do not be afraid.’ when they first saw humans. When looking at the one that held you tightly you understood perfectly as to why. But for now you felt safe as you realised that it was most likely taking you to Heaven.

This was probably not the ending you had thought of when you had agreed to summon a Demon but maybe being saved by this Angel was actually the best choice at the moment.

Taglist: @diejager @frogchiro

So, hi. Sorry, I have not posted in a few days as I have been busy with family. I still can not believe that this is my last post of 2023 since I still can not believe it is the end of the year as it does not feel like it. So yay to a breakdown over the passage of time. To be fair I am not fully happy with it so I may come back and edit it in the future. I just want to say a quick thank you for all the support as I honestly did not expect anyone to enjoy my writing, I hope all your New Year's resolutions come true. Hopefully, I can post more in the coming year as I am planning for more AUs and hopefully a full rewrite of COD MW with some extras. If you guys like this fanfic I will try to post more fanfics and maybe make this summoning fic a series of Ghost taking care of reader and hiding them in Heaven. Or I will try to post some mini-fics depending on what people want so if anyone has any ideas just put them in my askbox and I will try to write a fic on it, even smut. And I may post some headcanons of the characters. Also if you want to be tagged in anything just say as I am trying to organise everything so we can have smooth sailing in the future. But I hope you liked this as I have not wrote a fanfic in a good while. But Happy New Year's Eve and Happy New Year!!!!

[prince-liest]

I’m a sex-repulsed ace, and reading the latest chapter of 666 (as well as your analysis here on Tumblr) made me realize that I have been subconsciously thinking about MY OWN sexuality from an allo perspective? And that it has kinda been messing me up?? Like, ever since I learned that sexual attraction was actually a Thing and that it’s Important To People, I had been carrying around a fear of being deficient in some way and not being able to love to the same extent as allos. (1)

Even though I know logically that’s complete garbage and totally untrue, I felt left out of the loop because people seemed to care strongly about this thing I couldn’t even imagine. Whenever it looked like a relationship might happen I panicked for a reason that I couldn’t understand. But now I’m starting to realize that it’s because I was subconsciously terrified of an ‘ulterior motive’ behind the other person’s reasons for wanting to be with me. (2) That part of the reason they even cared was because of something I don’t experience. So thank you, because this realization just clicked into place while reading your work. The thing is, this way of thinking was just internalized in such a way that I didn’t even realize it was there until literally this week. And I think you’re right; one of the main reasons behind that is because I’ve always consumed media written from an allo perspective. (3) If ace/aros are shown at all, they’re depicted as “lacking” and their character development usually revolves around being “fixed” by the story. When I was ~10 years old my mom sometimes let me watch the Big Bang Theory with her (looking back, maybe not the best decision). Anyways, there was one episode deep into the series where Sheldon (who for the past nineish seasons was probably the closest thing to mainstream ace rep) has sex with his girlfriend for the first time. (4) Afterwards, he says something along the lines of “that was better than I thought it would be”, and it’s presented as a Very Good Thing and a big step in their relationship. I think a lifetime of stuff like that makes it very easy to internalize aphobia and feel like the lesser part of the relationship. Or to feel like the other partner is making a huge sacrifice to be with you. That got wayy too long, sorry. All that was just a lot of words to say that I appreciate you. Take care of yourself!(5)

The portrayal of asexuality that you see in media being almost exclusively as you described is very tedious to me because it presumes that something is inherently lacking in aro/aceness rather than that feeling of "lacking" being something that is induced by societal norms. Actually, one of the things that I find additionally alienating is that fandom spaces specifically have been getting better and better about ace characters - but got damn does fandom not jive with aromanticism. Like, a character doesn't want to fuck? That's becoming a liiiittle more fine, it's 2024, we stan consent. But not shipping someone romantically?? Not so easy, now.

I'm glad that my work has been something that resonated with you in this respect! Alastor cares a lot about his reputation as a demon but is pretty blatantly a person who could not possibly give less of a shit about being "wrong" for not being experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. The explanation Viv gave at one point for his own understanding of himself (that he thinks he's just "waiting for the right woman") actually stuck out to me a lot because it's a very "well, nothing is wrong with me for not feeling anything, it's the world that's failed to produce a suitable person" perspective.

But having that kind of confident perspective of your own rightness in the world is really not often portrayed in media, or even in fandom, which even ten years ago was still in the throes of standardizing "Oh, no! Me, gay? These feelings are so wrong!" style m/m content and is honestly not that far off from essentially that for aro/ace characters.

Anyway, all of that is to say that there's not yet much out there that doesn't frame allo/amatonormative values as the default that "even aro/ace people can (and should want to) achieve," and that it's really fun to write a fic that is unequivocally from the perspective of a character who is aroace and doesn't see it as even remotely a fault in himself. Does he have moments where he's a little confused and trying to process how things fit for him? Absolutely. But he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who thinks he owes romance to Vox of all people, hahaha. I've written him trying to conform to allo/amatonormativity more with Mimzy, because I think the social standards of their time could push him into it, but Vox? Absolutely not, he does not respect Vox enough for it to even enter his mind.

