#THE LAST GREAT TIME WAR TIMELINE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 10 months ago

Text

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!!

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you.

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock.

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs.

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap.

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side.

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.”

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word.

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo.

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?”

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure.

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts:

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you.

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend.

friend.

if you could still call him that.

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.”

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air.

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling.

“me too, kid.”

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze.

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left.

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him.

“perce! hey!”

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.”

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood.

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack.

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium.

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways.

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed.

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees.

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing.

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure.

but, there were other things, too.

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes.

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving.

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection.

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of.

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.”

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed.

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him.

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then.

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge.

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house.

something in luke softens, then. he sighs.

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on.

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke.

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially.

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too.

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.”

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.”

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up.

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.”

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles.

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this.

about you.

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were.

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?”

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy.

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though.

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you.

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand.

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own.

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos.

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways).

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here.

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you.

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you.

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan angst #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

Text

You think you know someone. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: You think you know someone.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Timeline: OOTP- canon and timelines altered for purposes of the story. Some bits have been exaggerated for artistic purposes. Based more on the films than the books. Reader joins DA but what if instead of Cho ratting them out, it’s you?

Summary: You had everything during your time at Hogwarts- good friends, Fred Weasley as your boyfriend and a promising future, until Dolores Umbridge turns up.

Warnings: This one turned out a little dark. Mentions of injury, torture, bullying, wounds, blood. Umbridge is a bitch. Snape is a bully. Use of unforgivable curses. Punishment. Kissing, pranks, swearing. Dumbledore’s Army and resistant forces. Brief mentions of Voldemort and probable war. Pet names: baby, sweetheart, princess. Not beta read. Happy ending I promise.

Word count: 9.3k (I feel like I’ve written a novel here)

This work is gifted to @kellyxo1 thanks to the wonderful request that I couldn’t turn down! I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get this out but it’s been a complete labour of love and I hope you like it!💕

You knew Dolores Umbridge was trouble the moment you spotted her in the Great Hall, her gaudy pink outfit and matching pink cheeks made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst the classic, muted colour pallet you knew to be Hogwarts. Her smile unnerved you, the cold expression in her eyes never once matching the infallible twisted, sadistic smile that so often painted her face. Everything about her rang alarm bells in your mind.

Fred and George had been sitting either side of you at the banquet table in the Great Hall as she took centre stage and delivered her speech about being very good friends, as ominous and foreboding as it seemed.

"That's likely," the twins had mumbled, resting their heads on their hands, elbows on the table as a small act of rebellion against the airs and graces she clearly put on. You'd subconsciously scooted closer to Fred when she stood, reaching for his spare hand under the table that he'd offered you, sensing a little of your discomfort. Fred was always acutely aware of your emotions, able to read you like a book, you supposed it was a natural consequence of being together for so long.

You'd met on the first day of Hogwarts when you'd stepped into the train compartment he shared with George, locked eyes and the rest was history. You'd been dating since your second year, both of you unable to deny the childlike crushes and stolen glances of your attraction and as you grew up, you grew together. Now you were in your last year, with big plans ahead of Fred and George's business which you'd planned to help them with initially and bigger promises of moving in together in the flat above the shop. The natural progression of a happy relationship and an exciting prospect that kept you motivated to finish school on a high.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was different this year: understandably tense and foreboding, not just because of Cedric's death and the rumoured return of Voldemort but of the disquiet around Harry's claims and the propagandistic reporting from the Daily Prophet refuting Harry's claims. It seemed everyone was divided into wether they believed Harry or if they believed what they were reading in the media. It was evident that the ministry had worked hard to deny and deflect Harry'a claims, disparaging and slandering him publicly. Of course the arrival of a certain Pink adorned dementor didn't help things, especially when she, as new defense against the dark arts teacher, did away with the old curriculum and removed any defensive, practical teaching in favour of simple theory- which would be of no use in real life situations, of which you were all undoubtedly facing. Then the educational decrees began where she was appointed Hogwarts' high inquisitor and sought to change anything she was as unsatisfactory, backed by the ministry, which seemed to propel the whole school further and further away from what it should be teaching and how it should be preparing it's students for what was inevitably happening.

"She can't do this! It's ridiculous, George is fuming, never mind Fred," you overheard Ginny say as you were about to take a seat for dinner but quickly stopped as you gave her a questioning look, not knowing what she meant, her eyes focusing in on your frozen form.

"What?"

"You haven't seen the new decree?" She asks curiously, placing down her fork onto the plate. You shook your head briefly before walking quickly out of the hall, dinner be damned to examine the wall of decrees, trying to fix your eyes onto the new plaque on the wall.

Educational Decree No. 30: All Weasley products will be banned immediately.

You rushed upstairs to the common room, split in two minds about wether they would be there or on the quidditch pitch, trying to expel their frustrations... until you remembered that broom flying had been outlawed unless part of a lesson or during Quidditch games, as few and far between as they were coming due to the constant cancelling.

When you found them in their dorm, George was pacing the room, kicking the wooden frame of his bed after every circuit whilst Fred sat perched on his own bed, face downcast and eyes filled with anger.

You knew it wouldn't stop them, nothing ever did, but the business they forged from nothing had suffered for a while as students were afraid of the repercussions of being searched and found with their products.

"Can't sell my products, can't fly a broom, can't even kiss my own girlfriend unless I find a way to snog her from six inches away!" Fred had been furious and rightly so but there seemed to be no hope in sight.

It seemed no one was unaffected by the drastic measures Umbridge was taking and you were all facing the consequences of the increasing restrictions, in multiple ways. You'd been given detention for the stupidest things, including casting a spell to undo the jinx Malfoy had placed on Neville one afternoon, another leg lock jinx that you'd fixed for him, received another for the muggle book in your possessions and another for deigning to be within six inches of George. The punishment was cruel and twisted but you'd hidden it from Fred, knowing how protective he was and how he'd act out to retaliate against her which would only land him in worse trouble. She seemed to focus on you in particular, for whatever reason you weren't sure but she hardly hid her distaste for you publicly. Fred said it was because of your connection to him and George but you weren't sure, it seemed more personal than that.

It had been Hermione's brilliant idea to forge a sort of rebellion in order to actually learn the practical side of defence and you'd been eager to sign up after attending the first meeting at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, knowing that you had to arm yourself in whatever way you could, the feeling of unease at the current climate always looming overhead. You'd been pleasantly surprised by the turn out, seeing many familiar faces as you'd walked hand in hand with Fred into the small, freezing cold room as you waited for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Cho, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Michael and so many others from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had turned out to fight for the cause and as you looked around the room of friends and familiars, it was evident that this could work.

You'd signed the parchment Hermione had brought with no hesitation, lining up between Fred and Ginny, clearly marking your name under his in the pencil provided. As you walked back to the castle in a group, Fred's arm around you and his hat in your head to keep the cold away from your ears, you felt determined and inspired to make this work. You'd just need to find somewhere to practice away from the prying eyes of the inquisitor.

Then came Educational Decree No.68: All student organisations are henceforth be disbanded. Any student in noncompliance will be expelled.

This time, you weren't angered or afraid of the newly instated restriction but instead felt empowered to rebel. Neville, in a feat of brilliance, had discovered the room of requirement one Saturday afternoon as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. It was perfect, exactly what was needed, and you'd all wasted no time in putting the room to good use.

Within just two weeks, you'd mastered disarming spells, stunning spells, hexes, jinxes and defensive charms that you'd never thought you could do. Ginny had proven herself to be incredibly skilled and you'd stood watching in amazement as two magpies flying around the room, both coming from your boyfriend and his twin. The twins had taken to placing bets, mostly against Ron, all of you in good spirits about finally being able to do magic again. You and Fred took full advantage of being shielded away from the eyes of Hogwarts and had taken to lingering in the room after the sessions so you could be close to each other, to kiss freely and be intimate again. It had seemed so long, so cruel to have to keep away from him, at least in public and as you watched him master spells so effortlessly and looking so deliciously hot as he did it, often with messy hair and rolled up sleeves, it was exactly what you needed to relieve yourself of the building frustrations.

Fun and laughter had once again returned to Hogwarts, though shielded from the regulating eyes, it was just like before. The twins had even taken to pranking again, no longer concerned by the changes, including giving Filch laced chocolates which made him erupt with giant, puss-filled boils on his face when he got too close to the scent of your secret gatherings.

Educational decree No. 82: All students will submit to questioning about suspected illicit activities.

Umbridge had began to gather students for an inquisitorial squad which would earn them credit for joining, most notably the Slytherin students that weaselled their way into Umbridge's good books. Most probably by being pure bloods. They took great pleasure in pulling up the younger students in particular for punishment or questioning and abused their powers frequently.

Then you returned to school after winter break and the news of the Azkaban breakout happened, constant storms were forecasted, Umbridge's cruel regime heightened. Everything felt so restrictive, so unnecessary, so twisted. The only place you found solace was during DA meetings when you could be yourself, free to act and perform as you wanted surrounded by your friends and boyfriend. Always alert at the imposing threat, knowing Filch was on to you all and the rest of the inquisitorial squad which only fuelled you to keep discreet.

It had been a regular day of classes until your DADA lesson where you'd been required by the toad to write an essay on the benefits of conversational reasoning as opposed to practical magic to handle disputes with half breeds and lower class species, such as centaurs. You'd almost immediately refused to write such things, particularly due to the disgusting terms used to class different species but also due to the ridiculous concept.

"I am teaching you verified way of effective communication, in which you do not have to use your wand," she defends with a sickeningly fake smirk.

"Or our brains by taking away our autonomy," you'd argued, not even under your breath.

"Are you questioning my methods of teaching miss y/l/n? By all means if you think you can do better I should like to see you try."

"Can't be hard, Professor Quirrel did a better job and he shared a head and a singular brain cell with Voldemort."

A murmur of concealed laughter burst from the students around you and for a singular moment you felt the victory of it, empowered even.

"Detention!" She's utterly outraged, her face turning a dangerous shade of fuchsia. You could feel the eyes on you, most notably your boyfriend and his twin from across the room but you didn't care. Since returning to school you'd been torn away from Fred, unable to be anywhere near each other and certainly not in a group with your friends as it would break at least three decrees. You were frustrated and had hit breaking point, anger simmering in you but why you didn't know. You'd completely had enough.

"It's a date Dolores," you said sarcastically with the sickliest smile you could muster. More snickers erupted around you and even a clap that sounded suspiciously like it came from the direction of your future brother in law.

"My office, now!" She screams, pointing with her pink tipped finger towards the door. You grabbed your stuff from the desk and walked out without a single look in anyone's direction. On your way to her office, you pulled the special coin from your pocket and checked over the date and time to check you had it right. There was a DA meeting later that evening and you'd hoped this would be over quickly so that you could still attend.

Only, that never happened. Instead you'd been tortured for hours in the cruelest of ways, repeatedly questioned over your involvement with the alleged group and had been forced to drink truth serum until the words had slipped out of your mouth. You'd had no control over it, no way of resisting any longer and with great shame, you'd told her about the room of requirement, completely unable to stop the words from coming out.

The inquisitorial squad was on you in mere moments, as soon as Umbridge had signalled them from outside the door and Malfoy's grubby hands were pulling your weak and exhausted body from the chair before you could even register the intrusion. The things you'd been through, the pain and the anguish, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt at the DA being discovered; you could only pray that you'd held out long enough so that the meeting was over.

"Where is it?!" Umbridge screamed into your face when you wouldn't disclose the exact location of the room of requirement, having already inadvertently let slip that the room was your meeting place. You gave her your darkest look, no longer feeling controlled by whatever she had obviously put in your tea. When she didn't get an answer, her hand struck you hard right across the cheek but you hardly flinched, hardly feeling the pain anymore.

"I know the way Ma'am," Filch said, his saggy face appearing around the corner creepily, his features twisting into a vulgar, perverse smile. You could hardly look at Umbridge's face as it twisted into a pleased, twisted grin as she fixed her jacket and allowed Filch to lead her. Malfoy grabbed hold of your robes tighter in his fist and you were dragged along with them until you reached the seventh floor.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to scream and cry, resist in anyway you could as you fought against Malfoy's hold but you were physically tired and weak. Crabbe had grabbed hold of the other side of you, your thrashing too much for Malfoy to hold down by himself and his hands were much tougher against your skin, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. When the door to the room of requirement didn't appear, you felt hopeful that she'd realise you were lying, even if that meant horrendous consequences for you. There was no way of warning them, nothing you could do to allow them to flee, you'd have to watch as they were all caught redhanded. They'd think you ratted them out, your friends, the love of your life. You knew it was exactly what Umbridge wanted, to turn everyone against you- and she was undoubtedly going to get it.

"Bombarda Maxima," her eerily calm and squeaky voice rang out as she pointed her want at the wall. Your scream mixed in with the large bang as a giant hole was created in the wall, depris and dust flying everywhere.

When the dust cloud cleared, you were dragged off from the side viciously by Malfoy and Crabbe until you were presented in front of the Army- your friends. You didn't want to look up from your spot on the floor, still fighting against their holds on you but something made you look up. And then you met his eyes.

Fred had never looked at you that way, ever. The looks of love and adoration you'd become accustomed to over the years, the playfulness and the intimate looks, it was all gone. The look in his eyes would haunt you forever, the coldness, betrayal and the resentment and it was explicitly clear what his expression told you.

He believed that you ratted them out, believed that you could ever do that to him, to them all.

You had to look away, desperate to see any hope that someone believed you, that someone sympathised with the torment you'd endured but as your eyes travelled across to George, you stopped short. He looked furious with you, disgusted and despite everything you'd been through in the past few hours, you'd receive no sympathy or chance to explain yourself to the people you loved.

You were dragged away as Umbridge dealt with the Army, bestowing threats and punishments upon them that you couldn't hear. You no longer fought against the holds of the Slytherins but instead went willingly, feeling guilty, shame and simply dirty for your role in all of this, even if it wasn't your fault.

Members of the ministry arrived not too long after, having been alerted prior to the discovery of the DA. You couldn't look at Kingsley, much too distraught to see his look of disgust at you, no doubt planning to tell the Order what you'd done. Harry was ushered in not long after having been caught in the skirmish. His newfound hatred of you seemed to radiate off him as he stood beside you and this alone made you want to scream and cry out of frustration, tears welling in your eyes that you wouldn't allow to spill.

The final straw was when Percy walked in, without so much as a glimmer of recognition towards you and took over from Malfoy to restrain you and Harry, keeping the shoulder of your robe balled up in his hand. The minister ordered him to dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet and he diligently nodded, trying to manoeuvre you along with him.

"Get off me Weatherby," you demanded viciously, fighting against his hold and managing to break free, only to be stopped as you all looked on in amazement as Dumbledore disappeared out of sight in a magnificent display.

You'd hoped after that, you'd be able to get Harry alone, to explain yourself to him, to tell him what had happened but he'd completely avoided you, blanked you entirely. You hardly blamed him but you needed to explain, to clear your name. Umbridge then commanded Harry to join her in the hall where the punishment was being conducted, all of the DA together.

You'd been permitted to return to your dorm after the meeting had finished but you stood outside of the hall doors, desperate to see Fred and explain yourself, hoping he could bring you at least an ounce of comfort. Your head was pounding from the pain earlier and the marks on your arms were throbbing, sore and weeping though you fought not to look at them, knowing the pain would only be worse when you saw what was tormenting you. You couldn't go to Madame pomfrey, Umbridge had made that very clear and so you suffered in complete silence until you could reach out for your friends.

You lingered outside of the door for what felt like hours, the anxiety and the nerves you felt seemingly freezing time. When the doors opened, the members of the DA began pouring out with soured looks on their faces which only heightened when they caught sight of you. It was never hard to spot Fred and George amongst a crowd, their towering height easily distinguishable amongst a sea of people.

The look on everyone's face was near identical, the disgust and the resentment evident in their eyes as they spotted you but none clearer than the twins. George looked like he detested you, his face scrunched into a look of utter distaste, eyes glaring into you as he walked past without a care. Fred looked away, ignoring your presence completely as he glided past you without muttering a single word, his face stone cold and void of expression.

"Freddie, please," you said weakly and emotionally, with tears in your eyes, turning around in the spot as he walked past you. But nothing, he didn't turn, didn't react, simply walked away without so much as a single glance.

"Harry," you implored, taking a step towards him but he too blanked you again, pushing past you and walking quickly up the steps to avoid you.

You stood alone in the cold and empty corridor, feeling more isolated and alone than you ever had and finally allowed yourself to cry. Silent tears fell down your cheeks, shoulders sagging as you cried for everything you had undoubtedly lost, for the treatment you'd received and for the pain you still felt in your head and arms. Finding a spot in a hidden corner, you finally allowed yourself to pull up the sleeve of your robe and look upon the damage that Umbridge had inflicted with her sadistic quill. It was horrendous, an onslaught of slurs and vicious words etched into your body, no doubt intentionally done to leave the scars as a permanent reminder.

You sobbed your heart out in that little nook between two cold, stone pillars as you tried desperately to heal the marks but no spell was strong enough even to numb it in your weakened state.

You eventually made your way to Gryffindor tower, stepping through the portrait and finding the common room practically deserted. You sighed and walked up the stone steps to your dorm, only to find that the door had been shut and your blanket and pillow had been thrown outside of it, a clear sign you were not welcome even within your own dorm. You were painfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and cry into your pillow until you eventually passed out. But you didn't even deserve that.

With a heavy sigh, you collected your blanket and pillow and trudged down the steps back towards the common room, eyes blurry through a mixture of tiredness and tears. You stopped short the second you crossed the last step, seeing Fred and George step in through the portrait hole, your stomach flipping nervously as you anticipated a barrage of insults or horrible pranks, their allegiance turning from you now.

"Fred, Freddie please," you begged, dropping your makeshift bedding to walk towards him, trying to reach out for him. You paused as you saw the redness on the back of his left hand, a clearly fresh punishment, 'I must not break rules'. George intercepts immediately and barges past you, blocking you from getting to Fred as he turns his twin away from you.

"You think you know someone," George mutters as he gently nudges Fred up the stairs, sending you a vicious glare before he walks up after him, once again leaving you alone. Fred didn't even spare a single glance at you, not even to recoil away.

You curled up in a corner armchair as soon as the tears appeared, pathetically dragging the blanket over you and cried until you fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair.

The two weeks that followed were the absolute worst weeks of your life. Umbridge had stripped you of everything you loved in one fell swoop, turned everyone against you and left the place you called home feeling miserable and lonely. You deserved it, you knew that, having ratted them out. You'd antagonised her and now had to live through then consequences, as cruel and twisted as they were.

The glares from everyone you had once called friends hadn't stopped, especially from George, which hurt the most. Fred had outright ignored any effort you'd made to reach out to him, no matter how desperate you'd sounded or how hard you'd tried to make him understand. He didn't care. He believed the lie.

The first week you'd tried to take your meals with the rest of the Gryffindors but it was made abundantly clear to you that you were not permitted nor welcome to join your friends and had been cruelly banished to the end of the table, beside the first years. The second week you'd stopped attending meals at all, not able to push through the shame and embarrassment of being cast away, exiled from your group. Lessons were monotonous and any down time was utterly excruciating as you were left enclosed with the other Gryffindors, namely your ex boyfriend, though no one would make any contact with you. You'd tried to sleep in your dorm but the girls had done nearly everything to prevent you from actually sleeping, talking loudly, setting off whizzbangs inside your curtains and had even transfigured your blanket a few times to varying degrees of horrid things. At the end of the night when you were certain everyone was asleep, usually very late, you'd creep down to the common room and huddle into your uncomfortable chair to sleep, only to be woken mere hours later when the first of the easy risers woke up. Your life was hell.

"There's just something I don't understand," Hermione says as they all stand on the bridge, the golden trio, Ginny and the Twins, all wrapped up in warm clothes and sweaters as they discuss the changes put into place since Umbridge had taken over as Headmistress. Naturally, the conversation had diverted to you, something Fred was entirely displeased about. The group turn to Hermione after her words, intrigued by the change in tone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them again, as if building the strength to say her next sentence.

"I jinxed the enrolment parchment, for Dumbledore's Army," she admits, not quite meeting the gaze of the group around her. "It was purely a preventative measure, incase we were betrayed by one of our own. The person who disclosed any secrets would be jinxed to break out in spots, to spell out 'sneak' across their forehead, so we knew who the betrayer was. Y/N didn't have that, she never even had a single spot."

"Blimey Hermione," Ron says a little breathlessly, disbelieving she'd have actually gone that far.

"I know," she says a little defensively, "I just can't work out how she got around it!"

"Maybe she wrote her name wrong? Did she know about the jinx?" Harry suggests but Hermione shook her head, at the very same time that Ginny replied.

"I was behind her, I saw her write her name. It was right."

"Maybe the jinx didn't work?" Harry suggests carefully but stops himself when he receives a forceful glare from Hermione at the very notion of her failure.

"What does it matter? She dobbed us in wether or not she's covered in spots!" Ron says rather harshly, leaning against the wooden bannister.

Fred can't listen anymore, completely overwhelmed by the conversation and the thought of you betraying them. He turns and walks off back towards the castle without so much as a word to the others, not even his twin, and ignores their calls of his name as they watch him fade into the distance.

Spotting you sitting alone in the corner of the room when he returns to the common room, he frowns to himself. He'd known you since the moment you stepped on the Hogwarts express and had loved you for nearly just as long. It was wrong to see you sat alone, so sad and without the usual spark you naturally emitted. Everyone had always been drawn to you, your humour and wit, your dazzling smile, the fact you made everyone aroun you feel comfortable and valued. Too many boys had been drawn to you for his liking but you'd never even given them the time of day, never once wavering in your loyalty to him or ever made him doubt that it was him you wanted. You'd spent years supporting him, helping him and George develop their products, cheering for him loudly at every Quidditch game and had wormed your way into the hearts of every single one of his family members. Secretly, it crushed him to see you so lonely and tired, even if he still felt the sting of your betrayal.

It didn't add up, though he wouldn't disclose this to any of the more angered members of the group, why you would do such a thing. You'd been excited to start the DA, had joined in enthusiastically, kept the secret for so long and most of all you completely despised Umbridge. He couldn't deny that he still loved you, even though he was conflicted with his feelings now, he still held out hope that this would all go away, that there was a reasonable explanation but his anger wouldn't allow him to listen. It killed him to push you away, wanting nothing more than for things to return to normal but he felt a deep sense of betrayal that he couldn't shift.

"Fred?" He heard from behind him, pulling him out of his musings making him realise that he'd been staring at you all this time as he turned towards the person addressing him. Her name was Emery Atkinson, a Gryffindor from the year below that he'd never really acknowledged or spent much time with.

"Yeah?" He replies politely though he couldn't escape the edge of irritation after being pulled away from his thoughts. He watches as the girl giggles as soon as he acknowledges her and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh good I got the right twin!" She giggles, ignorant to the blank look she received from Fred. "I was wondering if you had some canary creams I could buy? My brother loves them and it's his birthday soon. Your inventions are so clever, I don't know how you and George find the time between your studies and Quidditch, it must be exhausting. You're so good as Quidditch, I always cheer you on. Plus your girlfriend, but I heard that you weren't together anymore right?"

Truthfully, Fred had only registered the first half of her speech, tuning out after Canary Creams but his attention had been drawn back at the mention of you. He can't help but feel that little stab of sadness at the mention of you, especially someone referring to you as his girlfriend, or Ex rather. In the back of his mind he wonders if you heard that, from your short distance away, he hoped not.

"I still can't believe it, why would she do that? If I was with you I wouldn't even dream of ruining it." She sounds faux-scandalised and quite frankly, rather bitchy as he reaches out to touch the sleeve of his sweater. Fred doesn't humour her and instead takes half a step back subtly, reaching to scratch the back of his head as a discreet way of getting her off.

"Er, yeah I think we have some creams leftover, I'll send George over with some later, alright?"

"Not you?" She says with a sad little face, trying out her best puppy dog eyes that have absolutely no affect on him.

"George deals with the confectionery," he says a little too quickly; which is a complete lie. "Sorry, I've got somewhere to be but I'll let him know you're interested in buying."

He breaks away, giving her a forced but polite smile and a brief, parting wave but it's awkward and he's inwardly cringing as soon as he puts his hand down. Turning to where you had been sat in the chair, he notices you've disappeared and he is instantly overcome with a wave of guilt. You'd heard it all.

—

The next few days passed in blur for Fred, his mind wandering between what he was doing and thoughts of you, like he couldn't concentrate for more than a minute. He felt so conflicted within himself, made worse by the time spent apart from you, the longing beginning to set in. He'd never really been apart from you for very long, at most only a few weeks during the summer holidays and even then you'd have sent numerous letters by now, keeping in contact as much as you could until you were back beside each other. Now it was just torture, having you so close but so far away and the knowledge that he was the one that had pushed you away only furthered his guilt and internal conflict.

Fred was in a terrible mood, battling his thoughts, surviving on very little sleep and now the threat of her sadistic punishment was the icing on the cake of a really crap day when he and George had been forced to Umbridge's office. Harry had been caught trying to use the floo, to alert the order or escape and had been caught red handed by Umbridge. Each member of the DA had been frogmarched into the office, shoved and restrained by members of the inquisitorial squad and each member looked as uneasy as the next. His stomach turned when he saw Ginny held down by Goyle and he fought to get out of Graham Montegue's hold but it was useless when Umbridge mindlessly cast a spell to subdue him.

Harry was sat in the chair in the centre of the room, the first to be questioned with Umbridge hovering dangerously close to him, her temper boiling over as she speaks frantically in his face.

"You were going to Dumbledore weren't you?" She says, leaning down threateningly in front of Harry.

"No," Harry responds.

