#working class blokes

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

It’s a bit difficult to believe, but the Thirteenth Inspector’s Associate Garrison Lowe was actually inspired by Aidan Davies’ father, Eoghan.

Both were working-class blokes who liked to get their hands dirty.

[thebitchthatcleansarkham]

Hey guys if I were to become a villain right here Right now as a cleaner WHAT would my villain name be. Do NOT put "The Cleaner" or some lame shit, I need HONEST SUGGESTIONS for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

[vamprisms]

if you look down on dropouts or people who never went to college etc for not 'being educated' you fucking suck. all those expensive pieces of paper that say you're a smart person and you don't even know the plethora of reasons why what you have isn't an option for others

[todayisafridaynight]

i HAVE to keep the daigo plush locked away lest i squeeze it every five minutes to alleviate the cuteness aggression i feel whenever i see it

[motherwasapapafucker]

Spurrier and Campbell back on Hellblazer is the only comic news that matters. Balm for all the shitty, shitty Constantine writing over the last few years.

[finalgirllx]

thought you hated me | mattheo riddle entry 1 of a little anthology series i am starting with mattheo. as a way to practice writing without committing to a long series, i'll be writing a few blurbs for him based on the 'enemies to lovers' trope. 1.1k words | nsfw | minors dni | f!reader this is also a thank you for 2000 followers, like holy cow. that's insane. thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has supported my nonsense.

"Hey, hey! Watch it! The recipe calls for a scoop of rose petals, not the entire bloody jar," you scold the curly-haired prick. He abided by your warning, much to your surprise, but not without tilting the jar above the cauldron a few extra times just to savor your irritation. You can't help but wonder what past mistakes led you to be doomed by fate to be partnered with Mattheo Riddle for potions class.

The whole school was aware of your mutual hatred, and neither of you made any effort to conceal it. It had been this way for so long that you couldn't even pinpoint why you hated him. Well, besides his utterly insufferable personality and a pisspoor attitude that not even his stellar good looks could redeem.

"He's an arrogant prick." "What a wretched tart." "A hotheaded muppet." "An absolute menace to civil society."

These were just a few recent jabs exchanged between you, either spoken directly or whispered through the grapevine. As long as everyone knows how much you despise each other, it suffices.

After your taunt over the rose petals, Mattheo's gaze bore into you beneath impossibly full eyelashes before he released a huff of pure disdain at your rigidity.

"You can piss off with that attitude. I say the one of us who didn't cause an explosion in class last week gets the bigger say over our potion-making," Mattheo countered, to which you promptly stood at attention and turned to face him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

"If that's the qualification, then I've had the upper hand practically every week this entire term! I cause one explosion, and you think you're all that," you argued back, to which Mattheo responded with a tired eye roll before he fixed his spiteful gaze fully on you.

"Well, I do have the right. Especially when you caused the explosion by staring at Cormac fucking McLaggen while biting your lip like an idiot," he grumbled, his voice lowered but the intensity still sending a shiver down your spine. You knew the implications of his words and that the facade could crumble under the man's temper in moments if you didn't tread forward lightly.

"Yeah, well, I don't see why you'd care, but I'll keep my eyes off of him," you begrudgingly relented with a shrug. You would have given him an earful with just about any other provocation, but what he could risk revealing over this wasn't worth continuing to bicker over.

"Good girl," Mattheo purrs the next time he leans closer to grab an ingredient, quiet enough so only you could hear, causing the heat rising between you to stay put. "Guess I'll need to find another reason to cave the bloke's face in," he adds, much to your dismay. You wanted to say something then, but the professor's perfectly timed interjection to order you both to focus on your work momentarily set the matter aside. -----------------

"Are you really going to make an arse of yourself and beat up Cormac if he and I so much as exchange a glance?" You questioned Mattheo incredulously as he hastily pulled you into a nearby empty broom closet with little resistance from yourself. The door had barely clicked shut before he tore off his robe and moved on to remove yours.

"You want to fucking try something? See how that works out for you, I'll make your ass red for weeks," Mattheo growled into your ear as his hands roamed your still-clothed torso, finding purchase on your breasts as he began to knead them, growing desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Your insolence had gotten him painfully turned on, urging him to handle your attitude with touches he knew would render you pliant. The whimpers his groping solicited from you had become the answer to his prayers.

This little arrangement had become second nature to you by now. You give Mattheo lip, which gets him riled up, so you both seek a release for your pent-up frustrations by way of you taking his dick. Each time, without fail, you two agree that this would be the last time. But having 'hated' each other for so long, you know just how to test the other's patience, him becoming as weak to your taunts as you are to his touch.

"Care so much about who I'm looking at, huh?" you mocked Mattheo as he attempted to undo the buttons on your top, his thought capacity overridden by lust. "I thought you hated me," you continued to bait him with a hint of amusement to mask the genuine curiosity for what he might say. A gasp escaped you when Mattheo removed one hand from your chest to take your chin in between two fingers, lifting your head to meet his eyes that were already ruining you in his mind. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel his hardness through his trousers.

"You know I fucking hate you," Mattheo replied through gritted teeth, his ferocity laced with arousal. "Doesn't mean anyone gets a glimpse of what's mine."

Your lips pulled into a smirk contentedly in response, not the least bit intimidated by him. In fact, you were pretty proud to have evoked such a reaction out of him. Sure, maybe you felt afraid for Cormac, but after witnessing Mattheo Riddle get on his knees to beg for your pussy, it had become difficult to take his threats seriously. The man was down bad, and you relished in the way you could reduce him to a needy mess, though he probably felt similar when you turned into a babbling slut every time he made you cum on his cock. If anything, the rage made you just as greedy for him as he was for you.

You took the lead in removing the rest of your top, freeing Mattheo so he could bury his face in your neck, latching on and sucking the skin to leave noticeable, possessive marks. He proceeded to cover you with hot kisses that trailed further down your chest, with each unclasped button giving him more space to work with until your top was fully removed and strewn on the floor with abandon. He sunk to his knees before you, letting you ensnare one hand in his hair to brace yourself as he took the peak of one of your breasts in his mouth, which brought a moan from your lips. Forgetting the animosity and allowing pleasure to take over, you've all but given up on believing that this time would be the last.

[crookedsmilesnovel]

Crooked Smiles is a 2-part LGBTQIA+ supernatural horror romance series written by H.L. Holmwood, largely presented as novels, which will include insert comic pages within chapters.

Supplementary zines— a mixture of prose and comic— will be published alongside to expand on characters and plot points; the artwork for these is being created by the amazingly talented Kit Buss / @anemonetea

Set in Victorian London, the series follows Kostya, a working class werewolf, and Ivan, a back-alley vampire doctor, as they battle a threat to both themselves and to the unsuspecting humans living alongside their kind.

Kostya is a cocky northern bloke with a chip on his shoulder. Ivan is a bookish, introspective Czech smartarse with lofty goals. Both characters are queer and have physical disabilities.

Be sure to follow for more updates as the project progresses! Volume 1 Kickstarter to be announced...

[dead-patrol]

its so beautiful how a posh white bloke from the edwardian era and an 80's working/middle class ska-punk can both, despite differences across time and upbringing, be united in having horribly repressed gay thoughts

[ghostaholics]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!Reader ➸ TAGS/WARNING(S): none ➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune & benkeibear

Detail-oriented, exceptional manual dexterity when it comes to sewing him up. Your movements are careful and controlled – meticulous with regards to everything that you do but especially focused on how the edges line up so that they don’t overlap. Other medics – they'll rush. Botch it. A shoddy job like tectonic plates of skin forced to converge on each other, because in his line of work, stitches are an afterthought when there's another bloke with a sucking chest wound whose deep in the throes of respiratory distress and the only immediate threat about Ghost's own injury is the small amount of blood he'll lose. Whatever will get it closed. Nobody else cares much about the cosmetic factor. But you do. Painstakingly so. It's a thankless job to spend three times longer than it should to get it right, but he makes sure to express his appreciation for the consideration you put into every single graze/cut/gash (even more diligent if the injury's to any part of his arm that could mess up his tattoo sleeve). They always heal nicely.

He looks for you, after-hours – well late into the night because you were occupied patching up other soldiers. It'd been a grueling mission, lots of WIAs needing your attention. He doesn't even have a good excuse for this. It's a trivial thing, maybe, to bother you. Like asking Atlas for a favour, with the weight of the world on your shoulders and the soul-crushing responsibility of holding lives in the palms of your hands as though you're the last line of defense against death. This is stupid. This is beyond fucking stupid of him. Almost turns around and walks away from the medical tent, because that's how ridiculous it is. But he convinces himself to head in, asking if you can fix the stitching on his mask because the only person he trusts more than himself to do it is you. Though his request is benign, the significance behind it is profound in ways that he won't admit to himself. There are very few people he can count on. And of course, you say yes with a tired smile and a brightness in your eyes that never seems to dull in front of him no matter how exhausted you might be. It's one of the rare instance he lets his guard down, shows his face. He keeps you company the entire time, telling you about why he wears that mask while you restore it back to original condition.

The irony of having an injured medic: Simon's saddled with the pitiful task of having to step into your role because there's a gash on your forearm that needs to be taken care of. He knows how to do a basic stitch – is fairly confident that he can thread the sutures just like you’d showed him a million times by now whenever he’d been looking for a reason to see you ( ❝ Show me how to do it right. The proper way, yeah? ❞ ). And he's admonishing you to hold still, except it's sort of difficult when you're being treated like a bloody pincushion. He'd never let anybody else get away with making fun of him for that but this is you so he lets it slide. After talking him through it (which you find quite odd, considering that he never would've struck you as someone who’d need extra time and help), you inspect his handiwork, mildly impressed.

❝ Oh, you actually... well, you did quite a decent job. ❞ ❝ Of course. ❞ Because he wouldn't settle for anything less than perfecti— ❝ But then again, it is a little off over here, ❞ you point out, just to deflate his pride. There's still smugness to his tone. ❝ Would you like me to start over, then? ❞ ❝ Not on your life, Riley. ❞

He doesn’t mention how phenomenal he is at suturing, doesn’t mention that he sat in on a class for combat specialists early on in his career even though he didn't need to be there and was commended for his technique by the leading instructor. He definitely doesn't bring up the fact that he's been taking long on purpose just because he likes your company.

[persephone1700]

Please me- Michael Gavey x Reader

Hello! I've been obsessed with all the smut stories I've been reading on this app about several characters… so I've written something I thought of.

Please be kind since English is not my first language and it's the first thing +18 I've ever written ( I kinda took advantage that I was ovulating to imagine the most dirty scenarios and write them hehe)

I plan to divide them in three parts.

I hope you like it.

Warning Tags: 18+ ONLY. Smut, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Embarrasing himself.

Part 2

It was a Friday evening, and the campus was almost empty. Half the students were either at local pubs, attending parties, or had gone home for the weekend.

Almost everyone, except for Michael. He had stayed behind without any plans, as usual. As a "Norman no-mates" kind of student, he found himself without an invitation to any parties.

He decided the best use of his time was to begin working on the final list of problems he had due in a month.

He didn’t want to be with those wankers anyway.

He had no need to study or even try—math was just so obvious and simple. Yet, he made his way to the library, trying to escape his pristine bedroom for a while.

When he walked into the library, he didn’t expect to see you there, sitting at a table with your bare legs crossed, leaning into the table, focused on a paper you were working on.

Everybody at school seemed to gravitate towards you and your group of friends, thanks to Felix Catton.

Michael couldn’t begin to understand what was so interesting about that damn bloke.

Even his best mate and only friend, Oliver, had found himself enjoying the company of Felix and his superficial group of friends rather than his.

How can anyone be friends with someone who doesn’t even have an ounce of gray matter?

They must all be idiots.

Every one of them. Including you.

He had decided that the first time he met you during tutorial sessions with Professor Ware. He didn't even understand how you ended up paired with him for tutoring—your majors clearly displayed you were opposites, and he liked to think he was the smartest one.

On top of that, he believed people were a mere reflection of the friends they surrounded themselves with. So, what does it say about you if you are friends with the most superficial twat on campus?

No matter how pretty he thought you were, with those plump lips, big eyes and soft curves… You still were a vapid cunt.

...Or were you?

Michael Gavey wouldn't call himself your friend, but unlike everyone else, you never dismissed his presence. You were always quick to challenge his aggressive comments in the classes you shared, often proving him wrong.

Your friends, of course, found it amusing, but you never laughed. He considered you the smartest among them—not as smart as him, of course, but not sharing the same brain cell as your mates.

Sometimes, during lectures or in the halls, he caught himself watching you. Dressed in expensive clothes, you navigated the halls with an air of confidence.

He found your outfits too revealing, almost inappropriate for lectures, yet he was secretly grateful for the glimpse they offered him of your long legs and cleavage.

You were too pretty and nearly as smart as him. And you knew it, which only made things worse.

You seemed to be every guy's dream.

Every guy, including him.

Damn it.

"Michael? What are you doing here?" you asked, noticing him standing frozen in front of you, staring and holding some books.

"Uh… I'm here to finish some homework," he answered bluntly, attempting to head to a corner table.

"Sit with me. There's no one else in here, you know. You may as well just sit here, and we can keep each other company," you said, stopping him in his tracks. He hesitated, then made his way over and sat beside you, almost uncomfortably.

Opening his books, he tried to focus on the problems in front of him, his palms sweating as he feared you might notice the effect you had on him.

"Why aren't you at the party?" you asked, jotting down some notes on your paper, trying to make conversation and lighten the mood.