And then, on the other hand, writing it from an aroace perspective centers the way that romantic and sexual interest can feel like a betrayal of a good thing. With a character like Alastor, it frames romantic and sexual attraction the same alien way that we usually see aromanticism and asexuality framed as.

In the end, this is just one of a plethora of different experiences that aro/ace people can have, but it's one that I really wanted to see represented more, so I'm very happy to write it. I'm glad that you're enjoying it!

[cononeillbreastingboobily]

Thoughts and feelings about Izzy in s2ep4 and what it means to me as a fellow disabled person:

Yeah, so, that episode, huh?

You know, I already knew going into this new season that Izzy's storyline is going to hit me hard regardless of the exact little plot points it might have, but it's only now, several hours after I've watched eps 4&5 that I'm really starting to digest what his story means to me in it's current shape. This is... a bit long. I also mention a character from a different show - Isaac from Sex Education.

Izzy has always been a bit of a dick, right? That's the reason a lot of people hated him in the first season.

Well, now he is a bit of a dick and disabled. And let me tell you how fucking ecstatic I am about that.

You see, looking for disabled characters in media I consume has rarely been gratifying - if they are there at all, which already is rare, they have very little to do, and if they're even semi-important, they're almost always the epitomes of goodness. Nice, understanding, quiet, patient.

Barely there.

The first time I truly felt something change in this area was with the appearance of Isaac in Netflix's Sex Education. He's sarcastic, funny, talented, honest and mean.

The fandom of that show hated Isaac, let me tell you.

It was mostly because he took direct action to separate the main ship of the show that had many people obsessed. As you'd expect. People's ableism immediately jumped out. As you'd expect.

Because how dare he have his own motivations and wants, and to do what he thinks is right?

Barely there.

And now we have Izzy. Izzy, who also did what he thought was right, which in s1 of the show was trying to separate Ed and Stede. He wasn't trying to make himself too likeable at any point (well. when the crew almost mutinied on him in s1 he did do a last ditch effort but. you remember how well that went).

My point is that now we have someone who isn't particularly nice, and now he's dealing with a sudden loss of ability in his body, which is going to make him even worse. He's angry! Of course he is! He's hobbling around with half a leg gone, humiliated, exhausted, barely recovered from impromptu amputation, no anesthesia. And a suicide attempt! He's angry at himself, his body, at Ed, at Stede, at God if he still believes in one, and who knows who else.

He isn't suddenly going to become nicer to people just because. He doesn't need to be humbled.

(a little sidenote: I do not accept the reasoning that Izzy somehow deserved to lose his leg, that "oh what did he expect riling up Ed when he was heartbroken?" etc. He wasn't expecting to get shot in the fucking leg. Nobody fucking deserves that, and if you think that Ed shooting him in the leg and Izzy subsequently having to have it amputated was an "appropriate punishment" for "what he's done", you're just cruel and wrong. Now scram.)

But that's the point. Disabled people deserve help regardless of whether or not we are nice.

Thankfully (not from Izzy's point of view - his pride was definitely bruised in that moment) the crew saw him struggle, and acted in kind. Because Izzy is their dick. And now - also their unicorn.

And it means so much to me that we get the representation of disabled people who thrash around and rattle the bars of their societal cages, furious at the world that isn't welcoming to us, and receive love and care and an invitation to a loving community regardless.

We shouldn't have to be here just when ableds are ready to give. We aren't meek vessels for your good will. Izzy is such a painfully realistic (as far as the universe of the show permits, given it's unavoidable goofiness) portrayal of the anger of someone who's lost some of their body's past ability, and how one might deal with it.

And I really wanted to say something about that, because I'm afraid it might get lost in the discussion about the more popular and more easily digestible aspects of the show.

[koolades-world]

had fun writing a merman levi with a swimmer reader!! idk how the idea hit me but she's here. the levi in mind i had while writing this was kinda like regular demon form him lol, just with gills, webbed fingers, scales and stuff

did this all today too! haven't lost my touch yet haha

Fate or Chance?

Levi didn't know much about humans, but the little he did know made them seem strange. Well, he only really knew one, and even that was stretching it. Now, he felt as if he was in somewhat of a predicament and no clue how to get himself out, if that was even possible. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

He had been perfectly happy living underwater with his beloved Lotan for however long he'd been alive. That's what he thought, at least. He had no way of knowing, but he was happy living the way he was. His brothers also lived with him, but he saw much more of Lotan than he ever did of them. Why'd he have to go and ruin that?

He first saw you late one night out on the beach he and Lotan liked to frequent at around that time. He first noticed a sound he didn't quite recognize, so he surfaced on his own, just in case. Thankfully Lotan stayed hidden, because there was something he was almost certain was a human sitting there. Lucifer had lectured them many times to be wary of them, and he'd consumed enough media to know how dangerous they were, but something seemed different about that one. You were sitting, facing away from him, curled in on yourself and staring off at where the sea and stars met. He had no clue how you didn't hear him break the surface of the water, but something seemed wrong. He was way too afraid to get any closer to check the situation out anything further, but that didn't stop him from thinking about you for the rest of the night and into the next day.