"Liar!" She screams back and in a move that shocks each member of the DA, she pulls back her hand and slaps Harry hard around the face, the harsh sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

She pauses for a moment, simply glaring at Harry until her face twists into a sick, twisted grin as she straightens up and composes herself, each movement carefully thought out as she turns her back to him.

"Very well, you give me no choice Potter," she says with an even cadence, her tone dangerously low. "As this is an issue of Ministry security, you leave me with... no alternative, unless Professor Snape arrives within moments."

Fred feels like he can hardly breathe, the tension and unease in the air so thick that the room feels like it's getting smaller by the second. The unpredictability of the woman before them was alarming, the dangerous undertone of her voice despite her light and breezy tone was almost scarier than his worst nightmare.

"The cruciatus curse ought to loosen your tongue," she says, adjusting her pink jacket.

"That's illegal," Hermione states in outrage but Umbridge hardly flinches. Instead, she reaches out for the photo frame of the minister on her desk and pauses briefly to look at it before turning it over and lying it down flat on the desk, so that Fudge could not see her next move. She straightens herself and extends her wand, only to stop when Snape appears by the door, his eyes fixed to her outstretched wand that was pointed directly at Harry.

"You sent for me Headmistress?"

"Snape, yes," she says, taking a step back and everyone in the room exhales, relaxing only slightly. "The time has come for answers, wether he wants to give them to me or not," she says, her eyes flicking to Harry only briefly.

"Might I suggest against the cruciatus curse this time headmistress," he says evenly and carefully, "the consequences of such an audience might be... disagreeable. In fact I would hesitate in conducting any of the prior disciplinary methods in this instance.""

This time? She'd used the cruciatus curse before? And on a student? Prior disciplinary methods? Fred thinks, did he mean the quill?

"Very well," she says after a moment of pondering, her arm falling to her side as she relents, eyes wandering over the all too familiar Quill that sits proudly on her desk before her gaze shifts back to Snape. "Have you brought the veritaserum?"

"I'm afraid you've used up all my stores, the last of it interrogating Miss y/l/n."

Snape carries on speaking but Fred doesn't hear a single word, blood rushing to his ears as his heart pounds. He feels like he's received a stray bludger straight to the chest, his stomach dropping with fresh shame, sadness and overwhelming guilt.

Suddenly it all made sense. She'd tortured you into giving out the information- the cruciatus curse, veritaserum, what else had she done to you?

He couldn't help but let out a dry sob at the information, sensing everyone's eyes on him at the news. He struggled against the holds with everything in him, needing to fix what he'd broken.

He'd believed them, so quickly, believed that you could have betrayed them like that. The pain you must have felt, the loneliness and the guilt and then after your whole ordeal he had cast you aside, pushed you away and never given you a single chance to explain.

He eventually turned to look at George who looked utterly broken by the news, his regretful inner thoughts so evident upon his face. Each member of the DA looked a mixture of guilty, sheepish and sad, realising how wrong they'd been about you and what they'd done to someone who had once been their friend, someone who had suffered so much for all of them.

The meeting seemed to go abhorrently slowly until Umbridge left with Harry and Hermione on a sort of mission based upon a quickly constructed lie and Fred didn't waste a single moment before turning around on the spot and punching Graham Montegue straight in the face as soon as Umbridge had left. Seizing the momentary upper hand, the remaining members of the DA turned on the inquisitorial squad and fired an array of jinxes and spells at them in order to get away.

"Fred, Go!" George had urged whilst stunning Crabbe, allowing Ginny to step free. Malfoy fought back but he was quickly matched by Angelina who covered for Fred, blocking the exit.

"Go, she needs you!" Angelina shouted as she sent a jinx flying towards Cassius Warrington's smug face.

Fred didn't hang about and immediately ran out of the office and towards the common room where he was praying you'd be. It was quiet on the main staircases, perhaps it seemed much quieter because of the lack of portraits and bare walls but even to the few people Fred passed, he offered no explanation nor cared about what they thought. He needed to find you.

"Y/n!" He said bursting through the portrait hole and scanning the common room for you, checking the chair you'd so often occupied but found nothing except a couple of bewildered faces at his strange outburst.

"Y/n?" He called again, walking up the stairs towards the dormitories but received no reply. In his haste, he accidentally misstepped as he climbed up to the girls dorm and nearly triggered the blocking slide to appease but fortunately managed to regain his balance and stress carefully over the path he'd taken so many times before, the secret message in the steps that allowed him to breach the rules.

He threw open your dormitory door and stopped blankly when he found nothing. Your bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, there was hardly any of your things around the bed and the room. Had he come to the wrong room?

"Fred?" Your voice said shyly from behind him and he whipped around to see you looking up at him hesitantly from near the door, holding a few things in your arms and your robe tied tightly around your chest.

"Y/n," he says with a sigh of relief, moving forwards quickly to reach out to you but once again stopping short as he noticed you visibly flinch at his sudden movement. Suddenly the overwhelming agony of guilt and regret hit him anew and he vowed to slow down, hoping not to scare you away.

"I'm so sorry," he said, voice breaking slightly as he looked at your tired, sullen face and those wide, scared eyes. He'd never seen you look so broken and it killed him.

"I didn't, I don't ," he stutters, dropping to sit on the side of your bed. "You haven't been sleeping here have you?"

There's a minor pause and he wonders if you're actually going to reply to him, if he even deserves it, until you step forward and place your things down onto the bedside table. He watches in silence, noting the large book and a few packaged bandages that slip onto the table as you gingerly take a seat beside him, your feet no longer touching the floor.

"Kind of hard to when you're banished by the rest of your dorm," you reply quietly. He can't detect the tone of your voice, expecting it to be sarcastic or unhappy but it actually sounds flat and completely void of emotion.

"The chair," he realises, "you've been sleeping in that chair?" He's slightly bewildered and profoundly ashamed now, not having clicked until now that you'd been there early in a morning and late in the night, much later than you'd ever typically stayed up before. You shrug and turn your attention away, though you're yet to actually meet his eyes.

He drags a deep breath in through his teeth, resisting the urge to hang his head low on his shoulders.

"Y/n, I am so sorry, I, I don't even have words," he says, stumbling over his words- something so uncharacteristic for him that it briefly startles you. "You didn't deserve this, even if you had told Umbridge about us, no one deserves this. We were all so shocked that it could be you, of all people. We never stopped to think of why," he pauses again, steadying himself. "Snape admitted what she did to you, she tried to use it on Harry but he stopped him."

"But the quill was broken? How could she use it on Harry?" You say, finally looking up with a look of complete confusion.

"What quill?" Fred asks, completely lost himself, "the black quills? I meant the cruciatus curse, she, I mean she, on you, didn't she?"

Your silence says everything and he has to close his eyes and steady his breathing at your silent confirmation.

"What quill?" Fred feels a little bolder now and reaches for you but you pull your arm back and place it in your lap, trying not to wince as you catch the healing scars. "This one?"

He holds out his hand and shows you the faint markings from his punishment, 'I must not break rules' barely visible now. He frowns when you shake your head but don't offer any other explanation. He's frustrated that he's not getting anywhere but it's internal and he knows it's not your fault, he just wishes he could help, or go back in time and fix everything.

"Tell me, please," he says, keeping his eyes locked in the side of your face, trying to urge you to look at him. "What happened in that detention?"

"It doesn't matter," you say quickly, hopping down off the bed and stepping over to your trunk to get a fresh shirt from the laundry pile, knowing it would need changing. "I've got to shower."

You go to turn away but Fred lunges for you and grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, making you cry out in pain as soon as his fingers make contact with the tender skin. As soon as the shock wears off, he frowns, looking down at your arm before looking up to your face, seeing tears falling down your cheeks.

"Please baby, please just tell me," he says, voice breaking as his own tears well up in his eyes.

"She told you about the veritaserum?" You ask, assuming anyway and Fred nods. "Then you know what you need to know."

"No, I don't," he says quickly, trying to think of ways to stop you leaving without hurting you. "She used an unforgivable curse on you! Gave you truth serum, you cried when I touched your arm and you have bandages on your bedside table, please just tell me what happened!"

"Fine," you say, pulling your arm back. "You want to know? She tried to force it out of me, tried to get me to drink the stupid tea but I wouldn't. When that didn't work she pulled out that little stupid quill and wrote anything she wanted all over me. You wanted to know about the bandages? Fine," you said viciously, clawing at the fastening of your robe. Underneath was your once crisp, white shirt that had a considerable amount of red blood staining the sleeve. You didn't stop undressing, all but ripping the buttons away as you fought to show Fred what was underneath.

Bandages littered your forearms, with blood oozing out the sides. Fred's frozen as he looks at the bandages on your body, sick to his stomach already.

"Did you know Snape is a skilled occlumens? I didn't, I do now. So after she was playing with that sadistic little quill, writing whatever she wanted into my skin, he enters my mind and shows me every single fear I've ever had, every nightmare. But I didn't say a word, not a single fucking word. Do you know what it's like to have visions forced into your own mind of your boyfriend dying in front of you repeatedly, over and over until you start to go mad? All whilst your skin is slashed open just to get you to talk? Only it didn't work, so she dropped the quill and picked up her wand. I've never felt closer to death in my life but still so far away from it. But I wouldn't talk. So she forced veritaserum in my mouth and I couldn't stop it, she got what she wanted no matter what I'd fought for. And the best part? They don't heal, not truly. Nothing I do stops it, like a constant reminder of what happened."

"Princess," Fred chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks, fighting to hold back his sobs at your words.

"No, not princess," you say sternly, emotions all falling from your face. "Not anymore."

"Please, I want to make this right, anything I can do, I want to support you," he says, nearly begging. "I have to make this right, I can't lose you."

"No."

Your voice is harsh and stern, your face expressionless again. "You believed them so easily, you all did. You believed I could do that to you, without hesitation. You didn't let me explain, never even looked at me because you were so certain that I could have done it. I've been exiled, banished and forgotten by all of you I called friends without a single thought. So you and your stupid brother and the rest of Dumbledore's friggin army can go fuck yourselves, it's not my fight anymore."

Fred flinches as the door slams shut behind you and he's left to sob openly, his devastation consuming him. Eventually when he returns to his own dorm, George says nothing upon seeing his twin's stricken face and his curtains fully closing around the bed.

The next morning, Fred has already left the dorm by the time George wakes up and doesn't see him at all around the common room or the hall, though he's not surprised. But when he doesn't show to his lessons, George worries and goes in search for his twin with increasing worry. Eventually, he finds him in the library, pouring over an array of books from the restricted section, most of them about healing spells and anatomy.

"Freddie?"

When Fred looks up with red rimmed eyes and an intense look in his eyes, it's clear to George that Fred hadn't slept. "Whatever it is, let me help."

One week. It took one week of endlessly pouring over book after book until they finally found options.

It's early morning on a Saturday when Fred creeps down to the common room was before the sun has risen, seeing you hunched over in your chair. Angelina had told him that they'd apologised profusely to you and had accepted you back with open arms back to the dormitory but you'd simply walked away and carried on sleeping by the fire, not yet willing to forgive them for the treatment you'd endured.

"Y/n, y/n, wake up," he says quietly, carefully touching your shoulder, trying to avoid anywhere that he had seen bandaged.

"Freddie?" You ask sleepily and his heart soars with hope at the noise, the familiarity of it abs the softness of your voice so heartwarming.

"I have something to show you, me and George," he says lightly, waiting for you to wake up.

"Told you both to get fucked," you mumble, squashing any hope he had, but he perseveres.

"Just this once prince-y/n, please," he says quietly. You open your eyes, seeing him still dressed in his pyjamas, pleading with his eyes and looking so vulnerable that you relent and agree to whatever he had planned. Throwing back the blanket, you surprise a groan at the stiffness in your neck and diligently follow him back up the stairs towards his dorm, accepting his hand as he guides you. Your hand fits perfectly into his, just as it always had.

"Where's Lee?" You say as you walk into the dorm room, seeing only George who gives you a small but timid smile.

"Bunking with Ron," Fred says somewhat vaguely, gesturing for you to sit on his bed. The room looks exactly as you remember albeit slightly less dishevelled than you'd experienced previously, but you don't mention anything. Fred takes a seat beside you and George moves forward, grabbing a book from the chair beside his bed.

"We don't know if this will work," George says.

"But it's better than nothing," Fred finishes, gingerly reaching out for your hand.

"What?"

"The wounds," George says gently, "Fred told me, we just want to make them better. Might not get rid of them completely but it's worth a shot."

"Found this in an old healing book, it's a counter curse for wound healing by curse," Fred says, taking the book from George to show you. "Figured Umbridge's quill must have been cursed so this might work. Please let us help."

All it takes is a nod from you, albeit slightly hesitant but truthfully there was no one you trusted more than the twins, before at least.

You could hardly look them in the eyes as you pulled away the bandages, the vile words etched into your skin by her personal sadistic quill. You heard George inhale at the deepest cut along your inner right forearm but didn't react, knowing it would be shocking to anyone.

"Take my hand, if it hurts too much all you have to do is squeeze and we'll stop, okay baby?"

Biting down on your lip to stifle your cries, you hold Fred's hand tightly as George begins to cast the counter-curse, each of you watching on with rapt attention and slight amazement as the cuts begin to slowly knit together. It was working.

You whimper as he works over the deepest, the same one Fred had accidentally caught the week before and Fred's hand squeezes yours automatically for support.

"You're doing so well sweetheart, it'll be over soon I promise," he says quietly in your ear, comforting you in anyway he could.

After the last cut is sealed, George immediately drops down to sit onto his bed, his concentration and energy depleted from focusing so hard. You can't believe it as you look down at your arms, no longer seeing blood and only able to see the faintest of marks and redness where the wounds had once been. Only then do tears begin to fall from your eyes as you launch yourself towards Fred, throwing your arms around him in appreciation. He steadies himself after a moment of being caught off guard and holds you tightly against him, shushing you gently as you cry. His arms wrap around you so perfectly, so protectively and his smell comforts you like to no other, exactly as you remember.

"You did so well, so well, it's okay baby," he coos into your ear. You pull apart slowly and immediately walk over to George, pulling him into a hug though it's a lot less intimate.

"Thank you both so much," you sniffle.

"You're welcome," they answer at the same time, making you smile.

"We've missed you," George says after a moment. "I'm so sorry for what you went through and for what I said. I should have known it wasn't your fault, you've been my best friend for so long and I'm so ashamed of myself for how easily I believed her over you, that should never have happened."

"And you know how sorry I am," Fred says, walking over to you and kneeling down until he's directly in front of you.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I was an idiot for ever thinking it was you. I know things can't ever go back to how they were before, but I love you so much that I can't lose you. Seeing you hurting almost broke me and I know that you might need time or never see me again but you need to know exactly how I still feel about you."

"It's not just you," you say in reply, heaving out a long breathe, "I pushed people away."

"We deserved it," George says.

"Baby," Fred says gently, getting your attention. "I don't know how to fix this or how to make things better, but I'll do anything. I was an idiot, a complete git but I'll spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please say this isn't ruined."

For the first time since the incident, you allow yourself to feel hopeful that things could get better, that Fred could love you again. Sat surrounded by the two people you loved most in the world, you finally felt the love and protection you'd been needing since that awful night.

"I want that," you say quietly, picking at the blanket under your fingers, "I just want things to just go back to normal." You raise your eyes up to Fred's to see him smiling back at you, clearly pleased with your words.

"Well, let's start with this then," he says with a mischievous smirk, leaning towards you painfully slowly as if he's giving you plenty of time to say no or push him away. His soft lips press against yours gently and you can't help but feel a warmth spread all over your body, almost like you were defrosting and returning back to you're usual self. His hand reaches up to cup the side of your jaw and you're certain you can feel a fear hit your cheek, though it doesn't come from you.

The next morning, you walk hand in hand with Fred into the great hall for breakfast and sit right back at the centre of the table with your friends. You assume Fred or George had threatened them not to say anything as everyone around you acts normal, pretending the previous weeks didn't exist, though one by one they all apologised to you, most notably Ron and Harry. Ginny thought you were badass for everything you'd been through, not relenting even though you'd been tortured into eventually revealing the secret. Hermione had apologised so eloquently and thoroughly that you both ended up crying in the common room as she explained about the jinxed parchment and how she'd held out hope that it hadn't been you.

Each person made it up to you in anyway they could, admitting their mistakes and regrets and though you would probably never forget, you chose to forgive.

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phoenixyfriend · 4 months ago

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I had a very long Star Wars dream last night. Baffling level of narrative coherency for a dream.

Started out with Obi-Wan Kenobi, our bespectacled thirty-something, going to a university for a Grad Student thing. He's been working for nonprofits for some time, and wants to get a degree to further his work.

He gets to an advisor's office, (which is a Generic Salt-And-Pepper White Man buuuuuut we could probably swap out for an actual AU, maybe make it Mace?) who walks him through the courses and prereqs and so on. Great. All going good. He goes out to some kind of program meeting with his fellow grad students (some straight out of undergrad, some his age) and a sort of team lead person who is… Anakin Skywalker.

And it is. Tense. Like 'everyone can feel it' tense. Anakin's doing something Doctoral, whatever, and his purpose right now is to Program Manage these grad students in another department (Anakin does some analytics and database stuff for the department), and one of those students is Obi-Wan Kenobi and nobody can figure out what the damage is.

They attempt professionalism. They are… cordial. They avoid each other otherwise.

Several weeks in, there's a "we should talk confrontation" and Anakin blows up because the time to talk was years ago, Obi-Wan! Like five to ten years ago! When shit went down!

FLASHBACK TIME: These two were doing crime. It was a team of seven. I don't remember all of whom were involved but it was definitely them two, Rex and Cody, maybe Quinlan? and a few other people. (Not Ahsoka, she was excluded for safety because teenager).

They were probably doing some kind of Leverage stuff but also possibly some domestic terrorism. A job went bad, Cody died, and they all kinda split to do their own things. Partly this was to dodge law enforcement, but partly it was because they were all fucked up and grieving.

Obi-Wan wanted to take some time to himself to grieve, which Anakin was upset about because they're not just brothers in arms, they're basically brothers, at least in Anakin's eyes, and they had a huge blow-up fight about it. They haven't spoken since.

(Rex is in Anakin's life again. He acts as an Uncle figure to the twins. He is also… not in the best mental space, considering his own dead brother.)

Obi-Wan ends up getting pulled aside to talk to someone, probably Mace or Yoda, and a no-criminal-activity version of the story spills out. And it's very 'well what the fuck am I supposed to do with that' because the person pulling him aside was thinking it was like… they had a one-night stand before the program started and now they don't know how to navigate the power dynamic, not grief and distance and family bullshit.

IDK where it was gonna go from there, I think they were still circling each other like feral cats trying to decide what to do when I woke up.

(There was a sideplot about Padme and the twins doing fun things in the basement, but the fun things included a well that they'd use to act out Alice in Wonderland and other insane stuff. Which they loved but was weird. Why do you have a well that's at least ten feet deep in your basement, Padme. Why are you putting your kids in there. Also I had to run away from a bunch of wasps into a pool.)

Rex and Cody! Are just! Background Grief Bullshit! But it hovers over the entire fic.

I think Quinlan should bully his way back into Obi-Wan's life before the plot starts.

And he's the one that angles Obi-Wan into going to This Specific University. That Anakin's at.

He didn't expect them to be that close contact, just wanted them to run into each other in the hall and make amends. In my mind, the timeline is that the crime group broke up for opsec, then a year or two later Quinlan shows up on Obi-Wan's doorstep with intent to Friendship.

Obi-Wan would have done the same with Anakin but their fight was so big and horrible that he doesn't think he'd be welcome.

NGL even in the dream I was like "wow this seems like a really intense Obikin fic concept," but every time I thought about it, the dream would hammer in on the BROTHERS thing again.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #the clone wars #captain rex #commander cody #padme amidala #mace windu #modern au #college au #phoenix posts #dreams #do not tag as cod*wan

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darkintothedawn · 27 days ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — It's Stiles' birthday and you decide to play a great indoor scavenger hunt along side his dad to celebrate it.

Memo— This is kinda bad and weird but wtv! My google docs keeps autocorrecting everything to the American spelling and that's a level of editing I do not have the motivation for.

Word Count — 7786

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures

You never thought you’d be the type to conspire with a sheriff, but here you were—crouched behind the kitchen island of the Stilinski household with a roll of duct tape, two packs of command strips, and a small mountain of LED tea lights. Sheriff Noah Stilinski stood beside you, hands on his hips, eyes darting toward the window every few minutes like he was expecting someone to pull into the driveway mid-glitter-splosion.

"Are you sure he’s gonna be out long enough for this?" you whispered, taping a gold-edged clue card to the side of the fridge.

Noah raised a brow. "He’s with Scott. That means there's at least one detour to a comic book store and an intense debate about the best Star Wars trilogy. You’ve got time."

You smiled to yourself, heart warming at the image of Stiles animatedly ranting about plot inconsistencies while Scott pretended to follow. It was exactly why you loved him—unapologetically nerdy, wildly passionate, and so easy to adore in every way.

You looked around at the mess of craft supplies, fairy lights, and the now half-completed “adventure route” you’d mapped out through the Stilinski home. The plan was simple: a scavenger hunt made just for Stiles, based on memories you’d shared and inside jokes no one else would get. Each clue would lead him to a different room, each with a small gift, a photo, or a note from you—something that whispered, “I see you. I know you. I love you.”

"Okay," you said, laying out the next few clue cards in a careful line across the dining table. "Station two is the couch. That’s where we fell asleep watching The Princess Bride after pretending we didn’t like rom-coms."

Noah chuckled, leaning over to stick a photo strip of the two of you—taken at a rickety fairground photo booth—next to the couch’s armrest. "He told me he only stayed awake through that movie because you were resting your head on his shoulder."

You grinned. "He’s full of it. He quoted like half the movie."

The Sheriff smiled at that, shaking his head fondly. “You know,” he said softly, “he hasn’t shut up about you since the day you met. Even when I’m trying to watch the game.”

That made your chest ache in the best way. You paused a moment, absorbing that, then quickly ducked your head before emotion ruined your timeline.

“Okay, okay, back to work before I get all sappy and start crying into the fairy lights.”

With a snort, Noah grabbed a handful of battery-powered candles and helped you line the hallway. You arranged them like breadcrumbs leading down toward the final “treasure” room—Stiles' bedroom, which you’d temporarily claimed and transformed. You’d swapped out his usual Star Wars bedding for crisp new sheets in navy blue, added a cozy pile of pillows to the bed, and lit more soft lights around the room to make it feel like a sanctuary.

At the foot of the bed, you placed the last envelope: a handwritten note with the words, “For your eyes only.” Inside it, a love letter. Honest, messy, a little goofy—just like the two of you.

And on his desk sat your final gift. Not expensive, not flashy, but meaningful—a scrapbook filled with memories, polaroids, receipts from midnight milkshake runs, ticket stubs from your first horror movie date, and even a page dedicated to the time you both got drenched during a summer thunderstorm and ended up dancing in the street.

You looked at it all, then turned to Noah.

"I think… I think he’s gonna love it."

The sheriff gave you a long look—kind, warm, the kind that saw everything without having to say much. "He’s gonna lose his damn mind."

You smiled through the lump in your throat.

As you tucked the final clue under a cushion on the living room couch and set the playlist to something soft and low, you felt a flutter in your chest—not from nerves, but from knowing that, for once, it was just going to be you and him. No pack emergencies, no monsters or magical curses—just Stiles and the kind of love that glows warm like fairy lights, steady like candlelight, and comfortable like home.

And really, wasn’t that the best kind of magic?

You barely had time to blink before your phone buzzed with a message from Scott: "Headed back now. He won’t shut up about his birthday theory. I think he suspects aliens."

Classic Stiles.

Your eyes widened as you spun toward Noah. “That’s the cue. Time to evacuate, Sheriff.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “Alright, alright, I know when I’m no longer needed.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the dining chair, casting one last glance around the transformed space. “You really pulled it off. He’s gonna love it. And if he doesn’t cry, I’m demanding a DNA test.”

You laughed as you walked him to the door. “If he doesn’t cry, I will. So someone’s shedding a tear tonight.”

With a final wink, he stepped outside and you quickly shut the door behind him. Heart thudding, you reached into your hoodie pocket and pulled out the final touch—a folded note in your own messy handwriting, sealed with a little doodle of a cartoon bat (because, of course, Stiles once swore your first date was interrupted by a vampire, and the joke just never died).

You taped it right to the center of the front door. "Welcome Home, Birthday Boy. The Game is Afoot. -Your Soon to Be Betrothed" Below that, a tiny arrow pointing down toward the doormat where you’d placed Clue #1.

You took one last sweep of the house, heart rattling against your ribs like a caged thing. Everything was in place—the photos, the tiny trail of lights, the ambient music playing low on the Bluetooth speaker. His favorite hoodie of yours draped casually on the back of the couch, just in case he missed it (which he wouldn’t). Even the snack tray in the kitchen with his beloved sour gummy worms and blue Gatorade was right there waiting.

And then—go time.

You bolted for his bedroom, nerves sparking like static under your skin. In the closet, you’d already cleared out a little corner—just enough room to crouch down behind his jackets and slide the door mostly shut, letting just a sliver of light in from the room beyond.

As you ducked into your hiding spot, pulse in your throat, you stifled a giggle. This was ridiculous. And perfect.

You could already picture the expression on his face—the way his brows would knit together at the first clue, that focused little squint he got when he was in “mystery mode.” You imagined the amused eye-roll when he realized it was you orchestrating the hunt, not some cryptic supernatural threat. He’d roll his eyes. He’d mutter something sarcastic.

And then he’d smile. That soft, crooked smile—the one he only ever gave you, like he couldn’t believe he got to have you.