"Not fucking invited," he said simply, watching as the realization dawned on your face. You both sat there alone at the library, and continued working on your paper in silence.

"Why aren't you glued to your friends? How does studying alone work for your social life?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Just wanted some alone time. Needed to catch up on the activities, and I was getting bored with them. Plus, it gives me a break from Felix, so I don't murder him when he's a pain in the ass."

"He's been acting like an arse lately, hasn't he?" Michael commented as he picked up another math textbook, flipping through the pages. He wasn't sure if it was true; to him, Felix may have been an arse since he was born, certainly.

"Not more than usual—shagging some girls, getting drunk, and partying. The usual," you said, shrugging as if it were normal.

"And you don't seem to mind his stupid behavior?"

"Why would I?"

"I… I thought you were a thing. I heard a rumor you two were together…" He said, almost embarrassed to admit he paid attention to gossip and social life.

"What?" you snorted at his admission.

"Yes. I'd suppose anyone with a brain would be jealous if their boyfriend was sleeping around with other girls," he said, tightening his grip on his pencil and trying to sound nonchalant.

"Definitely not. We just enjoyed some benefits in the past," you dismissed his comment casually. "We've known each other since childhood; we're not a couple. Sex is a necessity, wouldn't you agree?"

"Uh… I…" Michael was stunned, to say the least. "I…" He tried to speak, to form a response, but he was too flustered and speechless.

"Oh my God," you turned towards him, looking surprised. "Michael, are you a virgin?" you asked in a low voice.

Michael's eyes widened at your words, a red blush instantly appearing on his face. He looked away, trying to avoid your gaze. He couldn’t even deny it.

How could he when it was so painfully obvious?

"N-No!" he lied, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"Have you ever seen a woman naked, Michael?" you asked, smiling with a glint in your eyes at the discovery.

Michael wished he could die at that moment. The embarrassment he felt was so intense that just when he thought he couldn’t blush more, he grew even redder.

"Yes, of course I have!" he responded defensively, too fast as if trying to convince himself. Who was he kidding? He let out a huff and muttered, "No, I haven’t, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, there’s not exactly a line of women trying to get with me, obviously" he scoffed.

"I think you’re cute," you said, smiling at him. He obviously thought you were lying. "So… uh, what exactly do you do to relieve any urges?"

How else?!?

He let out a loud groan at that question, covering his face. He did not want to be having this conversation, yet here you were, asking him the most embarrassing questions.

He leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze, and couldn’t believe he was admitting this to you.

"I… have a few magazines and videos…" he mumbled, his face still red. "And I… use them, obviously."

"So… you take care of yourself then. It's perfectly normal and healthy." You smiled, noticing his red cheeks. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. I do it all the time when I'm stressed."

Of course, you knew how he took care of himself; you were not stupid. You had a feeling he was a virgin and a prude, and you just wanted to hear him admit it.

You had taken some interest in Michael since the beginning of the term. At first, he was just a lonely student who was too eager to prove himself better than anyone in classes, commenting on how useless non-math topics were.

It was when Farleigh told you how much Michael stared at you in classes and made fun of him, claiming that he had a silly crush on you, that you started to notice him more.

The way his sandy blonde hair framed his face, the big blue eyes behind the framed glasses, his thin lips always pouting unconsciously as he disregarded everyone else.

You were now too interested in him, and you started to wonder what it would be like to be with him and teach him. To make him eat all his words… and satisfy your curiosity.

"What’s it like…?" he asked suddenly, his voice slightly above a whisper, looking over at you.

"What?" you smiled at him. Michael’s cheeks turned a shade redder, and he cursed himself inwardly for even asking that question. Yet he was too far gone now, his curiosity having taken over.

"Touching a woman…" he mumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Maybe you'll just have to find out for yourself," you shrugged.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he turned towards you. "You asked me all these weird questions and now you can't answer mine?"

You were slightly taken back by his outburst, noticing the way his cheeks were red out of embarrassment and fury.

"What do you even ask them for? To make fun of me with those suckers?" he snarled.

"No. I asked because if you want to, maybe I can teach you," you said simply, staring into his eyes.

"How?" was all that came out of Michael's mouth as you stood up and quickly gathered your things.

"Come on, follow me." He watched as you walked over to a private study room at the end of the hallway, one of those reserved for group studies. It had a large meeting table and boards.

Understanding, he grabbed his things in a hurry and followed you to the room. He entered, locking the door behind him and glancing at where you were standing, at the center of the room, sitting at the edge of the table.

He walked over to you, trapping you against the table. He stood there for a moment, watching you, not knowing what to do next. So, you moved closer to him, taking him by surprise when your lips pressed against his in a slow kiss.

He closed his eyes, breathing in your scent, his lips kissing yours desperately. He felt it when you took his hand and carefully led it to your breast.

With your hand upon his, you gave it a squeeze and parted the kiss, watching his bewildered expression, the tint of red in his cheeks growing darker.

"Maybe you can finally explore the body of a woman," you whispered. He was too stunned for a moment, as if he was daydreaming, but then you looked into his eyes and nodded.

His gaze grew darker, and he carelessly pushed down your shirt, watching your breasts peek out.

His breath hitched, and you could see how his pupils dilated at the sight of them. His hands slid through your tits as he stared down at them with amusement.

Between his thumb and index, he reached for your nipple and noticed the way you let out a sigh out of pleasure, your nipples growing hard at his touch.

He bent down and started kissing and sucking your neck, leaving small bites here and there, where he thought people would be able to see them.

His tongue started lowering and lowering until he reached where his hands were formerly placed, and his lips started sucking on your nipple, with a free hand he cupped your other breast, moving his fingers in irregular circles.

He focused his gaze on you, and noticed the way a moan escaped your lips.

You were desperate for his touch; he could see it.

He could feel his heart throttling, as his mouth explored every inch of your breasts, the movement of his lips and tongue was a mix between inexperience and pure desire. Your fingers moved to his hair, encouraging him to continue.

"Michael…" - his name escaped your lips in a low voice. - "that feels good, do you want to keep going? "

He nodded desperately, eager to continue exploring the fullness of your body. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was urgent, his trembling hands sliding through the side of your legs until he gripped your ass.

When his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt, you felt a surge of anticipation.

Slowly, almost reverently, he began sliding your skirt upwards, exposing more of your thighs.

He leaned back to admire the view, your breasts on full display, your red cheeks, and the way the fabric of the skirt gathered up your hips.

His hands started exploring the flesh of your inner thighs, tracing circles in his path as his fingers ventured closer to your core, a soft moan escaping your lips as you tilted your head back.

Michael's eyes darkened with desire at the sound, and his hands stilled for a moment, savoring your reaction.

He knelt in front of you, and he watched with amusement the way his fingers traced a path at the edge of your panties, the fabric acting as a barrier between his touch and your core.

He ran a finger through the fabric and felt how wet it was, before he moved it aside and a moan escaped his lips at the sight of your pussy. His gaze met your eyes, almost shily with a question written on them of whether he could go further.

When you nodded, his fingers started touching you, moving his finger up and down slowly, trying to find the place that would give you more pleasure, when his finger met your clit, he noticed the way your body shivered and he focused his attention there.

He started moving his fingers slowly against your bud, and the quiet moans he heard and the way your breath hitched, made him think he was doing a good job, so he started to move his fingers faster, in a painful way.

A whimper left your mouth, and your hand grabbed his, stopping him.

"No. Not fast or it hurts. " - you said between breaths, when he nodded in understanding, you guided his fingers once again against your clit.

Guiding him through the right pace which makes your skin grow hotter.

His fingers started moving with more confidence, finding rhythms and patterns that made you moan.

His name erupted from your chest in a cry of pleasure, and suddenly his touch was not enough, with a hand placed against the table you leaned forward and watched the way his gaze was focused on your core.

His fingers were not enough, you needed more.

You needed him pressed against you, so with your other hand you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to your pussy, a groan reverberated in your skin, and his lips started sucking on it.

His erection was hard since he entered the room, and as he watched you moaning and pulled him closer it grew painfully hard, the boxers restraining him and making his cock start to twitch.

He thought it would be more painful the embarrassment he would feel if he came on his boxers at the simple sight of her moaning while he ate her up, so he tried to focus solely on her.

He failed...

You started breathing heavily at the way his fingers slither inside you and his tongue moved against your pearl.

Fueled with pleasure your back arched, and your fingers tightened their grip on his hair, pulling him closer. His touch was electric, and your eyes opened, locking your gaze with him... hen he lost it.

His cock started throbbing against his boxers, seizing as he came undone at the sight of you.

[octuscle]

Reorganization of a law student

I am a university student here in Cambridge. My class teacher urged me to study law. He said I had what it takes. I'm the first person in my family to ever graduate from school. No relative has ever even thought about going to university. And if I hadn't gotten the scholarship, I wouldn't have done it either. The stupid thing is that, as an obvious member of the working class, I never fitted in at university. And the scholarship isn't enough to live on either. I thought about taking a job at McDonald's. That's where I meet the people I understand. Even if they think I'm the snob from university now. It's still better than being the working-class proletarian for my fellow students.

Day 1: Monday

What a day it has been. I commenced my new employment at McDonald's. I felt somewhat out of place in my suit, amidst the others in their uniforms. Nevertheless, they appeared to be amicable. However, I found it difficult to comprehend much of their conversation.

The boss incessantly spoke about burgers and fries. I couldn't help but think, "My dear sir, I am well versed in arguing a case; I hardly require a lecture on flipping a burger."

Day 3: Wednesday

I'm gettin' the hang of it, I guess. It's just about flippin' burgers and slingin' fries, ain't it? Not that complicated, eh? So, I meet this dude named Dave, been workin' here forever. He's like a big deal around here, ya know? But man, he talks funny, all Cockney and stuff.

Anyway, Dave's big into bodybuilding and stuff. He's like, "Bro, you gotta hit the gym with me." I might give it a shot, ya know? Need to lose some of this uni weight, man.

Day 5: Friday

So, turns out Dave ain't just into bodybuildin'. Bloke's obsessed with it. He's always talkin' about his protein shakes and them supplements. Keeps tryin' to get me to take some, reckon it'll make me "ripped".

Said yes to goin' to the pub with him tonight. He reckons he knows some places where we can watch the rugby. Never really been into rugby, but why not, eh?

Day 7: Sunday

Last night was mad. Went to the pub with Dave, ended up watchin' rugby and havin' a few pints. Then some bloke started mouthing off, next thing I know, there's a full-on brawl.

Dave was right in the middle of it, throwin' punches like there's no tomorrow. Got a few bruises meself, but it was proper adrenaline rush, I tell ya.

Day 10: Wednesday

Me life's taken a turn, ain't it? Can't believe how much I've changed in just a week. Started takin' them supplements Dave gave me. Dunno what's in 'em, but I feel like I could take on the world.

Been skippin' lectures to hang out with Dave. He's teachin' me all sorts of things about bodybuildin' and rugby. Who knew I'd find it all so interestin'?

Day 14: Sunday

Two weeks in, and I'm a changed man. Used to be all about them fancy words and legal cases. Now, I'm more interested in bench pressin' and pint down the pub.

Me mates from uni are proper shocked when they see me now. But sod 'em, I'm lovin' life. Dave's me new mentor, and I couldn't be happier. Who needs law when you've got burgers, rugby, and a good old pub brawl?

Inspiration by @mchav1020

[queers-gambit]

Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

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

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 12.9k+

note: favorite trope here to stay

⚠️ you are responsible for the media you consume ⚠️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Felix drove you to the hospital.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, go back - "

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

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

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

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

You stared into the toilet, blinking in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was exactly what Oliver wanted.

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

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

"We're going to a funeral."

"I'm sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Which one?"

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

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

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

"There he is," You pointed.

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

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

"C'mon, then! Follow us!"

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

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

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

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

"It's something, right?"

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

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

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

"Hmm?"

"Ollie - coming home with us?"

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

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

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

"Tell who, what?"

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

"Venetia!"

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

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

"Well, yes - "

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

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

"Ven."

"He's mad for you."

"He say that?"

"Well, no, but I can tell."

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

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

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

It felt fitting to meet there.

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

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

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

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

"You always say that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The second hour rushed by. Your stomach knotted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All right, love?"

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Duncan said you were?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Course."

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

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

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

"I know, babe - "

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

"He didn't show?"

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

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

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

The following morning, you were up before Venetia.

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

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

"How do you feel?"

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

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

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

"Anything."

"Sit between us?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you refused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he would underestimate the power of family.

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

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

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

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

"Please, love! Please!"

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

"He kissed her."

"Come again?"

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

"When?"

"Last night, Farleigh saw them."

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

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

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

"Please, be serious! This is serious!"

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

"So, Farleigh's lying."

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

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

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

"Would you ask Venetia?"

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

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

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

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

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

"God, what?"

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

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

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

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

"What is it, then?"

"It's another Eddie situation!"

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

"And you?"

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

"Still?"

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

"You've not been."

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

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

You paused, "Doesn't matter."

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

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

"Feels like I can't stomach anything."

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

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

"Never not been fine, Fi."

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

"I've been dealing with shit - "

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

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

"Well, I can help, you know?"

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

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

There were two seats side-by-side.

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

"Morning."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The Henrys," Ven reminded.

"No, please!" Farleigh whined quietly.

"Who are the Henrys?" Ollie asked.

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

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

"It'll be fun," Elspeth assured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What kind of party?" Oliver asked Elspeth.

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

"A hundred?"

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

"What friends?" Farleigh leered.

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

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

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

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

"Lovely," James prasied.

