#but then i did exercise and felt better so

[d-z20]

yeeeaaahhhhhhh so I had a few more thoughts about Therapist!Agatha as per the tags in these posts and decided to share them with the class :o

Epilogue

As you gathered your things, you felt lighter, almost dizzy with relief. Dr. Harkness always knew what to say and how to smooth out the jagged edges in your thoughts. She made everything feel manageable—like nothing was ever as bad as it seemed.

"You’ve been doing so well lately," she told you, her voice steady and warm. "I can see how much you’re opening up, how much you trust me."

The words had sunk into you, soft and sweet, a balm against something raw. You trusted her. Of course, you did.

Her palm had grazed your back just briefly as she ushered you toward the door. "Take care," she murmured, her touch grounding and familiar.

You stepped out, blinking against the sudden clarity of the hallway lights. Something felt off, but you couldn’t place what. Your mind was hazy—soft, pliable even. Dr. Harkness, no, Agatha made everything better. She always did.

It wasn’t until you were halfway home that the realisation struck; you patted all your pockets and checked your bag to confirm, but yep, you didn’t have your phone on you. A jolt of panic cut through the fog, and you turned on your heel, heart thudding. You must have left it in her office.

The building was quiet when you returned, the hallway eerily still. Her office door was ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling into the dim corridor. You stepped closer, about to knock—

A sharp inhale. Then a soft, breathy moan.

You froze.

The sound was muffled but unmistakable. Your stomach flipped, heat rushing to your face. You should have left, should have pretended you heard nothing. 

Maybe she’s meditating. Maybe it’s some kind of grounding exercise she forgot to mention before. She wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. She’s your doctor. She knows what she’s doing.

But before you could move, her voice sliced through the thick silence.

"Come in, Y/N."

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had she seen your shadow outside the door? Heard your footsteps? You swallowed hard and pushed the door open, stepping inside, every nerve alight with something dangerously close to dread.

Agatha was slouched back in her chair, legs parted, her hand moving furiously between them. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, her eyes half-lidded as if she were lost in some delicious haze. The air in the room was thick—charged with something suffocatingly intimate.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t startle. If anything, her lips curled into something knowing, something almost pleased.

"This is good," she huffed, her voice husky yet unwavering. "I had planned for this to be a later session, but... breakthroughs don’t always happen on a schedule. Sometimes, we stumble onto something important before we’re ready."

You hesitated, pulse hammering, but your body moved before your mind could catch up. You lowered yourself into the chair across from her, every muscle locked tight, every breath shallow.

She watched you through heavy eyes, her movements slowing, turning deliberate. "You hold so much inside you. So much stress, so much frustration."

Your fingers gripped the armrests as if they might anchor you. "I—"

A shuddering breath escaped you before you could stop it. Your thighs pressed together, warmth pooling, shame curling at the edges of it. But shame was the wrong word, wasn’t it? Dr. Harkness wouldn’t let you feel ashamed—not when she had spent so long helping you understand yourself.

"It’s alright," she soothed, her voice dipping into something honeyed. "Your body is responding because it knows this is right. You’ve been holding onto so much, and it’s exhausting, isn’t it? Letting go is hard. But I’m here to help you through it."

The air felt too thick to breathe. Your skin felt too tight, too hot, and yet something about her words soothed you, quieted the panic thrumming beneath the surface. Dr. Harkness knew best. She always had.

She shuddered, a long, low moan spilling from her lips as she orgasmed, her body trembling through the aftershocks. Her gaze stayed locked on you, unwavering, even as her chest heaved with exertion. The air between you was suffocating, electric.

And then, just like that, she exhaled slowly, her expression slipping into something serene. "See how natural this is?" she asked, her voice a lazy drawl. "How easy?"

You did feel warm. Overwhelmed, confused maybe—but not afraid. At least, not the kind of fear that made you want to run. If anything, you were rooted to your seat, unable to look away.

She tilted her head. "You don’t have to fight yourself, you know. That ache you feel? It’s just your body telling you what it needs. You can trust it. You can trust me."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves. Trust. It was all she had ever asked of you, and you had never had reason to doubt her before.

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm as if the last few minutes had been nothing but routine. "You trust me, don’t you?"

The words settled into your bones, curling around your ribs. Of course, you trusted her. She had never led you astray before. The thought of questioning her felt almost childish, like undoing all the progress you had made.

She only wanted to help.

Your pulse thrummed against your skin, and you swallowed hard.

"Good," she murmured. "Then let us begin."

-----

I feel like I should mention that it took all of 15 seconds for Agatha to shove her hands down her pants after reader left and half of that was trying to get her damn button undone

The Therapist's Touch (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You sought out Dr. Harkness for clarity, for someone to help untangle the mess in your mind. But as your sessions progress, the line between guidance and something far more intoxicating begins to blur.

- OR -

Agatha manipulates you and your mind and uses it as a way to start fucking you in the name of 'therapy'

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon, smut, Dark Agatha, gaslighting, manipulation, other toxic behaviour, fingering (R recv), praise kink, lots of 'good girl', talking through orgasm, mild choking at the end

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Just to repeat: this fic contains dubcon smut, gaslighting, and manipulation so if that is something that triggers you, please do not read. Requested Fic

AO3 | Master List

You met Dr. Harkness after a particularly bad week. You hadn’t been sleeping, your thoughts a tangled mess of self-doubt and frustration. Friends—if you could even call them that anymore—had started pulling away, and work was becoming unbearable. It was one of those situations where you weren’t sure if you were the problem or if everyone else was. You needed clarity. You needed someone to untangle the mess in your head.