It bugged him so much, he just had to go back. Just like the night before, he found you out on the beach. You were doing that same, melancholy staring out into the distance, but with a few things around you this time. He made coming to see you a routine. He found a new place to play with Lotan, but he dedicated a little time to visiting you nightly, where you were without fail. Eventually, he decided to check out your beach during the day, since he knew humans spent most of their time awake and moving during the day.

He didn't even have to leave the water to see you this time. This time, you were swimming not too far from the beach. He stayed deep down, just observing you. He thought it was mesmerizing that a human, a creature not meant to be in the water was so keen on being in and around it. His brothers didn't usually pay too much attention to his habits since he usually kept to himself, but he could tell Lucifer knew something was up. He swore Lucifer just had a second sense for when his brothers were up to something. Yet, even that couldn't stop him from going to see you.

Before he knew it, he enjoyed coming to watch you. He felt awfully creepy, but he just felt like he knew you somehow. He could tell something wasn't quite right from the way you behaved, but he felt this connection between the two of you that he couldn't deny, or brush off. When he was feeling brave, he would dare to poke more than just his eyes and top of his head out of the water, but he never got fully out of the water. When he could, he made trips during the day to watch you swim.

On one of his many trips, he actually ended up saving your life accidentally. While it was clear that night, a sudden storm rolled in. You didn't seem to be taking it very seriously. Levi had assumed humans were smarter than that, he found himself hoping you got out of the water, and to safety. But, you didn't seem to care very much. He could tell that this storm was going to be big, and dangerous, and his heart began to beat as he continued to watch you swim your laps.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he grabbed you by one of your ankles and dragged you under. He hoped you'd forgive him for doing something so terrifying to you, but seconds after he'd dragged you under, he saw a bolt of lightning hit the water nearby where'd they just been swimming. The crack of thunder followed quickly after. The bolt illuminated the water temporarily, and he finally got a better look at you. After that initial shock was over, he turned his attention to you and the realization at what'd he'd done set in. You looked freaked out, obviously, and were struggling to get free. The two of you had made eye contact, which seemed to shake some sense into him. He released you, stunned at what he'd done and the implications. He didn't know what got into him, or how he knew that lightning was about to strike, that he, of all his brothers, would be possessed to do something like that. He sat in silence, watching as you frantically swam to shore and ran off. He let himself sink to the bottom, and he laid there. He laid there for so long that sea grass got tangled in his horns and his tail fell asleep.

He was royally fucked. Or, so he thought.

He couldn't help himself but continue to show up nightly despite what he'd done. He wanted to make sure you were ok. That's what he told himself, anyways. You were still there, but you seemed more alert. He knew you were on the look out for him, and the moment you thought you saw him, you began to yell and slosh your way into the water. Those days, he stayed extra far from the shore. He knew that he'd already be in so much trouble if Lucifer figured out he saved a human's life, so he just couldn't communicate. Despite knowing this, he found himself wanting to go to you, even if to just sit there and listen. He'd never felt this way, having his heart betray his mind like this. You tried many times and many ways to try to get him to come to you, or vice versa, and while he never gave in, every time, he became more tempted.

One night, you failed to appear. He had been watching, and waiting as usual for your nightly standoff, but you were no where in sight. His mind began to race as he scanned every part of the beach, but couldn't find even a trace of you. He went back and forth for a few minutes, and somehow, he found the courage to get onto the beach. He didn't remember the last time he'd been on dry land fully like he was about to be, but something in him was telling him he just had to search for you. He wasn't sure what his plan was, but it felt right.

Levi swam as close as he could to the shore before needing to stand up. Getting out wasn't too difficult, but the feeling of the air on his skin was strange. He wasn't quite sure what to do with his tail, but he hated the feeling of dragging it in the sand. Once he was out, and as adjusted as he could be, he looked around, unsure where to start. He soon decided to go to the spot where he always saw you sitting, maybe to search for a sign of you, or maybe to see what you always seemed to want to see.

"It's you." He heard a voice from behind him. He nearly jumped out of his skin, and he toppled over face-first into the sand. Levi began to cough and inhaled some sand on accident. He sputtered on the air. It felt so sharp and cold on his airways. As he struggled, he heard whoever snuck up on him take a few steps back. He rolled over, and continued coughing so he could get a look at who it was.

He nearly felt his heart stop when he saw that it was you. You made eye contact, which caused him to hack even more. He thumped himself on the chest, before actively trying to get up and leave, but failing every time. He'd never been more terrified in his life. That was the moment he thought he was doing to die. He was sure of it. The sand dug into his skin and caused him to slide around every time he tried to get up. But, you approached him despite his frantic efforts to offer him a hand up.

He stopped for a moment, scanning you. You were so much more stunning up close. Reluctantly, he accepted the hand up. You tugged him off the ground with some work on his end. After you let go of his hand, the two of you stared at each other for a moment. You looked right up into his eyes. He tried to scramble away again, but paused at the sound of your voice again.

"Please, wait." Levi paused. "I wanted to thank you. For saving my life." You held out something in your hands for him. It was a pretty looking shell that you seemingly polished to make smooth and shiny. He turned back around, and slowly made his way back over to you to accept the gift. "How long have you been watching me?" You asked as soon as he'd taken the shell.