You hugged your knees to your chest, the closet suddenly feeling impossibly warm. Your palms were sweating. Your stomach fluttered so hard it felt like you’d swallowed a flock of birds.

But it wasn’t fear. Not even close.

It was the anticipation of seeing him—just him. Your favorite person, your ridiculous, rambling, brilliant mess of a boyfriend, walking through the door completely unaware of what you’d put together.

And for once, there were no monsters waiting. Just love. Just home.

Just you.

You held your breath as you heard the distant sound of tires crunching gravel in the driveway. A car door slam. Footsteps.

He was here.

And the game had begun.

Stiles was mid-rant when he stepped out of the Jeep, his phone still in hand as he dramatically pointed it toward Scott, who was already halfway down the sidewalk.

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice carrying, “if there were a secret government facility under the Beacon Hills library, they wouldn’t make it obvious. That’s literally the point of secret government facilities. You hide them under places no one wants to go. Like—like DMV buildings. Or vegan juice bars.”

Scott didn’t even respond. He just threw him a knowing look over his shoulder and gave a casual, two-fingered salute before disappearing around the corner.

“Traitor,” Stiles muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket as he turned toward the house.

And paused.

There was something taped to the front door.

Something that did not look like an official document, a threat, or a “you left your socks on the stairs again and I almost died” message from his dad.

It was a note.

With your handwriting.

And right at the bottom corner, a doodle of a bat wearing sunglasses.

He stared at it for a full five seconds before reaching up and peeling it off, eyes scanning the words.

"Welcome Home, Birthday Boy. The Game is Afoot. —Your Soon to Be Betrothed"

He blinked.

Read it again.

“…Betrothed?” he echoed, voice cracking just a little as the word left his mouth like it had weight, like it had history, like it was something he wasn’t supposed to think about unless he was proposing on a windswept balcony with a bouquet of ring pops.

His ears went red.

He felt it happening and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He stood there like an idiot, note still in hand, staring at it with a weird, fluttery smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and absolutely no idea what to do with his face.

You were ridiculous. Absolutely deranged. Probably legally dangerous. He was also 100% going to marry you one day.

“Betrothed,” he muttered again, this time with the kind of breathy half-laugh that only happened when his brain was glitching out. “That’s not even legal at sixteen. That’s—that’s a medieval term. What are we, eloping in a fantasy novel?”

He glanced down at the doormat, where a small envelope sat perfectly aligned in the center.

“Oh god,” he whispered, picking it up. “It’s a scavenger hunt.”

His heart did a little cartwheel.

He should’ve known. Of course you wouldn’t just say happy birthday like a normal person. No. You’d weaponize his love of puzzles and drama and create an entire game just to lead him around the house like some kind of lovesick Holmesian idiot.

He folded the note carefully, as if it were priceless, tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans before opening the envelope.

Inside was Clue #1, written in the same familiar, slightly chaotic scrawl:

"Where we spend Sunday mornings and pretend the world doesn’t exist. Your first present is waiting."

He grinned so hard his face hurt.

The couch.

Definitely the couch.

As he stepped into the house, quietly closing the door behind him, he couldn’t help the way his fingers brushed the edge of the note again—like he needed to make sure it was still there.

“Betrothed,” he muttered one last time, shaking his head as he made his way toward the living room, blushing to his ears. “God, I’m so screwed.”

The second Stiles stepped inside, the door clicking softly shut behind him, he was hit with something that made his chest tighten—not fear, not even surprise, but this weird, achy, full kind of warmth that felt like it expanded in his lungs and pushed all the air out.

The house was quiet.

But not empty.

Somewhere deeper inside, from a speaker you’d clearly stashed out of sight, a soft instrumental track floated through the air—something mellow, dreamy. It wasn’t one of those cheesy love songs, nothing dramatic or with sweeping lyrics. It was gentle. Almost like a lullaby. Familiar, too. Something you’d played on repeat during late-night study sessions when the world outside got too loud and Stiles needed something to ground him.

He didn’t realize he’d stopped moving until he blinked and noticed his fingers flexing against the envelope in his hand.

The living room came into view, golden from the lazy trail of LED tea lights that lined the floor and curled around furniture legs like little constellations. And there—draped over the back of the couch like it had always lived there—was your hoodie. His favorite one. The oversized black one with the sleeves stretched out from where you tugged on them when you were nervous. The one that smelled like your shampoo and faintly of candy because you always forgot what was in your pockets.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Within seconds, he was sliding it on like muscle memory. It swallowed him whole in the best way. The weight of it was soft and familiar, and the scent—God, it was you. Warm and real and here, even if you weren’t technically in the room.

He tugged the hood up over his buzzed hair, exhaling through a dazed grin, arms crossed loosely over his chest like he could hold the moment still just by squeezing hard enough.

“…Okay,” he mumbled, dragging himself back to reality, “focus, Stilinski. You’re not actually gonna melt into a pile of hoodie-scented goo. You’ve got a clue to find. A game to solve. A… future spouse to locate.”

His ears flushed again.

He turned toward the couch cushions, heart still hammering a little too fast, and immediately spotted what had to be the next piece.

There, nestled between the throw pillows, sat two polaroids and another envelope—this one decorated with yet another doodle, this time of a little ghost holding a heart. You’d drawn little motion lines around it like it was zooming.

He picked up the photos first, holding them up to the light.

The first one was you, caught mid-sneeze—eyes half-lidded, mouth open in some in-between curse-word-turned-sneeze expression. Stiles snorted so hard he almost dropped it.

The second one?

Him. Kissing your cheek.

You were trying to look annoyed, like you hadn’t just combusted from the contact—but your face had gone this perfect, brilliant shade of pink and your nose was scrunched up in that way that made his stomach do a completely unprovoked somersault.

He let out a breath through his nose, all fondness and fuzz.

“I cannot believe you kept the sneeze one,” he said to no one, because no one was around, but it didn’t matter. His voice still felt full of you.

Then he reached for the envelope.

It was wedged just slightly between the two photos, as if guarded. As if the memories themselves were protecting the next step.

He turned it over in his hands, thumbs brushing the tiny ghost.

Inside, he already knew—another piece of the trail. Another little puzzle, written in your voice.

And God, he’d never been more excited to chase something in his life.

The envelope crinkled just slightly as Stiles slid a careful finger beneath the flap, trying not to tear the ghost drawing. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was pretty sure he was going to keep all of these clues forever. Probably in a shoebox. Or maybe under his bed. Or framed. Shut up, it didn’t matter.

Inside, the second clue was written in the same pen—black gel, slightly smudged in places like you'd gone too fast, or maybe your hand had been shaking. Or sweating. Cute.

He unfolded the note and read aloud in a low murmur, the kind he only used when it was just him and no one was listening:

“For the next treasure, go where the contraband lives. Where the ‘we’re just getting water’ lie always gives. Behind the Wheat Thins and dad’s ‘secret’ stash, Lurks the next memory, plus a little sugar dash. (And yes, I drew you as a chocolate wizard. You’re welcome.)”

Stiles stared at it for a second. Then laughed.

“Chocolate wizard,” he repeated, shaking his head like it was the most ridiculous, most you phrase he’d ever heard. Which—honestly—was saying something.

He moved quickly now, feet padding down the hall with the kind of focused energy he usually reserved for crime scenes or trivia contests. The kitchen greeted him with the same quiet warmth as the rest of the house, dim lights casting soft shadows against the countertops. The playlist from the speaker was still going, shifting now into some kind of twinkly piano cover of a Bowie song, and it made everything feel extra surreal—like he’d stepped into a memory that hadn’t happened yet.

He didn’t hesitate as he approached the tall cabinet to the left of the fridge—the one that looked like it held nothing but innocent boxes of cereal and maybe a bottle of olive oil, but was actually Noah Stilinski’s poorly hidden snack vault. He and you had been raiding it since the day you started hanging out after school. “Just grabbing a glass of water,” was code for “stealing half a sleeve of Oreos and sprinting back upstairs like raccoons.”

Stiles opened the cabinet door and immediately reached behind the box of Wheat Thins.

And there it was.

Tucked neatly between a bag of trail mix and a box of Pop-Tarts was another envelope, this one a soft orange, like a sticky note. Drawn on the front in Sharpie was a truly spectacular stick-figure version of Stiles wearing a wizard hat made of chocolate. It even had tiny sparkles around it and a speech bubble that read, “I summon snacks!”

Beneath it, carefully placed and absolutely irresistible, was a small bar of chocolate—his favorite brand, the kind with chili and sea salt he pretended was “too spicy” for Scott but hoarded like gold. He grinned and pocketed it instantly.

And there, sitting beside the envelope, were two more polaroids.

He picked them up, instantly recognizing you in the first one—and wheezed.

“Oh my god.”

It was bad. Not just “oops I blinked” bad, but full mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes half-closed, hair doing that thing where it looked like it was trying to escape your skull. He had no idea when he took it, but judging by the chaos in the background, it was probably during one of your joint snack heists.

“You’re gonna kill me for keeping this,” he whispered fondly, tucking it behind the chocolate wizard clue like he was shielding you from your own humiliation.

Then he looked at the second photo.

And his breath caught just a little.

It was him—caught in profile, lips curved in the kind of rare, relaxed smile that didn’t show up unless he was laughing. His hand was resting just behind your head, clearly mid-ridiculous story, and you—you—were looking up at him, eyes wide, cheeks redder than a sunburn, expression stuck between admiration and utter disbelief that this was your life now.

It looked like a movie still. It looked like the moment someone realizes they’re hopelessly, helplessly in love.

Stiles ran a hand over his buzzed head, hoodie sleeves falling over his fingers. His heart did that stupid thing where it clenched and melted at the same time, like it didn’t know whether to combust or dissolve.

He stared at the photos for a long moment, then at the envelope.

And that’s when he realized it.

The pattern.

One embarrassing photo of you. One shockingly flattering photo of him. A clue. A treat. All nestled in places that meant something—not to everyone, but to you and him. Where you spent time. Hid from the world. Made dumb jokes and even dumber memories.

This wasn’t just a scavenger hunt.

It was a love letter. One with candy and chaos and polaroids instead of punctuation.

He swallowed, still smiling like an idiot as he slid the orange envelope open, more excited than ever for what came next.

Stiles slipped the clue out of the orange envelope, carefully so he didn’t smudge the ink. You’d written it a little more compact this time, like you were trying to contain something that wanted to spill over—like the words had energy in them. Like you had energy in you when you wrote it.

He read it once silently, and then again out loud, his voice quieter now, tinged with something softer. Something warmer.

“You’ve earned a pit stop—something sweet, something blue. Check the tray, take a sip (yes, it’s all just for you). But don’t linger too long—there’s one more place to be. Where your hoodie ends up… when you’re sharing it with me.”

He stood frozen for a beat, blinking at the page.

His lips twitched upward, and his ears flushed in slow motion.

“…Oh,” he said.

Then: “Oh.”

He looked toward the counter like it had suddenly become sacred. And in a way—it kind of had. You’d set it up like a miniature shrine: his favorite snacks laid out on a tray in ridiculous precision (you knew he liked the green gummy worms more than the orange ones), and beside it, an ice-cold bottle of blue Gatorade, the condensation making it look like it had been waiting for him all day.

He approached it like it might vanish if he blinked too hard.

For a second, he just stared—like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like he wasn’t already wearing your hoodie and halfway through a romantic quest you’d handcrafted like the world’s most affectionate cryptid.

Then he reached out, lifted the bottle of Gatorade, and took a slow sip.

And groaned.

“You remembered the exact temperature I like this at. You’re a witch.”

He popped a sour gummy worm into his mouth and grinned around it, high on sugar and something a lot more dangerous—something warm and giddy and intimate that made his knees a little weak.

As he leaned forward to grab another candy, something caught his eye—a flicker of color sticking out just barely from beneath the tray. Like it was peeking.

He slid the tray to the side, revealing another envelope—this one pale pink, with tiny hearts doodled along the bottom, but all lopsided and rushed like you’d done them last-minute.

He picked it up like it was precious. Like it mattered.

Because it did.

The note inside was short. Just two lines. And this time, the writing was different—still you, still messy, but slower. Intentional. Weighted.

“You’ve followed my trail—every sweet, silly part. Now go to your room… and bring your heart.”

There was a tiny arrow pointing downward, and beneath it, one last line, smaller and scribbled faster, like you’d hesitated before writing it at all:

“(And maybe your mouth, too.)”

Stiles blinked.

And then flushed so red it reached the tips of his ears.

He slapped the note lightly against his chest. “You menace.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling. It wouldn’t leave. Not even if he tried. His fingers curled around the note, carefully folding it as his heart raced ahead of him—way ahead.

He looked down the hallway, toward the stairs, toward his room.

And then he was moving.

Stiles’ socked feet barely made a sound as he climbed the stairs, the soft music from downstairs fading behind him like a curtain closing. Every step sent a little tremor through his chest, something giddy and humming, like the notes of a secret song playing just under his skin. The hoodie sleeves covered his hands completely now, and he clutched the last clue tight like it might fly away if he loosened his grip.

At the top of the stairs, he hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the hallway wall like he was steadying himself. The house was still quiet. Not the kind of silence that meant no one was home, but the kind that meant someone was waiting. Holding their breath. Listening.

He turned the corner.

His bedroom door was slightly ajar.

The light was different—softer. Warmer. Golden.

And the second he stepped over the threshold, everything in him stopped.

His room—his chaotic, poster-covered, slightly disastrous room—wasn’t gone, but it was… changed.

Transformed.

The harsh Star Wars bedding he’d probably had since middle school was gone, swapped out for clean, navy-blue sheets that looked like something out of a catalog, smooth and cool and deliberately chosen. His bed—usually a battlefield of mismatched pillows and tangled blankets—was now neat but cozy, layered with extra cushions, a folded knit throw at the end. The string lights above his headboard had been replaced—or maybe just added to—with warm, ambient fairy lights tucked along the walls, giving the entire room a hazy glow, like dusk bottled in glass.

The air smelled faintly like the candle you always lit at your house. Vanilla and cedar and something a little citrusy, like hope.

It didn’t look like a teenager’s room anymore.

It looked like a space made for him. Like you’d gone out of your way to carve a sanctuary out of his chaos. A soft place to land. A secret nest only you and he knew about.

And at the foot of the bed, resting against one of the navy pillows like the center of a constellation, was the final envelope.

This one was thick. Handwritten in bold, unmistakable scrawl. On the front, in looping, nervous letters:

“For your eyes only.”

His throat tightened. He stared at it for a moment, caught between wonder and disbelief, fingers twitching at his sides like they didn’t trust themselves to touch it yet.

Then, slowly, he crossed the room, each step quieter than the last.

He sank onto the edge of the bed, hoodie pooling around his arms, and reached for the envelope like it was sacred.

It was unsealed.

His name was written once, in smaller letters inside the flap. Just Stiles. No nicknames. No jokes. Like you couldn’t make yourself be funny when you wrote it. Like it mattered too much.

He opened it.

Inside, the letter was folded in half. The paper wasn’t lined—just blank, like you hadn’t needed structure to say what you needed to say. His fingers trembled a little as he opened it.

And there it was.

Your handwriting. Real. Tangled. Imperfect.

A love letter.

He could see it before he read a word: little scratch-outs where you’d second-guessed a sentence, arrows pointing to phrases you wanted to add. A tiny doodle in the margin of the two of you—stick-figure versions holding hands, one in a hoodie, the other with a ridiculous crown labeled birthday boy. The kind of letter that wasn’t polished, but was honest. Messy. A little goofy.

Just like the two of you.

He hadn’t even started reading yet, and he was already overwhelmed.

He sat there in the golden light, hoodie sleeves bunched in his lap, a room reshaped by love around him, a letter written by the person who knew him best in his hands.

And for once in his life—

He didn’t have a single word.

Just the kind of smile that doesn’t fade.

Stiles took a breath and finally let his eyes fall to the first line of the letter.

Dear Stiles (aka the light of my life, the smartest idiot I’ve ever met, the reason my standards are ruined forever, and my now-certified birthday boy),

Hi.

I know you’re probably blushing already, and honestly? Good. You deserve to. You deserve to feel like the center of the universe today. Actually, every day, but especially today.

Because here’s the thing: you are so stupidly, wildly, unfairly wonderful.

Like, do you even get how good you are? You’re brilliant (like scary smart—do you remember that time you solved that entire AP Chem problem before class even started and then helped me figure out how to balance basic equations without making me feel like a total moron??), and you’re hilarious (even when your jokes make me groan, I’m laughing inside, don’t lie), and you’ve got this face—this face, Stiles—that has no business being as perfect as it is.

Especially with the buzz cut.

Let’s talk about that for a second. The buzz cut? Criminal. Like, I was not prepared to find out I have a thing for soft hair and sharp jawlines and the back of your neck. You’ve created a monster. I literally cannot concentrate when you tilt your head. You’ve turned me into a flustered cartoon character. Congrats.

But here’s what gets me the most: you care.

You care so hard. About your dad, about Scott, about your friends, about me. You put everything you have into being there for people, even when you’re exhausted or scared or hiding behind one of your thousand sarcastic defense mechanisms. You show up. You’ve always shown up.

Like that day in fourth grade when I tripped over my own shoelace and biffed it in front of the whole playground. Remember that? I was crying, my knee was bleeding, and I’d just dropped my favorite pencil case with the sparkly stars on it. And you—tiny, bony, big-eyed Stiles—ran over like the floor was lava and immediately offered me your sleeve to wipe my face. Your sleeve, Stiles. You didn’t even flinch.

And you helped me up and made some ridiculous joke about gravity having a crush on me and I laughed—through the tears and snot and dirt, I laughed. And we’ve been friends ever since.

If you hadn’t been you in that exact moment, I don’t know where I’d be. Because everything that’s ever made my life better somehow leads back to you.

Which is why I am so damn glad I said yes when you asked me out. Four years later, still you, still me, still a little awkward and a lot in love.

And yeah. I am in love with you.

Head over heels. Hopelessly. Helplessly. Absolutely wrecked by how much I love you.

You make me feel safe and seen and like maybe the world isn’t as terrible as it looks on the news. You make me laugh when I want to cry, and you let me cry when I need to—and you never make me feel bad for either. You just… get me.

And you love me back. Somehow. Which is the biggest miracle of all.

So happy birthday, my soon-to-be-betrothed (yes, I said it again, fight me).

You’re my favorite person I’ve ever met. And the best part is—you’re mine.

Love, always and obnoxiously, Me.

P.S. You should probably go look at your desk now.

Like. Now now.

Stiles stared at the letter for a long, suspended moment after he finished reading.

His heart was hammering. His ears were hot. His eyes were suspiciously damp—but he didn’t move to wipe them. Didn’t blink them away. He just let it happen, let it be, because if there was ever a moment to feel everything all at once, it was this one.

You loved him.

And not in a vague, Hallmark card kind of way. You loved him in full paragraphs. In fourth-grade memories and buzz cut compliments and chaotic margins. You’d wrapped every inch of your heart into that letter, and now it was in his hands, sitting in his lap, warm as if it had just been pulled from your chest.

And somehow—somehow—you’d done more.

He blinked and looked up, your last sentence echoing in his brain like it was shouted down a hallway. P.S. You should probably go look at your desk now.

He turned slowly, standing on legs that were just a little wobbly with awe, and crossed the room toward the desk he barely used except to stack unopened textbooks and doodle when he was supposed to be doing homework.

But tonight?

It looked entirely different.

No clutter. No old gum wrappers or tangled earbuds or loose paperclips. Just one thing.

Centered. Waiting.

A scrapbook.

The cover was simple—matte black with his name on it in silver sharpie, hand-lettered in your slightly crooked handwriting. Around it were tiny white stars, all uneven and scattered, like a little galaxy made just for him. Like you’d tried to fit the whole universe on a spiral-bound cover.

He reached for it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy relics.

The first page creaked open with that satisfying, deliberate sound only thick paper can make—and then he was gone.

There was a photo of the two of you, age eleven, leaning awkwardly against each other, both sunburnt from the county fair, you wearing one of his flannels because you’d spilled cherry slushie on your shirt and Stiles had offered his like a tiny gentleman in cargo shorts.

There was a wrinkled receipt taped beside it—from Eddie’s All-Nite Diner—with a scribble under the $7.50 milkshake charge: “First sugar crash together. Worth it.”

Another page: a movie ticket from the worst horror movie of all time (and your first date), where you’d both screamed at the same exact jump scare and then laughed so hard the old couple two rows behind you told you to leave.

Polaroids were everywhere—messy, out of order, completely perfect. Some were blurry from movement, some captured you mid-blink or him mid-sneeze. But there were just as many soft ones, quiet ones. You tangled in a hoodie that definitely wasn't yours. Stiles grinning with chocolate ice cream on his nose. A close-up of your hands intertwined, his thumb running over your knuckle like a habit he couldn’t quit.

Then came the page he didn’t expect.

The thunderstorm.

You’d captioned it only with: “Stiles + [Your Name] vs. the storm: we lost, and it was the best night ever.”

The photo showed both of you soaked to the bone, standing in the middle of a glowing street, rain caught mid-fall like starlight. He had his hands cupped around your cheeks. You were laughing, mouth open wide, like you couldn’t contain the joy, like nothing had ever felt more right. And behind you, the world was blurred and glowing, caught in the storm with you.

He closed the scrapbook slowly, holding it against his chest like it was a heartbeat.

This wasn’t just a gift. This was everything.

A history. A promise. A celebration. A quiet, hand-built monument to your love, crafted out of scraps and snapshots and scribbles.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t expensive. It didn’t matter that it didn’t come with a receipt or a barcode.

It mattered because it was you. All the best parts of you. And all the parts of him you’d chosen to treasure.

Stiles took a breath, eyes stinging again, and turned toward the door.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, smiling so hard it ached. “You win. Best birthday of all time.”

And then he went to find you.

He turned around with purpose—full of momentum and love and maybe a little bit of sparkling tears still clinging to his lashes. He was ready to go find you, to sprint downstairs or search the house or call your name like a man on a mission.

But he didn’t have to.

Because you were already there.

Standing just a few feet away, leaning awkwardly just in front of the doorway with your hands in the sleeves of his sweatshirt—way too long for you, the hem brushing your thighs. Your legs were bare except for a pair of his sweatpants, rolled at the ankles so you didn’t trip. The sleeves of his hoodie covered your hands entirely, and the drawstrings were pulled unevenly. You looked cozy and rumpled and completely perfect.

His eyes flicked to the closet—open. Your graphic tee (the one with the cartoon cat and the phrase “You’ve got to be kitten me”) was crumpled in a pile on the floor like it had been discarded in a moment of boredom or impatience. Of course. You’d gotten restless waiting for him.

“Hi,” you said softly, and your voice held this shy warmth like maybe you were afraid it would all be too much. “I got bored. And also… your clothes are stupid comfortable, so.”

Stiles made a noise. It wasn’t even a word—just a sound, somewhere between a breath and a choke.

Then he moved.

There was no hesitation, no moment of panic or awkwardness or hesitation like there sometimes was with him. He just stepped forward and grabbed you—arms wrapping tight around your waist, face burying into the crook of your neck like it was the only place he could breathe.

And he cried.

Not a loud, ugly cry. Not sobs.

Just quiet, open, real crying. His shoulders shook a little. His breath hitched against your skin. His hands fisted in the fabric of his own sweatshirt where it hung on your back. He didn’t try to hold it back, didn’t apologize, didn’t ruin it with a joke. He just let it happen.

You held him right back, just as tightly, letting him melt into you like a boy who’d been carrying too much for too long and was only now allowed to fall apart a little.

“I love you,” he whispered into your shoulder, the words muffled and thick. “I love you so much, it hurts, okay? You—god, you did all this. You made this whole day magical and stupidly perfect and—you. You made it you. I don’t even know what I did to deserve you, but—holy shit—I love you.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just held him, one hand moving up to thread through the tiny bristles of his buzzcut, the other anchoring at the small of his back.

He made a soft sound at the touch, like it grounded him. Like your fingers in his hair were all it took to keep him here, in this moment, in you.

When you did speak, it was barely above a whisper.

“I’ve loved you since you offered me your sleeve.”

He let out this shaky laugh that cracked right down the middle and turned into a hiccup of another tear.

Then you both stood there for a long time—no more clues, no more envelopes, no more presents or plans.

Just two kids in love, wrapped in each other, in a room that smelled like candle wax and hope, hearts thudding in sync under cotton and thread and years of shared history.

Eventually, Stiles pulled back just enough to see your face, his hands still cupping your sides like you might float away if he let go.

“You’re never getting this sweatshirt back,” you murmured, smiling up at him.

“Deal,” he said, and leaned in to kiss you like it was the only gift he needed.

His lips were warm and familiar and just a little bit chapped—like he hadn’t remembered to use the lip balm you kept trying to sneak into his backpack. But none of that mattered. Not the dry lips or the tear-smudged cheeks or the fact that his hoodie sleeves were still swallowing your hands.

Because the kiss?

It was everything.

Soft and slow at first—like he was afraid of shattering the moment. His hands stayed gentle, fingers curled against the small of your back and your side, barely gripping, just holding. Like you were fragile, or maybe like he was. And then you tilted your head just a little, pressed closer, and something cracked open.

He sighed into your mouth like it was relief.

Like kissing you was the answer to a question he hadn’t known he was asking all day.

The kiss stayed sweet, but it deepened in that sort of clumsy, impossibly you two way—where his nose bumped yours and he smiled into it, where you laughed quietly against his lips because his hand had accidentally brushed your hip and made you twitch.

You broke the kiss for a breath, barely, and he chased you with a quiet sound—like he was already missing it.