"Bring on the slutty fairies," Farleigh mused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, darling - "

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

Farleigh smirked subtly and took a drag from his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like Y/N?"

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

"You're upset," Oliver noted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"On what's wrong, Miss?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Farleigh would've been proud.

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

Her hands clapped when you showed her the final look.

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

"Sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna go," you rushed.

"No, wait - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just wanted it to stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"With that skank!?"

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

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

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

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

"It's about Y/N!"

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

"What!?"

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

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

"Is this really the time to insult me?"

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

"Okay? She goes there - "

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

Felix blanched in shock, "What?"

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

"How - what are you on about!?"

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

He blinked, "She loves me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I've gotta tell you something."

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

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

"Sweetheart, please - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y-Your girl?"

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

"She's nothing - "

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

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

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

"No, just saying - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?" You asked.

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

"Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

"It's all my fault."

"I should've said something, too."

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

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

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

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

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

"Just try..."

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

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

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

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

"How fitting."

"How so?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I feel so stupid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

other Hanahaki Disease fics:

featuring: Eddie Munson from Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

Tears in the Rain

Gone with the Sin

[emeritusemeritus]

Spellbound [Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader]

Title: Spellbound.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!Reader

Timeline: Non-specified, no mention of canonical events but I pictured OOTP as I was writing.

Summary: Sick of how his twin’s devastating crush on you is affecting his Quidditch abilities, George takes matters into his own hands and meddles.

Warnings: Use of a love potion, essentially dubious consent. Pining, crushes, probably minor swearing. Fred’s a love sick puppy. Questionable morality on George’s behalf. Not beta read.

Word count: 2.7k

This was inspired by a lovely Anon request I was sent, original post here. I hope this is what you were looking for, I enjoyed working on this so much! 💙

George Weasley was one half of the infamously disruptive Weasley twins; usually mentioned second and hardly able to be distinguished from his slightly older twin to those that didn't really know him. To those that did, his identifying qualities included being slightly quieter, more patient, more understanding and perhaps more moral... sometimes. Though it was never said aloud, he was the slightly better Quidditch player with a slightly better aim and was arguably more passionate about the game than his twin. He had more focus at least, which was never more obvious than during this season of Quidditch when Fred had been mightily distracted through most of the games, missing bludgers an amateur could have hit and earning more fouls in one season than he had in his entire time on the team. His reason? He had a crush. An almighty crush on you which made him distracted, inattentive, sometimes irritable and almost constantly mopey.

George was perceptive by nature and had picked up on his brother's infatuation not long after it began, noticing that Fred's attention was often pulled away as soon as you'd walk into the great hall or class. Didn't matter that they were in the middle of a conversation or a tactful sale, in you'd walk and out would go Fred's sanity. George couldn't deny that you were pretty, you'd turned his head a few times, not that he'd ever admit that to his brother, but the affect you had on Fred was almost laughable. He was certain he'd seen his brother drool once over you, the hearts in his love-stricken puppy eyes almost making George want to laugh and vomit at the same time.

When he wasn't pining for you in ways George could hardly fathom, Fred was often touchy and sulky at the unrequited nature of his crush. If he saw another bloke talking to you or making you laugh, he'd be insufferable for the rest of the day, shooting daggers at the culprit and threatening under his breath to set off a dung bomb in the unsuspecting lad's dorm.

To make matters worse, you'd started attending Quidditch games regularly when Ron made Keeper in support of your friend and also as support for Hermione so that she wouldn't have to sit alone with her two best friends on the pitch, despite being a Ravenclaw. Many people went to support their friends and as long as they weren’t competing against your house you figured it was fair game to support them. You'd also infrequently started attending practice sessions with Hermione, sitting in the stands or on the side lines where you would spend most of the time studying or drawing. It was a double edged sword for the team if you showed up or not; if you didn't, Fred would mope about and keep checking that you hadn't arrived late during the entire time on the pitch. If you did show, he'd spend the time trying to impress you with comical dives on his broom, outlandish tricks and almost everything exactly fulfilling his actual role to get your attention.

So George came up with a plan. One night when they were restocking the skiving snack boxes and checking on their slow-brewing potions, he'd come up with a plan that was admittedly a little immoral but should surely work. Tensions had risen between the twins after Fred had received another avoidable foul causing them to nearly lose the match and George had walked out of the changing rooms in a huff to start on the restocking, not wanting to hear Fred waxing poetic about how fit you looked in your jumper or how loudly you were cheering for him the few times during the match he'd actually played well.

George was sick of listening to it and it pushed him to a point when his plan seemed to be the only choice.

The next morning George had woken Fred early, dragging his half asleep twin out of bed to get to the Great Hall bright and early, the older of the two still dishevelled from sleep and rubbing his eyes, grumpy to boot.

"Don't see why you're dragging me down at this time, not like they'll run out of food," Fred complained grumpily as he tried to fall into step with George who seemed to be walking at a faster than normal pace down the staircases. About halfway down the staircases, Fred noticed that his jumper was back to front and had fixed it with a huff and a yawn, battling the wool over his wide shoulders.

"Told you, I'm starving," George replied vaguely with a shrug, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he turned away from Fred to conceal it.

They took a seat at the table and once again Fred complained as he saw hardly anyone up yet except for a few Ravenclaws huddled together on the other side, talking in hushed but excited whispers. Fred begrudgingly accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from George and simply looked at the few slices of toast in front of him, his stomach still asleep. So consumed by his tiredness he didn't even notice that George hadn't taken a bite of any food even after five minutes, despite his prior claims of being starving. Fred sat in a gloomy slump at the table, head in his hands and staring down at the table, if his eyes were open at all whereas George kept his eyes trained on the open door in a much more jovial mood.

"Morning," your voice rang out quietly but pleasantly. George had to physically place his hand over his mouth to conceal the laughter that was threatening to burst out of him watching Fred's reaction to your voice. It was like he'd been electrocuted or at least unknowingly stunned as his head shot up, elbow banging on the table as it slid off the edge of the wooden table as his head whipped up to look at your face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," you said with a timid smile and a little laugh before taking a seat beside George. You’d usually sit with the other Ravenclaws but as it was so quiet this morning you figured you would sit with the twins.

"You're up early," George says with a smile, offering you the jug of pumpkin juice, which you gladly accepted. Fred had said nothing but his pink cheeks were talking all by themselves, though you didn't seem to notice.

"Wanted to take a long walk around the grounds this morning," you reply after taking a sip of the juice that George had poured for you. "I've been trying to do more exercise lately... it's always so pretty in autumn so it's not as horrible getting up early."

"Why?" Fred says, finally speaking. He regrets it the instant your eyes fall upon him, realising that the word had tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think, his tone a little sharp and defensive, as if it was an unnatural thing to do. "I meant, about the exercise."

"Oh, well I guess it's good for my head," you explained, placing down your cup. "And the waist line, I feel like I put on a stone every term with how good the food is." George chuckles along, finally helping himself to the breakfast food in front of him but you notice that Fred hardly reacts.

"I know what you mean, if it wasn't for Quidditch I'd probably be the size of a troll."

Your laugh renders Fred even more speechless than he already was, so much so that he'd accepted his fate as forever mute at this point.

"Well thank Godric for Quidditch," you say with a smile. Fred doesn't miss the way your gaze suddenly flashes over him, most notably his arms as he lifts the cup to his lips, making him choke into his juice. It was the first time he'd ever noticed your gaze slip over him so obviously.

"Must be tough being a beater, those bludgers must be really heavy," you say, your gaze hardly moving from Fred's arms, up and across his shoulders before slipping down again. He couldn't believe you were looking at him like this, especially when your eyes travelled up to his face and you caught his eyes. You didn't look embarrassed or look away, simply gave him a playful smile before addressing his twin again as he replied to you. Fred was dreaming, he must be.

But the attention didn't stop. Fred didn't know what had changed that morning but he started noticing little things like how you'd catch his eye when you walked into a room, like you were seeking him out, or if he gazed over at you it was only time before you would look in his direction too. He no longer had to pretend that you were cheering the loudest for him at Quidditch matches because you actually were, and noticeably so. You still attended practice sessions infrequently but you no longer kept your head down and in your books, now you were actually watching the team practice, though it appeared you were really only concerned by one half of the beater duo.

George's plan had worked. Fred was in a good mood more consistently, played better during Quidditch as he was actually focused on the game and no longer trying to get your attention as he already had it. Sure he was still grouchy if another male approached you but he didn't feel quite as bad about it when you would seek him out mid conversation, as if you wished it to be him instead.

"I'm gonna ask her out," Fred says one night as they enter their dorm, throwing off his big jumper and leaving it on a pile on the floor beside his bed.

"Maybe you should wait until after this season mate, only two more matches to go if we carry on playing well," George says delicately, taking off his own jumper but instead choosing to fold it onto the chair beside his bed unlike his sloppy twin. He watches as Fred's face scrunches up in displeasure at his words but he doesn't immediately question them, taking time to think about it.

"Yeah maybe," Fred says eventually, reaching don under his bed to pull out the large tray of stock they had stashed, mainly the slicing snack box stuff.

The two of them restocked and replenished the stock they had on hand for a while, completely ignoring all homework before they slipped down to the common room later that night.

"Gonna check the potions," George whispers in Fred's ear before slipping off, leaving him with Lee in the common room.

If Fred noticed anything off about George when he gets back, he doesn’t mention it. But George can feel it, the sense of dread and guilt, exactly what he didn’t want to happen was coming to fruition. He realised then that he’d have to break it to Fred, admit what he’d done.

“You coming mate?” Fred asks, grabbing his quidditch stuff ready to head to the pitch but pauses when he sees George sat on his bed, not making an effort to move. He looks sad, distressed even.

“What’s up? You didn’t eat all those Bertie boys did you?”

“Fred,” George says quietly, eyes slowly rising up until he’s looking into the all too familiar eyes of his twin. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

For the first time in history, Fred and George Weasley weren’t speaking. It was their first proper fall out, first argument and the first time in history that they hadn’t been wandering the corridors of Hogwarts together, causing mayhem or mischief but no one knew why. The tension between the pair was awful for them and everyone around them. Then suddenly, they were back together again even though it was still tense and not at all like it was before, they found their way back to eachother.

“Y/n,” Fred says from behind you, pulling you away from your conversation as the Ravenclaw table, your friends looking on curiously as you turned with a smile to see Fred behind you looking a little nervous.

“Hi Freddie,” you say with a smile, having missed him.

“Can I borrow you?”

You nod, turning to your friends to say bye and got up from the table and followed him out of the Hall, thinking how strange he was acting. He leads you up the staircases with little explanation and manages to sneak you up into his dorm through the portrait hole, something you couldn’t believe he managed to do.

When you walked into his dorm, you saw George sitting on the bed you assumed to be his, the room a little untidy but not awful.

“George?” You say, worried about the sad look on his face. He gives you a little smile and a brief wave as Fred closes the door behind you.

“What’s a matter? What’s going off?” You say, looking between the two. Fred offers you a seat on the nearby bed you assume to be his and he sits beside you, both now looking nervously at George.

“George has something he wants to tell you,” Fred says, casting a rather harsh glare at his brother, tone sharp and resolute. George takes a deep breath, clearing his throat as he looks up at you.

“I,” he manages to get out, but shuts down the moment he opens his mouth, apparently losing all the words he needed.

“It’s okay Georgie,” you say gently, trying to give him confidence.

“No it’s not,” Fred retorts in a much harsher tone. Your head whips round to him and he softens as he looks at you.

“He’s been giving you love potion,” he says, nodding his head towards his guilt stricken twin. Your mouth falls open in disbelief, a frown pulling at your eyebrows as you try your hardest to think of how it was possible.

“But.”

“I didn’t really mean to,” George says weakly but quickly changes his wording when Fred’s glare increased threefold. “Okay I did but not with any malicious intent. He’s bloody obsessed with you and I couldn’t stand the pining anymore, it was insufferable. He wasn’t focusing when you were at Quidditch and I just wanted him to focus again so I thought if you gave him attention back then he’d have his head back in the game and it worked.”

“George!” You say completely outraged, in disbelief that he’d have actually done that. “Stop it right now! It’s not funny.”

He frowns at you briefly, just quick enough for you to see as he looks between you both.

“I haven’t given you any in over a week,” he says curiously, “I ran out last week.”

The room is silent after his reveal as you start to slowly realise that even if you had been given the love potion initially, being without it hadn’t actually changed your feelings of Fred.

“You’re obsessed with me?” You ask, turning to Fred who looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up.

“I wouldn’t have said obsessed… but yeah, I really fancy you,” he says, not quite meeting your eyes. It’s a split second decision that leads you to closing the gap between the two of you, legs touching as you scoot along his bed and slowly lean in to him, trying to gage his reaction. He doesn’t resist in the slightest and finally looks up into your eyes just long enough to realise what’s happening before your eyes close and your lips meet.

George slips out quietly with a pleased look on his face, knowing that everything would be alright in the end. He walks down to the little store room where they brew their potions and he smirks to himself when he sees the still very full cauldron of love potion simmering, the pearlescent pink glow radiating from it.

You’d believed him to easily, both you and Fred. And if he had to take the hit for a little while, it was worth it.

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[privategurlsblog]

No Regard for the Cost - A.T

Not intended for minors! 18+

Warnings: smut, piv, awkwardness, unprotected, morning after pill, cheating

PLOT: you and him just can’t keep your hands off each other

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

It had all started a few months prior. Alex had been sat in class, mulling over his work with his hand trawling through his long unruly hair, when you had been sat next to him by the teacher.