"... I'm not sure. One night, you were just here." He finally spoke. It felt a little strange, but nothing he couldn't do.

"I always felt like someone was watching over me. Thank you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here right now." Levi anxiously turned the shell over in his hands and stroked it. His tail, which had lashing about the entire time, kicked up a little sand, causing him to scare himself.

"It's nothing." He dared to look at you again. You were still staring back at him with an intensity he only saw in Lucifer's eyes. But, it felt different when he saw it in you.

"Your eyes are the only thing I vividly remembered about that encounter. They're beautiful." You complimented him. Levi felt himself begin to turn red and his tail got more frantic. "Do you have any time to talk?" They inched closer to him. While his legs and mind told him to run, his heart betrayed the rest of his body again. So, he sat with you, and the two of you talked for hours.

He could tell this was the start of something unexpected, but not something he was opposed to. He almost found himself not wanting to go back. He didn't remember the last time he'd had a conversation as fulfilling as that one, or one that left him equally as flustered, but happy.

"Will you be back?" You asked him. The first light of dawn had begun to show itself, meaning he needed to be back home for breakfast soon.

"I will. Tomorrow, here?" He found himself speaking more confidently than he had been before. He actually liked getting to speak to someone who was interested in hearing what he had to say.

"I'm counting on it. I'll bring some more things for you too. See you tomorrow then." You stood back and watched as he slowly retreated back into the ocean. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

[olivsie]

Something I like about epic the musical is that it Gives it's changes to the original text an actual Purpose

( The first couple paragraphs are basically a rant regarding retellings. If you only want to hear about epic Skip to paragraph 4)

1. I am a bit annoyed by the lack of. Understanding as to why RETELLINGS aren't the most historicaly accurate things in the world. Sorry to break this to you, but that's both just how they work and I would guess how they reach success. Ancient Greece is a much different culture than our own, And most of us would be terrified to actually live back then. When you are Trying to create content That is based on ancient Greece And you want it to be successful/ At least reach a wide, and notably, MODERN audience. You're likely going to have to take some creative liberty And change a few things. Don't get me wrong, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO LIKE RETELLINGS KNOWING THAT FACT ( Me personally, I'm not the biggest fan of Miller's novels Even though I do like epic) BUT IT IS SOMETHING TO BE AWARE OF. And because of that I don't think I would ever expect a retelling to be perfectly accurate And I don't. I had interest in mythology LONG before epic the musical But I didn't actually read the Odyssey until getting into epic. I did not expect it To be just like the musical, I knew Odysseus was going to be much more of an asshole, along with other characters. The odyssey and epic are different pieces of media to me And I am not less of a mythology nerd for liking epic ( Though I will admit that sometimes I take tiny little fun facts of mythology And like to think of them in the context of epic, but that's just for fun.)

2. The Only time being a fan of retellings is wrong as if you genuinely believe they are perfectly accurate And refuse to listen to anything else ( Which has definitely happened, And mythology nerds have the right to be annoyed at that)

3. Some people only like to consume real mythology media, Others like both real mythology and retellings, Others only like to engage with retellings (I would hope they have the self-awareness to know It's not real mythology, From what I've seen some do and some don't, Unfortunately)

4. Ok. now on to what the title of this long ass rant says

I like that epic the musical Retells the story, Not only to both cater to modern audience But Also with its OWN purpose of man versus monster.

Obviously, this is not the point of the original text. Mythos Odysseus does not give a single fuck About the stuff that epic odysseus does. I don't know why the creator Decided to rewrite it this way, (If he's ever said why let me know) But I would assume he wanted to make something about the oddessy And this was simply a very creative way to Translate that for modern audience.

I like this because, yes, holy damn. It does have changes from the original text. But it's not JUST changing it. It's changing it with a purpose

It feels reminiscent of some kind of Dramatic play. the way that epic characterizes.

Polites' kind nature is Representative of the Concept of being merciful Represented in his lines such as " This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms" /"There is so much guilt inside your heart, So why not replace it?"

While in contrast you have eurylochus with more ruthlessness and cautious nature, this is Found in some of his lines such as "You rely on wit, and people die on it" /"we don't know what's ahead" / "I say we strike first. We don't have time to waste so lets raid the place-" /"Let's just cut our losses, You and I and let's run"

And then you have Odysseus, the man/monster. The first act of this Musical is his internal struggle With what He should be On that scale. And the other characters Represent this struggle in the song monster

" Is the cyclops struck with gilt when he kills, is he up in the middle of the night? Or does he end my men to avenge his friend and then Sleep knowing he has done him right?

When the witch turns men to pigs to protect her nymphs, is she going insane? Or did she learn to be colder when she got older and now she saves them the pain?

When a God comes down and makes a Fleet drown Is he scared that he's doing something wrong? Or does he keep us in check So we must respect him and now no one dares to piss him off"

He then Applies this to himself

" Does a soldier use a wooden horse to kill sleeping trojans cause he is vile? Or does he throw away his remorse and save more lives with guile?"