You nuzzled close, your nose brushing the side of his, and whispered, lips brushing his skin as you spoke, “Just so you know… if you ever get rid of this buzz cut, I’m going to cry.”

He blinked, breath catching as he pulled back the tiniest bit to look at you. “What?”

“I’ll cry,” you repeated solemnly, then kissed the corner of his mouth. “Real tears. Ugly ones. And then I’ll have to go find someone else’s sleeve to sob into. Because this?” You reached up and ran your fingers along the soft velvet of his buzzed hair. “This is criminally hot. I mean, seriously. You have no idea what this does to me.”

Stiles flushed immediately—face going from warm to cherry red in an instant. “Wha—okay, no. No, see, this is not fair. You can’t just say stuff like that when I’m—when I’ve just been emotionally demolished by your love scrapbook and—and your face in my hoodie.”

You grinned.

He rubbed a hand down his own face, flustered and glowing and utterly undone. “You—you love the buzz cut?”

You nodded, emphatic. “I adore it. You look like… like a freshly sharpened pencil I want to make out with forever.”

He made a strangled noise. “That is the weirdest and most affirming compliment I’ve ever received.”

You kissed him again. Quick. Sweet. “Good.”

He rested his forehead against yours then, eyes fluttering shut, still smiling like he couldn’t stop if he tried. “I almost didn’t do it, you know. Buzz it. I thought you might hate it. Or think I looked like an egg.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his cheeks, your expression full of earnest affection.

“You could look like a literal potato and I’d still be in love with you. But lucky for both of us, you look like a movie star with a jawline sharp enough to commit crimes.”

Stiles made another one of those soft, broken little laughs and melted right into your hands.

“I love you,” he murmured. “So much it makes my chest feel too small.”

“Good,” you whispered back. “Then we match.”

And you kissed him again, slow this time, lingering. The kind of kiss that said thank you, and I see you, and I want to keep choosing you—over and over again.

And in the soft, golden light of his newly transformed room, wrapped in each other and ridiculous compliments and hoodie sleeves too long for your hands, everything felt safe. Everything felt like forever.

Eventually, the kiss slowed, softened, like an exhale that had been waiting all day to happen.

Your foreheads bumped again, and your lips brushed once more, but this time it was gentler—less urgency, more intimacy. Stiles sighed through his nose, still tangled in the warmth of your arms, your words, your everything.

You smiled, not pulling too far away, just enough to shift onto your knees on the bed and gesture behind you with a small, secretive glint in your eyes. “Okay. One more gift.”

Stiles groaned, but it was soft and fond, dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “How? How are there more? You already wrecked me. I'm emotionally obliterated. Do you want me to die?”

“Not yet.” You grinned. “But you might implode. So scoot.”

He shuffled obediently, and you reached back toward the stack of pillows at the head of his bed, digging beneath the fluff until your fingers curled around something you’d stashed carefully earlier in the day.

A small black box.

You hesitated for just a second, then pulled it free and turned, sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“I was gonna… give you this in a different context,” you admitted, voice dipping a little. There was heat beneath your words—an unspoken layer of maybe later tonight, if we felt brave enough, but you didn’t say it aloud. You didn’t have to. The flush in his cheeks said he understood exactly what you meant.

His eyes flicked to the box, then back to your face, breath catching.

You opened it slowly.

Inside was a crown.

Not gaudy. Not regal. Not a king’s crown or anything covered in jewels.

No—this was so him.

Crafted of matte black metal, the usual sharp spikes had been swapped for curved little bats—elegant and geeky all at once. They looked like they were mid-flight, like they’d taken off from some gothic comic book panel. And across the front and right behind it on the inner band, etched in delicate silver script, were two lines:

I love you. I know.

Stiles made a sound. A choked-off laugh, caught in his throat like it didn’t know whether to come out as awe or disbelief.

“I—what—” He reached forward but didn’t touch it, like he was afraid his hands were too human for something this perfect.

You lifted it from the box carefully, the way you might lift a relic from a museum or a holy object, and leaned toward him.

He went still.

And when you settled it on his head—when you placed it there gently, precisely, reverently—his breath stuttered right out of him.

“There,” you whispered, brushing his cheek. “Perfect.”

He blinked at you, visibly overwhelmed, voice caught somewhere in the galaxy between bashful and undone. “You made me a bat crown.”

“I did.”

“With a Star Wars quote.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I love you.”

“You better,” you said, grinning, but your voice cracked slightly. Because you weren’t done. Not quite.

You took his hand.

Held it between both of yours like it was precious. Like it had always been meant for you.

“Stiles,” you said, and then, more deliberately, more sacred, “Mieczysław.”

His breath hitched.

“That’s my engagement promise to you,” you said quietly, steady despite your heart racing. “Because let’s be honest. We’re gonna get married someday. It’s not even a question anymore. It’s just a when. And this? This is your crown. Because you already rule my whole world.”

Stiles’ eyes welled instantly, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off. Didn’t try to change the subject like he usually might. He just stared at you like you were the only real thing that had ever existed.

You smiled softly, eyes flicking up to the little bats still trembling slightly with the movement of his breathing.

And that was it.

The moment hung between you like starlight—quiet, steady, eternal.

Just two disaster nerds in love, one in a hoodie and the other in a bat crown, already promising forever in the language of Star Wars and memories and late-night snacks.

And maybe it wasn’t the grandest birthday anyone had ever thrown, but it didn’t have to be.

Because this?

This was yours.

Forever.

“Happy birthday, Stilinski.”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #gender neutral reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader fluff #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #dylan o’brien #x gender neutral reader #happy birthday

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austinbutlerslovers · 1 year ago

Text

Feyd Fantasy 7: The Finale

Label mature 18+

Honor & Heir

Summary

Feyd starts a war on Arrakis to gain final control over the Spice fields. He wants to finally free its massive profits to House Harkonnen and become the wealthiest family in the galaxy for you and his heir.

During your final month of pregnancy you and Feyd are summoned to the Emperors palace on the planet Kaitain by decree. Feyd is upset at any inconveniences to you with his unborn during this fragile time.

You reunite with your Reverend Mother in the palatial gardens and a fated decision must be made. The stress of the decision is so great you go into labor. For Feyd his world stops. He drops all of his responsibilities with the Emperor to be by your side.

Starts off Princess treatment romantic Ends with Feyds reign & birth of your child

⚠️Hard Core Smut⚠️

simultaneous self pleasure•size kink•fingering •handjob•forced orgasms•sex while sleeping•sex while injured•face sitting• submission •cum eating•thigh pinning• manhandling • position switching • body worship•multiple orgasms

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series Master List⚔️

Part 1•Part 2•Part 3•Part 4•Part 5•Part 6•Part 7 🗡️ Feyd Fantasy Chapter 1-6 Recap ⚔️Feyd Fantasy Master List ⚔️ 📖 All Genre Masterlist

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies!⌛️ Based on the film Dune Part 2 (Feyd supremacy timeline)

💀 Trigger warnings dark themes: graphic death(s)

⚔️Final Fic Requests ⚔️ -Feyd gentle with you -Feyd Adoring you -Feyd forgoes his pleasure for your own -Faceriding Feyd -More arousal fluid! -Feyd gives you the princess treatment -Bene Gesserit kidnapping plot -Feyd as a father

This series was so fun to make I want to personally thank each and every one of you!! The last chapter is a novel in itself please enjoy this epic finale 🙏🏻

Special thank you to my proofreader @faegoddessog my smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia and my affection consultant @magicovento thank you for jumping on this wild ride with me I am so appreciative of everything you did to improve the series ⚔️

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Honor & Heir

You awaken on the Harkonnen palatial space craft traveling to Arrakis. You are in the beautifully decorated master suite on the giant bed. Resting across from you is Feyd sleeping peacefully in the black silk sheets.

You are enamored with his pale skin at this point especially in contrast with any dark color to enhance it.

You stroke your hand along his handsome face, he is completely out. It is becoming harder and harder for him to awaken in the mornings. Every time you use your ability to mentally inflict him with pain to orgasm it is essentially stealing his life force. He needs time to recover.

You have become infatuated with his pleasure sending severe signals of pain to his temple during sex to make him cum on your command. The way his back arcs as you watch the intensity increase in his yearning eyes always makes you orgasm as well.

During the evening he gave you a tour of the Harkonnen palatial space craft. When he saw you were impressed he could no longer contain his urges for you. As soon as he showed you the elaborately decorated master suite and saw the bed he wanted to claim you on it.

His hands slowly stripped your gown from your body as his lips ambushed your mouth. “I need to be inside of you” he panted staring into your eyes. You readily agreed and he kneeled before you pulling your gown and panties down as you stepped out of them.

“Have you ever fucked on a spacecraft Baroness?” He asked looking up at you with a knowing grin as you shook your head no. He picked you up in his strong arms bracing his hands beneath your thighs and kissed you sensually as he carried you to the black silk bed laying you down.

You rested back on your elbows to watch him stand from you and undress. He removed his regal top first revealing his perfectly chiseled physique.

His muscular chest and abs we’re on prominent display as his strong arms flung his tunic. When his fingers unclasped his pants you watched how his erect cock with his pink tip swayed as he stepped out of them.

Once his pale muscular body was naked he climbed over yours. His long thick cock dragged and touched against your thighs as he took his time pressing passionate kisses across your neck. He held your nape making you tilt your head back to gain more access to your throat for his wanting mouth. He sucked love marks across the entire front.

Once he had finished his trail of bruises he softly whispered against your ear “What would you like Baroness, how would you like me to please you?” it sent chills all over your body that he would let you decide.

His hand trailed down your abdomen resting at your core as he kissed your neck awaiting your instructions.

You had snuck into his kink cabinet before the trip and brought the arousal fluid. You knew he would be preoccupied on Arrakis and planned to use it to pleasure yourself while he was away.

Now when he offers himself for your desire you want him to use it on you instead . “In my things I have brought the arousal fluid, I want it Feyd” you say looking into his eyes. A smile forms on his lips as he helps you to get up. “If you have kept it hidden until now, did you plan to use it without me?” He questions as he spanks you before you leave his proximity. His dominance rising that you should ever be satisfied without him.

You smile shyly as you stand back in front of him with the vial. “Yes I planned to use it on myself” you admit. He rests back on his elbows with his muscular thighs spread apart, the size of his erect cock intimidates you. He gazes up to you with a deviant look in his eyes. “Show me” he says with extreme interest wanting to know how you pleasure yourself. It makes your heart skip a beat.

You become timid as his eyes look over you with such lust. You know once the fluid touches your folds you will be overcome with the need to pleasure yourself and will no longer by shy.

You apply a liberal amount to your fingertips and set the vail aside. As you reach between your thighs he mirrors your movements reaching his hand to take a firm hold of his cock. A small sound of pleasure escaped your lips. He will make you watch him as you do the same.

He tilts his head to the side studying your movements to match his own. You rub the fluid onto your entrance swirling your fingertips through your folds and letting out a breath.

The arousal fluid begins working instantly as the blood rushes to your core making your folds begin to pulse. With your clit and entrance throbbing you slip your fingers inside of yourself and let out a pleasurable gasp. Your eyes close as you enjoy the immeasurable feeling of calming the dull ache forming inside with your fingers.

Feyd begins to stroke off his cock eyes fixated on your hand between your legs. You begin making light sounds of pleasure and he pumps his shaft faster on his cock.

Your fingers become slippery from your over arousal and you try to reach deeper and pull down harder. You want to satisfy the dull ache increasing within but you can no longer gratify it, you need Feyd.

Your eyes open and gaze down at his changed condition. His hand is working feverishly on his shaft slicked with spit. His abs are flexing as he pants heavily in pleasure looking at you with an insatiable desire for sex in his eyes.

“I need you” you plead to him as you withdraw your fingers. He is on his feet and immediately claims you. His hand goes to your waist holding you steady and he plunges his two fingers deeply inside you.

You cry out from the pleasure of his larger fingers as they push through your tight walls. You clutch his shoulder with one hand and reach your wet fingers to his wrap around his cock with the other. He breathes a heavy sigh against your ear as you glide your fist around his shaft.

As you use each other for sexual gratification you reach your peak. His fingers are no longer enough, the arousal fluid has made you insatiable “Feyd I need you more please take me.” you beg him. He withdraws his fingers and lifts you onto his chest carrying you to the bed and forcing you down on your front.

He knows the arousal fluid makes you crave sex as he does, ruthlessly.

As he spreads your thighs apart you grip the sheets. When he presses his throbbing tip to your entrance you tense your body in preparation for his large size. He spanks you then and you cry out in shock “you want this cock and yet you tense?” he spanks you again on the same cheek shocking your body and making you moan “give yourself to me” he commands. You nod laying your head to the bed and relax your body.

He holds his hand firm on your lower back and pushes his large cock head inside of you followed by his thick shaft. You moan against the sheets from the overwhelming sensation of his size. He spanks you again to feel you clench on him “You were …made for ..me ..-Baroness. You are so tight …-on my cock… it drives me insane.” He pants out as he slowly rocks you on his length getting you used to his size.

As he increases his pace his thrusts become violent. He begins pounding you against the mattress splitting you open between your legs. You make small pathetic whimpers as your eyes roll up feeling the deepest part of your core completely satisfied.

He spanks you twice and you clench on him hard as you moan. “I want those pretty sounds Baroness” he commands. You begin to moan as he tucks his hands under your hips lifting them up and pulling you back to him on your knees with your chest to the bed.

He grips his hands around your hip bones and impales you onto his large cock. Your high pitched moans fill the air.

He impales you again and again pausing on the each of each thrust. When he feels the way your walls begin fluttering against his cock he knows you will cum.

He spanks you as he begins clapping his hips into you repeatedly and your body tenses overwhelmed with pleasure. You scream out yes in unending praise for him as you orgasm.

He pulls back his hips to withdraw from you and quickly grabs your waist. He easily flips you over to face him and plunges his large cock back in. “Feyd Rautha!” you moan out as your eyes gently roll back. Your body rocks violently from his thrusts.

“Make me cum!” He yells as his strong pace falters, his orgasm is imminent . You place your finger tips to his temple and inflict him with pain at the highest intensity making his body go rigid. He cries out in pleasure as he instantly cums filling your core with warmth painting your walls with his seed.

You release your fingertips and he regains control of his body almost collapsing on top of you. He breathes heavily as he looks down at you with a psychotic look in his eyes “I want more “ he says.

You give him what he desires and his orgasms increase with intensity. He makes depraved sounds as his cock pulses with no sperm left to give. With the arousal fluid working in your core you keep his pace.

On his fifth orgasm as you release him from pain he pants above you staring into your eyes mystified. You knew he can not handle another even though he wanted to.

With all his of his energy drained you collect him in your arms making him rest down on you. As you caress his head he fell into a deep sleep on top of you without withdrawing his cock.

In the morning when he doesn’t awaken after your gentle touches, you softly kiss his forehead and allow him rest. You plan to cease using your ability on him until he is fully restored.

Beginning your day you use the decontamination chamber,cleanse your mouth and face, then get dressed to eat breakfast in the dining room of the spaceship.

You walk through the large craft finding it eerily empty and cold. Once you locate the dining room there is a servant who attends to you and brings your meal. As you eat she informs you that one hour remains until you arrive on Arrakis.

When you finish you walk back to the master suite to inform Feyd. You place your hand in the designated finger print reader for the master suite door.

It registers your identity and the doors slide open allowing you inside. You find Feyd in the master bedroom. By this time he is awake and smiles as you enter the room.

He is putting the finishing touches on his gear dressed head to toe in his Harkonnen combat armor for war. You kiss his waiting lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he ask pushing his hand into his fingerless combat glove.” You smile enamored looking at him, eyeing his blades and how dangerously handsome he looks in his armor. Your attention finally returns to his handsome face.

“Yes I slept well and you?” You pry playfully because he could not even awaken. “I dreamt of you full and round with our unborn “ he says facing you smiling and placing his fingertips on your abdomen .”I felt complete“ He says as he gently pulls you close.

His words stir your passion for him and he holds you in his arms keeping you in his space as his eyes wander your face in the intimate moment.

”When I destroy the Fremen it will make us the wealthiest family in the galaxy. What would you like to do then?” He asks bringing one hand to softly hold the nape of your neck while caressing your jaw with his thumb.

Your heart swells realizing how powerful he could become “I would want you to be emperor.” You admit gazing up into his eyes. He traces his fingertips along your jawline to your chin caressing it affectionately with his thumb “So be it“ he says smiling back at you with his hypnotic blue eyes gazing into yours.

Through the small master suite window behind you he can see the glowing orange planet of Arrakis approaching in the distance.

“Come I want to show you something” he says and takes your hand. He leads you through the ship to the large and ornately decorated lounge. He brings you to stand in front of the floor to ceiling viewing windows.

Turning you to face them he wraps his arms around you to gaze at the planet together. At first you are only looking back to his face admiring him as he holds you in his embrace. You place your hands over his as he holds your close.

When you finally look out of the window a gasp escapes your lips. You are approaching the planet so quickly the enormity of the glowing orange world obscures the entire view of the window. It is an awe inspiring sight to behold.

Small bursts of light begin surrounding the ship until it sets ablaze glowing in flames across the window. You tightly grip Feyds hands frightened. He smiles pulling your closer against him as he kisses your ear “Don’t worry we are only entering the atmosphere” he says gently.

He admires how your eyes search over the landscape of his second planet once the atmosphere is breeched. He has fallen for you entirely he will give you everything, anything for his Baroness. You are his world.

The ship descends above an enormous palace structure built into a rocky mountain scape.

A heavy thud resounds the craft as it lands on its destination and the engines fade to silence.

Servants enter the lounge with two of Feyds advisors with your Doulah from Giedi Prime. They escort you to the exit of the craft.

As you descend the gangway the sweltering heat consumes you both. You squint your eyes from the brightness of the planets sun as you walk under a structured awning lined with guards into the cool depths of the palace.

Once inside Feyds assigned Menant greets him with a bow. “Welcome to Arrakis Baron Feyd Rautha your brother awaits you in the greeting hall. Baroness I hope you will find Palace Arrakeen to your liking. There are two female servants awaiting you in your chambers should you need anything during your time of greatest fragility.” You slowly understand his words they are concerned for your pregnancy.

Even though you have your doulah there are two more servants to attend to you. Feyd smiles at you realizing you haven’t even noticed the assassins trailing you for your protection from the ship yet. You are his top priority here. “Come let’s go see Rabban” he says taking your hand.

You are escorted to the greeting hall. As you walk through the palace everything is ancient sandstone with large pillars and supports. There are hand carved etchings on every wall showing the deep rooted history of the planet. Beige is the prominent color of every furnishing and decoration.

You arrive to the greeting hall and as the large doors open Rabban is already walking down the room to greet you “Brother!” He exclaims to Feyd. Rabban is dressed very casually in a simple black silk tunic. He looks relaxed and carefree as if he is not even in the midst of a planetary war.

Arrakis was Rabbans retreat away from the Baron he has the palace set up to his liking and with his uncles passing each day he has become more goal oriented to impress the new Baron, his younger brother.

Rabban bows to Feyd and smiles at you. “The colors of Geidi prime suit you well Baroness ” he says noticing you fully dress in black now to match Feyd. You smile and simply nod.

“I have much to share with you Baron Feyd Rautha” Rabban chides his brother who tries to disguise his pride at the new title. “Come let’s all eat the meal I have had prepared for you with the delicacies of Arrakis.” Rabban says excitedly.

You follow him to the dining hall. The room is very large with vaulted ceilings, yet very beige and minimalist. There is a huge scale rug the length of the table and sun protecting the long windows which let light inside. You sit to Feyds left at the sand stone table in a hovering chair.

The meal is placed in front of you. Dried fruits, roasted meats, cheeses, and seeds. You are intrigued by dessert food.

As you eat Rabban and Feyd discuss the ongoing war efforts with his two advisors.

“When you ordered the annihilation of the Fremen I knew it would be a difficult war. We keep them at bay but they return with more forces like rats! If we find their strongholds in the north we can finally subdue them and continue south. I have much to discuss with your calculated mind brother.” Rabban conveys as he eats

Feyd nods and reaches for your hand which you hold as they continue to speak on the matter. He traces his thumb across your knuckles as he discusses war strategies. He is so resolute and cunning as he speaks it makes you desire him.

After lunch Feyd bids you farewell with a kiss on the lips and leaves you with your servants. He heads to the war room infatuated with what he has planned over lunch with Rabban. A surprise attack on the Fremen this very evening.

In the center of the war room is a table which projects the live locations of all Harkonnen war crafts near estimated Fremen strongholds. The military strategist give Feyd the records he requested of the heaviest attacks on the harvesters and uses them to point where the Harkonnen war vessels should attack.

They wait and watch as the crafts shoot live rounds into pinpointed locations. Next they order the ground troops to search the hidden cavernous structures during the cool of the night after the destruction.

They locate several more hide outs annihilating every being within. The Harkonnen ground troops then signal the war crafts to completely destroy the structures knowing far more are hidden beneath.

The collapsing rubble kills thousands more who hid deeper inside. The unsuspecting Fremen who planned to attack at day break when the Harkonnens were weaker and more susceptible to the climate are thwarted.

The Harkonnen destruction sets the desert ablaze glowing with fires that fill the night sky of billowing smoke and the cries of the few scattered survivors who plan to retaliate with their last dying breath.

It is the early hours before sunrise when Feyd finally returns to you in the palace bedroom. He will be leading a charge in the morning to dispatch the remaining survivors in the rubble of destruction from the hours of raids.

He wants to ensure first hand he has taken the north from the Fremen for good.

After he strips of his armor he uses the decontamination chamber. He tilts his head up as the water sprays over him smiling that he has done what his uncle could not. Free the north to harvest spice at will. He has even crueler intentions set for those tomorrow that oppose his reign on this planet. After the hot air dries him he walks through the darkened grand room naked.

He climbs into bed with you and rests his hand on your hip. Feeling you safe finally calms his thoughts of war and bloodlust. He pulls you to him and tries to fall asleep.

After several moments shifting with his eyes closed he is unable to. The nights on Arrakis are too hot for his body. He is used to the colder climate on Giedi Prime. He lays closer to you and begins caressing your waist to distract himself. It makes him desire you and perhaps he thinks once physically satisfied he can sleep in the heat of the desert night.

You lay with your back to him as he slips his fingers over your neck to clear your hair from your shoulder. His lips make contact with your skin as he inhales your scent. He plants soft kisses but you do not sir.

He brings his hand over the front of your core sneaking his fingers between your folds and swirling them against your clit. His cock begins pressing hard against your thighs but you still do not move sleeping soundly. He decides then to use you gently enough for his pleasure without disturbing your rest.

He sucks his fingers and pushes them into your entrance as he lays behind you. Feeling the heat inside of you hardens his cock solid. He works his fingers slowly until you become wet for him. He aims his cock to your folds and presses into you as slowly.

His heart rate increases as he feels the tightness of your walls take each inch of his cock. He finally settles you on his base and lets out a breath of pleasure. He pushes his cock into you deeply to feel the friction of your walls without awakening you. He concentrates to remain himself and stay at such a slow pace.

When you finally awaken and Feyd is already thrusting between your legs making you begin panting and moaning shocked into arousal at already being penetrated.

Your brain strives to catch up with your body as your heart beats wildly. You hear his heavy grunts behind you as his hips pound against your thighs. He works his thrusts holding your waist to him keeping you steady on his cock.

He grins at having to last a little longer now that you are awake to make you cum with him. He cups your breast pinching and pulling the nipple that makes you cry out for him as you clench on his length.

You moan his name as he thrusts into you harder and he knows you will cum. He brings his hand to your clit slipping his fingers over the wet nub to make you orgasm. “Feyd I’m going to cum” you moan out. “Cum for me” he commands. His lips press your neck sucking more love mark into your flesh.

Your back arcs as you orgasm and he flicks your clit faster with his fingers as he paints your walls with his cum. His head falls back and you hear him groaning in pleasure at the euphoric feeling of your walls milking his cock. He slows his thrusts to a stop when he is empty and you both pant as you come down.

You suddenly smile as you laugh in the darkened room “Why didn’t you awaken me?” You ask as he withdraws his cock from your body. “I couldn’t sleep and you were resting so soundly.” He admits.

You turn over to face him. The room is dimly lit with moonlight but you can see him smiling in satisfaction. His body is glistening in sweat and he is still panting. You press your hand to his forehead and his chest feeling he is hot all over.

You sit up and pull the sheets from him. You eye his body the way he is still labored breathing. “Feyd It is too hot for you here.” you discern getting up from the bed to help him cool down.

Though the planet is scarce with water the Arrakeen palace rests on an aquifer, structured above its cavernous system of fresh water.

You run a bath for Feyd in the sand stone basin. You call to him when it has filled. As he rests in the cool water you bring a cloth and soak it to pat on his neck and chest before placing it on his forehead. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to place a kiss there as he looks into your eyes.

He has never been cared for in this way and his eyes plead for more. You smile at him and kneel by the basin. You rub his face and neck with the cloth until his eyes close and he relaxes.

Once he is settled you cover your mouth and yawn. He sees you are tired “Go rest I will join you soon” he says and you place a kiss to his forehead.

You return to bed exhausted and fall back into a deep sleep. When Feyds body cools down he joins you in bed soon afrer and holds your waist kissing behind your ear enamored. He finally closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Only Pleasure Remains

It is the morning of Feyd’s battle reconnaissance on Arrakis.He will be going to the front lines to kill the remaining Fremen and rally the troops. His heart beats wildly as he prepares. Once fully in his armor he kneels down to caress your face. He might die today from a strategic attack, so he makes sure you see him leave “See me off Baroness” he says smiling as you open your eyes.