In college, they were supposed to be more laidback, you were all eighteen after all, this was your second year. And yet your teacher absolutely hated you, and seeing as she branded you as a disruption for always giggling with your best friend, she had demanded you moved next to someone more enthusiastic about their work.

And so she moved you next to him. Alex. Alex Turner. You knew his name from your classes, a few parties you'd seen his face at, you're pretty sure he went to your school too but you don't really remember. All you know is that he's as boring as a brick wall and barely graces a person with a smile.

You had sat down next to him with a hearty huff, the only sound emitting throughout the otherwise quiet room. While everyone else seemed to focus, you just never could. Your fingers fiddled with your pen, alternating between playing with the end and sticking it between your teeth as you glanced towards the nonsensical worksheet you were supposed to be doing.

Alex was too engrossed in his work to really care. His pen stayed driven to the paper, scribbling furiously, answering all the questions that might as well be written in a different language for you.

Your lips quirked up, amused by his messy writing, all in capital letters. It made it so visible that you couldn't help but take a peek at some of the answers, glancing through your hair so the beady eyed bat also known as your teacher wouldn't catch you.

Your legs swung under the desk, hitting the metal pole in the middle occasionally that Alex's feet were resting on. The disruption made him tense but he tried to stay focused. He couldn't afford any distractions when exams were a mere few months away. He'd already fallen behind because of time with his mates, he wasn't going to let some good time girl take his attention away now.

The silence was loud to you, almost harrowing. Your sighs had filled the air over and over again, your leg kept kicking. You half arsed copying Alex's answers, getting distracted halfway through a question and deciding to pick at your nail varnish instead.

Alex glanced through the gap in his arm at you, watching the peeled polish land on the table beneath you. You had a frown on your brow, far more focused on fiddling with your nails than the work before you.

Alex tensed when another sigh fell from your lips, followed by another kick and another gruelling scrape of one nail against the other. You looked up with wide eyes when he slammed his pen down on the desk, glaring at you now that he was sat up. You met his eyes with a quirked brow.

"Do you mind? Some of us care about our education. Pick your nails elsewhere if it's that important," he huffed. It amused you how angry he sounded through a mere whisper, the smile tugging on the corners of your lips only pissed him off more.

"Sorry arsehole," you scoffed, "I wouldn't be sat next to your boring arse if I could help it anyway."

"Yeah well help it by doing your work and shutting the fuck up," he said sharply, stunning you into silence before he returned to his work.

But that's all it had taken. After he'd shown that slither of his personality, you'd been intrigued by him. You copied his answers, stayed quiet like he requested and then leant back in your chair to observe him once you were done. He was on the next question, you'd need to wait for him to write it before you copied - obviously. So you took the time to check him out.

Long dark brown hair hung over his face, hiding your view of his large, deer like eyes. His figure was fairly small for a bloke, small shoulders, small legs. But he had a large presence, despite that. He was hunched over so much that you actually concerned yourself with the risk of his spine being damaged.

"You know....you're curved up like an ugly snail," you hissed, gripping his attention proved by the tenseness of his shoulders, "maybe if you loosened up once in a while, you'd have a bit more fun. Oh, and maybe you'd be a few inches taller than five foot nothing."

"I'm five foot nine," he whispers back, looking up at you with a dark expression. His skin was tainted with youth, acne in various areas on his chin and cheeks, cheeks a little puffy and a pouty, moody expression that you couldn't help but feel endeared by.

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" You raised your eyebrows.

"Like I would want to impress you."

He had a sharp tongue, was moody and looked good. You wanted him, you were bored and there he was, entertaining you. You slid your palm over his jean cladded thigh, leaning closer into him and feeling him tense under your touch. His breath hitched and his eyes widened, the hatefulness fading into curiosity.

"I'd guess by your breathing, you wouldn't mind showing off for me once in a while," you said it lowly, teasingly, your voice dripping with suggestiveness. Alex's thigh tensed, his breathing deepened and yet he never stopped you.

"How about you just carry on writing those answers and I carry on copying them?" You drawled, your hand sliding up further, "then I'll be impressed."

"Change them then. I'm not being accused of copying you," he tried to maintain the annoyance in his tone but as your hand got higher, his voice followed suit. You chuckled, ignoring him and he bent back over his work, trying not to let you affect him.

Your hand had paused. Why he didn't move it, neither of you knew, but he never did. He let it rest there while he refocused on the task at hand, starting to write the answer to the next question. He was so engrossed in it, he forgot all about your touch and seeing as your annoying habits had subsided, he near enough forgot all about you all together.

That was until you sneakily slid your hand over his crotch, pressing your palm into him.

Alex dropped his pen, his eyes widened and his breath hitched. You smiled to yourself, eyes boring into the sheet of paper beneath you as if you were actually interested.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Alex hissed, leaning in close to your ear. You could feel his breath cascading over your neck, making you shiver subtly but you wouldn't let him know he was affecting you too.

"Do you want me to stop?" You said beneath your breath, squeezing him again. He'd gotten a bit hard, even from a few little touches. His breathing remained shaky, and for some unknown reason, he couldn't speak. He knew he needed to focus. Hell, he'd never even thought of you in this way. And yet he didn't speak, didn't say no, didn't even want to.

Alex had gotten one or two blowjobs before, a few handjobs here and there from ex girlfriends and flings. But he'd never, ever done anything on school grounds, least of all in a classroom with a teacher present. You didn't seem to care one bit about being caught, your movements subtle enough that you could simply just have your hand on your own knee.

He didn't know why he was responding so much but seeing as you had your eyes glued to the work, he decided to have a gander. He had to admit you're attractive. The headband holding back your hair made your side profile more stark, your eyelashes incredibly long and thick, caressing the bulbs of your cheeks as you looked down. And fuck....your lips. Pouty, enclosed around a pen, plump, perfect. He thought about them wrapped around his cock and had to grip the table, your hand moving again on his crotch, his erection becoming more prominent as your touches ensued.

He spread his legs further, deciding just not to reply to you and instead looked back towards his work. It was a bit pointless, he couldn't exactly focus with your hand hovering over him as it was. You kept on with your movements until he was fully hard, then you wrapped your hand around him and began tugging through his clothes.

Alex's breathing was laboured, his knuckles were turning white from how hard they were clenching the table. He could feel the heat pouring into his cheeks, and equally when you dared to look around you could see that they were stained crimson. His hair had started to stick to his sweaty forehead, beads of perspiration forming as he tried to ignore the pleasure.

The roughness of his boxers, combined with the randomness of the moment and the fact that he'd noticed you were fit all led to him catching your wrist quickly. You glanced around, shocked by the suddenness, your heart racing.

"You need to stop," he warned you, "I can't....I'm too....close now.”

It was hard for him to admit that he was that easy, but you weren't annoyed, nor were you amused, you just found it flattering. Your cheeks lifted as your smile grew, and at his request you took your hand away.

He'd missed the warmth of your touch, his boner hadn't gone down for the rest of the lesson but eventually it came to an end. You had a worksheet full of answers due to him, he had a raging hard on because of you.

After the lesson you had taken his hand, led him into the girls toilets, making sure there was nobody to see the sordid sight and you had wanked him off until he came all over your hand, which had not taken long.

And that was it. From that point onwards, you and Alex started doing stuff. From handjobs in the toilets, to fingering you at parties, to meeting up in his bedroom pretending to study and fucking instead. Weeks passed of the same ordeal, and yet there was nothing to you both. You didn't like him like that, he didn't like you either. You just liked....touching each other.

One night, Alex was restless. He kept tossing and turning, thinking of you and that first day you'd came onto him. It was the third day in a row in the month since it had happened that you guys hadn't met up or ran off somewhere in college. You were away for half term, somewhere on some British island, the Isle of Wight or something like that, he hadn't cared to listen really with his mouth buried in your cunt.

He'd thought he wouldn't miss you. You guys weren't really that close after all, he just liked your body and you liked his academic mind. But he found himself hard beneath the sheets, and he was a bit sick of wanking himself off when usually you'd be here to do it for him.

It was late, somewhere between twelve and three but he'd lost count of the hours tossing and turning. He picked up his phone and decided to call you and try his luck. You didn't answer, disappointment and frustration brewed inside of him as he threw the phone across the room. But then his computer ringtone went off and he raced to it to see you were video calling him.

He answered with tousled hair, a bare chest and a little peek of his burgundy plaid PJ bottoms on show. You drunk in the sight of him, feeling a bit like a dog on heat as you too weren't unaffected by the change up in your routine.

The meaning of the call was clear, a mere few words exchanged about how your holiday was and his break before you'd stripped to your baby pink laced bra with the cute white bow in the middle, and Alex had rid himself of them old man PJ bottoms to reveal his tight boxers instead.

You barely spoke, both too on edge about your parents catching you even at your ages. The thought of his mother walking in on him getting himself off to you made Alex's skin crawl.

So while you teased your fingers through your pussy, the swollen nub being the only thing you paid attention to, he gripped his hardened cock in his fist and pumped languidly to the sight of you.

Your tits bounced once you put your fingers inside, you rode them on the chair as it squeaked beneath you and Alex watched on with his thumb teasing his sensitive tip and tiny groans leaving his lips.

His eyes were glued to the supple flesh, a yellowed mark in the shape of his lips tainted the top of them from where he'd sucked you the last time you were together.

"Wish I could suck on them now," he typed into the chat, too afraid to say those words out loud in the middle of the night.

Your eyes rolled back once you read his message, to tease him further, you moved your other hand to your tit, pinching your hardened nipple and rolling it between your fingers.

"Wish I could suck your cock right now. Miss your cum in my throat," you typed back, and the image of that. Of you on your knees gazing up at him, showing him your white stained tongue after swallowing his load, made him explode.

You watched in awe, hips still rolling against your hand as Alex's cock twitched, his fist squeezing the tip and the white, sticky liquid shot up towards his chest, stark against his flushed skin.

Watching him throw his head back and bite his swollen lip hard enough to draw blood to contain his moans, made you lose it all the same. You tightened around your fingers, gushing all over them and your hips never stopped moving until the last of it had consumed you.

"See you later," you'd mumbled tiredly once your panties were firmed back on.

"Yeah, see ya," Alex waved before x'ing the tab and going to sleep, satisfied now that he'd had his fix from you.

But then the worst thing happened. Well, the worst thing that could happen to two people your age, trying to hide their sexual endeavours.

You were round Alex's, the day before college started up again. He'd coaxed you here with promises to help you study for the upcoming mock exams. You'd only returned yesterday and if you were being truthful, you wanted to see your friends but you also wanted a quick shag beforehand.

Alex was on top of you, his clothed erection grinding into your clothed pussy and his mouth attacking your neck. Your legs splayed out so he could get deeper and the both of you were occupying yourselves with the others neck so you could contain your noises, seeing as his parents were home.

To them, you were just being tutored by him. They were nice enough, offered you teas, coffees, biscuits. But mostly they just left you to your own devices and waved goodbye when you left.

You spun him around, straddling him instead. The short pleated skirt you had on rode up your thighs and exposed the supple flesh to Alex, who ran his eager palms all over them as you continued to kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth, both his hands moving to your arse as he grinded you onto him, his hardness pressing against your core pulling moans from you that he continuously swallowed.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his forehead sticking to yours from the heat of the moment, his wide eyes gazed into you hungrily. God, he was so horny. You'd never have imagined it before trying it on with him, Alex had always been subtle to the point you barely registered his existence. But all that shyness had dissipated into a fucking horny boy who could not keep his hands off you, no matter the circumstance.

He squeezed your arse, nails digging into the flesh while you leant further into him, hips rolling as your lips, teeth and tongues collided.

"Alex- oh!"

You squealed and Alex's breath hitched when the door suddenly swung open and his mother stood there. She was holding a basket of washing, those plaid PJ bottoms sat right on the top, with her mouth hung low and her eyes wide.

A blush crept up onto her cheeks as she hastily put the basket down, quickly turning away.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't....sorry. Your washing is there Alexander."

"Right," he said quickly, "can you just....just get out mum, please!"

His cheeks were red hot, not that you could see them as you had your face buried into the sheets beside his shoulder, but you could feel the heat of them where his cheek was pressed to yours. His body had gone rigid, apart from his cock, which had softened in a matter of seconds.

She swiftly left the room, apologising profusely as she did and the door shut behind her leaving a horrendous silence. You sat up quickly, crawling off him to reach for your top, which he'd discarded, desperate to see your tits, the second you'd entered his bedroom.

Now he didn't argue as you covered yourself up, shifting to the edge of his bed to hold your head in your hands, the embarrassment was almost shameful. How could you look her in the eye again? You'd never be able to come here to study, she'd be downstairs thinking you're shagging the whole time. The fact that she'd be right isn't relevant.

"That was fucking mortifying," Alex scoffed, the redness lingering in his cheeks. He sat up swiftly, pulling on his T-shirt. Honestly he was quite grateful that you'd only been kissing, considering he was just about to beg you to fuck him instead.

"I'd better go," you grimaced, standing up quickly to retrieve your tote hidden in the corner, all your work still inside it. But Alex was quick to stop you and demand you stay otherwise it would look like you guys were just shagging. Your stark reminder that you were fell on deaf ears and you'd ended up having to eat with them all that night.

And so you stopped going to Alex's house and met in the public library instead. It was dull, a grey building with centuries old burgundy, navy and shit brown covered books. You weren't a fan of the musty smell, the hard uncomfortable chairs or the sniffly weirdos that hung around there every night. But you two had no better options when evening strikes and so you put up with it.