And this marks his turning point of deciding that Ruthlessness It's ultimately worth it if it means Getting home, as aeolus says "The end Always justifies the means"

It's in my opinion, a very creative way to go about retelling a myth. Is it accurate? Absolutely not. For example, circe (From what we know) is not protecting When she turns men into pigs, For all we know, she could just do it because Shits and giggles.

Her character and most others in epic is changed from the original. But it's not ONLY changing for the sake of apeling to the modern Western audience and being successful like Many other retellings. It is also and mainly changing for the sake of influencing the plot that Jorge Rivera herrans crafted For the sake of Retelling epic. It is creative and I enjoy it despite knowing it's not accurate.

[piperholmes]

I wasn’t planning on writing anything about Chenford because I’m not trying to start an argument (not that I expected many will read this any way 🤣), but I have a lot of thoughts jumbled up. I think it would be helpful for me to just get them down, so I am better able to absorb what has been shared by others. I love a good discussion! Especially one centered around some form of literature.

(If you are reading this, then just let me preface with this is me really just free writing what’s going through my head. I definitely am not telling anyone else how to feel, react, or process this storyline—nor do I expect anyone to agree with my ramblings.)

For me, I think a major issue I have is with the breakup trope itself—particularly the “I’m not good enough for you, so I can’t be with you” trope. In my experience, this argument usually comes from the male character in a relationship. Romance novels are riddled with this set up; I’ve seen it in films and television plenty of times. It almost always comes from the guy. (And I acknowledge the majority of media I consume is M/F romance). The problem I have reconciling this concept is because it feels like this happens because the guy in the relationship feels comfortable and is willing to make the decision for both of them, and is often unwilling to listen to his partner’s thoughts or feelings. There is something inherently misogynistic in that, and it has never sat well with me.

I thought a lot about why Tim was upset about the 5 player trade, and while I don’t think the show did a particularly good job of explaining it, I think it boils down to the fact that Lucy made a decision about Tim’s life without talking to him about it. Even though it came from a sincere, caring place and had (for Tim at least) a positive outcome, it wasn’t right for her to make that decision on her own. If the argument is being made that Tim is walking away from their relationship because he feels (right or wrong) it’s best for Lucy, it just seems odd to me that Tim would choose to (essentially) do the same thing to Lucy after it was so upsetting to him.

Now, was Tim in a heightened emotional state? Absolutely. Does that impact a person’s reasoning? 100% But I think where this situation breaks with what has been established, is Tim’s choice to just walk away without discussion. Something that made me fall in love with Chenford in the first place was Tim’s willingness to listen to Lucy even when he was emotionally struggling. Outside Isabel’s apartment with the drugs, when she got on to him about being pissed over the report following the virus scare, his later acknowledgment over his behavior in the pilot with the Hispanic gentleman, and so on. To have Tim just walk away from her communicates one of two things: either he was willing to make the decision but wasn’t willing to deal with the consequences or he was so convinced he was right, he wasn’t interested in what Lucy would have to say. Neither are a particularly good look for Tim, and, again, why I just don’t really like this trope. (I would be saying the same thing about Lucy if she were the one doing this-in fact, I think she seriously mishandled her break up with Chris, but I definitely wasn’t emotionally invested in their relationship. So, sorry Chris; you don’t get a post 🤣).

Another aspect of the trope I find ridiculous is how it should essentially impact all relationships this character has; if Tim isn’t good enough to be with Lucy as a romantic partner then he should feel that way about being a friend to Lopez, a brother to Genny, an uncle to her kids, and so on. Otherwise, to isolate this feeling to specifically the romantic partner is just…weird? “I’m going to end our relationship because you deserve better, but just you. I’m going to keep all my other relationships.” Like, I don’t know, that just feels super icky. And, based on the preview for the next new episode, it definitely seems like Tim is going to spiral into pushing people away/isolating, but where is the line drawn? What if Tim had a kid? (And I know hypotheticals are probably not the best here, but I warned this would be meandering 🤪) Would he walk away from his own kid because he didn’t feel good enough? That definitely doesn’t make sense to me, but, again, it just highlights the pitfalls I run into with the trope itself and why I cringe when it is used. My view of Tim—and by extension Chenford—is now informed by what I see as the implications of the trope.

It’s incredibly off putting that now Tim and Lucy’s parents (oh, gosh, and I just realized, even Nolan) essentially fall into the same category. Do you think Lucy’s parents were so dismissive of her wants and hurtful because they hated her or didn’t love her? I am 100% sure it’s because they thought they were loving her. It doesn’t make it right or healthy, but I’m sure they thought they were doing what was best for Lucy. And John made the decision to end their relationship to “protect” Lucy, and I remember thinking the same thing about him that I think about Tim now. I really thought Tim was different and understood what Lucy had been through in her life, and, ultimately at this point, makes me question how I feel about Chenford overall.

I also want to say that I don’t begrudge Tim acknowledging something in him that wants to change and be better (openly encourage such self reflection and growth in fact). I’m also (pretty) sure this will ultimately lead back to then getting back together, and maybe even Tim being a better partner. I’m simply saying that using this particular trope in order to facilitate that doesn’t vibe with what I believe the show has established about Chenford, and it would have been very interesting (and, for me, preferable) to see how they could have told that story avoiding this cliche. That’s all.