You reach up and cup his face and he pulls you from the sheets into a hug. His hard armor presses into the softness of your body. You hold his head around his ears making him lock eyes with you.

“You will prove your honor and then you will come back to me” you command him and he smiles giving you a chaste kiss. You know he is going to love every second of murdering today. He is in full military gear this time with a flowing regal cape.

You quickly cleanse your mouth and get dressed. You leave with him to the greeting hall where his top military advisors and brother are assembled and waiting.

You walk hand in hand trailed by your servants. You stop the procession and pull him into a kiss before he enters the greeting hall. He accepts your passionate kiss and pets down your hair. When you release his lips as your heart beats wildly youare terrified for him. “Do you feel nervous?” You ask feeling the uncertainty of warfare second hand.

He smiles staring into your eyes “I was born to be this” he confesses. It give you some reprieve that his words are true, his bloodline was bred for centuries to create a supreme being.

The servants open the greeting hall doors and you watch Feyd join his brother and his men. He looks back to you and smiles his cape unfurling as he turns with his commanding walk leaving to the underground warships cargo of the palace.

You stand at the greeting hall floor to ceiling windows and wait. After a moment his armada can be seen emerging from the base of the palace. The ships hover in place before setting the course to their destination and jettisoning off.

As the ships trail over the horizon your heart aches with uncertainty as you await Feyds return.

Flying south across the desert Feyd sees several structures in rubble with smoke billowing from them. “The death of our enemy by your hand brother “Rabban yells to Feyd over the loud engine of the craft. Looking into the horizon Feyd sees hundreds of billowing stacks of smoke.

They approach a large intact rock structure at the barrier of the north territory and the craft lands. Feyd exits the craft as his military strategist informs him they have rounded up the remaining Fremen who are most likely spies left behind.

Feyd plans to kill them all.

“Where?” He asks as they enter the structure. It is a cave with several rooms, one of them filled with messenger birds that a Harkonnen soldier crisps to death with a flame accelerator.

The military strategist escorts Feyd to the Fremen spies who are lined up on their knees in a single row. The large cave is overcrowded with Harkonnen soldiers for Feyds protection.

Feyd walks approaching the Fremen spies slowly. He eyes each of them in the line. “Are there more of you?” He asks. None of them respond, instead they hold their heads up in defiance.

“These are all that could be found alive Baron Feyd Rautha” his military strategist confirms

“Then I already know everything that I need to know” Feyd says staring at the first spy on his knees.

Feyd unsheathes his blade. The first spy sensing his certain death stands and lunges Feyd who easily slices him across his throat. The spy collapses to the ground gurgling on his blood as he expires.

The other spies begin to panic breathing rapidly looking to each other in fear knowing death is imminent.

Feyd gestures a solider to bring him the flame accelerator. His Harkonnen soldiers step from behind the spies and gather around Feyd to behold the mercilessness of their new Baron.

“Only pleasure remains” he announces clutching the trigger. It douses the spies in flaming liquid making them combust. The accelerant ignites their bodies into glowing torches illuminating the cave. All the soldiers hear the Fremens screams cut off as they burn alive disintegrating into char.

Feyd knows this is one of the most painful way to die. Once the other Fremen find these charred remains it will strike fear and respect into the inhabitants of the planet for the entirety of his reign.

This is the first of many strongholds they must clear today. Killing all who remain and securing control of the north.

Two Ways to Die

As you settle for bed you still have not heard of Feyd’s return. You feel anxious and slide open the balcony doors to view the desert for any signs of incoming crafts forgetting the rules set in place by Feyd. The night air is swelteringly hot as you scan the horizon.

There is a sudden knock at the main chamber door as you close the balcony. It is one of your assassins who knocks on your bedroom door. “I’ve been informed you’re not allowed on the balcony Barnoness ” he relays after you open it. You nod in agreement and close the bedroom door back . You are being watched at all times while Feyd is away.

You awaken a few hours later when there is activity in the main chamber. You hear Feyds voice speaking to the guards. You rush from the bedroom to the main chamber and see him. His eyes are emotionless as you run to hug him.

He is covered streaks of blood and it makes you gasp. He releases your hold on him “Wait for me in the bed chamber” he says clutching your wrists to keep your hands unsullied. He releases your wrists and you go to wait. He continues speaking with your assasind before dismissing them to the hall for the remainder of the night.

You pace looking to the bed chamber doors waiting. He finally enters and you notice the dark blood on his neck “You’re hurt!” You exclaim.

He is exhausted and keeps you at bay holding his hand out “Sit and wait for me I have already been treated by the palace healer ” he reassures you as he gestures you to sit. He walks to the decontamination chamber room and closes the door.

You wait anxiously until he emerges. Once he is clean you rush him again to check his body.

You see the bruises on his back and abs but the worst is the lengthy cut on his neck.

You trace your finger along the line, it is sealed shut. “Feyd what happened?” You ask finally looking into his eyes full of concern.

He walks you to the bed and sits pulling you onto his lap conserving his strength. He brings your hand to his temple to comfort him with your energy.

He closes his eyes and you observe his stressed face relax as you transfer calmness into his mind. He opens his eyes to gaze in yours and you see the softness return to them as he slowly begins revealing what happened.

“We were ambushed at one of the final strongholds” he admits. Your eyes widen in disbelief that he was attacked.

“The Fremen I fought to the death kneed me throughout as we struggled to gain the blade. I angled to allow him a slice to my neck and regained the handle once he extended his wrist. A small sacrifice to secure victory“ he admits with a weak smile. Your heart spirals knowing that he was in life threatening danger.

“In that moment just as in the arena when I felt death was near I laughed because I already have everything set in place to keep you safe forever should I die. I have always known I will not live long in this lif- - .”

You hug him to your chest to stop his morbid words. You don’t want to hear him say another utterance of his death it makes you emotionally fall apart.

You remove your robe from your shoulders and settle on to his lap. Both of you naked as you clutch his jaw and kiss every thought out of his head.

He relaxes into your kisses and lays back flat on the bed holding you to him never breaking the connection of your lips. He trails his hands up your spine settling them to the nape of your neck.

An idea returns to his mind of the only two ways he wants to die; one is in ultimate submission to you.

He pulls your face from his and gazes into your eyes. “I want to submit myself to you” he says sliding his hands to your hips lifting them up. He pulls you forward until your pussy hovers over his face. “I want to give myself only for your pleasure” he confesses

He trails his hands up to your waist and eagerly pulls you down onto his wanting mouth.

Once you settle on his face between your legs you tilt your head back and moan his name. He has never submitted to you in this way before and it completely ignites your sexual passion for him.

You fall forward and grip the sheets as he begins eating you mercilessly lapping your folds sucking them and jutting his chin up with every flick of his tongue. You are shaking and screaming in pleasure as your core tightens overwhelmed with his skill.

He groans against your folds and replaces his hands to cup your hips guiding you up and down on his mouth making you ride his face as he pushes his tongue into your entrance.

You grind against his mouth until your thighs tremble as you moan and orgasm. Your core releases the clear liquid arousal of your cum directly into his wanting mouth. His eyelids flutter in obsession lapping up your arousal in pure bliss. He licks you clean and pushes his tongue into your entrance prodding for more.

The only two ways he would choose his death; Being fatally stabbed by an expert fighter or being suffocated between your thighs devouring your sweet cunt until he expires.

Once you orgasm and have no cum left to give he grips the back of your thighs and quickly rolls on top of you. He climbs your body and settles between your legs. He lines his cock and plunges into your soft wet entrance. You are completely primed for him and he sinks deeply inside of you as he groans in pleasure.

You moan at the stretch of his large his size before you cry out at the way he fucks you.

He pounds into you grunting and spreading your thighs apart with his hands. He holds them back to increase his pleasure. He is so high from submitting to you and having you ride his face until you came that he is relentless.

His cock is painfully hard as he thrusts into your tight walls. He clenches his thighs to push himself even deeper. You two pant and moan in unison as he quickens his thrusts going harder wanting to cum.

He looks at your face full of passion beneath him and you see the intensity in his eyes of how much he loves you. It is immeasurable.

You reach up grab his neck pulling him down into a kiss. You lock your lips with him as he rocks into you with his thrusts. His hips falter and he deeply moans into your mouth as he begins releasing his warm cum in to you. He breaks the kiss but you bite his lower lip making him stay and he cums even harder.

You wrap your legs around his waist to prevent him from slamming you into the bed and it intensifies his pleasure even more, keeping him fully inside of you as he empties his pulsing cock. He finally slows his thrusts to a stop.

He shudders as he stares down at you catching his breath. It was one of his most fulfilling sexual experiences he’s had with you and you both smile at each other in recognition.

He lifts his hips and slips out of you rolling on to his back trying to slow his breaths.

You are both covered in sweat your sex making the room increase in temperature.

You know he is hot and leave the bed to fill the sand stone basin. Once it is full you stop the valve. He hears it and comes to get in the cool water. As he steps he holds your hand to join him, helping you over the ledge.

He settles down in the water and has you lay your back against his chest. As he holds you firm to him, you both of you rest your eyes enjoying the intimate moment.

He trails his hand along your shoulder before finally breaking the silent moment. “Ask your Doulah how soon after the first can I fill you with a second.” You laugh at his eager request and how much he wants to have more children with you.

Flipping over in the water you rest on his chest with your arms around his neck. You gaze into his impatient eyes as you answer resolutely “Feyd Rautha first you must have this one” he grins and flips you over to rest your back on his chest again. His hands slide down around your womb beneath the water cradling you with his first unborn. He can not wait to have his children with you.

The Final Days

Feyds powers increase exponentially. He begins bombing raids on large structures in the south of Arrakis killing hundreds of thousands. The inhabitants of the planet submit to him completely to save what remaining ancient holy structures they have left.

They believe no matter who controls the planet that one day their Muad’Dib will rise and avenge the catastrophes Feyd Rautha has caused their people.

Without interference from the Fremen the Harkonnen army begins to run the harvesters untouched increasing Spice production exponentially.

When Feyd frees the hold on Spice his wealth soon surpasses that of the emperors. He uses his excess riches and status to coerce and bribe other members of the great houses. The calculating Feyd Rautha becomes untouchable.

Feyds upgraded quarters are substantially luxurious on Giedi Prime. The bed frame is carved from the black Harkonnen stone of purity.

There is a seating room, a sauna, a spa, and a room to entertain guests with a balcony that stretches the entire length of the suite.

Due to his constant concerns of your safety he requested you remain there for the final weeks of your pregnancy ensuring everything you needed was provided for.

When Feyd returns after his Baron duties he always seeks you out embracing you like he hasn’t seen you in days. He is running several interplanetary campaigns as well improving the world for his people. He cherishes the calm quiet moments you can spend together.

He wants the same thing each time after he bathes. He hugs you from behind running his hands over your full breasts and your womb whispering gently in your ear about how beautiful you look carrying his unborn until he makes you smile.

Then he would help you lay on the bed and place his ear against your womb. At first he would thump it with his fingers it summon the unborn until you told him just to use his voice instead and placed his hand were you knew he would feel the kicks.

He was infatuated feeling his unborn respond to him. He would pull your hand to his head forcing you to send him calming energy and would often fall asleep exhausted in your lap with his hand resting on your womb this way. Other nights he wanted more.

The first instance when you felt the dull ache that wouldn’t dissipate during sex you grabbed his arm begging him to stop as you tried to recover from the pain. The penetration of his large cock became too painful. He immediately withdrew himself and held you in his arms caressing you until you felt the pain subside.

You still craved him but in a much softer way and he understood. You were sacred to him and he couldn’t get enough of you but he would forgo his pleasure for your own.

Having you sit up he would stack pillows behind your back and worship your body trailing kisses down your neck to your chest sucking each of your nipples into his mouth.

He would continue down your belly massaging the sides before gently settling between your legs. He would pleasure you slowly and carefully sliding his fingers in and out of you coaxing the swollen firmness within that made you fall apart for him within seconds.

His favorite part was your new taste his breathing would become heavier waiting for the exact moment you clenched on his fingers as you came. He would lap up your arousal which was so sweet to him like nectar.

His cock would painfully harden as he made you cum and he tasted it.

When he pleasured himself for you he would always let you watch. Often he would squeeze one of your full breast in his hand as he came or have you press your fingers to his temple and illicit him with pain to release his cum.

After he orgasmed he would clean his hands and take the pillows from behind your back turning you on your side. As he lay behind you he would kiss the back of your head and place his hand on your womb as you slept.

He knew anyday the unborn would be arriving. When it was dark in the stillness of night he would be awakened by the unborns firm kicks against his hand. They were so powerful now.

A Royal Decree

When Feyd is summoned by royal decree to Kaitan to meet with the Emperor he is enraged at the timing during your most fragile state of pregnancy. As you load onto the warship he fears for your safety and health on Kaitan but he can not leave you on Geidi Prime he knows you will birth his heir any day and he will not miss it. He brings his best militants and assassins with your Doulah.

The Emperor assures him they have the most skilled midwife in the galaxy should complications arise. He knows that the child is protected by the Bene Gessirit as one of the most highly sought after bloodlines to create a supreme being in history. He welcomes Feyd with open arms.

As you arrive to Kaitan you are mystified. You look at the expanse of the lush green planet in all directions as you fly to the palace. The craft descends at its destination and you see the infamous palatial waterfalls similar to the ones were you used to study.

You become excited and squeeze Feyds hand as he rests next to you in the space craft lounge. You haven’t seen your home world in almost a year but it feels like a lifetime.

You and Feyd exit the craft together escorted by two advisors, three assassins, and a flank of his most skilled Harkonnen warriors stationed behind him.

The palace greeter is shocked by Feyds entourage it is like an Emperor’s“ Greetings Baron and Baroness Harkonnen I am Pitri” The greeter says as he warily eyes your full pregnancy “The Emperor apologizes for requesting your presence at such an inconvenient time but some rather alarming accusations have come to light that must be addressed in person. I’m sure you will come to understand. I will show you to your quarters.” He announces.

You walk through the grandiose palace to reach the guest suites and are shown to your accommodations. Two of your Bene Gessit sisters wait at the door to welcome your arrival they approach you in jubilation. They are pushed back by the assassins ready to unsheathe their swords.

Feyd snaps his fingers and smiles as they release the startled females. Exactly the protection he wants for his Baroness. “May we approach Baroness Harkonnen” they bow and ask correctly the second time. You nod and smile as they come to hug you. They marvel over your garments and your rings.

Feyd leaves one guard with you and waits as the assassins clear the room of any threats.

Once they clear the room you are permitted to enter. Your sisters pull your hands gently guiding you inside. Your eyes widen at the extravagance of the room is like its own small palace. Pillars in the entry way make you look up to a hand painted mural of the palatial gardens

The room itself is open to a palace lake. Round awnings are decorated with curtains that billow in the wind. The room is completely open to an outside garden.The theme is turquoise and gold decorations throughout the colors are bright and fanciful every room is filled with fresh fruit and decorative bouquets of flowers.

You are quite exhausted from the trip but your sisters beckon you to sit with them in the enormous living room and you oblige.

As you rest on a sofa together they can’t help but caress your belly. “When does the unborn kick?” Your sister Freya asks feeling the round firmness pressing her ear to your womb “Very often at night” you say wearily.

“How has Baron Feyd Rautha been during your pregancy. The rumors of Giedi Prime men and their treatment of females is atrocious.” Delphine says making a wary face toward Feyd while he is speaking with his advisor.

You smile looking down at your belly trailing your hand around it “He has surprisingly been obsessed with me and his unborn” you admit as you blush. They smile with you. ”He has even broached the topic lightly in meetings with his advisors about the evolving roles of females on Giedi Prime. I fear if he isn’t careful some will assume a female might be in control of him” you tease making the three of you giggle together in secret.

Feyd’s advisor informs him the Revered Mother has requested your company in isolation. He immediately dismisses it. “I do not know this female. The risk is too great here she can come to Giedi Prime where I can guarantee the safety of the Baroness” he says in a set tone. His advisor bows and arranges to send the correspondence.

The Emperor has requested a private meeting with Feyd over dinner that evening which intrigues him more. As you speak to your sisters he prepares for the occasion.

When you notice he has retreated to get changed you bid your sisters farewell.

Once they leave you head to the master suite joining Feyd and close the door. You rest back on the ornate canopy bed with your arms splayed at your sides The garden breeze blows through the room bringing the sweet scent of florals. You feel heavy and physically exhausted you can no longer get up and use your remaining energy to turn on your side instead.

Feyd emerges from the wardrobe room dressed regally in a black high collar shirt with a cape. Pinned to the front is his Baron Medallion.

He walks over to you and smiles, seeing you are unable to remain awake he caresses your face. “I will call your servants to attend to you I want you to rest until I get back” he says gently as your heavy eyelids shut. This is normal behavior for you now. He knows his powerful unborn is harvesting all of your energy he caresses your womb before he leaves to have dinner with the Emperor.

The Emperor

Feyd walks the enormous palace to the throne room with two of his Harkonnen guards. They are stopped at the doors by the Emperial solidiers, only Feyd is permitted to enter.

He looks around the large dome space of the throne room in its impressive grandeur. There is no one in sight. He eyes the throne of the Emperor and takes a few paces toward its golden steps before a familiar voice stops him.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my how you’ve grown.” Princess Irulan says as she approaches him.

She swishes her elaborate silver gown as she walks over to study the mystifying man before her with appealing interest.

She pleasantly smiles as they greet. “The last I’d seen you was ages ago. I remember it distinctly…you were so excited to show me one of your new blades…of course my servants ushered me away. ‘He’s a dangerous child they warned me, but I found you to be very sweet.” She says fondly smiling from the memory looking at how handsome he’s become.

“I have no memory of this “ Feyd admits

“You were but a boy about this tall” she measures to his chest at his Barons medallion then looks into his striking blue eyes. “But you’ve grown much bigger since then.” She admits with an alluring smile, she slowly encircles Feyd looking over his regal clothing and his strong physique before standing in front of him again with a mysterious smile.

“I was dismayed I couldn’t attend your gladiatorial event I would’ve loved to see you wield the blades you are so fond of.” she sighs “From what I hear you performed valiantly and then had quite the time at your birthday celebration….before……your uncle unexpectedly expired the next morning...” she shares.

Princess Irulan approaches him closer to check his eyes trying to discern if he actually killed his own uncle.

“It must have been bitter sweet” she says gazing deeper into his eyes as she presses her hands to smooth the front of his cape. Feyd takes a small step back due to her comfort in his proximity.

“Your father had me summoned here why are you the one who greets me?.” He asks tilting his head in curiosity.

She studies his stoic demeanor wondering how she can crack him to bend to her will. She finally pinpoints a weakness and ignores his question to interrogate him.

“Knowing your infamous lust for power it seems all too convenient doesn’t it? Your uncle falling ill as soon as my father deems you the worthy Baron of Geidi Prime?” She says tracing her fingertip around his Baron Medallion.

Feyd can no longer stand her incessant talking and veiled threats “Where is the Emperor?” He snaps. His dominance excites her and she stares at him with an unwavering intensity having never been talked down to.

She tries to gain his favor with sympathy .“My father is frail. He wasn’t feeling well this morning. He and I were supposed to meet you in the throne room together but look he is still at the out door dinner table set up for us, just there” she points and Feyd sees the frail old man being helped to sit back down at the head of the table in the palatial gardens.

“My father is a very proud man he will walk to you eventually but let’s make it easier and walk to him together through the garden shall we?.“ she requests looking at Feyd with kind eyes.

He cares nothing for the old man but walks to make the meeting faster.

Princess Irulan slips her hand around Feyds arm as they walk, he immediately releases her hold stepping aside as they continue on their path. “It is impolite for a guest to refuse an escort to the Princess in the palace” she corrects him.

“I do not entertain the wishes of a princess” he responds clasping his hands behind his back as they walk together. She smiles enjoying the way he challenges her.

“Typical Harkonnen male unassuming of the power a female can weild“ she says pulling his arm and replacing her hand around it.

“My title holds more power over yours in every way possible Baron Feyd Rautha you will do as I say” she commands. It burns Feyd on the inside to be talked to in such a way but he does not show it.

He clearly sees through her veiled attempts to control him for her benefit. Her dress her mannerisms the way she continues to stare longingly at him holding his arm. All signs the Emperor is desperate to arrange a marriage between them.

Feyd knows the mysterious leak of Vladimir Harkonnens documentation of the ordered Atreides genocide must have reached Kaitan by now.

With the correspondences traced directly from the palace ordering the attack on Caladan, the Emperor must be aware his reign is coming to an end.

As they both approach Emperor Shaddam smiles. He is a frail old man with white hair and a stoic face. He wear an extravagant shimmering white tunic with gold adornments.

“Feyd Rautha! Ah my mistake Baron Feyd Rautha I haven’t seen you since you were a boy” he exclaims “I’ve already told him father “ Princess Irulan says flatly. ”You look very handsome with my Princess Irulan on your arm why did you ever go back on that proposal negotiation! I would adore to call you my son in law.” The Emperor reveals.

“You both know why” Feyd Rautha admits shooting them glances and removing Princess Irulans hand the final time before he continues.

“What I want to know is why you can’t even bring yourself to acknowledge her, my Baroness.” he says eyes glaring between them. It enrages him that they think of him without you.

The Emperor puts his hands up to calm the situation “Baron we are aware of her yes and her condition we are just confused. Your uncle informed us you needed her to procure an heir but due to high incompatibility you would be sending her back here to Kaitan.” The Emperor reveals. Feyd tries to hide the impact of the shocking blow of the Emperors revalation by shifting his jaw.

Princes Irulans passions increase for Feyd seeing he is truly in love, this is his weakness. She watches him fidget with his signet ring clearly distressed and thinking about his Baroness. She is used to cold political marriages and power dynamics. Seeing a Harkonnen male with his heart strung for a female stirs something inside of her.

She thought him to be masculine and domineering which excites her. But the handsome man who stands before her is also intelligent and loyal with extreme wealth and honor. She must have him.

“The Baroness is my wife and her child is my heir” Feyd proclaims.

The Emperor puts his hands up in acknowledgment “I see that there has definitely been a misunderstanding. Irulan my lovely daughter, you will not be joining us for dinner” The emperor informs her. Princess Irulan lifts her chin in frustration, she is used to getting her way.

She approaches her father and kisses his cheek bidding him farewell. She smiles to Feyd “My father is a kind man unlike your uncle, what a shame, House Harkonnen could have held such a powerful union.”she says alluringly.

Feyd lifts his chin with a sinister gaze “ If you so desire to be betrothed into House Harkonnen so be it. Emperor Shaddam set forth the arrangements to marry Princess Irulan with my brother Rabban” her eyes widen in shock. Rabban is a brutal impulsive butcher she does not desire him at all.

Feyd enjoys the fear in her eyes and holds back his smile as the Emperor actually mulls it over.

Before he can utter a word Princess Irulan cuts in. “Father we must speak with the Reverend Mother on such arrangments” she says quickly.

Her father nods in agreement. “You are correct as always on these matters my precious daughter” he says taking her hand and patting it. She looks to her father and then longingly at Feyd bidding them farewell for the evening.

The emperor rests back down in his chair at the head of the table clearly tired from the exertion of merely standing. He gestures Feyd to take the seat at his right as a servant pulls the chair for him.

A meal of fresh herb filet is plated infront of them. Feyd cuts into the fish and brings a piece to his mouth. He enjoys the texture and the soft flavor he has never had fish before.

The Emperor gets straight to the topic at hand seeing Feyd is swift and precise at cutting through conversations.

“It has come to light that the atrocities committed on Caladan that wiped out the Atreides were premeditated .” He sighs.

“You mean the affairs of my uncle?” Feyd questions with his hands clasped already distancing himself from collusion.

“Yes unfortunately so, as you are aware it was ordered by my hand and now I will be tried in front of a tribunal of the great houses…..” the Emperor puts down his fork and looks into Feyds eyes.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my reign has come to an end, my sins have caught up with me. What I have done I chose to do. Every sacrifice I made led me to the path which I was foretold would benefit mankind. Do you understand the weight of such a decision?” the Emperor implores.

“Do I understand the weight of ordering a genocide to suppress the power of a competent rival ?“ Feyd asks throwing the Emperor’s sins directly back in his face.

“Yes …yes that is why you have been summoned you will be as I am, you will have what I have in leadership. The decisions I made were all guided by the Bene Gessirit. Have you met the Reverend mother yet?” The emperor asks with piqued curiosity

“I have not“ Feyd admits. The Emperor thinks on his answer. “If you have come this far without meeting her, then she already controls you” the Emperor says with a warning glare that falters Feyds confidence. The old man says it with such a depth of sincerity it cannot be false.

“What exactly does the Reverend Mother want” Feyd asks with a newfound curiosity.

“What they all want power and control. One will replace the other but they all twist fate to their benefit to create the ultimate being. A human able to see past present and future. Even the highest Bene Gesserit, the Reverend Mother can only see the past.

Baron have you known you carry the superior bloodline? Your Baroness is in fact a Bene Gesserit as are the multitude of women who infiltrated your family for centuries to breed…do you understand that this is why they want your child?

Feyd sits back in shock he cares not of what the Bene Gesserit want. “What will happen to my child?” Feyd asks leaning back in fully invested with his only concern.

The Emperor thinks it over before coming to his conclusion. He leans in closer to Feyd as he speaks. “Baron what I tell you can not be interfered with. They have ways to make men do unspeakable things if you turn against them. Before I knew you had an attachment I would have willingly told you, now that I know you love the mother and child… Baron I must be honest, with your traumatic family history I fear for your mental sanity when I share the news.”