One specific evening, you actually were focusing on your work. You had a mock exam for the subject you shared with Alex the next day, at nine in the morning and you were nervous. All the lack of effort put in seemed like a good idea when you were having good nights out and laughing till your belly hurt in class with your friends, but you knew once the exam hit, you'd be panicking.

And yet Alex didn't seem to gauge that. His eager hands stroked your thigh under the table, hitching your skirt up as his lips sucked on your neck. You kept telling him not to leave marks and he kept defying you, always ending up gobbling you up like a three course meal and usually you were too lost in pleasure to care. But right now, it was annoying you.

"Alex!" You groaned, pushing him away, ignoring the hurt in his eyes, "I'm serious about this."

"You're never serious about your work," he scoffed, moving back towards you but you pushed him away again.

"I do care Alex, I just don't live and breathe education like you do," you sneered, looking back towards your notes. The letters were starting to levitate in your vision, scrambling up until it was all as nonsensical as ever. You couldn't understand how it came so easy to him when for you it was the worst thing imaginable.

"Well what's the point in me being here if you don't want me?" Alex huffed, gathering his pens up. You watched him as he started putting his stuff away, trying to ignore the tinge of hurt tugging at your heart. It's not that you liked him but Christ, are you really that insufferable that he won't even actually study with you?

"You're leaving?" You gawp at him and he shrugs, sliding his books and pencil case away in the satchel you always make fun of. Seriously, does he think he's a barrister? You're college kids.

"I'm all studied up for tomorrow. Need a good rest tonight anyways," he says, slinging it over his shoulder before he stands.

You look up to him trying to bite back the tears at the back of your eyes. The fact you're so frustrated anyway, combined with him being an arse, is just too much to handle. Your throat constricts and you don't trust yourself to speak, so you just shrug half heartedly and turn away.

Alex walks away with no care in the world.

That day changed your perspective on him. The day after that you had your exam and ignored his text after asking to meet him in the car park. You just wanted to head home, it had been a disaster trying to make your words concise, put your knowledge to paper. It didn't help that last nights mishap dangled over you like an insistent reminder to be miserable.

After a few more days of you ignoring him, Alex tracked you down. He found you in the pub, now that mocks were over, you and your best friend decided to have a few drinks to celebrate. You were hunched over a pornstar martini, giggling at your friend's story about some bad sex she'd had the night prior.

You saw Alex come in with his friends, they always made a ruckus which was bizarre because he was so quiet in comparison. But your eyes had merely flickered up and then back down, ignoring his that caught on you and lingered.

Alex waited until you went to the toilet before his own chair scraped back and he chased after you. Unbeknownst to him, his friends and yours shared a look. Neither of you had said much about where you stood but they all knew you'd been at it. They all chuckled at each other, assuming you two wouldn't be back for a while.

He waited in the corridor leading to the toilets, eyes driven to the faceless woman with the triangle dress painted on the oak door. He couldn't wait for the moment it opened and you would be stood behind it, you were driving him mad ignoring him. Two months of casual sex and then you ghost him? He had to know what was going on.

You didn't notice him as you walked out, eyes driven to your phone where you were texting your mother back, only when you bumped shoulders with him did you look up. Your expression iced immediately, making him frown in return.

"Why are you ignoring me?" He asked you, annoyance dripping off his tongue. It made your heart race for all the wrong reasons; you were angry. How could a nerd like Alex Turner brush you off so casually and then wonder why when he fancies a shag? You must have lost your touch.

"Because you're a dickhead," you clapped back, pushing his arm as you walked past. He followed after you like a loyal puppy, even though he had the eyes to match, you knew he was anything but.

"What have I done?" He whined, sounding so confused that it only angered you more. Boys and their refusal to have some fucking empathy.

"Piss off Alex. The sex is done, okay? Find someone else to shag," you waved him off, entering the bulk of the pub again. Your friends hadn't yet noticed you were back, in fact, no one had. Alex spun you in your pep, his eyebrows and eyes near enough touching and blending into one dark brown mess as he frowned at you.

"Could you not just tell me what I've done? If you don't wanna fuck that's fine but at least give me a reason."

Your mouth dropped open, an unhumoured laugh falling from your lips, "I have to give you a reason? Do you realise how much of a cunt you sound?"

"Right...." Alex seemed to come back to, realising his mistake and his eyes softened but you weren't falling for it. He's a teenage boy, trying to get his leg over after all. You don't trust him.

"I'm sorry for saying that. Obviously I understand if you don't....I just feel like I've upset you and I'd like if you'd tell me how so I can fix it...." He corrects himself and quite unfairly, you scoff.

"Like you give a fuck Alex! Just fuck off!"

You stalk away, back to your friends who all frown at your expression of thunder. You quietly bitch about him to them, ignoring the penetrating feel of his eyes on you. Eventually, you and your friends leave to go to another bar.

You and Alex don't speak much for a while after that. The only time you guys interact is when you absolutely have to for the sake of your class. Other than that, you avoid him at all costs and he seems to have gotten the hint himself.

A few weeks pass, in that time you hear rumours from your friend Rosie that Alex has a new girlfriend from the other college. You pay no mind, it's not like you liked each other anyway is it?

The next party you attend, he's there with her. Charlotte, her name is. And to be honest, he has a habit of picking up girls who should be out of his league. Charlotte has long blonde hair and a big bust, you're sure that's probably why he went for her. Her smoky eyes don't stray from him the whole time. His don't stray from you.

She goes home early. You don't mean to pry but you hear her telling Rosie that she's got to be up for something tomorrow so her parents want her back. You couldn't care less really, why you're eavesdropping you don't know but you do focus on Alex to see him still sat there.

"I'm going to get a drink," you tell Rosie and she nods, requesting you get her one too.

As you sneak off to the kitchen to pour you both a drink, you feel a shadow, a looming presence hovering over you. And you know only one person could make your hairs stand up without even announcing they're there, and that's Alex.

"Are you done being annoyed at me yet?" He wonders, a slur to his voice that suggests he's had more than a few.

"No. Why are you talking to me anyway? You've got a girlfriend."

"You jealous?" He has a cocky smirk that you'd quite like to wipe off with the palm of your hand.

"Don't be ridiculous," you roll your eyes, challenging him with hateful eyes.

He gazes at you teasingly and your blood spikes, after all, you are just a girl. He's just a boy. And you've both seen it all before.

It makes it easy to land in bed together. You can't remember whose room this is, but you don't really care. Alex lays on top of you with his clammy hands pawing at your short dress, pulling it up until your hips and core are on show for him.

He wastes no time before ripping your panties down until they're hanging on your ankles. You kiss like you're starved of each other, Alex's tongue curving around yours, tasting of cigarettes and alcohol but you really don't mind. He's a good kisser and you've missed being touched these last few weeks.

You fiddle with his belt buckle until it's out of the way, dipping your hand in his boxers to curve it around the silky skin of his cock, he's rock hard and whimpering in your ear. He pushes one finger into you, sinking into your damp heat and you feel him twitch in your hand at the feel of your wetness.

"Fuck me Alex," you plead, he releases a growl before he stands to push his jeans and boxers down further, his eyes dark and slightly obstructed from your view from his long fringe. You run your hand through it so you can look at him, finding him gazing at you with that familiar hungriness.

He pushes into you with ease. Neither of you notice in the heat of the moment, with your drunken minds, that he's not even wearing a condom. He buries himself so deep inside of you that you heave, swearing it's touching your guts. His palms land either side of your head as his thrusts commence, hard and fast and fairly sloppy because of his state but you're in one too, so you don't complain.

He's missed your tight heat, your pussy does things to him that no one else's can. Not that he's slept with that many girls, only one other than you. But he knows it's not as good with her and so he revels in you.

"Missed your cunt," he groans into your mouth, your teeth clashing as the bed creaks beneath you both.

"Treat it better then," you clap back, your drunken words whispered into the air get lost as Alex hits your sweet spot.

"Fuck I can't last much longer," he groans as you tighten around him in response, his hips faltering now that the knot in his stomach is threatening to snap. He's sweating, the collar of his polo shirt sticking to his skin. You dig your nails into his shoulders when he moves a hand between you both and starts to rub your clit.

He'd had a hard time finding it at first, but now it was like common knowledge for him to know exactly where to touch you, exactly what to do and say to make you fall apart for him.

As he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you over and over again, you fall apart beneath him. Your pussy tightens and it takes Alex by surprise, he groans with widened eyes that soon fall shut as his cum starts shooting inside of you. The warmth soothes your walls, blissed out and content, you lay back into the sheets that suddenly feel like you're laying on a bright white, fluffy cloud in the middle of a blue sky. The reality is different; the bass from below reverberates around the house, through your drunken veins. The throbbing of your head from the alcohol has commenced before the night has even finished. But you had a good orgasm, so you can't find it in yourself to complain.

It's not until Alex helps you up and you start to redress that you feel the cum pouring out of you, dripping down your calf.

"Alex!" You huff, he hums in response, still blissed out himself. The moonlight shining through illuminates his glowy cheeks, the sweat still glistening on his skin but making him look so, so good.

"Did you cum in me?"

He frowns, wondering what you mean until you point down at the cum running down your legs. He panics, running off to get you a tissue, stumbling drunkenly through the house. He receives a few looks from people, having forgotten to do his belt up, it clanks against the walls he falls against as he tries to be quick.

One moment he's rolling toilet roll off the holder, desperate to get back to you and panicked over what's happened. The next he finds himself clenching his stomach, the coiling in it making his head spin and his throat dry. Within seconds his head is hung over the toilet and he's projectile vomiting.

You clean yourself with his prized blue adidas jacket, hoping he can never get the stain out as you pull your panties up and leave the party, thinking he's done a runner.

The next day Alex calls you about fifty times, you don't answer once. First of all, you're severely hungover and desperate to rot in bed for the day. Second of all, you haven't forgotten that he pissed you off even if you've forgotten why.

So you're sat in bed, crunching on crisps and drinking a litre of apple juice while watching Gossip Girl. You haven't showered, your makeup from last night is still smeared all over your face and you probably smell like a brewery where all the beer is out of date.

"Y/N!" Your sister shouts, you roll your eyes and ignore her. But she repeats it, twice.

"What?" You scream back, pissed off that she's bothering you. Whoever said having sisters is fun hasn't had a harrowing, banshee of one like you do.

"Alex is here!" She shouts back. Your eyes roll again, a bad habit that perhaps comes with being eighteen and moody at the world, but you don't care. It feels like a good way to express your annoyance at things.

"Tell him to fuck off!"

"Tell him yourself bitch! I'm going out!" she shouts back, you hear the front door slam, presumably as she leaves. You pray that Alex hasn't come in but when you hear fast footsteps coming up the stairs, you know your prayers have fallen on deaf ears.

Alex doesn't even knock before barging in with a panicked expression. He looks a little worse for wear himself, his hair sticking up in every direction, skin sickly pale and prominent blue bags tainting his under eye.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You squeak, pulling the covers until only your eyes are showing. You're mortified that he's in your room, with the crisp packets and old cups littering the floor, papers from your revision strewn over your desk and panties from last week scattered between the piles of rubbish.

He doesn't seem to care, in fact his eyes only stay locked on you as he slams the door shut behind him.

"Have you gotten the pill?" He asks, ignoring your question. You hit pause on the show and shift up, wondering what he means until the memory hits you like a ton of bricks.

He watches the realisation pour onto your face and grimaces.

"I forgot to put a condom on," he swallows, "you're gonna need the morning after."

"Well that's great!" You huff, pulling the covers off. Alex's eyes linger on your pizza decorated shorts and the baggy oasis tshirt hanging over your frame.

"As if you couldn't be anymore of an arse, now I have to take a pill because of you," you storm towards your dresser, pulling out your makeup wipes so you can at least get rid of the state of your face before you leave the house with the morning after written all over it.

"You forgot as well you know," he sneers back, but then guilt fills his expression as he watches you hurriedly search through your drawers for some clothes.

"You're the one with the cock!"

"You were the one with it inside you," he bites back.

You shake your head at him, pulling down your shorts and tossing them to the side to slide your leggings on instead. Alex watches you with a cocked head, eyes moving up and down your scantily clad body as you throw your T-shirt off, bare tits popping out. You don't care what he sees of your bare body, he's seen it all before anyway.

"I'll buy it," he speaks up, trying so hard not to look at your body. He's always far more sensitive when he's hungover and right now his dick would probably stiffen if you glanced at it, let alone prancing about naked.

"I should think so."

You go to walk past him, needing to grab your socks from the drawers he happens to be stood next to, but he stops you. His hands find your waist, moving you so you're facing him.

"What are you doing?"

"Why don't we make use of it?" His voice is supposed to come out flirty but unfortunately it comes out as breathy, alluding to his desire before he's had a chance to make you want it too.

"I'm not fucking you," you're stubborn and he likes it, his lips quirk up and you battle with yours but eventually they do too. Within seconds his mouth is on yours, hot and heavy, and he's pushing you back into the mattress with only your thin panties in the way.

Alex takes you to a cafe after you guys get the pill. He'd lingered outside, handing you the cash and peering through the window while you had a small consultation. It felt dirty and wrong, you felt like some slag even though Alex was the only boy you'd slept with in months. He'd noticed you were a bit flat and asked if you wanted a coffee, which actually, you'd been enamoured by. You sat opposite each other now, in a casual situation for once where you both weren't trying anything.

"Don't you have a girlfriend now?"