Ok, if anybody made it this far, thanks for sticking with it. I’m always open and interested in differing perspectives and interpretations, and nothing I’ve said is my set-in-stone opinion, just my current opinion 😜.

[fullyinconsequential]

Here’s a 3am Steddie rant I think every Steddie lover (and possibly hater) should hear. I have no goal to convert anyone—just to say that the ship did not actually “come from nothing.” Here’s why:

I don’t understand how there wasn’t Steddie foresight in the writer’s room.

So they play it up in season 3 like Steve just can’t get the girl and when he does she’s not the right girl and yada yada yada—cool beans. I love his character arc with Robin, their friendship, her queerness. I love their entire bathroom interaction.

Specifically: “It’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school. Maybe cuz Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be prom king…. First of all, she’s hilarious. So funny. I feel like this summer I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she’s smart—way smarter than me…. She’s honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Traits Robin Also Has that Eddie Shares:

Outcast

Band Kid

The Witty Banter

Eddie’s personality is VERY Robin. Not perfectly so, but maddeningly close.

Another point:

This is just the same person in different gender specific fonts, A.K.A. Steve’s “love interest” versus a guy who called him “big boy” completely unprompted and interrupted a tender moment between him and his “love interest” and complimented him for an entire scene while Steve wore his clothes.

So, really, one of them’s Steve’s love interest and the other is Nancy Wheeler /hj.

I write a lot, and as someone who both writes and consumes an abhorrent amount of media, whoever wrote this down, casted and costumed this way, and allowed for the interactions between Steve and Eddie to be as nuanced as they were (EX: the scene in which Eddie steps forward like he has more to say to Steve before he goes off and kills himself) had to have known what was going to happen. There is simply no way of not seeing it.

And if they didn’t want people shipping Steddie at the scale which they do, here’s what went wrong:

First: defaulting to Steve wanting his ex back is just plain shitty writing. It means you don’t know where to go with the character anymore, and since you’re certain he’s done all the growing he can do, he’s just gonna double back to the conflict he was in in the FIRST SEASON.

Are you serious right now, bro?

Steve’s arc as a character has been absolutely heartwarming to watch. If anything, he���d have been better off given the “I need to figure out how to be happy on my own” narrative. Throwing him back at Nancy is a cop out, a big one.

Second: Eddie. Throwing Eddie in the mix was absolutely a WILD decision, because he looks like Nancy, he banters like Robin, and GENDER IS NO LONGER A PLAUSIBLE REASON FOR AN AUDIENCE TO DENY CHEMISTRY, OR EXPLAIN IT AWAY. Not in the year of our lord 2023, no sir. Not unless you’re going to explicitly state in some way to an audience that these characters are DEFINITIVELY STRAIGHT. And with Eddie, they went as far off that course as possible.

The outcast stuff. The D&D stuff. The hatred of the system. The mysteriously living with his uncle and not his parents. THE HANKERCHIEF IN HIS BACK POCKET.

So essentially, this is what they did:

They took a beloved character, flubbed over his character arc because they weren’t sure what to do with it.

Then, they created a SECOND beloved character, made him likable, lovable, even, and relatable. Then they gave him half and half personality and looks of Steve’s last two love interests. Then they gave us scenes of them together where they showed chemistry, genuineness, and playfulness.

Then they EXPECTED that we as an audience had enough heteronormativity left as a society to say—oh, those two guys aren’t flirting with each other even a little bit because they’re two guys and obviously that doesn’t happen.

WHEN IN THE SAME SEASON WE WATCHED WILL AND ROBIN GO GAY PANIC AND DESPAIR LIKE?????

Pick a side pick a side, are your characters fucking gay or is your audience fucking blind?

Point being, I have some friends IRL who don’t really get this. They think Steve and Eddie hardly interacted enough for there to be romance at all, but I think it’s less about how much they interacted and more about the (unintentional) set up they were given by the writers.

Steve’s a truly beloved character and I don’t know on ST fan that wants to see him just end up back with Nancy Wheeler like his entire character arc was just to “get the girl” and “have six kids.” Which he already has by the way.

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. I’m not advocating for anyone to ship them, I’m just saying it’s honestly a perfectly logical conclusion to make, especially if you CARE about Steve as a character, you know? We want him to be with someone genuine, someone who challenges him to be better, to be different than he was. Nancy couldn’t handle doing that. Robin could, but they’re platonic af.

So why wouldn’t it be Eddie?

Rest in peace, by the way. You would’ve loved this text post.

[initforthelolzz]

I know that this discussion has been made countless times at this point, but I might as well make it again.

Anyone who calls Yamato a woman doesn’t understand his character, there, I said it.

I recently stumbled across that side of the one piece fandom. As in, the side that gets violent over Yamato’s gender identity. I recently had the unfortunate privilege of stumbling across an entire YouTube comment section ranting and unanimously agreeing that Yamato is a woman and cussing out all the people who “head-cannon” him as a man.

Whelp. It’s rant time again.

For starters, I accept Yamato as a man. A trans man that doesn’t necessarily pass, but has a respected gender identity by all he associates with (as far as I’ve watched).