Feyd takes a deep breath and asks resolutely

“What will happen to my child”

The Emperor looks to the sky and then stressfully relents

“If your infant is female she will be taken from her mother at birth indoctrinated in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. She will be completely ignorant of her parentage and will be raised in complete secrecy. Ultimately she will become ..a bedding concubine … a pleasure slave for the male who will impregnate her with a son to secure the bloodline. The Bene Gesserit breed only to have females. This would make your grandson the rarest male Bene Gesserit of all, the Kswis Haderach that has been awaited for centuries”

Feyds breathing increases wondering if you know they will take the newborn at birth and if his uncle designed every detail of this plan with the Bene Gessirit. He remembers his uncle never thought he would be invested in marriage and wanted you sent away during your pregnancy. His heart pounds rapidly at the complications now.

“You say the Bene Gessirit favor the birth of females what if my unborn is male?”he asks. The Emperor thinks back before he responds.

“There was such an instance directly linked to you Baron Feyd Rautha. Your compatible mate was to be born in the House Atreides.You would have fathered the Kswish Haderisck you were meant to have a son.”

Feyd is shocked by the admission and listens to the Emperor further.

“Lady Jessica defied the order and birthed a boy named Paul with Duke Leto Atreides making your union incompatible. This is the center of it all the Bene Gesserit will have to wait another generation for your daughter to birth the Kswis Haderach which should have been your son.”

“Now what will happen if my unborn a male?” Feyd requestions.

“He will be an abomination to the Bene Gesserit just as Paul Atreides they will want nothing to do with him” the Emperor reveals.

Feyd sits back in silence realizing his cursed Harkonnen lineage continues. If he has a daughter she will be ignorant of her parentage just as he never knew his father and mother.

The painful memory of Feyds childhood floods his mind entirely. He clutches his head in mental anguish no longer able to contain the agony and stress he’s carried deep inside for so long. He rocks back and forth and squeezes his eyes shut in dispar, his bloodline has already cursed his unborn.

That fateful day on Lankerville when Rabban killed their father Feyd Rautha was there.

Matricide

The ship carrying the Baron with Rabban and Feyd landed on the planet Lankerville.

The Baron remained in the craft with the young Feyd while Rabban went to speak with their father.

Feyd was seven years old, a very quiet and clever boy. Vladimir had Feyd rested upon his lap holding him closely petting him affectionately.

The Baron knew the day would come when he would need to punish his brother Abulurd for renouncing the Harkonnen name and tying to hide away with his sons.

What better way to deliver justice on such a dishonor than to have his brothers sons raised as Harkonnens to return and deliver it.

Years prior he easily tracked down his fleeing brother Abulurd with his Bene Gesserit wife. The Baron generously offered his brother the planet Lankerville to show no ill will.

But soon as Arbulurd arrived on Lankerville with his wife and sons the Baron ordered his Harkonnen guards to clutch baby Feyd out of his mother’s arms and collect the teenaged Rabban.

He took his brothers sons for his crime of renouncing the Harkonnen name.

Their mother screamed at the Baron for interfering with the plans of the Bene Gesserit and how he would pay for his actions. The Baron hated the woman she was the reason his brother fled in the first place, she had poisoned Abulurds mind. He wished to dispatch of her in that instant. But he knew letting her live with the fact her sons, birthed for the Bene Gessirts, weretaken would be a fate worse than death.

The Baron adored Feyd from the instant the guard placed him in his waiting arms.The babies eyes were crystal blue and he smelled of fresh powder. The Baron bonded to him instantly. He snuggled baby Feyd and offered his pinky for the small outstretched hand to hold. A son not of his loins but a Harkonnen he would raise as his own.

He called out to the fourteen year old Rabban who was still struggling against the guards with all of his might.

With his father and mother surrounded by Harkonnen soldiers as he spoke to the young Rabban and held baby Feyd “Your father is a traitor to the Harkonnen name and for his dishonor you will be raised with me to learn your heritage. This is the only reason I spare your parents lives today.” the Baron admits.

Rabban stopped his struggling then to look at his parents. Both of them never favored him and his head hung low as they did not even go against what was happening.

The Baron smiled seeing Rabbans dismay “I will make you a brave warrior Glassu Rabban you will command the respect of hundreds of thousands in my army and perhaps even rule Geidi prime” the Baron offered.

Baby Feyd made a small sound then and the Baron cood at him snuggling him closer. “What is it my little prince” he said petting the softness of Feyd’s crown.

Rabbans voice spoke up “I will go with you and I will do as you ask” he was teary eyed as his parents remained silent. The guards released him and he willingly followed the Baron from his home looking back at his parents who stood with their heads low.

As they entered the space craft he finally heard their cries of agony. “Have you killed them!” Rabban asked stunned “No no for what they have done being alive is a fate far worse than death” The Baron informed Rabban while adoring the sleeping Infant Feyd in his arms.

Seven years later Abulurd began defying the Baron at every instance as the governor of Lankerville.

The correspondence he was using the planets tax money to help the poor was the final act of disobedience that brought swift action. The Baron announced he would be arriving personally on Lankerville to punish his brother.

Abulurd had been waiting for this instance. He was not helping the poor with the tax money but instead had purchased a small army to kill his brother for taking his sons in an attempt to rescue them back.

When the Baron landed on the planet their crafts were heavily ambushed. The Baron had brought double his armada already sensing it was a trap his craft was quickly protected.

Rabbans anger was at its peak looking at the Baron who sat in his chair waiting for the lasgun fire to cease. “How dare he defy you! “ Rabban yelled hearing the beams blast the hull of the craft. Rabban growled as he paced waiting for the doors to unload to take his father’s life as the Baron requested.

Feyd sat calmly on the Barons lap watching his brother and six guards charge out of the craft once the gunfire had ceased.

A solider reported to the raging Rabban that the two traitors they were asked to detain were bound inside. The rest of the rebels had been slain. Rabban charged into the governors mansion.

“You are a traitor to the Harkonnen name “

Rabban had yelled as he punched his kneeling and bound father knocking him to the ground in the throne room.

His mother wailed seeing Rabban had become what she always feared, an impulsive raging monster “where is Feyd Rautha let me see my son”she begged.

Rabban ignored her and as his father tried to explain why he defied the Baron Rabban cut him short and strangled his father to death.

When his mother saw her husband killed at the hands of their own son who was trying to save him she couldn’t bear reality anymore and went insane. She bolted trying to escape the throne room but was quickly caught and brought back by on of the Harkonnen warriors that surrounded her.

“Do you want to see your favorite son?” Rabban asked taunting her knowing what the Baron had in store for his most hated Bene Gesserit. ”Gag her.” he ordered before she could speak and the guards bound her mouth shut having her kneel again.

As the screams of his mother grew louder from the mansion Feyd climbed from his uncle lap to see the commotion. “This is what happens to traitors of the Harkonnen name who dishonor their ancestors the very blood that runs through your veins Feyd Rautha.” He told the boy as he took his hand to bring him into the mansion throne room.

Feyd did not recognize his own mother bound with her mouth gagged and kneeling on the ground. She gasped when she saw him and struggled to speak with her mouth obstructed.

The Baron handed the boy his favorite new blade. Feyd approached the woman yanking her head back by the hair. She was calm and did not scream or fight like the others, she willingly gave herself to him staring into his eyes as he slit the blade across her throat.

“Feyd that was our mother” Rabbans voice announced as he stood over the body of their father watching the lives they knew be severed forever.

The Baron quickly tried to pull Feyd away but the boy broke from the Barons grasp and began screaming as he dropped to his knees clutching his mothers dying body.

For the first time Feyd cried. It was so loud and tormenting his brother kneeled by his side and squeezed his frail shoulders not knowing how to calm him.

Rabban began rambling all of the rhetoric engrained in his mind by the Baron “Our mother and father betrayed everything Harkonnen do you realize the sacrilege our father committed. He dishonored our very blood line he tried to steal us from our birthright. Even today he planned an ambush to kill Uncle Vladimir!” Rabban yelled.

Feyd had gone catatonic with his arms clutched around his mother’s neck. Rabban shook him hard yet he did not stir from her body “She never cared for us Feyd let her go. She was Bene Gesserit.... Look at how she tricked our father.” he gestured to the body of the dead man behind him.

But Feyd having been traumatized for the entirety of his young life was mentally gone. After all of his training this is the death that shattered his frail mind.

“Come with me and uncle we have served justice for our ancestors today. We will pray for their forgiveness in the old manner, we can leave this place the traitors are gone brother” Rabban pleaded.

Feyds were black as if his spirit had left from his body. He stared straight ahead motionless as his chin rested on his mother’s head. Rabban rested his hand on his brothers neck to check his pulse, he was alive. Rabban then looked to the Baron

”He has gone into shock.” Rabban said once he realized why his brother could no longer react.

The Baron sneered at Rabban

“I trained him so well for this moment and you had to tell him it was his mother?”

Rabban was confused. “I thought he should know as I know for our Harkonnen honor.” he confessed.

“He would have known in time until then she would have been just another female. Your Impulsive ignorance has always greatly disappointed me Rabban. You have caused a fracture in his core persona that can only be filled with more depravity, or he will be the most sympathetic Harkonnen the planet has ever seen. Carry him to the ship” the Baron commanded and Rabban scooped up Feyds limp body taking him to the craft heading back to Giedi Prime.

Now in the presence of the Emperor Feyd has a full mental break down. His head is clutched in his hands as he breaths wildly feeling unable to replace the air in his lungs. He suffers in pain as his mind flashes through the horrific memory that he wants to make stop. He cries out in agony rocking back and forth in his chair unable to regain his mind as the memory has a visceral response.

The Emperor sees the young man is so tormented from his words that he tries to comfort him “Baron Feyd Rautha I warned you with your family history that I feared for your mental sanity. You were only a boy then how could you have known” the Emperor says with sympathy placing his hand on Feyds shoulder.

Feyd smacks the Emperors hand from his shoulder standing up abruptly from his chair and staring at the old man wildly. Feyd stares at his hands in complete disbelief of who he really is and fears he is going insane he flees the Emperor to find his guards.

He finds them at the entrance of the throne room out of breath as he tries to hold himself together. He is covered in a cold sweat shivering and nauseous as he command them weakly “Take me to my Baroness.”

You hear the short wails of Feyd in the hall before the palace suite doors slam open. The guards bring Feyd holding his arms and guide to sit on the couch. He is in severe mental distress holding back tears unable to speak going catatonic.

You rush to him and immediately press your finger tips to his temple as the guards watch. He clings to you then and you stare into his wild eyes as it takes him several moments to calm down. “What is wrong with him? Was he drugged?” You frighteningly ask his captain of the guard. “No Baroness the Baron was not himself after h met with the Emperor he ordered us to bring him directly to you.” They relay.

Your heart sinks as you tend to him. He endured severe mental anguish for quite some his eyes are now trembling as he looks at you. He can never bring himself to say what he has done. Tears begin falling down his cheeks as he loosens his grasp on your arms your calming energy finally taking effect as he relents into unconsciousness.

In the morning you tend to Feyd on the bed where the guards helped place him. He had severe nightmares throughout the night screaming for his mother. You held him comfortingly and transferred calming energy as you whispered to him that he was safe in your arms.

Now as the day beings and sunlight creeps through the suite you are exhausted.

You ask your servant to arrange a meeting or written correspondence with the Emperor. He is the only one who knows what happened to Feyd during the evening.

When the Emperor denies your request you begin to suspect that Feyd is the son that committed matricide and the Emperor will not betray his confidence.

As you look over Feyds sleeping form you hold his hands. A wave of fear and sadness fills your heart. You you wonder how he did it and why.

Your servant knocks again and hands you a second letter that arrived just after the Emperors. It is from your Reverend Mother requesting an urgent meeting within the hour at the atrium of the main palace garden.

You have your servants help you to get dressed for your meeting with her. You transfer more calming energy to Feyds mind as he rests in bed and whisper in his ear that you will come back. You plant a soft kiss to his forehead as you leave him.

Reverend Mother

The palatial gardens are beautiful as the morning light streaks through the trees. Butterflies guide your path as you walk to the location the reverend mother requested. You are trailed by your Doulah and three assassins. Due to her order that you meet in complete privacy you have them wait just out of earshot.

You walk to the garden atrium where you see the Reverend Mother seated in a stone chair with the one across from her open. She gestures you to sit.

She is covered head to toe in black her face hidden behind a beaded veil. She wears the traditional Bene Gesserit headpiece adding to her stature.

These are the same the gardens you used to frolic in as you trained for the order when your loyalties were at the strongest for the Bene Gesserits.

The Reverend Mother looks at you now covered head to toe in black elaborate shimmering fabrics. Your face covered in a sheer veil unable to hide your stunning beauty beneath. The skin on your hands are a paler shade from the toxic conditions on Geidi prime and gold rings cover every finger.

“You are not the innocent I thought would be defiled. You have transformed the defiled into his highest potential.” She finally speaks as you sit across from her.

“Your husband has become quite powerful, as you are aware. His genetics were bred for centuries to create such an excellent specimen, as is his child in your womb.” She gestures at your full pregnancy knowing the time is near.

“Feyd Rautha has changed the course of his destiny, there are very few who can have alternate timelines such as this. With your child we will soon know with precision the outcome of every single shift in time .”

She pauses her words knowing her next piece of information is vital.

“Feyd will be Emperor.”

She proclaims

You let out a sigh of relief. His life ambition will be fulfilled.

“Do your loyalties lie with the Bene Gesserit?“ she asks you with intent shocking you as you try to answer correctly.

“Yes Revered Mother.” You answer quickly

“Then I tell you this in the upmost confidentiality. The Emperor will be dethroned in seven days at the tribunal of the great houses for his war crimes. He will be exiled to Salusa Secundus.

With Feyd Rautha to be Emperor you are now his right hand you will be our direct link to him. Will you follow every command of the order?” She asks directly.

“Yes Revered Mother” you rush to say in agreement.

Your answer sounds uncertain to her ears so she begins to test your loyalty further.

“When you are asked to evoke the Pranu Bindu and paralyze him will you say the word?” She says studying your body for any hint of description.

You squint your eyes to prevent them from showing your fear. “Yes Reverend Mother” you lie.

She has a skill to read description and knows you have lost your loyalty. She realizes Feyd Rautha must have fractured your mind with coercions of his own.

She tests a theory

”When you are pregnant with the second child of Feyd Rautha will you sacrifice it to ensure the success of your first.

The question makes you grip the chair

“Yes revered mother” you quickly lie. Feeling a lump form in your throat.

She looks closer through your veil.

“Your eyes well with tears.” She says poignantly.

You have an emotional outburst due to the stress of the situation “I will serve and continue to serve the order to the best of my ability Reverend Mother” you recite the call to the order but it is too late

She uses the voice on you for the final test if your loyalty.

You feel your head tighten as you answer with pure truth “No revered mother” She releases you from the voice dissapointed.

You take a deep breath and she sees the sadness in your eyes realizing you have fallen in love with him. Her eyes convey her strong disapproval.

The Revered Mother has gathered enough information from your sisters and throughout your pregnancy to know Feyd Rautha will flee and hide you away with his heir just as his mother and father tried to do for him and just as your mother and father tried to do for you.

You will be repeating the cycle of insanity that brought the downfall of both of your family’s and she can not allow that.

Your parents had renounced the royal status of their great house and collected their assets and gold from the treasury fleeing to another planet one month before you were born.

When the Order found you hidden away you were well past the age to be taken, you knew your parents and had formed your own identity.

As they trained you your rebellion was rampant wanting only to be with your mother and father. Your mental and physical abilities were far underdeveloped from the others until adolescence when your gift to control your bodies sexual abilities advanced to a level beyond your training. You could control every cell of your body to induce ovulation, you were unmatched.

In your youth however you were a problem child until the fateful day you were given the news your parents had been poisoned and you would never see them again. From that day forth you had been the most obedient of all.

The Revered Mother stands and leaves your presence to make arrangements to have you taken after the birth of your newborn which she knows will occur on Kaitan.

She can not risk a disruption to secure the bloodline of the Kswis Haderach. She plans to bring you back to the sisterhood and have you indoctrinated to control Feyd and have your newborn to be raised as a Bene Gesserit.

When you are certain she has gone you weep uncontrollably. You are shaken to your core at her words of killing Feyd Rautha and sacrificing your second child.

Once you collect your self. You reach the entrance of the garden and are escorted back to the Palace with your three assassins and your Doulah.

You clutch her arm and hold your womb with care because as you walk you continue to feel sharp pinches of pain in your core which you try to ignore.

Harkonnen Heir

When you reach the palace suite Feyd is dressed and sitting in a chair at the out door awning viewing the lake. The surface shimmers brightly due to the hour and the dancing reflections distract his weakened mind. When your arms slip around his neck he relaxes into you holding your forearm. He tilts his head up to gaze into your eyes and he smiles.

He feels complete now that your have returned to him and stands to hold you. He removes your veil and pulls you close planting a kiss on your forehead and holding you to his chest for a length of time centering himself.

“I thought youd been taken from me” he admits breaking the silence. “Never” you say smiling up at him. “Where did you go?” He asks gently. “I met with the Reverend Mother in the garden.” you confess and his heart sinks as remembers the words of the Emperor. “She will take our unborn and I can not allow that” he confesses.

“She will not.“ You say with confidence. Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in your core and cling to Feyd. You cry out as it intensifies and he helps you to the floor cradling you in his lap as the pain radiates stronger.

You feel the ache travel to your abdomen and you clutch your womb as you wail. The pain is agonizing and Feyd grabs ahold of your hands trying to calm you. He alerts the stunned guard who rushes in to to get your Doulah.

You look into Feyds eyes ”the unborn” you gasp out. “yes our child is arriving soon” he says with a smile to comfort you as he caresses your jaw. He quickly thinks of a way to protect his newborn from being taken.

You arrive in the brightly lit birthing chamber of the Emperial palace. It is a circular room with a large dome roof. Light shines down from a skylight in the dome with windows spaced every few inches apart to allow in the most light. There is only one entrance which is heavily guarded by Feyd soldiers.

You are moved from the transport bed to the birthing bed and propped with pillows to sit upright with your legs apart by the medical assistants. Feyd never releases your hand and remains by your side. Your practiced breathes fill the room doing just as your Doulah trained you.

As your contractions continue to worsen Feyd looks over your body in concern before finally gazing into your eyes. You have never witnessed his striking blue eyes exhibiting such fear before. You want to comfort him but you are in too much pain.

The midwife enters the room clad in the finest fabrics of Kaitan wearing masks with her healers. She conducts her inspection guiding her team with calming authority. Her assistants cut your gown from your body and covering you in a white sheet.

Seeing you are ready she gestures you to push and as you do the pain intensifies. After several pushes the air in the birthing chamber becomes thick with tension there is a complication.

The midwife requests to speak with Feyd separately in the crowded room and he momentarily leaves your side.

“Baron Feyd Rautha her labor is too intense the unborn will not stir” she conveys. Feyd for the first time feels pin pricks of fear all over his body “What can be done” he asks with urgency “We will be able to save both but we must have your permission to ….cut the flesh of the Baroness” she discerns. Feyd is relieved he finds it only fitting a Harkonnen should be cut out as if in combat. He readily agrees.

The palace healers comfort you as the and turn you on your side. They numb the skin of your back and gently place a needle in your spine to dull the lower half of your body from pain and movement.

When they remove the needle and gently lay you back on your pillows you are dizzy and high unable to feel your lower half. There is no more pain and Feyd holds your hand again. He looks down at you and smiles seeing your face is so calm.

“They will cut the unborn out” he says squeezing your hand tighter. You nod feeling the intense high in your body making you feel as if you are floating as you stare at him “Did you give them one of your blades to cut the unborn out.” you ask drugged and he smiles as he shakes his head no and pets back your hair.

The room is stagnant as the midwife applies more injections to the site she will cut. She pricks your belly hard with the knife drawing blood when you do not feel it she continues her incision.

Feyd’s breathing intensifies and his eyes widen in bewilderment as he watches her cut you open. The assistants place their hands on your belly once the incision is made and begin to push the unborn out.

The midwife easily collects the baby and due to its distress quickly cuts the umbilical cord and hands it to a healer.

Feyd sees the motionless grayish blue baby and his heart drops. When he doesn’t hear the cries he grips your hand even tighter in dispair. The healer begins to pat the baby’s back and shift it to clear its lungs as the midwife works to sew you shut.

Finally the cries of the newborn loudly fill the chamber and he sees the baby turn a pink color. Feyd releases the breath he didn’t know he had been holding as his heart swells with emotion.

The healer quickly cleans and wraps the newborn in a black gossamer blanket and places the baby into Feyd’s waiting arms. His eyes widen in awe as he looks at his new baby for the first time.

The infant is magnificent the nose the lips the soft cheeks, he has never seen anything so perfect.

"Our newborn” he whispers looking at the beautiful face feeling the happiness wash over him. He knows you must see right away too and places the baby in your arms but he never removes his hand. You feel the soft head lay on your skin and a wave of love and protectiveness washes over you.

As soon as the newborn feels your skin it reaches its tiny hand out of its bundle. Feyd places his pinky in the newborns grip as it opens its crystal blue eyes. You both let out a gasp at how well the color matches Feyds. The baby stares at you with an intense gaze. “He carries the blood of House Harkonnen." Feyd smiles seeing the resemblance in his son.

"What will you name him?" You ask gazing at the handsomeness of the Harkonnen heir. Feyd waits for the idea to form in his mind momentarily stunted by the enormity of the decision.

“I want him to carry a formidable name that honors mine and begins a new chapter for our lineage.” He confirms placing his hand around the babys soft head holding it lightly

He looks to you as he names your son “Rautha -Dimitri Harkonnen” he declares. It is the name of his maternal grandfather Rautha and his paternal grandfather Dimitri combined. Feyd feels it carries the essence of strength and change befitting of the future ruler.

You tuck your finger under baby Rauthas chin “A worthy name for your son” you smile as Feyd looks to you in agreement.

The news has already spread througout the palace. The reverend mother is dismayed that a second Bene Gesserit has defied the birthing order to have a male. With the Harkonnen genetics in tact she will now search for a compatible female to create the Kswis Haderach.

You knew on that fateful night as you held Feyd sleeping in your arms you wanted to finally escape the Bene Gesserits. You felt they had poisoned your parents all along to keep you and you never forgave them.

You realized having a son would guarantee the safety of your child and to be a Baroness meant your son would one day rule as Baron. All you had to do was keep Feyd pleased.

When you bound him with the Pranu Bindu you chose a word from a pleasant memory in your childhood. One only you would know, and If necessary under dire circumstances would give to the Bene Gessirits.

When Feyds cruelty softened to care on your wedding night you inherently knew he yearned to be nurtured. You strived to care for him and heal his broken psyche ultimately falling in love with him.

Now as the two of you rest together holding your infant you created that night you are overcome with a sense of love and serenity. Feyd presses a kiss to your forehead

"You've given me everything I dreamed of and more" he says marveling at his son’s tiny hand which holds his thumb. You look to Feyd in adoration “You have given me a life I never thought possible. I cherish every moment I have with you Feyd ” you admit caressing his hand which the baby holds.

Baby Rautha slowly drifts to sleep in your arms as you both dote over him “Let me hold him again “ Feyd says with his voice full of compassion.

He slides his hands around baby Rautha and cradles him in his arms. Feyds eyes shine with love as he watches the infant yawn. He presses his face against babies cheek inhaling his sent of sweet milk. You look over at the two of them and smile.

"I love you" Feyd whispers as his eyes briefly look over to yours, his voice is barely audible as he says the words for the first time.

"I love you too, Feyd.“ you finally tell him as your heart overflows with love.

He returns baby Rautha to your arms pressing a kiss to the sleeping infants hand.

Then he stares at your eyes and smiles. He holds your jaw and plants soft kisses on your forehead and on your cheeks finally resting his kiss on your lips.

He leans back and gazes into your eyes with deep devotion as he caresses your jaw. He realizes the three words do not come close to expressing how he truly feels for you but he will say them again and again to express what he can not convey. He is eternally grateful that you are his wife and the mother of his child. He will cherish you for eternity.

War Crimes

After five days of constant care you are strong enough to walk and carry baby Rautha around your palace suite. Your Doulah is nearby remaking the babies cot with fresh gossamer linens, you go to sit on the patio in a newly placed soft arm chair to gaze out at the lake resting baby Rautha in your arms. It is the first morning you have woken up without Feyd.

Before you would open your eyes each day Feyd was already up sitting in the rocking chair with Rautha telling him stories or softly humming Harkonnen war songs to him with his raspy voice.

He preferred you sleep and regain your strength and would dote on the baby at all hours of the night. Anything he couldn’t handle or had yet to learn be would retrieve the Doulah and climb back into bed with you.

He surpassed your skill when it came to swaddle or burp the baby. His technique was flawless as he wrapped baby Rautha into a perfect bundle in the gossamer cloths each time.

After feeding was the only time baby Rautha would make sounds of discomfort. You would try several methods to make him burp before Feyd would signal you to hand him over.

He placed a cloth on his shoulder and picked up baby Rautha gently resting him against his chest. He would pace the room rubbing his small back until the air trapped escaped from his tiny mouth.

He enjoyed fatherhood and as you watched him walk around shirtless holding Rautha it set you at ease. Being a father suited him well and you enjoyed how comfortable he was with his first baby, it made you yearn to fulfill his desire and give him more.

The only reason Feyd was not with you caring for Rautha on this morning is because he was summoned for a meeting with the Emperor.

Feyd sat in the elaborate Emperial office awaiting Emperor Shaddam. He looked around at all of the decorations of conquests for current ruler Shaddam Corrino the IV.

There are books up the walls in shelves as high as the ceiling. A large globe and a telescope are placed near the windows with a view of the palatial waterfalls. Hundreds of trophy’s and relics decorate display cases and pedestals around the room. The planet has been ruled for decades by one man and the magnitude of accumulated objects in his office reflect his reign.