He glanced up at you. You saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes before he groaned and buried his face in his hands. That's when you felt it. The feeling reviving itself of absolute disgust. Of the fact you were nothing more than a dirty shag to him. And it's not that you'd ever expected anything more, but it's just the harrowing feeling of being a hole, a pair of tits and a pretty face. They come in handy, but not when they're consistently used and then hidden as a dirty little secret.

"I'm leaving."

"Y/N," Alex gasped, he tried to grab your hand as you swanned past him but you were too quick.

"No Alex I'm not just going to be a dirty little hookup for you anymore, okay? I'm sick and tired of you treating me like I'm nothing more than a....than....than a HOLE!"

Alex looked taken aback, the fact that the entire cafe went silent signified he wasn't the only one that was. Tears pierced the corners of your eyes and you ran off quickly, severely embarrassed with red cheeks and a racing heart.

Alex followed you outside, not just because he didn't want to see you leaving him thinking that, but he couldn't possibly sit in that environment with those people after you've just shouted that out.

"I don't see you as a hole, fucking hell Y/N," he groaned, stalling you by grabbing your shoulder, "I'm not upset that I slept with you but I didn't want to cheat. Obviously."

"That's not my fault-"

"I'm not saying it is!" He cuts you off, his tongue as sharp as it was the first time you spoke to him.

"I'm sorry that I've made you feel that way Y/N. I thought you wanted to just....fuck."

"Yeah I did!" You answer hastily, "but....you know that doesn't mean we can't have a conversation Alex. I said no and you left the library like you gave no fucks about me-"

"That's what you've been annoyed about?" He gawps, eyes promising an argument as he glared at you, "you wouldn't even look at me. You didn't want me there, so I left!"

"That's an excuse!"

"No it isn't!"

"Yes it is! You're as much of an arsehole as the next bloke around Sheffield Alex. The puppy dog eyes and nerdy act will only get you so far!"

"What the fuck are you going on about?" Alex looked dismayed, his hands coming up to rub his face again like he was trying to arise from a bad dream.

"Just fuck off!"

"Do you mean that? Or will you be pissed off for weeks that I listened to you?" He spits sarcastically.

You shake your head, storming off. Alex storms off in the other direction. You both have storms brewing in your minds.

It's a few days later when you see him again. His eyes wander over you as you walk into the classroom, late, with a takeaway coffee cup at hand and a face like a smacked arse. Your teacher berates you as you muster up some half arsed excuse for your tardiness. She eventually waves you off with a heavy sigh, you know she'll be glad to see the back of you in a couple of months time and you can't exactly blame her.

You sit down next to Alex, pulling your notebook out and making a ruckus as you fiddle with your pens and highlighters, lining them up opposite you on the table. And then you swing your bag under it, hard enough for it to hit his legs but he doesn't complain like he usually would.

The teacher drawls on, it's a lecture lesson today so you're bored out of your mind by the information that feels incredibly unimportant to your life. As you fiddle with your nails and kick your feet, you ponder over the future, over what you might do beyond the four walls of this building. You're distracted, lost in the haze of your thoughts, dreaming up scenarios in which you'd be travelling, drinking, having fun. Finding a way to do that through university seems unlikely but you don't let the depression of that linger, instead smiling to yourself with your head in the palms of your hands about the good things.

That's until you feel a palm on your thigh. You look over to Alex who's in a similar position to you with his head resting in his hand, his eyes clouded with boredom as they focus on the teacher. You don't push him off straight away, you wonder where he's going with this but then he suddenly pulls his hand away, leaving a white note in your lap. You frown, trying to catch his eye but he ignores you.

Meet me in the car park after college. Got my mums car for the day.

To do what? You scribble back, handing the note over to him but he ignores it, pocketing the paper before you get caught messing around.

Despite his mystique about it, you still do turn up the car park come four pm. You stand at the edge of the pavement, wondering what his mums car looks like but you don't have to ponder for long before he pulls up beside you.

You raise your eyebrows as you climb in, the sunglasses covering his eyes making you stifle a laugh, as his hands fiddle with the gearstick, tapping the plastic gently along to the beat of the song he's meticulously picked out. When he hears you giggle, he lets a smile break free.

"This isn't very nerdy of you," you humour him and he laughs.

"Good, that's what I was hoping," he says, waiting until you've got your seatbelt on before he starts driving away. You don't ask him where he's taking you and he doesn't offer the location, you just sit in comfortable silence for a while until he speaks;

"I'm sorry that I left you in the library," he says.

"It's fine. I'm over it," your nonchalance is feigned and you both know it but neither of you address that.

Alex pulls up to some gravelly car park that's void of any other cars. The weather is shite today, a combination of grey clouds and high winds, wherever he's taking you, you hope you'll be able to avoid any rain.

"I'm not going for a walk in the forest," you say as you spot the trail leading into the trees, "least of all fucking you in it."

"Fine we'll sit here then," he says, and you shrug. You expect for him to kiss you after that. Expecting to fall into the same pattern. But he doesn't, he reaches out and switches the radio off and then angles his body towards yours.

"Do you like me?" He asks.

"What?" You're baffled, your heart stopping. Everything seems to echo in this tiny space and you really don't want to give away your fears surrounding him.

"I mean....like more than what we've been....doing," his nervousness is as evident as yours. His lifts a shifty arm up to shuffle through his hair, his eyes darting from you to the window and back again.

"You have a girlfriend," you answer quickly, needing some time to stall, to process what he's asking and how you might actually answer that. Because truthfully, you don't know. In some ways you think you'd want him as more, you must do, you only shag him, spend all your time with him and he's alright to speak to, you guess. In other ways you don't understand where your feelings will lead. To dates? To cute moments? To 'I love yous'? Is that really Alex and you coded?

"I broke up with her."

"Oh wow, that lasted a while," you scoff and he raises his eyebrows.

"No need to be a cunt."

"Don't call me a cunt."

"I'm taking this all as a yes," he gestures to your defensive mechanisms and you go to argue with him again before his words register. Defeated, you slouch into the seat, realising your sharp tongue only gives you away all the more.

"Fuck off," you barely suppress the smile but it doesn't matter. Alex soon leans in with his own silly smile, pausing just before your lips. His large eyes soften, glancing between yours and your lips, parted to make way for your shaky breaths.

Alex wastes not another second before kissing you, his lips are familiar of course, soft and plump and so desperate straight off the bat. Try as he might to keep it casual, he just wants you too badly and you honestly don't feel uncomfortable with that.

"So what," you mumble against his lips, "do you like like me Turner?"

Alex pulls back slightly, rolling his eyes.

"You're on my mind," he confirms and you laugh, "my mum already thinks you're my girlfriend, so...."

"So I have to be?" You raise your eyebrow and he shrugs.

"If you want to be."

If you thought Alex was horny before, you'd been mistaken. From the moment you decided to be together, his touchiness of you increased by a tenfold, proceeding just in the solace of four walls only you two were in. Now it was everywhere.

Like in the canteen, when his friends and your friends would wait for you both but you'd be too busy stood in the smoking area, kissing each other like you were the new form of addiction for each other. Alex's hands never left you, whether they were on your waist, shoulder, arse - he didn't care, just so long as the feel of you was always right under his fingertips.

On this specific day, you guys had all gone down to the forest where he hung out with his friends. You'd invited Rosie, who was quite getting along with one of his mates. You and Alex snuck off while the blunt was being passed around, hitting it a few times before you did and then found a secluded area where he leant against a tree and you knelt in the dirt to suck his cock.

His hands roughly trailed through your hair, his push on your head leaving no room for breathing as you took him down your throat. And then, as always with Alex, he'd bury himself right in the back of it when he came, halting there to make sure his cum would slide down your throat without the choice to spit it out.

You returned to the group with dirt on your knees, flushed cheeks and bashful giggles. Of course his friends teased and Rosie gave you a look but you'd just brush it off, not really arsed by their teasing.

There was another time when Alex was round yours. You were sat on the settee watching something with your sister, your parents had gone out for the night. Her being busy on her phone gave Alex the chance to kiss you, and once he'd started well....of course he couldn't stop.

Your tongues mingled, breaths cut short and little hums of satisfaction escaping you both as you got more eager. Alex had started to grow, grateful for the fact your legs were sprawled over his lap so your sister wouldn't be able to see it.

"Ew! Do you guys ever stop?" she suddenly said, standing up and throwing a pillow at you. You pulled apart meekly, looking up at her with sorry shrugs that you didn't really mean. She left the room in a huff and you heard music blaring from the bathroom shortly after.

Alex took you on the settee, had you riding him reverse cowgirl so he could watch your arse bounce and you could keep an eye on the door.

You just couldn't get enough of each other, and what was so weird about it all was that you'd merely scraped a hand over his thigh in class one day. And now you had a smart, sexy, sarky boyfriend who had a funny, beautiful, annoying girlfriend in the form of you.

And all of that had led to this moment. This very moment where your parents were out, you and Alex had made dinner and had wine with it like two sophisticated adults. Both of you were a little hazy and giggly, taking advantage of the time alone since it came so rarely.

This time when he fucked you, it felt different. There was something in it, something unspoken. He drove into you slowly, one hand caressing your thigh, the other holding the headboard. His thrusts were slow and deep, hitting that spot with intent to please and you were moaning under him, staring up at that gorgeous face and those gorgeous eyes that were sparkling with adoration.

You felt him pulsing inside of you, his release imminent and even though you weren't quite there, you didn't mind when he spilled into you. You were on the pill after the mishap from before, so Alex revelled in filling you up, obsessed with seeing his cum drip out of you afterward.

As his cock was twitching and his mouth released groan after groan, somewhere in that his eyes grew glossy.

"I love you."

"What?" You whispered, baffled at the admission. Not that you didn't feel the same, more the fact that you weren't expecting it to fall from his lips first, and especially not so soon.

"I said I love you," he trembled as his orgasm ceased, the lingering feeling of euphoria was the only remnants along with his cum, pouring out of you as he slowly pulled out.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," he kissed your lips, eyes full of content but there was humour there too. You couldn't believe him, and he couldn't believe that. How couldn't he love you? You were perfect, he counted himself lucky.

"I love you too," you blush as the words leave your mouth, burying your head into his shoulder and he laughs at your shyness, pulling you back so he can nuzzle his nose against yours.

"Right, that's good then," he hums against your swollen lips, parting in a groan as his fingers find your clit, "now let me make you cum."

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: to the one person who said to post this (ily). It’s really not that thought out im just obsessed with young him. Enjoy (under edited as per) 😗🙂‍↕️

[batsplat]

there is that adorable pic of a 13 year old pecco and marc, hugging him by the shoulders. pecco hadn’t become a rossi protege yet, marc recently won his title in 125, they are both so so young. like, of course pecco is going to think a senior (albeit as famous as marc was at the time) is cool and worthy of “celebrity” picture! of course marc is going to take photos with kids that ask him to!

and then they meet at the rossi ranch years later, pecco after an abysmal rookie moto3 season, but part of vr46 academy, marc as a multiple world champion in different categories. like, i’m sure they’ve crossed paths in the paddock, but it looks like the ranch was their first outside of work get-together?

i do wonder at what point did pecco stop seeing marc as this admirable motogp giant? they are co-workers/competitors now, supposedly equals. does the childish wonderment and idealization ever go away, when you are put head-to-head? yes, pecco has said that he doesn’t consider himself on marc’s level, but it does really answer the question, when marc achieves something awesome, like a fucking pole on a honda, does it fill pecco only with the sense of falling short, jealousy, frustration, or is there that tiny 13 year old pecco somewhere inside going “wow, this guy is awesome”

anon... first of all this ask is right up my street. second of all, yeah no the thirteen year old never entirely went away

to some extent obviously all riders kinda do this when they end up competing with the guys they grew up admiring. (or well in modern motogp, that's how it worked out - the competitive windows do have to be big enough, yeah? I'm not sure about the nineties premier class riders, but starting from valentino who had the biaggi poster, was a capirossi fan, an norick fan... but then also didn't get to compete directly with doohan for instance and was instead just mentored by him. valentino sticking around for so long basically Breaks this.) like I was talking in this ask about the dani/marc relationship and how when we talk about dani being marc's 'reference', it does mean something slightly different than the valentino hero idealisation. basically, it's the question of whether you think you're gonna fight that guy one day, if all goes well... because if you're little pecco, right, you're looking up to marc and want to be him, but you also want to beat him (if little pecco is feeling very brave). so marc fills the role of 'reference', the bloke who is basically always a few steps ahead of pecco - exaggerated by how precocious marc was. the role of 'hero' is of course again filled by valentino, though in this case pecco didn't actually have to meaningfully compete against his idol. the separation is a bit cleaner

and look, I doubt this ever really went as far as marc's admiration for dani. but yeah as you say: at the end of the day it's this cool superstar who is tearing up the lower categories and then is tearing up the premier class... like that's this prodigy... and then you get to be part of your actual hero's academy AND you're there when the prodigy gets invited to your hero's home!! not only is marc cool, not only is he winning everything, but also valentino clearly thinks he's fantastic... you kinda want valentino to think you are fantastic in the same way he talks about marc and looks at him... and pecco is like. seventeen at this point. great age. super impressionable. he's having a marginally better season than his absolute flop moto3 campaign but it's still!! rough! you know, so far away from this world that valentino and marc inhabit. obviously young athletes dream, obviously they have to be a bit delusional, obviously they have to believe they'll make it, but those are the kinds of harrowing years that really dent your actual belief. like god, the world of valentino and marc must have felt kinda unattainable back then...