I have multiple trans friends and family members in my life, and as an LGBT individual myself any and all representation is a breath of fresh air. Especially in shonen anime, which is the sole form of media that I consume at this point.

I’ve already made my rant about the queer rep in Impel Down, and it’s about time I spun my spiel about the upsetting discourse over Yamato and his gender identity. Because that’s exactly what it is, upsetting.

When Yamato was first introduced he wore a mask and baggy clothing, he didn’t speak and was mysteriously called nothing other than “Kaido’s son.” He was hyped up for episodes on end before he finally joined the plot, and finally spoke. In the distinct voice of a woman.

Clearly, any and all gender norms have been obliterated at this point.

When Yamato finally took his mask off and declared himself Kozuki Oden, Luffy reacted how all of us did:

It’s exactly what all of us were thinking, right? How can that be Kaido’s son?

Then of course Yamato responds with this:

And we have our answer. Yamato is a trans man, and the entire Beast Pirates crew respects that. It’s incredible, isn’t it? I was blown away, you should have heard me squealing, it was ridiculous.

Luffy was a dick about it initially, but from the moment Yamato declared himself a man Luffy referred to him by his preferred pronouns for the rest of the arc.

“You can trust him.” “He’s going to help you.”

(Paraphrased. Didn’t dig up a screen shot cause I’m lazy. Took place when Luffy left Yamato with Momo and Shinobu on his way to the roof.)

Conversation over, right?! Wrong!!

Cause some people don’t like that. They see huge tits and refuse to accept this character as anything but a woman.

It doesn’t matter that Yamato is referred to using he/him pronouns by literally everyone, it doesn’t matter that Kaido consistently calls him his son, and it certainly doesn’t matter that Yamato personally declares himself a man.

They say that Yamato is biologically female; “it says it on the vivre card!” “A manga panel calls her Kaido’s daughter!” All things I found in that comment section, repeated again and again. Of course there’s the color spread covered in big boobs and bikinis, and that’s obviously proof that Yamato is a woman like all the rest. Because all of the color spreads happened in the cannon story and must be taken as hard fact.

I mean clearly.

Canon, 100%.

No question.

“Cause Oda literally said it himself…” right? Yeah. Sure. I’ll believe it when I see an SBS or a quote from the man himself.

I understand where they’re coming from, I really do. Yeah, Yamato looks like a woman. Yeah, boobs exist. Yeah, both voice actors are female.

But all of this evidence is strictly surface level, and these people ignore the personality of the character they claim to defend on top of the way they interact with other characters in the series.

They say that Yamato only looks up to Oden, that he’s not really a trans man, he’s just “larping.” Playing pretend.

They claim to be defending Yamato’s identity. They claim that those who call him a man are trying to “steal” the character and “gender her.” Yet… doesn’t their entire argument revolve around gendering that exact character?

By that logic, who gendered the character in the first place? I dunno, maybe the guy who’s wrote the dialogue? I mean maybe???

At the end of the day I can get ticked off all I want, but people will think what that think and all I can do is try not to let it affect me. However…I know transphobia when I see it. I see transphobic discourse within my own family. I know what that shit looks like. Refusal to respect pronouns. “Well you don’t look male.” “You were born female.” “It’s all just a phase, they’re confused.”

Sound familiar?

People can believe what that like, but it doesn’t mean that what they believe is right. It’s upsetting to see this argument so often. It’s all over the fandom, there’s no way to avoid it.

People claim to be defending the gender of this character, they act as if Yamato is being attacked by the evil gays who will stop at nothing to turn everyone trans. I’m not joking, that’s literally how they worded in that battlefield of a comment section.

Yamato’s gender expression is confusing, we know. That’s the point! Oda said fuck gender conformity all the way back in Alabasta, and he isn’t stopping now. What we see in Yamato is trans representation, but not a clean rep like Kiku, we have a man who doesn’t pass. Guess what? Not all trans people pass! That doesn’t make them any less trans, and your black and white perception of their gender doesn’t debunk their identity.

I genuinely don’t understand why there has to be so much discourse over this topic. Like you’re literally arguing with Luffy himself at this point. 😔🙄

[teatreeoill]

|| Beg (Ryomen Sukuna X Reader) ||

Short one in which Reader desperately tries to find Yuji in Shibuya, but finds someone else instead. This is the first smut I have a ever written, but Suskuna was so fine last episode I decided to give it a shot.

Warning: MDNI, 18+, Language, Smut ,Choking, Rough Sex, Dom!Sukuna

"Yuji!" Your voice echoed back from the walls, the shouting had left a dryness in your mouth, where the hell did he go? Where the hell did everyone go? "YU-JI!" another scream followed by nothing, did Inumaki point you in the wrong direction? Another turn, another pair of stairs, no sign of anything even remotley alive - just a lingering, sharp smell of curses.

Oh, there they are. Voices. Quite near, just a few more turns.