Feyd hears the doors open to the office and stands as Emperor Shaddam enters holding the arm of his daughter Princess Irulans arm for balance.

He gestures Feyd to sit as he is ushered around his desk. He is helped to sit in his gilded chair by Princess Irulan. She kisses her fathers cheek then look up to Feyd “Congratulations on the birth of your son Baron Feyd Rautha “ she says pleasantly with a smile.

Feyd nods in acknowledgement and the Emperor kindly pats her hand “ Thank you my dear that will be all “he says. She smiles at her father and then to Feyd before gracefully leaving the room and shutting the doors.

“How are you feeling “ the Emperor asks with a light smile seeing the tiredness in Feyd’s eyes. “ I am well” Feyd responds briskly “ and the Baroness?” The Emperor implores more. “She is fine” Feyd answers feeling a joy in his heart at your acceptance. “And last but not leastthe excitement of the palace Rautha Dimitri Harkonen!” He says happily clasping his hands together with a jubilant smile. Finally Feyd smirks beaming with pride. “ he is my honor and heir” Feyd remarks fondly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you from them during such a precious time so I will get straight to the point” the Emperors smile fades as he opens his desk drawer retrieving a metal inscribed cylinder. He places it on the desk in front of Feyd.

“I received this on the day your son was born as if it was destiny. Even though I knew the say would come I could not bear to read the words and dropped it to the ground in front of of my daughter and my advisors in the garden. Princess Irulan retrieved it and was also in shock seeing the words” the Emperor relays.

Feyd picks up the metallic cylinder reading the first line

-The Tribunal for War Crimes of Emperor Shaddam Corino IV- stand out with the biggest lettering. Feyd sets the cylinder back down.

“The day after tomorrow I will be tried and convicted. The amount of evidence is substantial and kept so meticulously by your uncle. Most of the correspondences come from his personal office which must’ve been near impossible to retrieve for a spy.” Feyd clasps his hands and presses his fingers to his lips hiding the smile of his cleverness.

“With my final Emperial decree I wish you make you Emperor Feyd Rautha. I am old and frail and my daughter was unable to join with a compatible house.

The great houses all respect you and your generosity they will have no problem with this change. With the improvements you have made on Giedi Prime and Arrakis my people will have no resentment either.”

The Emperor then looks Feyd in the eyes with severity. “Will you allow me to officiate the coronation in two days time and hand over my Empire to you in a small ceremony before I am dethroned . It would give me great honor and restore the dignity I have lost in my old age during my reign.”

Feyd rests back in his chair and thinks on it before speaking “What does the ceremony entail?”

The emperor reaches in to his desk with a prepared list and summarizes its contents

“In the throne room you and your wife will be seated in front of the entirety of the Emperial court in a private ceremony. I will kneel to you and relinquish my power .”

He explains as her places the paper on Feyd side to study further.

As Feyd looks over the list the Emperor makes a request.

“When I relinquish my power to you I would ask of you two things;

First take care for my daughter Irulan and ensure she is safe. I will be exiled to Salusa Secundus and she may choose to join me there but her life here will be far better as a princess of Kaitan.

Secondly please show me leniency I will never plot to diminish your reign in any way.” He relents.

The Emperor slowly stands to see if Feyd will make the agreement final. Feyd stands with the Emperor and bows honoring his wishes. The Emperor weakly smiles understanding the gravity of his current situation and dismisses Feyd to return to his new family. He believes Feyd will make a fine Emperor in his stead.

Feyd finds you on the suite patio and quietly watches as you nurse his son. You look so serene and natural to him your eyes sparkling with joy as you coo at his infant latched and drinking milk.

Feyd's feels a wave of emotions watching the tender moment between the two of you. He steps out onto the patio making his presence known and comes to kneels down in front of you watching as you continue to nurse baby Rautha. "You're such a good mother," he says with his voice soft and filled with admiration. He trails his finger on Rauthas soft cheek watching him drink.

You look up at Feyd as a warm smile spreads across your lips. “ We missed you here this morning” you tell him lovingly.

“ I missed both you you as well” He admits as his heart swells with the feeling of being loved. He had never imagined he could live like this and marvels at how far you two have come together.

Baby Rautha finishes nursing and unlatches his small mouth. You tuck your breast away and snuggle him closer. He begins to wiggle and his face pinks slightly as he makes a small sound of discomfort.

“Let me have him” Feyd says knowing what he needs. You hand him over and Feyd stands swaying with the infant in his arms. The baby squirms feeling uncomfortable from the trapped air until Feyd pats it free.

The baby spittles on Feyd’s shoulder making you laugh. “Oh Feyd I forgot to hand you the cloth!” You say giving it to him late. ”It’s fine” Feyd says with a smile looking over at baby Rauthas chin wet with escaped milk.

He gently switches the baby to his left shoulder and dabs his chin clean. Then drapes the cloth over his right shoulder and replaces Rautha there

“How was your meeting with the Emperor” you ask already having an idea of what was discussed but wanting to hear the answer from his lips.

Feyd sits in the chair next to you on the patio and holds the sleeping infant Rautha to gaze at the beautiful baby in his lap.

“It is as you wished I will be Emperor. I will rule all of the great houses and control the two greatest armies in the galaxy. We will be free to do as we wish.” He looks over at you and smiles.

You smile in return as the reality sets in and you look out over the lake . You will own the entire palace. You sink back in your chair stunned, your son will be the future emperor now and Feyd made it all possible.

“I am eternally grateful for what you have done Feyd” you admit in astonishment. “In two days time we will be coronated here by Empeor Shaddam.” He says now staring out at the lake realizing the impact of his actions. You stand from your chair to be infront of him and place your hands on his armrests. You lean in and kiss his lips seeing how lost in thought he is. “ Emperor Feyd Rautha” you say seductively making him smile.

Emperor Feyd Rautha

You all awaken in the early morning as the sun rises and are helped by several servants to dress. It is Feyds coronation day as Emperor.

Feyd forgoes the traditional Kaitan white tunic and wears a velvet black high neck long sleeved one instead. It is lined with black Harkonenn gemstones.

You wear a black corseted grown with golden appliqués covering your neck and shoulders as well as your cuffs and hem. Baby Rautha wears a black baby tunic matching to his father’s and is wrapped in a shimmering gold swaddle.

The procession is led by Emperor Shaddam wearing a silver tunic. He enters the throne room first carrying a golden scepter. The three of you follow him inside to see the room is filled with dignitaries and leaders of the great houses as well as the imperial court. Every golden seat is filled on either side of the white and gold precession rug leading to the thrones.

You clutch Feyds arm tighter and hold the baby closer as your nerves rise. Rautha sleeps bundled peacefully in your arms.

The thrones on the raised ruling platform are surrounded by pillars of palatial garden flowers. Two orchestras are seated at the ground level of either side and wait on queue to play.

The emperor carefully climbs the golden steps leading to his sacred ruling space for the final time.

The stairs are lined with garden florals in a beautiful display. He stands at his ruling space smiling and gestures Feyd permission to enter as the new ruler. Feyd takes your hand from around his arm and helps you climb the stairs.

The room is silent as you both stand infront of the Emperor and bow. Shaddam slowly bows to Feyd unable to kneel as customary due to his age. A round of applause begins from the rows of guests in attendance as they witness the exchange of power. The sound awakens baby Rautha as the next part of the procession begins.

Count Fenring bows at the base of the stairs and is permitted to bring a pillow with the golden Emperial signet ring. He carries it up and bows to Feyd again before standing next to Emperor Shaddam.

The Emperor takes the ring and holds the weight of it for the last time. Feyd slips his silver Barons ring from his pinky and instead of placing it on the ceremonial pillow he turns to baby Rautha placing the ring in his infants reaching hand “Hold this for Uncle Rabban” he says sweetly as the baby grasps it.

He then turns and accepts the ring from Shaddam which has already been fitted for his pinky.

Shaddam then lifts his golden scepter placing it across his hands and bows his head offering it to Feyd who accepts.

Rounds of applause begin to fill the room as everyone stands in jubilation for the momentous occasion. The orchestra begins to play a rousing classical Kaitan melody.

You and Feyd take your thrones as Emperor and Empress with your son Prince Rautha.

Shaddam Corino is helped down the stairs by Count Fenring they both turn and bow in reverence.

You look over to Feyd smiling, you are so proud of him. He grasps your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles and looks over your beautiful signet ring as Empress. “So be it” he says smiling remembering your conversation as the force which pushed his decision.

He caresses Baby Rauthas soft head and gestures to hold him. You hand over the baby to Feyd and the cheers erupt even louder from the audience that he already has an heir.

This is only the private ceremony for his coronation there will be a banquet following in the evening and within a few weeks time the public parade in celebration of his reign at the capital.

A Holy Shrine

Six moths after Feyd’s momentous coronation on Kaitan you arrive to the planet of LankerVille in the much larger Empirical Space craft. It has every amenity possible with servants throughout.

Feyd has summoned his brother Rabban to join who arrives from Geidi Prime in his palatial ship as the new Baron. Both space crafts land adjacent to the courtyard of the former leaders home.

As you approach the former governors mansion carrying Rautha not a word is uttered as you follow Feyd and Rabban to go inside.

They push open the large red doors and you enter into an enormous abandoned throne room. Everything is bare and gray.

“I want it made into a Holy Shrine” Feyd finally says to Rabban once he explores the vacant room. You and Rabban watch as Feyd walks to the center and kneels on the floor in a certain place.

You look to Rabban in curiosity. “Why does he kneel here?” You ask under your breath unsure if it is a Harkonnen custom. Rabban stares blankly ahead. “ His mother was slain there…our father and mother were killed in this very room“ Rabban corrects himself.

The air is sucked out of your lungs you had no idea. Rabban peers over at you realizing you were never told because Feyd will never tell you. He understands then that he should. But he struggles to find the softening words so he just tells the truth.

“Years ago when he was a boy and I was a young man our uncle ordered us to kill our parents here”

Your eyes widen in shock as you clutch your chest and become dizzy with the devastating information. It takes you several moments to collect yourself. “But…Why?” Is all you can weakly get out.

“Our parents hid us away and changed our last names to Rabban. This was the punishment for betrayal of the Harkonnen lineage” Rabban admits.

You try to calm your breathing as baby Rautha becomes fussy on your hip sensing your distress. Then you realize his grandmother and grandfather were slain in this very room by his father and uncle.

It becomes too much for you to bear and you flee from the throne room heading out into the fresh air of the courtyard. You take deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

Baby Rauthas carer and Feyd’s guards watch as you try to collect your self. Rauthas carer comes and gently collects him from your shaking arms.

“Empress perhaps you should rest I don’t like the looks of your condition“ she says with concern watching the way you blankly stare at the ground shaking. You wave her back “Take Rautha to the ship I will only be a moment.” You command her. The carer takes Rautha to eat and play while you gather yourself.

You shudder realizing this day would come and how little you know of your husband. The fact he would bring your child here shakes you to your core.

His brother was so callous in the way he told you and it makes you realize how cruel the Harkonnens are and that Feyd is the one with the most emotional intellect.

Both men emerge from the mansion. You put on a brave face though your eyes are sad, you feel a rise of pity in your chest as you look at them. You cant even begin to imagine the torment they went through.

Feyd beckons you to come to him and you take his hand as you join his side.

“Rabban will stay for dinner on our craft to spend time with us before he heads back to Geidi Prime” Feyd conveys as he studies your eyes. He sees how sad they are as you gaze into his . You feel a wave of emotion and softly hug him then start sobbing against his neck. He pets down your hair to calm you.

“Empress do not fret I know you are overcome with emotion now but everything will be made right.” He says gently and places his hands to see your tear streaked face. He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Go and prepare for dinner you need to eat” he says gently.

You nod and realize this must be very hard for him and he just wants to enjoy a dinner with his family, perhaps even in honor of his parents.

You quickly wipe your eyes and enter the Emperial space craft. You clean your face in the main suite just in time to join in everyone at the dinner table.

As you enter the dining room Rabban is seated at the foot of the table with little Rautha on his lap. Rabban is smiling and teasing little Rautha speaking gibberish before tickling his stomach. Rautha shrieks of laughter make you smile.

You sit at Feyd right and he takes your hand tracing his thumb across your knuckles “Are you alright now Empress?” He asks with a warm smile, you gently nod.

Dinner is placed in front of everyone. Herb seared filet from the lakes of Lankerville.

Little Rautha is sat upon his careers lap to the left side of his father as she feeds him his first bite of fish.

“Do you like it?” Feyd asks him gleefully and Rautha nods smiling with his gums making Feyd chuckle.

“And you Rabban?” Feyd yells down the table. Rabban lifts his fork still chewing . “It is good“ he says once his mouth is free.

Rabban looks at your plate seeing it is all vegetables and laughs. “ What the Empress does not like it?” He teases and you smile.

“Ask her how many children she plans to have” Feyd says grinning.

Rabban drops his fork to the table. “ NO! It is not possible brother !” He exclaims.

Rabban stands up and charges to Feyds side of the table making Feyd get up block him playfully “Don’t you dare touch her!” Feyd says pushing him back. Rabban laughs maniacally “I wouldn’t dare touch your female especially with your unborn.” Rabban confirms.

He looks to your abdomen as Feyd helps you stand. Rabban bows his head in reverence “congratulations Empress“ he says and is too stunned to say anything else just staring at your abdomen in disbelief.

You speak up breaking the silence “Thank you Rabban now please eat and enjoy this lovely dinner.” you say kindly. He smiles to you and then Feyd returning to his seat happily shaking his head at how quickly his brother already has you pregnant again with a second unborn. You all eat together with jovial conversation for the entirety of the meal.

After Rabban leaves your ship the Emperial craft ascends from the planet of Lankerville heading back to Kaitan.

You stand over the crib of sleeping Rautha and caress his soft cheek before pulling his blanket higher on his chest, there is a chill in the craft as it heads through space and you want him to be warm. “Will you fetch him a gossamer blanket” you ask his carer and she readily nods preparing to watch over him through the night in his room.

You head back to the main chamber and place your hand in the reader to open the doors. It is darkened but an enormous window illuminates the large room with starlight.

Feyd stands looking out of it with his hands clasped behind his back. When he hears the doors he knows you are there and looks over his shoulder offering his hand to you.

He is shirtless even though the craft is so cold. You take his hand and he places you infront of him to gaze at the stars together.

“I’ve asked the controller to slow the ship so we can see the stars for an hour before we go to trans light speed” he says against your ear as he holds you closely to him. “They are beautiful” you say already mesmerized by the billions of flickering lights.

He pulls your hair over your shoulder planting a kiss there “Emperor and Empress” he says placing another kiss your neck “wealthiest family in the galaxy” he says pulling you closer against him. “What would you like to do next” he asks smiling against your ear.

You turn over your shoulder to look into his eyes as you answer “Raise our children on Kaitan” you confirm with a loving gaze. “So be it “ he says planting a soft kiss on your lips. “And what about for the next hour?” He asks seductively as he grins with a knowing smile.

The End

Thank you for completing the series! Here is my Upcoming Fics List if you enjoy my writing and the Feyd Fantasy Series Masterlist to read all over again

⚔️ Feyd Fic Taglist ⚔️

@faegoddessog @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @jessica987 @hardcoredisneynerd @austiebuttbutt @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @rougegenshin @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh @magicovento @aoi-targaryen @austinswhitewolf @skinny-baby-4eva @mimsie95 @the-wanderer-2022 @jakesullyissopookie @francis-writes @shiranai-atsune @berlinalv @everyonelovesavalet @dacreshoney @caroline334 @szapizzapanda @berlinalv @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @sophroniaclark @emeraldsgirl @aaaaaaamond @cooliosthings @mcmisbehaving

#Feyd Rautha #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austinbutler #austin butler x reader #smut #fanfic #austin butler x fem!reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune part two smut #dune x reader

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kitsu-katsu · 2 years ago

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What some people miss when talking about the Fionna and Cake finale is the fact that if Simon's and Betty's arc didn't end how it ended, they had no "happier" option that would be coherent with the series at large

They are the doomed pairing at the center of it all, them realizing just how doomed they were, recognizing it and having their goodbyes was as good as they'd have it, because any other course of action either still dooms them or it dooms the whole world, and that's what all the parallel universes showed

If Simon and Betty never got to the crown, maybe if Simon had gone on with Betty to see the petroglyphs and their sacrifices were more evened out from the beginning, still not too long later the mushroom war would still have erupted, the bombs dropped and as normal humans it's almost certain they'd have died. Marceline would grow up without Simon, and now we're in the universe of the star

If Simon stayed in a half-transformed state, where he's neither fully Ice King nor fully Simon, we get the Winter King and someone has to be the recipient of the "crown madness" as was PB in that universe (plus, more importantly to not feel "insane" he didn't transfer the magic or the Gunther that comes with the crown, he mostly just transferred his sadness about Betty which manifested in him stealing princesses to be his brides. Thus the Winter King doesn't even remember her)

If he'd become Ice King again, he'd turn back to living not as himself, lost within the crown and depressed deep down because of it. Plus the messaging of succumbing back to an addiction he couldn't get out of because he was absolutely self destructive since without Betty his life didn't matter to him

If he'd put on the crown and stopped the bomb, Betty probably would've continued living, forever missing his memory just as he forever missed her in the main timeline. Plus eventually we get to farmworld reality

Truly the only alternative course of action that maybe could've worked somehow in terms of keeping them both alive and together for more than like 2 years would be if Betty didn't leave through the Hambo portal and maybe stayed to find Marcy along with Simon, making him less self-destructive and careless about his transformation and what it brings at the same since she'd be there too. But then there'd come a point where unassisted with magic, Betty would die anyway, and Simon would go down the Ice King path again

They're forever doomed

The events will happen, happening, happened, so on and so forth

And at least in their doom they were able to recognize it, have a moment of sincerity, Simon apologized for not seeing her sacrifices, and they both know that things could've been different, maybe better, maybe not, but regardless all their actions were taken and they have to live with them. So all in all, it's great that at last they recognize it as an experience they wouldn't trade for anything anyway, and life goes on. For Simon, with Betty's support through Golb he was able to go back and see worth in jeeping on living and going on new adventures instead of remaining stagnant for her who's never going to be back as he knew her. And Betty got to be a god, she got omnipotence, she got to protect Simon from the last obstacle to his safety: himself. And in the end it seems to imply she might've separated from Golb and become a catalyst comet herself, to be reborn

It's that signature bitter sweetness and acceptance that flawed people live flawed lives with shitty and great parts alike that's so signature adventure time. And it all will happen, happening happened and will happen again and again

#adventure time #adventure time fionna and cake #fionna and cake #fionna and cake finale #fionna and cake spoilers #simon #adventure time simon #simon petrikov #betty grof #petrigrof #betty adventure time #golbetty #golb #marceline #marceline abadeer #adventure time marceline #hambo #winter king #ice king

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leoruby-draws · 2 months ago

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Heard that DC was gonna put out a new Starfire cartoon, so I decided to post this. Though I already drew this before that announcement, due to already reading the 70s Starfire mini-series. This drawing is Koriand'r hanging out with the 70s Starfire, who's also a alien escaping from slavery and being a awesome warrior in her own right. That's right there were other starfires before the Koriand'r, 3 in fact!

The first one was Leonid Konstantinovitch Kovar (what a mouthful), a russian hero, one of the earliest in DC I think. This was in the 60s so the cold war was in full force, so it was interesting that DC decided to have a soviet hero. He now goes by Red Star currently.

The second one wasn't actually a hero, but a minor Supergirl villain. She's kinda of a dramatic James Bond sorta villain but I liked her. Very fashionable, seemed to have a different outfit every time she popped up.

And the third, with her own mini-series (8 issues btw) in 1976, the lady in green in the drawing up there. I really did like reading the mini, a fun tho short adventure. Only problem was that it didn't have a conclusion, I guess it got canceled, maybe due to low sales? Thats a shame, I really wanted to see how it ended. After her series ended, Starfire would pop up occasionally in the dc universe, usually in short cameos. My personal favorite is the Starman (1994) one, where all three (hero) Starfires pop up in a very funny way.

As for 70s Starfire herself, I liked her quite a bit! Seeing her regain her agency and try to free others was great, she's quite inspirational. And gives her a strong thematic similarity to Koridand'r as well, wouldn't surprise me if the writers used the 70s version as a template for her. I think if the two Starfires meet each other, they would get along pretty well! Lets hope she pops up in the Starfire cartoon, fingers crossed!

Also if I'm gonna post about Starfire, here's some bonus art of her!

I was thinking about how it would go, if Koriand'r arrived earlier in the timeline and meets the 1966 teen titans. Dick seems pretty happy to meet her. Also I wonder if she'll meet the Russian Starfire, might have to fight over the name lmao.

Last drawing, here's a baby version of the team meeting Starfire, how cute.

Well that was fun to draw, hoped you like it!

#DC Comics #my art #Starfire #Dick Grayson #Donna Troy #Wally West #Garth #Roy Harper #hope i didn't over do it with the sparkles lol

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stealingpotatoes · 9 months ago

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some ppl very kindly loredumped abt the organa-solo kids for me so gonna put that + responses below the cut!! ↓

@erkhyan asked:

Don’t mind me, just dropping some Organa Solo kids lore, hopefully summarized enough. Anakin: both motivated and intimidated by the fact that his name was supposed to redeem that of his grandpa. Had his grandpa’s qualities (excellent pilot, great warrior, very strong in the Force) but none of his negative trait. Traumatized by being unable to save Chewie. Died a hero at age 16 during a successful mission to destroy a Jedi-killing weapon. Jacen: a big, empathetic goof as a teen, but was traumatized by the war that killed Anakin. The war and the trauma of Anakin’s death turned him into an introspective monk who went to learn weird non-Jedi Force powers. Returned, fathered a secret daughter, fell to the Dark Side because the Force told him that every timeline in which he’s not a Sith ends badly for his daughter. Became a Sith Lord by killing mara jade Skywalker. Eventually died when he found himself having to choose between saving his daughter from an Imperial plot, and dodging his sister’s lightsaber. Jaina: best pilot, best lightsaber user, best warrior, earned the nickname of Sword of the Jedi. Unfortunately, people mostly remember the fact that she was stuck in the world’s most annoying love triangle for two decades in-universe. And that time she processed the trauma of Anakin’s death by trying to seduce her Jedi Master. And that time she was in a bug hivemind that tried to solve her love triangle with a sexy threesome. And that time she went to train under Boba Fett so that she could kill Jacen in Luke’s stead. And also because the Jedi Order finally recognizing that she should have been a made a Master years ago, was almost the LAST thing that happened in the Legends continuity. Heavily implied that her husband would have eventually become Emperor (but a good one) if the continuity had been allowed to go on.

CHEWIE DIED??????????? also christ thats a lot to put on poor lil anakin jr-- ALSO AGAIN. POOR LEIA. HASNT SHE BEEN THRU ENOUGH (poor han too but LEIA)

WHY ARE THERE MORE STAR WARSES!!! LEAVE THEM ALONE!! a secret daughter hi i love those but AGAIN. POOR LEIA. A SITH. FR HE KILLED MARA JADE WHAT???????????? oh my god.

i support jaina's turboslaggery she's been thru so much also WHAT potential emperor husband????????? wow ok legends gets wilder n wilder

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@novastargalaxydesigns asked:

I saw your Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin from Legends! And as someone who freaking adores that trio, I'd love to help point out a few things! In Legends of the Force, Jacen starts to affiliate himself with the Dark Side with his cousin, Ben, as his apprentice. Anakin was killed before the book, The Joiner King, and I didn't get the book that he was killed off in, but if I remember correctly, it was told in The Joiner King that he was killed during a mission as a fighter pilot. Jaina, in Legends of the Force I believe if I remember correctly, she gave up being a Jedi to be a pilot. I don't have all of the Legends of the Force books so I may be a bit spiffy on a few things. But we cannot forget Chewbacca's nephew, Lowbacca aka Lowie, and Jacen's childhood and teen hood crush, Tenel Ka whom is a princess and he accidentally cut her hand off with his new lightsaber during the book Young Jedi Knights Lightsabers. And Zekke who went to the dark side in the series Young Jedi Knights (I only got the first 3), but was redeemed. Anyone please correct my nerdiness if I'm wrong. But anygays, you has been educated by a fluffy bean. Had a lovely day!

JACEN CORRUPTS LUKE'S KID??????? HUH?????? CAN THE SKYWALKERS NOT CATCH LIKE. ONE SINGLE BREAK FROM THE DARKSIDE EVER???????? PLEASE

sorry all i can think w the tenel ka thing is:

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@m0th-person asked:

To follow up on the solo kids ask, Jaina had a weird love life. Her love interest that she eventually married was Jagged Fel. He is the son of the former baron of the empire , Sootir Fel, and Syal Antilles-Fel (Wedge Antilles sister) . (a picture I found on Wookieepedia when he was imperial head of state, the white streak in the hair seems to be genetic) Jag grew up in Thrawn’s empire of the hand (and was grown up with the chiss expectations, that’s literally the second quote on his wookieepedia page)

he had 3 out of his 5 other siblings die. He eventually became the imperial head of state (he first lost to his rival political candidate for the role because abeloth messed with it) and flash forward to the legacy comics, his descendants have revamped the imperial remnant into the Fel Empire. It’s mostly believed that his descendants are also Jaina’s because both Roan fel and his daughter empress Marasiah Fel are both force sensitive. And Jacen Solo’s descendant , Ania Solo, says she’s a distant cousin of Marasiah. (Roan)

(Marasiah and her love interest) ( the imperial knights were grey Jedi that served the Fel empire) — and in legends Han actually had a family tree (ancestors, specifically, Jonash e solo (who was Corellian royalty and the admiral-prince during the old republic time period)) , and him and Jagged fel’s father used to rivals in the imperial academy. Darth Vader attended his class graduation and I only find this funny because Han became his son-in-law.

jaina was rlly living that booktok enemies to lovers life back in the 90s huh. go girl i love her and support her weird love life decisions so much

omg go han having fancy royalty ties <3 see hanleia IS politically advantageous

#legends sounds like it's a terrible time for every character involved #star wars legends #thanks for the ask!