anyway, obviously a year later marc became public enemy number one. personally, if I had to guess, I don't really think valentino has ever spoken much to his proteges about the details of the marc feud. it's the kind of thing where you maybe occasionally badmouth a guy you all hate when the kids are in the room, some dismissive comment or some slightly ugly sideswipe... but valentino did probably prefer to keep his mentees out of the whole thing and isn't giving them particularly detailed hot takes on sepang 2015. I mean, look at what luca said last year

hey, he could be lying, but is he really the type? "I'm sure he's still angry" - even that doesn't sound like he knows anything particularly specific about where his brother's at these days. if valentino hasn't spoken much about sepang 2015 with his own flesh and blood, then is he really giving long debriefs to marco bezzecchi? are you sure? of course, unlike luca, pecco does have the dubious distinction of actually being at sepang 2015, so there's always the chance he was in the room when some nasty things were being said about marc... but my sense is that all the academy riders have kind of been left to their own devices when making up their minds about the marc/valentino relationship. just probably a bit of a no-go topic on most days. and while pecco may have initially been completely on board with the marc hate, over the years his stance has mellowed to the brave and bold position of 'actually, I have other stuff to worry about'. like, this is why you don't get this weird bez-style all-over-the-place behaviour from pecco - fundamentally, he is far too sensible and far too interested in his own career to be going around seeking revenge on the behalf of his mentor. it's not like valentino really seems to expect him to either. sometimes the best thing you can do is simply try not to care that much

soooooo fundamentally you get to this place where for quite a few years, pecco really isn't thinking about marc too often I reckon... it's very much background noise - even when he's gotten to motogp, he's obviously not exactly fighting with marc from the word go. he has other stuff to worry about! then marc is gone for a bit! 2021 is kinda weird because pecco never really felt in that championship fight (I mean, maybe he thought he was idk) because he only really got going late in the season, and marc definitely wasn't in that title fight... BUT pecco got his first ever motogp win as a result of a proper great defensive ride against marc at aragon! seven overtakes and re-overtakes in the last few laps! truly some proper smart riding, anticipating where marc was going to attack and figuring out how to get him back every time. and of course, that's like... got to be one of the coolest ways possible you can get your first win? beating one of the all time greats (even if a physically impaired one) in a direct extensive duel? genuinely looking at the current grid, I'd struggle to come up with a cooler maiden win... oh I suppose zarco last year would actually be a decent shout. one of those two imo! anyway what an ego boost that must be

typed out the response to this ask on wednesday and let it *vaguely gestures* simmer a bit, but actually thursday they had pecco on that motogp podcast thingy and talked him through basically his whole career. which is one of those cases of 'not necessarily anything new, but always interesting to hear how the bloke himself puts it', and anyway it does also cover a lot of the stuff referenced in this post, would recommend. I did want to quickly bring it up because pecco does talk about aragon 2021 in that (at around 23 mins in):

Q: And the amount of pressure, for everyone who doesn't remember - it was Aragon '21, vs Marc Marquez, anti-clockwise track, everyone's expecting a certain person to win. [...] Seven times, he passes you in the last three laps, and every time you have to find something, for your first win - A: Not bad, yeah? Q: How was that feeling crossing the line, because it's your first win but it's also the last three laps of craziness that you've come through? A: Yeah, I remember that... we were prepared to fight for this victory because we work at it a lot and we were finally prepared and as soon as started the weekend I was feeling great. Marc was very strong, Fabio was very strong also... We started to race and I did the pole position and then we started to race and Marc was like always super super fast in Aragon because it's a left hander track, he's very strong in Aragon, it's his home grand prix, so... I was trying the maximum and I was there fighting with him and for me was fantastic because I was very strong in a very complicated track for me. The first - was not the first possibility to win but was one of the first and we were fighting with the maximum with the top [player?] so defeating him in Aragon was fantastic and I never could have asked more for my first victory for sure. Because some win their first victory with gap or with some luck, we fight. [...] Yeah, was fantastic.

like I said. it's a really cool win! pecco knows it's a cool win! he knows it's a cool win because it's marc! even two premier class title pecco still feels deeply aware of how special that was

*reaches up to scratch at ear in slightly self-conscious manner when saying "not bad" about beating the eight times world champion*

because it does mean something extra to beat marc, right? and that's also what this represents to pecco, as an opportunity... obviously on balance he'd very much want marc to not be in his team, because he's not an idiot and he's aware it's going to be a bit of a nightmare. that being said! of course, would there be anything cooler than for him than actually beating marc in the same team... I don't want to sound like a broken record on this topic but just to reiterate, none of the titles won post-2019 are in any way diminished by marc's absence - and fundamentally pecco must know he's a deserving champion, even if he still considers himself on a different level from valentino and marc. but of course it would mean something special to beat him! it's already meant something special to beat him in individual races! it'd mean something special if he beats him this year, older bike be damned! and it'd mean something special next year. pecco is deeply wary of marc, and rightly so, but don't take that to mean he isn't up for the fight. he always has been

weirdly enough, I do actually think being valentino's protege might help him be sensible about marc. because the thing is pecco has clearly put some thought into all of this at some point and had to decide for himself... or well, to make peace with the fact that he is not going to be the next valentino rossi - and that he doesn't really want to be. it's kinda the casey versus jorge distinction: you can be a valentino fan and admire everything he's done on-track but still very much know that valentino the persona isn't something you really want to attempt to emulate because it just isn't you, or you can hunger after attaining that kind of 'character' and popularity for yourself and find yourself disillusioned when things turn out differently. pecco's in the casey camp, minus the desire to shove valentino off the nearest cliff edge. like he says:

man wants a quiet life when he's not doing the death sport. and, y'know, marc might not have quite those stratospheric levels of popularity as valentino does... but it's fairly obvious pecco links them in his mind, which is not just about talent. they're both Characters, they're both figureheads in the sport, they're both larger than life. and maybe sometimes, deep down, someone like pecco might wish that kind of thing did come naturally to him... but if he has felt that way, then he's already kinda had to work through all that. he's valentino's successor! he's the next big italian motogp star! but he's never going to be valentino. and he wouldn't want that life, it wouldn't make him happy - and probably he looks at marc with all his drama and controversy and thinks he wouldn't really want all that either. pecco's given all of this a lot of thought, and he's still probably a bit too self-conscious and a bit too aware of all of this stuff for his own good, but that does also mean he knows his own head and where he's at when it comes to his own status in the sport. both when it comes to the character and when it comes to the talent. sure, having marc's fuck you talent would be nice, everyone would want that... but also if you're a two time premier champion, at a certain point you need a certain cockiness about your own abilities. he's spoken about how he needs a more well-settled bike than casey or marc, how he can't out-perform the bike like they can - there clearly is a lot of admiration there, still the sense of respect and awe you probably can't ever quite shake. pecco won't ever be one of those aliens. but he's had enough time to establish himself in the sport before he's had to deal with the marc threat in a more active way, has had the chance to find his place without worrying too much about marc - has been able to build up his own confidence. at the same time, pecco is still very obviously aware of just who marc is and the weight of that legacy and it shapes how he approaches fighting marc. it's pecco's admiration vying with his arrogance - and he has to hope the latter wins out. you can't be fearful of the legacy of those you're trying to beat. you have to kill your heroes, even if it's a strange flavour of hero

anyhow - one big way in which valentino does loom large here is that everyone else is aware of his rivalry with marc and how it is crucial Historical Context for the pecco/marc stuff. because pecco does have that dog in him, he's fundamentally disinterested in fighting his idol's battles and is mainly just looking out for himself. a big part of the general wariness towards marc isn't even valentino-related antipathy or just respect for his abilities, but also this kind of sense of... god, this marc thing is always going to have extra implications, will there be discourse, can there please not be discourse... he doesn't want to get into this stuff, he doesn't want to be part of the sepang 2015 reenactment society. he's pretty determined to stay clear of marc-related controversy at every turn, and generally does do a good job of not letting the undoubtedly extremely annoying marc annoy him... the only time pecco had proper marc-induced head loss was mugello last year - y'know, that whole thing when he felt impeded by marc and then slowed down long enough to give marc the chance to warm up his tyres and catch a pecco tow to the front row. like that was just head gone, the kind of thing that happens when you already find someone deeply annoying and then you kinda choose the wrong moment to get mad at them. with a bit of distance pecco may well have regretted reacting that way, like you don't really want to give marc that kind of opening. he's been way more disciplined since then, but it still opened the door

fundamentally, the less time pecco spends obsessing over marc, the better for him. pecco obviously has to be very aware of marc and wary of him, but he also can't spent too much energy on admiring him or being irritated by him or anything else. (given that valentino's descriptions of the marc/pecco rivalry do seem to frame marc as a competitor who sounds an awful lot like valentino himself, ironically valentino is quite well-placed to offer the 'try to avoid letting the guy who gets off on annoying his rivals annoy you' advice.) it's always going to be tough, isn't it, competing against your heroes, figuring out how to disentangle those past emotions from how you actually approach fighting them, how to feel comfortable enough in your own skin to not be cowed by that status... you can't get to a place where you're so admiring or respectful or intimidated that you're already beaten before the competition even starts - and to his credit pecco has shown he is both willing to stand up to the famous marc marquez as well as capable of doing so. my guess is that for him, the childhood idolisation isn't primarily expressed in a 'wow he dragged the honda to pole!!' (not least when he was using pecco's teammate to directly deny pecco). sure, perhaps you do get those knee jerk reactions of admiring the sheer craft of your rival's riding, just have to do your best not to let it affect you. but for the most part it's... really wanting to beat marc. and sometimes feeling a teensy bit insecure about just how good marc is. and really wanting to beat him. he kinda has to be sensible and talk down in his brain how special this one guy is so he doesn't do anything silly, tell himself it's just any other guy... but it's still always going to be there, hovering in the background. and god does pecco really want to beat him

[peotego]

Unconditionally | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Black!reader

Summary: Three times when you realised you are in love with your brother’s best friend and one time when it all suddenly made sense.

Warnings: some swear words, my English? (since it’s not my first language)

Words: 4k

Masterlist

James' POV

*~*~*

Whenever I tried to think back to the time when it all started, I couldn’t exactly pinpoint the moment when I realised I loved James Potter.

He was my brother’s best friend, for Merlin’s sake!

I remember I hated him when we first met. Maybe it was because he was a Potter and my father told us to never befriend a Potter? I was, after all, a daddy’s girl at that time. Sirius loved the idea of going against our father’s orders but me? Not really. I was a good girl.

I stopped being the favourite child of the Black family when I was sorted to Gryffindor alongside my twin brother. It caused a lot of arguing back at home. Sirius was proud to be a Gryffindor. Me? Not so much. Imagine being the favourite child spoiled with compliments only to become a black sheep. I couldn’t bear it. But maybe it was good because it helped me to bond with my brother more? I was even more furious when Regulus was sorted to Slytherin the year after that and took my rightful place on the pedestal. Finally, I understood how my brothers have always felt.

At that time Sirius was a great friend. He helped me get through all the bad feelings I had about myself for something that wasn’t really my fault. Finally, I was okay with all that had happened.

But back to James Potter. The thorn in my side.

Everybody knew he loved Lily Evans, he wasn’t very discreet about his big, awful crush on her. The whole bloody Hogwarts knew about his infatuation with the redhead girl. I used to tease him about it alongside Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

Maybe it was in our 6th year? When I realised?

We were all sitting in Potions classes when Slughorn decided we should work in pairs. I turned to Lily because we usually partnered up.

“Oh, no, no, no,” said Slughron with a big smile on his face “We should mix things up a bit. I’m going to assign your partners”

All of the students present growled at his revelation. I feared I would end up with some Slytherin bloke. However, Slughorn had other plans.

And in that way, Sirius ended up working with Peter (a disaster indeed), Remus was assigned to some Slytherin girl (poor Remus), Lily with Severus Snape (well, they were still friends at that point), Dorcas with a shy girl from Gryffindor, I believed her name was Lucy (Lucy was good at Potions so Dorcas won a partners lottery), Marlene and Mary together (they worked good together), and that left me with James Potter.

I smiled at him but inside I was screaming. Everybody knew Potter was good at every single class but he rarely paid attention to the instructions. I knew I would end up doing all the work myself and constantly reminding him to focus. What I didn’t anticipate was that we would be working on an Amortentia potion. Slughorn first called us to see what the potion should look like and, of course, he asked us what we could smell.

When I tried to concentrate, I recognised the smell of old books, my favourite candy from Honeydukes, Andromeda’s famous pumpkin pie, and something I couldn’t quite recognise.

That’s when the revelation came and I was hit in the face with the smell of James’ cologne. I thought he was standing too close to me but when I looked around he was actually close to Lily Evans bothering her.

The whole class was a nightmare only because I now knew that somehow James Potter’s smell was in MY Amortentia potion. His constant questions about what I could smell didn’t help either. He was too curious for his own good.

“Just drop it, Potter”

“You probably smelled a wet rat”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night”

“I couldn’t sleep if I knew you fancied Wormtail”

“Stop, Potter, or I’m going to hex you”

“Always a charmer, Black”

He tried to touch my shoulder but I was still too scared from the moments before when I smelled him in the potion so I shuffled a little so as not to be touched by the boy. James looked confused and his smile dropped a little but I paid no attention to it, too preoccupied with my own conflicting thoughts.

When the class ended, I quickly packed my bags and left the classroom.

We never talked about it again.

*~*~*

Maybe it was at a party after Gryffindor won with Slytherin? We were all having a blast till the very end. I danced with my friends, drank a lot, and flirted with some boys who tried to get my attention. It wasn’t until our little group of friends were the only ones that stayed in the common room. Marlene had a genius plan to play Spin the Bottle. You had to kiss the person it landed on.