A familiar figure appears from a near hallway, you take a shaky breath to sprint lightly to the direction he's going. "Yuji! There you are, fuck! I thought something happened to you!" You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to push his body back to turn to you, but it won't budge. He looks back, and just the slight turn of his head is enough to see the black tattoos covering his face. His expression changes lightly, his brows curl upwards, "Poor thing, can't find what you're looking for?" Your mouth hanged agape, the pressure in your chest felt like air being punched out of your lungs. Everyone knew Yuji was Sukuna's vessel, but on his bright eyes and wide smile you couldn't really tell there was someone else, someone so terrifying inside of him. You wouldn't believe it unless it was all everyone talked about since the moment he first stepped foot at Jujutsu High. "Yu-" What good would it do to call his name? "Su-" Definitely no point at calling his name. Your gaze had risen to the ceiling. You never liked fluorescent lights. What a shitty, gray hallway. Is it really going to be the last thing you see?

"I remember you." Sukuna's voice was so different from Yuji's, a deep, commanding tone you had never thought to hear from the body of a boy who you watched eat blue candy and stick his tongue out for you to see how its color changed. "I - don't think we've met before" A full sentence felt like an accomplishment, your knees grazed the floor before you knew it - you weren't sure if it was some power he emitted or your legs had given away to fear.

Sukuna seemed amused, at least by the slight upturn of one corner of his mouth. "Oh Yuji, what do you think Sukuna's doing now? Do you think Sukuna would like it? Do you think he's listening?" A sarcastic tone had tried to mimic phrases you said to Yuji, you haven't even noticed how much you've pestered Yuji on this subject right until that moment. Some of the sorcerers had intriguing techniques, but Sukuna's vessel? There were so many things to ask, although it had seemed the time for questions was running out. "I guess he really was listening," You mutter, hardly the time for a snarky comment, although there's a limit to how snarky one could be from their knees. It was hard to imagine Itadori Yuji as a prison, but for Sukuna he was just that. Each day felt longer than the one before it, it seemed to him Yuji's body was only busy consuming the worst media and having the most pointless conversations, and had only been less of a nuisance to endure when it had listened to you talk about him. Oh Yuji, what do you think Sukuna's doing now? He'd sigh of relief, at the very least one of those sorcerers had seemed to remember the important things.

Sukuna took another step forward, with each one the pressure on your body grew, one of his arms extended to your face, which was still fixed on him. Two large fingers gripped your chin. "So I'll allow it." It felt nice to be allowed, you thought. not even sure what being allowed meant. His fingers had pulled down your jaw, leaving your mouth wide open. His other hand reached down to his trousers, unbuckling his belt and pulling them down just enough to reveal his cock. He stared at your disoriented face. "Didn't you want to know how it felt to have the king of curses inside you?" Your lips had already touched his tip, you'd grabbed hold of his thigh without paying it a single thought. His hand grips your hair, pulling your head onto him, you hear him groan as you feel the bruise form on the inside of your throat. Another thrust comes after, his pace quickening, you whimper when his hand entangled itself deeper in your locks. Your other hand squeezed on his arm, hoping there's hair left on your head when he's done. You taste the tiny drops of cum smeared on your tongue. He pulls out of your mouth, you only hear your own heavy pants until he pulls you up by your hair and presses you against the nearest wall, the cold tiles sending shivers down from your cheek to your spine. His hand travels down from your hair, grabbing your neck from behind. The other one pulls up your skirt, you gasp from the touch of his fingers on your inner thigh. "Beg," He commands. His fingers push your underwear to the side and linger on your folds. You stay silent, hardly by choice, too shaken still to utter a single word. The hand around your throat grips tighter, pulling your head back until your ear reached his lips. "Do you think I can't feel how wet you are?" You hear the anger creep into his voice. He aligns the tip of his cock with your hole. "Now, beg."

"P-please-" You didn't want to talk, but your thighs have already started to try pushing yourself onto his length. He wouldn't let them. "Please, I - need it," You whisper. "I'll give it one more chance," He pushes your head back, pushing the tip you'd just wet for him into you, leaving you with a moan stuck in your throat, "Beg, loud enough for all your sorcerer friends to hear what you want." "I want you to fuck me, please, I need you to - ! " That was hardly loud enough for his usual tastes, but he was already inside, thrusting like an animal. One hand pressing your head further into the wall, and another holding your waist, preventing you from moving even a single inch from the position he'd angled you at. The tears gather at your eyes. He moans, a single raspy moan unlike the other you've heard him try and stop at his throat. At each thrust he hit that spot you were eager to please, you tried to push a hand down under your skirt, but Sukuna grabbed it, pressing it firmly to your back. "Now that's something you need to ask for," He breathed heavily near your ear, you tried to wiggle out your hand but to no avail. You felt your walls clench around his length each deep thrust, your muffled whimpers only making him go faster. "I - can I - ?" Your voice shook, you felt his pace getting sloppier. He let out a small chuckle, you can't even speak.

His fingers found their way to your clit, it only took a few gentle strokes for you to collapse from your orgasm. The way you squirmed against his body, moaning, whimpering made him bite into your neck, releasing warm ropes of cum into you, the noises he made muffled by the crook of your neck. The moment you were released from his grip, you'd collapsed onto the floor. When you looked up, he'd already adjusted himself back into his trousers. He towered over you,

"Now - now, what do we say to someone who gives us what we want?" Your cheeks flush red, legs still shaking. "T-Thank you".