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nataliescatorccioapologist · 8 months ago

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Let’s talk about Nat’s makeup and how it represents her mental state and character development✨

Juliette Lewis said in an interview that Natalie’s signature thick black eyeliner is her “war paint.” I absolutely love this quote because it is a perfect way to describe the way Natalie uses her physical appearance to guard herself. Natalie’s eyeliner and fashion sense serve as a physical representation of the abrasive walls she puts up to hide the softness and vulnerability underneath.

The Pilot episode script introduces Natalie’s character with this descriptor:

This line makes it clear right off the bat that Nat’s makeup is a front she puts on; a mask. While most of her classmates may put on makeup to attract others, it’s clear that Nat’s makeup is meant to push people away. That dark, smudged eyeliner paired with the safety pin and bullet necklaces and the thick leather jackets are all screaming “I’m intimidating, stay away from me.”

But, unlike her appearance suggests, Nat is actually one of the softest and most compassionate characters on the show. Her trauma both with her father and out in the wilderness have shown her that she is a dangerous person, and that she needs to remain guarded and walled off from others in order to avoid hurting them. Her makeup hides her softness both for her own protection and the protection of those around her.

We see that Nat puts makeup on like armor. Before Doomcoming, she’s seen putting on black eyeshadow in the mirror right as Travis walks by, preparing to deal with all of the insecure feelings she still has around their breakup. In the Wilderness, Nat is pretty much never seen without makeup smudged around her eyes, despite the difficult circumstances. Even when she’s carrying Jackie’s body back to the plane you can see she’s got some eyeliner on. In the adult timeline after Travis’s death, Nat is seen putting on probably the heaviest makeup we’ve ever seen her in. Immediately after she puts this makeup on she texts her drug dealer with the intention to relapse. All of this shows that Nat’s makeup is her defense, which is why she goes to such great lengths to put it on even when she’s stranded out in the middle of nowhere.

It seems that the heavier Nat’s makeup is in a given scene, the more guarded, vulnerable, and/or threatened she feels.

Which is why it is so significant when Nat stops wearing heavy makeup after spending time at Lottie’s compound. When Nat first arrives, we see her clinging to her old forms of protection. She’s given some (purple) clothes to change into, but she rejects them in favor of staying in her black leather pants.

She keeps the thick eyeliner, too. That is, until she goes on her little adventure with Lisa to Lisa’s childhood home. After Nat processes her trauma around feeling like she is poison to the people she loves and has that great talk with Lisa in the bar, Nat notably changes her clothes and lightens up her makeup the next day. She is seen in a purple and navy sweater, but she still keeps her black leather pants on and her eyeliner is still there, albeit a little bit lighter, showing that she is starting to change almost in spite of herself.

Then, directly after the hypnosis scene with Lottie in which Nat finally begins to come to terms with and process her guilt, we see her in a purple dress and cozy Birkenstocks with socks. The thick eyeliner is gone and so is her tendency to push people away, as she readily embraces all of the other survivors as they arrive at the compound (even Misty). This is heartbreakingly the last outfit we ever see Nat in, but it shows the audience how much she has changed and forgiven herself in her final days.

I’ll leave you guys with this beautiful quote about Nat’s transformation:

“I wanted to show that Natalie became her soft self. I don't know how long that would have remained comfortable for her, but she liked it. She liked being clean. She liked being comfortable. She relinquished her eyeliner, which was her war paint.”

-Juliette Lewis for TheWrap Magazine

#to be clear I’m not saying wearing heavy makeup is bad #I’m just saying this is what it means for Nat specifically #also I LOVE that Nat is wearing purple in rehab in the pilot too #when Nat is working on herself and processing trauma she wears purple #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #lottie matthews

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accio-victuuri · 5 days ago

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April 2025 CPNs round-up ❤️💛💚

the start of the month was actually quite eventful, celebrating april fools with the best clowns in chinese domestic entertainment. lol. it started with a double fake rumor which was bits of old rumors pieced together. then as usual for this day, fansite team building happens. meaning, fs for specific celebrities will post about other people. so we supported ones that posted about our boys. a good summary of those are here and there is a good number. whether that’s bjyx or them as individual.

that led to bojunyixiao being on top of the hot search list. this is so fitting for april fools! knowing how much we clown! lol. but seriously, it’s so nice to see how active the fandom still is. the whole fandom has been summoned by the photos shared. there is really nothing new — but we all got excited. that’s how great cpfs are! so sorry ( not really ) to our haters cause we are not going away anytime soon. 💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻

okay, now let’s go to the actual cpns we enjoyed this month! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

• there is a repo from a kid yibo worked with for the bananain shoot. he mentioned that wyb does not smile much, but he does when he looks at his wechat. lol. so we gotta clown all the times you can him smiling down while looking at his phone, probably talking to xz.

• the very lucky ones who already got their WM vinyl noticed how the design is written looks like an 8 and 3. that’s them. Bo and Zhan. 🥹🥹🥹🥹 we know how XZ likes to hide things in plain sight when it comes to his art. so this is a classic example.

• this comparison! they are twins! i wish they could have had this kind of hair at the same time.

• croissant in lacoste ad 🥐🥐🥐

• At the time of writing, GG has not been officially announced to be a part of this rumored drama. @rainbowsky made a really good primer for it over here so you can go ahead and look. but it’s basically screaming the same timeline as yibo’s war of faith. lol. so of course, whoever this character is will be wei ruolai’s husband in the yizhan multiverse! i’m looking forward to it! 🙌🏼

• video “proof” in zhuhai race last year where someone mentions zhan ge + the plot thickens that xz was actually there that time

• this went on HS 4/13 for some reason. there may be some context that i missed lol. but tbh, who cares. they are both successful in their own way in the age they are in. there is no “catching up” to do because they are in different tracks. 💛💛💛

i personally get defensive when it comes to their careers and achievements, i hate tying them up in that aspect. or wanting both to have the same exact things. it does not work that way. i believe in supporting what they do and i accept the fact that sometimes one has more than the other in certain aspects and how that’s okay. i could write up a whole thing on this topic and my thoughts on it but i don’t think the fandom is ready that for that conversation. lol.

• WMWM clothing brand x WM album - another example of the universe conspiring to give them some obscure connection.

• THIS. We are so blessed to have them in Magazine Issues that show their long hair 😍😍😍

how can you not love them both? talented and beautiful creatures!

• WYB’s May Vogue 2025 issue candies

• there is some buzz around xz being spotted passing by Wuhan and him going home immediately. of course we think it’s because Bobo is in Beijing. So he has to be with him 🤡🤡🤡

• our boys greeting sina for their 25th anniversary 🫶🏼

• On 4/20 xz was spotted attending a concert in Beijing with his parents. the “empty” space there is being filled with WYB by us clowns. lol. we don’t have facts but more of wishful thinking since they are both in Beijing. personally, i think people WYB is there because of how happy XZ is. not saying he cannot be happy without WYB, it’s just that there is something more of it’s related to WYB. 🤡🤡🤡

• revisiting an old rumor of them having a skiing show together

• XZ arrives in Shanghai while WYB is there for a race and the next day WYB goes MIA and can only be seen during practice - finally, a timeline of sorts and cpn interpretation of what happened during the weekend✌🏼 on 0428, both Lele and Dabo were seen by chance and people are saying their staff seem to be on holiday. so maybe that’s because the two lovebirds are chillin at home in Beijing. yes please! or maybe they gave their staff some time off after a busy weekend 😋

• WYB is interested in Vinyl record

• WYB saying an expression that is common in Sichuan/Chongqing

see you next month! 🫶🏼💕

<< previous post

#bjyx #yizhan #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 2 months ago

Note

How bad did things even get during the Time War anyway?

How bad was the Time War?

The Last Great Time War was a complete breakdown of cause and effect, logic, and everything that made the universe vaguely comprehensible. It lasted 400 years linearly, but in reality, it was an eternal, ever-shifting conflict fought across countless time periods and alternate timelines. By the time it ended (sort of), even the concept of victory had stopped making sense.

🌀 The War Broke Time Itself

⏳ Time was rewritten constantly. Battles weren't just fought in space—they were fought across entire timelines. Victory could be erased retroactively, and some battles lasted for centuries in one version of history, seconds in another, and never even started in a third.

🧬 Entire species were unmade, then remade, then unmade again. Some were wiped out so thoroughly that no one even remembered they had ever existed. The Daleks seeded themselves throughout different epochs to ensure their survival in multiple timelines.

📖 History itself became a battlefield. Some battles ended before they began, and some never ended at all. Some were fought, won, and then rewritten so that the losers always won instead.

🧠 Conceptual warfare existed. Imagine an army that only exists if enough people believe in it. Imagine ideas being used as weapons, timelines unravelling into paradox knots, and reality breaking under strain.

💀 Millions were killed and brought back to life every second. Time Lords and Daleks alike resurrected their own forces on an industrial scale—a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth, ensuring the war never ran out of soldiers.

💀 Unthinkable Casualties

🔥 Planets were burned from time. Not just destroyed—erased. No ruins, no survivors, no memory they had ever existed.

🌌 Entire galaxies were reduced to cinders. Some were aged into dust in seconds. Others were trapped in permanent time loops, reliving the same devastation forever. Some were sealed in paradox bubbles, their populations stuck in an infinite moment of destruction.

👥 Whole civilisations were conscripted, wiped out, or worse. The Time Lords and Daleks weren't the only players—countless other species were caught in the crossfire. Some were recruited without their knowledge, and entire populations were twisted into warriors who never knew they had fought.

🚀 Refugees couldn't run. Because the war wasn't just happening everywhere; it was happening everywhen. Some tried to escape into the past, only to find it had already been rewritten. Others fled into the future, only to arrive at their own extinction.

🌠 Species were erased just to remove them as a strategic variable. The people of Ysalus were completely wiped from history, while others were forcibly rewritten into weapons of war.

🔬 The Weapons Were Insane

💀 The Time Lords built weapons that erased you from history before you were even born. Some of them removed individuals so thoroughly that even the concept of them ceased to exist.

🌪️The Daleks created time winds that could strip you down to raw possibility. They could reduce a being to nothing but potential energy, scattering them across history as stray thoughts and fragmented echoes.

🛡️ There were living weapons that thought and felt, cities that consumed invaders, and paradox bombs that collapsed entire timelines. Some planets developed sentience mid-battle and chose to self-destruct rather than be conquered.

👁️ The Nightmare Child, the Army of Meanwhiles and Neverweres, the Could-Have-Been King…

🧩 The Time Lords created battle TARDISes that were piloted by soldiers who could be resurrected indefinitely. The War Council threw entire fleets of Time Lords into battle, knowing they could die, be revived, and die again.

👑 And the Time Lords Became Morally Dubious

⚖️ Gallifrey abandoned every principle it stood for. The Laws of Time? Gone. Ethics? Forgotten. Anything was permitted in the name of survival.

🎭 The High Council became so desperate that they tried to destroy all of reality just to win. In the end, the only way they saw to "defeat" the Daleks was to end the entire universe.

☠️ The Time Lords nearly became as bad as the Daleks. Some would say they were worse.

👑 Rassilon returned, and his idea of victory was ending the entire universe. He saw Gallifrey's survival as the only thing that mattered. If everything else had to burn, so be it.

🧩 Entire divisions of Time Lords went rogue, forming resistance movements against their own leaders. The War Master, the Barber-Surgeon, and Morbius all saw the war as an opportunity to further their own agendas.

🏫 So ...

It wasn't just a war. It was the apocalypse, written and rewritten over and over again, until the only solution left was to burn it all down. And even that didn't quite work.

💬|⚔️⌛How did the Time War start?: The complicated origins of the Time War.

💬|⚔️🔒How does the Time War time lock work?: The extent of the time lock and its current status.

📺|⚔️🪖The Could’ve Been King with his army of … etc.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

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amyoffline · 7 months ago

Text

It's done! The outline for—

—is below the cut. The goal of this project is to explore the following phenomena with as much context and nuance as I can manage, tracing our history over the past 15 years:

What about us, and what about Dan and Phil, drew in and continues to draw in a very specific audience. If they are a ranch metaphor, we are a pizza metaphor 🥗🍕🫶🏻

Why we were Like That™, by which I mean so parasocially invested in them that we became, at times, the most annoying people on the internet. Much of that reputation is undeserved, and the videos on the phandom to date have been strongly negative. So, uh, I guess I'm going to put my face on camera and (mostly) defend us.

Reblog, share in your Discord servers, reply, or send me messages/anon asks with feedback or resources if you have any! Especially if your experience being in this fandom community has been dramatically different from mine. There are TIT spoilers near the end of the outline, but I'm not tagging because certain individuals seem to be lurking over there. Thank you!

Chapters:

Full outline:

introduction

cold open

felt personally attacked by jonathan haidt's last press tour

showed up to the phrenaissance 11 months late

had an unexpectedly strong response to their new content, needed to find out why

what the hell are we doing here?

- phenomenology (academics are professionally insufferable) - research question 1: what drew the audience in? - research question 2: why were we Like That™?

what we're NOT doing here

- a strict content analysis or "wow we sucked" video - providing sources for things best left uncirculated, thank you

reflexivity (personal biases)

- american zillennial in public health - in the youtube audience by spring 2010 - lurking in the phandom on tumblr 2013-2015, back* since 2019 - fan behavior i did and did not engage in

(----): truly necessary background information, i swear

(pop) cultural trends, tech, and their intersection

- nerd/geek identity and the first online weirdos - broadcast tv & the music industry vs the internet - defining "emo" - blogging & vlogging - early internet comedy

broader social/economic trends

- so the U.S. economy collapsed in 2007 - a decade that sucked except for rom-coms and square enix games - the flip/slide phone + digital camera + mp3 player loadout

(05-8): early youtube and early phil

youtube: a great video uploader without a clear purpose

the content on the website

- crossposts, corporations, and creative/social outlets - omg guys it's amazing phil - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: justin bieber

the audience of "early adopters"

contemporary social media sites and forums

(2009): origin story

a wild dan appears… in the comments

the global constant that is teenagers being messy online

daring my old school district to sue me

- "one town's war on gay teens" (literal rolling stone headline!) - epidemiology 101: rates of… ugh… "unaliving" oneself - ways kids cope when it seems no adults will help them

the earliest days of dan & phil

- hello internet + pinof - a chronically overexamined timeline - file deleted ---* so how big WAS the audience at the time? ---* acceptable funny/edgy language was just different

contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: lucas cruikshank

omg it's meeeeeee

- how amy & friends were using youtube - ways i was just destined to end up here - being in social environments with peers 3-6 years older

(2010): is it "twenty-ten" or "two thousand ten?"

youtube is a platform about to explode in popularity

- the algorithm before it was The Algorithm™, lost site features - let's take a trip through the wayback machine :3c - actual dan & phil content in 2010 - the green brothers found vidcon - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: darren criss

social media: also about to explode in popularity

- facebook was cool at the time, believe it or not - law of equivalent exchange: 2010 amy cringe compilation - the birth of instagram and pinterest - youtube slash livejournal (the first phanfics… sort of) - shockfic and its place in the overton window

the beginning of "the great rewiring" as haidt calls it

- ways social media is about to dramatically change - third spaces become online spaces - confounding variable: changing expectations of teens

(2011): the end of an era, the start of an age

a very long tangent on fandom and pop culture

cultural exchange

counterculture and teenagers as concepts

the first british invasion: the 1960s

- beatlemania and its descendents - moral panic about the virtue of tween/teen girls - tv/film/fashion trends being imported from the uk - in parallel, star trek births the modern fandom

the second british invasion: the 1980s

- synth/new pop that came out of the punk movement (hi, emo?) - confined mainly to music and fashion - cool britannia

it's harry freakin' potter

- absolute titan of pop culture influence - the rise of online fandom: examining the horrors ---* what is "wank" ---* flaming, sockpuppeting, and general cyberbullying ---* censorship: ffnet purges, boldthrough, & strikethrough ---* other fandom shenanigans of the time (yaoi paddles, anyone?)

harry potter's over. now what?

- for those who needed coming-of-age hero's journeys ---* twilight and YA dystopia waiting in the wings ---* some pretty iconic tv shows start or hit their stride ---* the mcu's phase one ---* takeaway: the rise of "geek culture" generally - for those who just wanted to go to hogwarts ---* doctor who & the wider world of bbc programming ---* british vloggers, you say? where? on youtube? brb--

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

dan & phil in the first half of 2011

- a continuation of 2010… for now - the videos - british pancakes as a case study of bad fan behavior

streaming and social media

- the birth of snapchat, twitch, and younow - netflix starts developing original programming - multi-channel networks (mcns) - digitour

dan & phil in the second half of 2011

- and they were roommates (omg they were roommates) - fantastic foursome - youtube glitches out - the super amazing project - the first proper baking video + wait, is that the bbc?

~ baking interlude 1: christmas cookies ~

the family sugar cookie (sorry, delia)

amy's 2011

(2012): why is anyone nostalgic for this

the transition from desktop to mobile

- massive growth in smartphone ownership 2011-2015 - things one might do on mobile one might not do on desktop - non-online ways smartphones changed being a youth™

what is tumblr and why is my child using it

- how the site is meant to work - fandom, memes, aesthetics, and SOME public figures - want to be anxious and depressed in peace? come to tumblr - this site seems a little……… gay ---* tumblr's very queer, very neurodiverse userbase ---* legacy media representation in 2012: bad! ---* actual academic research on tumblr users (yes, it exists) - the tumblr experience for non-native english speakers

amy becomes a vibrating mass of panic and paranoia

- in context of the above - additional rant about the american public school system

the growing dan & phil audience

- investigating the origin of the term "phannie" - more collaborations = more viewers - more video uploads = more /invested/ viewers - younow and interacting with fans - watch time replaces clicks in the algorithm

online etiquette, or lack thereof

- mid-transition from the 2000s to the 2010s - "professional internet celebrity" is still basically brand-new - lack of boundaries - various ways to be an asshole online - unsupervised kids simply do not engage in best practices

the end of 2012

- dan and phil move to london - wikipedia vandalism - tiptoeing around a top contender for the phandom's greatest sin - super amazing project DONE, now it's BBC RADIO TIME

(2013): arguably the most important year

- wait. what's that six-second video platform over there--

[amy's curated vine compilation]

- a new wave of internet comedians (read: future youtubers) - the zillennial lexicon - other platforms start emphasizing short-form video content - magcon

emo is BACK - well, sort of

- fob hiatus ends, mcr breaks up. my god. you had to be there - more open ties to nerd/geek culture than in the 2000s - these things once again intersect at dan and phil

dan and phil in the first half of 2013

- siri, what's a "sex symbol?" why are you booing me i'm right-- - d&p are everywhere - radio shows, interviewing, hosting - youtube uploads on their individual channels

rapidly changing cultural attitudes towards queerness

- gay marriage will be legal in places other than canada soon - a lot of assimilationist rhetoric though tbh - parallels to the pop feminism of the decade

hey kids, let's talk about compulsory heterosexuality!!

- what is it and why do people do it - academic, tumblr-level, and anecdotal research - the dannies, the phillies, and the phannies

amy

- the closet™ - mental health stigma - 2013 dnp posts from my main blog

dan and phil in the second half of 2013

- subscriber milestones, vidcon - joint content before the gaming channel - phandom starts having a major presence outside tumblr

(2014): achievement unlocked!

it's time to talk about rpf

- definitions (a chance to be annoyingly pedantic) - academic perspectives and fan discourse on the ethics - when the subjects clearly aren't fine with it - so… we can acknowledge "shipping phan" was different, right? ---* sometimes the subjects are fine* with it, actually ---* how dan and phil started to handle the shipping ---* obvious differences between phan and other rpf ships ---* sharing my favorite passages as a first-time phanfic reader

dan and phil in 2014

- wikipedia vandalism 2: electric boogaloo - bbc request show → internet takeover - the 7 second challenge - youtube content, subscriber milestones, rewind - cons and award shows

tumblr reaches the peak of its influence

- yahoo's attempts to monetize the userbase - buzzfeed and aggregators steal our jokes and bait our clicks - legacy media dangles carrots and uses us for free marketing - the legend of korra breaks TV precedent, almost out of nowhere - the tumblr user experience ---* on mobile, without xkit ---* on desktop, with xkit ---* 2014 dnp posts from my main blog

gamergate and its long shadow

- trolling, renewed and revamped - algorithms push increasingly extreme content - the broad conservative backlash conglomerate - increased normalization of conspiracism in general

my greatest sin [not clickbait] [very funny]

- so, circling back to comphet… - the actual story

anyway, let's talk about danandphilgames

- a star is born: dil howlter - different types of gaming content on youtube at the time - why did 17yo amy not subscribe? well…

~ baking interlude 2: chocolate cupcakes ~

make your own frosting. it freezes well

roasting myself further

(2015): it's not queerbaiting when it's real people

facebook "pivots to video"

- mark zuckerberg lied. water is wet - causes other platforms to REALLY double down on video - the birth of musical.ly - corporate-branded creators (read: future youtubers)

queerbaiting enters mainstream public consciousness

- academic origins - early fannish and acafan writing - johnlock, destiel, and sterek - statistics 101: type i error, type ii error, and queerbait

dan, phil, and the phandom

- bbc, cons, & the brits - danandphilcrafts - phan conspiracies ---* japhan ---* body language experts ---* timeline truthers ---* floor plan investigators ---* no but seriously imagine it - regular youtube uploads ---* solo content ---* joint content ---* subscriber milestones, rewind - tatinof uk and tabinof ---* on "selling out" ---* revisiting the statistics 101 lesson: now with real people! ---* never meet your heroes (unless they're dan and phil)

amy's (temporary) exit from the phandom

- it's legal adulthood with a steel chair!! - growing discomfort with some fans' behavior - 2015 dnp posts from my main blog - the closer: final fantasy vii

(2016): season finale

vine's imminent demise

- content platforms behaving badly - content creators behaving badly

youtube after "the great rewiring" (as haidt calls it)

- version 1.0 of the modern youtube algorithm ---* deep neural networks for dummies ---* what's holding creators accountable, or not - advertising and sponsorships ---* basically every child and youth™ is watching now ---* the battle for our attention ---* regulators start to crack down on undisclosed ads - the rise of drama/tea content (and later, channels) ---* youtubers are now seen as regular celebrities ---* dan and phil as the butt of other youtubers' jokes ---* baiting the phandom for engagement

tatinof us and aus

- a proven new model for live show tours - show & documentary released to youtube red (now premium) - [sigh] the tour bus

sea change in online fandom

- the newer, sometimes queerer media in korra's wake ---* better and more representation in live-action tv shows ---* voltron (i'm sorry!!!) ---* the mystic messenger craze ---* alice oseman & heartstopper - the new dynamics of #discourse ---* proship is to anti as phannie is to phanti ---* the bad behaviors of the 00s get a new coat of paint ---* new, though: fans harassing creators ---* a personal note on ace discourse

dan and phil presence off-tour

- the internet takeover ends - regular content, subscriber milestones

so. uh. current events.

- brexit - sorry the united states is a font of chaos - ripple effects

closing out the year

- amy finally gets an anxiety diagnosis and treatment! hurray! - dapgo, rewind - bbc radio awards & the boncas - gamingmas

(2017): time for a rebrand

tangent - sit down!!! buckle up!!! today's lecture is on PSIs & PSRs!!!

"parasocial" as defined by the current zeitgeist

- summing up youtubers' and laypeople's opinions (not dan's) - an unfairly negative stance overall, imo

older academic literature

- the 1956 paper (yes, 1956) - with traditional celebrities - with fictional characters

current academic literature

- with youtubers and other content creators - positive effects on the audience - negative effects on the audience - broader societal implications

fandom spaces as a parasocial experience

- parasocial and truly social interactions with each other - phandom as a supportive, welcoming space for oddballs - what research i can find about neurospicy folks, + anecdotes - me and everyone else on planet earth move to discord

inherent transactionality

- the nature of celebrity - positive effects on creators - negative effects on creators

reexamining early phandom through a parasocial lens

- the good, the bad, and the ugly - the role audience demographics played in all of this - entering, exiting, and remaining in the phandom

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

vine is well and truly dead

- some had prepared to become primarily youtubers (smart) - some move to musical.ly, insta, facebook, or snap (less so)

the sun sets on danisnotonfire

- i am very normal about dan's hobbit hair, i swear. - the last dnp content before the rebrand - new apartment, new floor plan investigations

adpocalypse now

- youtube has become the village elder of platforms ---* increased scrutiny, increased responsibility ---* some youtubers had been getting away with !#$!#@% - the scandals ---* pewdiepie + logan paul ---* elsagate and being "family- friendly" (read: ad-friendly) - censorship and monetization ---* adsense revenue goes down as advertisers pull out ---* the glory days of posting whatever and making bank are over

amazingphil and ~daniel howell~

- youtube & younow content - that week in march - vacations and conventions - conjoined baking and the concept of a "soft launch" - daniel & depression → dan as a mental health advocate - truth bombs, ii announcement, rewind

(2018): the phandom vs the hiatus they told us not to worry about

interactive introverts

- "giving the people what they want" - in hindsight… - let's talk about dnp fans from the global south

youtuber burnout

- it wasn't just dan: (more examples than header fits) - the old model was simply not sustainable - newer contributing factors - research on burnout, plus personal anecdotal experience