“I’m not going to kiss my sister, McKinnon,” said Sirius. I pretended to vomit at the mere thought of it.

“He’s right, Marlene, what are we supposed to do if it lands on one of us? I know Blacks have a tradition of marrying within the family but I really do not wish to continue this madness”

“Okay, if you don’t want to kiss someone, you need to answer a question truthfully and drink”

We all agreed to that.

Now I see it was stupid.

Remus spun the bottle first and it landed on Peter.

“Truth, please,” said Lupin and we all laughed.

“Okay, Remus, who was your first real kiss?” asked Mary. Remus looked uncomfortable, and so did I because I knew the truth.

“Um, I don’t know if she wants her identity to be revealed” Remus tried to dodge the question.

“Shut up, Moony, you agreed to play the game!” Sirius gave him a shot of firewhiskey which he needed to drink after answering the question.

“Okay” Remus sighed “It was (Y/N)”

“You kissed my sister?!”

“You wanted me to tell the truth!”

“I think I made myself very clear when I said that my sister is off-limits for you idiots!”

“Well, brother, that’s why the kiss was so good” I tried defending Remus but probably made it worse “Because it was forbidden” I winked at Remus who quickly emptied his glass and blushed like crazy.

“This conversation isn’t over” Sirius pointed at his friend “Are you going to tell me you snogged Prongs and Wormtail too?” he asked me.

“You’ll never know, brother”

Peter spinned the bottle next and it landed on Mary. It was a quick kiss.

Mary needed then to kiss Marlene.

Marlene kissed my brother who then kissed Lily.

Lily spun the bottle and I saw that James wanted really badly for it to land on him. His dreams were crushed when it stopped at Dorcas.

Then Dorcas kissed Remus.

But when Remus spun again it landed on me.

“Come here, Remus, for old times’ sake”

Sirius screamed something I couldn’t understand. The kiss with Remus was sweet and quick, just like I remembered our first one. I smiled reassuringly at him after but I knew my brother would talk his ears off later on.

I took the bottle and spun it. I prayed it wouldn’t land on Sirius.

Well.

The bottle landed on James Potter instead.

“Two out of three. Better get ready Peter” I said with a smirk but inside I was actually stressed. I still remembered his smell in amortentia.

James slowly made his way to me never once breaking the eye contact. He sat in front of me, staring intensely. He put his hand on my cheek when his lips met mine. I shut my eyes closed and kissed him back. His lips were soft and, Merlin, he knew what he was doing when he pushed his tongue inside my mouth. I grasped his shirt bringing him closer to me and biting on his lower lip. He moaned a little trying to kiss me even harder but he had too much strength and it ended up with us falling to the ground, James on top of me.

“That’s enough, Prongs, it’s my sister” Sirius helped James get up and then gave me a hand.

I don’t remember much from that party after that.

My mind was still fixated on that little moan.

James Potter’s kiss made my legs weak.

It was mind-blowing.

*~*~*

The party was long forgotten when next day James declared his undying love for Lily Evans to the whole school during breakfast. I tried to squish my little crush when I still had the chance to move on.

At the end of our 6th year, I knew I was fucked. I noticed every single little thing about James Potter. I liked the way those little wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes when he was laughing. I loved his jokes. I adored how much he cared for his friends and family, how he could do absolutely everything in his power to cheer Remus up after a full moon, how he got out of his way to tell Sirius and me that our family name didn’t define us as people, how he would defend Peter when Sirius was making fun of him.

I was even mad at Lily for not seeing how wonderful he was. I was furious when she was still rejecting him, making fun of him. He didn’t deserve that. He deserved to be loved unconditionally. He deserved someone who would fall madly, truly, deeply in love with him, who would know all his quirks and bad sides and even though still love him for who he was.

James Potter was loud and obnoxious and he did strut a little but he was also devoted to his friends, funny, caring, and good-hearted. And if Lily Evans didn’t see that, it was my personal mission to make James realise that he deserved better.

Sirius and I spent the summer at the Potters. My brother went there for almost every school break but it was maybe my third time there. I didn’t want to leave Reggie alone with our parents but turned out he was more than okay with their way of treating me. That was when I sent an owl to Sirius and he told me to pack my bags and go to the Potters.

We had a lot of fun together. We laughed, we played quidditch, we talked a lot, and I even helped them plan their next prank for the beginning of our last year at Hogwarts. Euphemia Potter was a sweet lady who welcomed me to her house with open arms. I helped her a lot around the house and talked to her about every little thing I couldn’t talk about with my mother. She was great, she made me realise that maybe I had a mother but I never had a mom.

Fleamont Potter was just like James but older. He made a lot of jokes, gave us candy when his wife wasn’t looking, he even asked me if I could marry his son once.

”You see, (Y/N), I believe you would be a great match for my son. I see how he looks at you, how his smile is wider whenever you are near. He talks about his mystery girl a lot but he could never tell us when we would be able to meet the love of his life, as he likes to call her. Now I see why. Sirius is always around and I’m not sure he would be okay with his best friend dating his sister”

”Oh, Mr Potter, I think you have it all wrong. I appreciate the vote of confidence but I am not James’ mystery girl. Her name is Lily and she’s my friend”

”We’ll see about that, (Y/N)”

During one evening Sirius went to bed earlier because he didn’t feel good and that left me and James alone in his backyard, lying on the grass and looking up at the night sky.

”Jamie, your father wants me to marry you”

”What?!”

”Yeah, crazy, right? He thinks I’m your mystery girl”

”Oh, and what did you tell him?”

”That it’s definitely not me. That I know the girl you have a crush on and he said that we’ll see”

”I have no idea why he said that I’m very sorry”

”No big deal, Potter”

After a moment of silence, I decided it was time to talk to James about Lily. I was nervous and a little scared that the conversation would ruin our friendship.

”James”

”(Y/N)”

”I’ve been thinking about you and Lily for a while”

”Oh?”

”Yeah” I took a deep breath before continuing,” I think she doesn’t deserve you”

”How so?”

”You see, Jamie, you’ve been trying to get the girl since we were thirteen years old and she’s still not even slightly interested in going on a date with you. She’s always laughing at you, turning you down. I don’t think that’s very good for you. I get that you’re in love with her but maybe you should start thinking about yourself a little bit?”

James was quiet for a moment.

”What do you mean?”

”You deserve the world, James Potter. You deserve a girl who will be madly in love with you. You deserve a girl who will love you unconditionally. You are a good guy. Sure, you have your faults. We all have them. But you should be loved the way you love other people - wholeheartedly. I don’t think Lily is the right girl for you. I’m also not saying you should do whatever I’m telling you right now. I just believe you should think about it a little bit and decide if it’s even worth it. Because you, James Potter, are definitely worth it and it’s her loss if she cannot see that”

”Wow, Black, do you have a crush on me or something?” He chuckled making my heart hurt a little bit.

”You’re also an idiot” I slapped his shoulder but laughed with him too. Despite my smile, my heart was breaking a little bit just because the thought of me having a crush on James only made him laugh. ”I’m your friend, I just hate to see you struggling so much”

”You are a good mate, (Y/N). Thank you for always looking out for me” James took my hand in his and interceded our fingers. He softly caressed my hand with his thumb.

”Always”

*~*~*

During our 7th year, everything changed. James Potter suddenly stopped being interested in Lily Evans anymore. And that was a big, juicy gossip at Hogwarts. How could it have happened that James Potter just stopped loving Lily Evans? Could he have another girl? Maybe he had a secret girlfriend?

There was a lot of gossip about his possible girlfriend going around the school. I was just glad that he finally realised that he was worth much more than what Lily was giving him all those years.

That was also when I noticed that he paid a lot more attention to me. He always sat next to me, he wanted to be partners in every class which made Sirius mad, he helped me with my homework, and he walked me to my classes even when it meant that he would be late to his. It was really weird but I wouldn’t dare to hope he suddenly had a crush on me. I wasn’t stupid.

Until that one fateful night in October when I helped the boys with the prank we planned together. A Ravenclaw prefect was patrolling the corridors. He spotted us near the kitchens and shouted something.

”Run!” Shouted Peter. We all started to run but we were a big group so it would be easy to eventually catch us.

”We need to scatter,” said Remus out of breath. Peter immediately turned the corner and turned into a rat. What a team player.

”(Y/N), here” James took my hand and made me run with him in the opposite direction from Remus and Sirius. He found an empty broom closet and quickly closed the doors behind us. There wasn’t a lot of space so we were very close, our noses were practically touching. James put his fingers on my lips so I was quiet. His other hand was still holding mine and squeezing it reassuringly. After a while, when we were sure the Ravenclaw boy wasn’t coming in this direction, James moved his hand to my waist.

He was staring at me very intensely.

”What?” I whispered to him ”Do I have something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that, Potter?”

”Remember what my dad told you? About my mystery girl?”

”Yeah?” I was confused. Why bringing it up now?

”He was right, you know? It never was Evans. I like her, sure, but as a friend”

”What? Then why were you running after her like a lost puppy all those years?”

”Remember when we first met?”

”Of course, I do, James. I hated you.” He chuckled at that.

”I thought you were a stuck-up rich girl but you proved me wrong, (Y/N). I had this big crush on you in our first year”

I looked at him as if he had three heads. What was he talking about? I put my hand on his forehead to check if he wasn’t sick. He rolled his eyes at me.

”I told Sirius about that. He was my best friend so I thought that he would give me some advice. What I didn’t anticipate though was that he would be overprotective of his sister. He screamed at me almost all night, he said that if I ever try to fancy you again he will personally beat the living shit out of me. I get him, you know? You are his precious little sister…”

”He’s only two minutes and three seconds older”

”…and he wants to protect you from all the bad guys out there even if his best friend is one of them. So I tried to never talk about that again. But Sirius knew. In our third year, he came up with a rule which he then proudly told us about. We are friends and friends don’t fancy each other's siblings. If we ever dare to break the rule, that means we were never friends in the first place. I was scared, you know? I didn’t want to lose both of you so I told him later that he has nothing to worry about because I don’t fancy you anymore, that there is another girl I have my eyes on. He asked me who it was and I panicked. Lily Evans was the first one to come to my mind because you two were always together. So as not to lose my best friend I tried to persuade him that I love Lily Evans”

”You were quite good at that”

”Shut up, Black, I’m not finished. Then you mentioned the conversation with my father and told me to look for someone who deserves me. Love, the problem is I never felt good enough for you but your words made me think. If not now then when? Am I supposed to watch you fall in love with some idiot? Am I supposed to stand in the crowd at your wedding even though I want to be the one waiting at the altar for you? Am I supposed to let the girl of my dreams slip through my fingers because I’m too scared of what my best friend will say about this? You said a lot of nice things about me that night so let me return the favor. You are incredibly smart and witty, (Y/N) Black. I love it when you get so preoccupied with your book that you’re not really paying attention to the world around you. You bite your lip a lot when you’re focused on the books you like. I adore the way you always come up with a sarcastic comment about everything stupid we say. I like to watch you cheer for me and your brother at quidditch matches. I love the way you care for your friends and family, even when some of them obviously don’t deserve that. You are stunning, (Y/N) Black, in and out and I am madly in love with you”

”Remember that one class last year when we were making amortentia? You asked me what I smelled and I didn’t want to tell you”

”I remember”

”That’s because I smelled you and it scared the living shit out of me”

”You smelled me?” James was surprised but he had a small smile on his face.

”Yes” I looked down because I knew I just blushed like crazy and was a little embarrassed about that ”Later on there was this big party after you guys crushed Slytherins at quidditch and Marlene suggested spin the bottle game”

”I really wished that damn bottle would point at me. I might have used a spell to be sure actually”

”You what?”

”That kiss was totally worth it. I still think about it”

”You used magic to kiss me? You’re a fool, James Potter” I laughed a little but couldn’t help myself and grinned happily. ”You didn’t have to do that”

”And why is that?” James smiled at me and let go of my hand. He cupped my cheek instead and waited patiently for my answer. That little bastard. I stared at his lips for longer than I would like to admit it. But, Merlin, how much I wanted to taste those soft lips again, to hear him moan in my mouth.

”Because,” I said getting closer to him. He still looked me in the eyes, our lips brushed when I said the next part ”I am madly in love with you too, James Potter”

He didn’t wait for another second. He pushed his lips against mine and kissed me hard. I put my arms around his neck trying to bring him closer to me. One of his hands wandered behind my back and under my shirt while the other tangled itself in my hair. I bit his lower lip again hoping that I would get the reaction I wanted.

And I did.

He moaned into my lips and put his tongue in my mouth. I remember that at one point we knocked a broom over but we didn’t care much about that.

I felt happy, over the moon happy. James made me feel all of the emotions at once: excitement, love, happiness. I felt as if I was made just for him and he for me. When our lips met it was like fireworks on New Year’s Eve, as cheesy as it sounds. But James Potter made me into one of those giggly girls who wouldn’t shut up about their boyfriends. And the worst part is, I didn’t mind.

When we finally broke apart to get some air, James was grinning like crazy and still holding me close to him. I wondered if he could feel the way my heart was beating so fast.

In that small broom closet, I felt like the luckiest girl in the entire world.

James suddenly became very serious and there was a wrinkle on his forehead as if he was worried about something. He hid his head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly.

”James?”

”Merlin, how am I going to tell that to Padfoot”

”That’s something we should worry about tomorrow”

”Can you kiss it better?”

”You’re not hurt?”

”But I will be tomorrow”