And Agatha was perfect for that.

The first few sessions felt normal, even helpful. She was warm but not overly so, sharp-witted with a knowing smile that made you feel like she already had you figured out. You liked that. You wanted to be understood. She had a way of pulling things out of you, teasing out the thoughts you hadn’t even fully realized were lurking under the surface.

"You feel like you're being abandoned," she told you during a session, her voice smooth and steady. "Like the people around you are slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know why."

You nodded, relieved that someone finally understood.

"It must be frustrating," she continued, tilting her head slightly as if weighing her words carefully. "To always be the one reaching out, only to be left in the cold."

Your breath hitched. Was that true? You hadn’t really thought about it that way, but… now that she said it, it felt right.

"Maybe you expect too much from people," she mused, watching you carefully. "Or maybe they don’t appreciate you like they should."

A quiet pressure built behind your ribs, something heavy and unseen. That wasn’t a comforting thought, but there was something… validating about it. Like all the hurt you felt wasn’t just in your head.

"Maybe," you admitted.

She smiled, pleased. "I think people take advantage of your kindness. You let them, don’t you?"

You did, didn’t you?

—

The shift was slow, insidious. Agatha never outright told you what to think—she just guided you there, nudging you toward conclusions you weren’t sure were yours or hers. Your relationships became strained, but Agatha was always there to reassure you.

"You’re growing," she told you after a particularly emotional session. "You’re starting to see things for what they really are."

Warmth unfurled in your chest, wrapping around your ribs like a protective embrace. The weight of her gaze felt like an anchor, steadying you in a way nothing else had.

Agatha was dangerous in the way that only truly intelligent people could be. She never raised her voice, never forced an idea on you—she simply led you there, guiding you through your own thoughts like she was pulling a thread loose from a tangled knot.

And God, she was beautiful.

You noticed it in pieces at first. The sharp line of her cheekbones, the way her eyes stayed locked onto yours just a little too long, the elegant way she moved. She always dressed immaculately, sleek dark blouses that clung to her just right, lips painted in deep shades of red or plum. And then there was her voice. The kind of voice that settled into your bones and curled up there, wrapping itself around your ribs like it belonged to you.

It was embarrassing, really. You were falling for your therapist. But she made you feel seen in a way no one else had. And she never discouraged it.

Not directly.

"You hesitate when you talk about what you want," she noted, her voice gentle. "Why do you do that?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "I—what?"

"You second-guess yourself." She studied you carefully, fingers tapping lightly against the arm of her chair. "I’ve noticed it. You’ll start to say something, then stop. Like you’re afraid of being too much."

Your pulse fluttered. "I guess I just… don’t want to be a burden."

Her lips curled into something almost like amusement. "A burden?" she echoed, as if the idea itself was absurd. "Who told you that?"

You hesitated. Everyone, you wanted to say. Every time someone stopped texting back, every time you felt like you were grasping too hard to keep people close.

Agatha hummed, tilting her head just slightly. “Who have you been talking to about this?”

You blinked. “What?”

Her gaze was steady, expectant. “You said you feel like a burden. Who put that thought in your head?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I don’t know. I guess I mentioned it to a friend the other day, and they—”

Agatha tsked softly, shaking her head. “And what did they say?”

“They told me I was overthinking.”

A slow, knowing smile curled her lips. “Ah. Overthinking.” She leaned back, fingers tapping lightly against the arm of her chair. “That’s an easy way to dismiss you, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “I don’t think they meant it like that—”

“But it made you feel unheard,” she pressed gently. “Didn’t it?”

Your breath came a little faster. “I… maybe?”

Agatha nodded, like she’d expected that answer. “It’s interesting,” she mused, voice low and thoughtful. “How often people minimise your feelings. How quickly they brush you off.” Her gaze flickered back to yours, something soft and reassuring in it. “I would never do that to you.”

A tightness bloomed behind your ribs, bittersweet and impossible to ignore. “I know,” you murmured.

Her lips curled in satisfaction. “Of course you do.”

She leaned forward slightly, voice softening. "They made you feel that way," she spoke, like it was some kind of revelation. "Not because you are a burden, but because they don’t know how to appreciate you properly."

Something about the way she said it made your stomach twist.

"They don’t see you the way I do."

The words hung between you, electric.

You exhaled slowly, suddenly hyperaware of how close she was, how intimate these sessions had started to feelThe space between you felt thinner than before, her voice dipping into something softer, closer—like a secret meant only for you.

And then, like she knew exactly what you were thinking, she smiled.

"Tell me," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "When’s the last time someone truly listened to you?"

Your pulse hammered.

It should have set off alarms. But it didn’t. Because she was listening. She was there for you. More than anyone else has been.

Had anyone ever really listened?

—

The next session, Agatha watched you with something unreadable in her expression. Like she was studying a puzzle, waiting for the pieces to click into place.

“You seem tense,” she noted, her voice low, honey-smooth.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, but it came out strained. “Yeah, well. Life’s a little stressful.”

She tilted her head, gaze sharp, like she was peeling you apart layer by layer. “You hold yourself so tightly,” she stated, studying you like a specimen under glass. “You don’t even realise it, do you?”

Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Your shoulders.” A flick of her fingers. “Your jaw. Your hands.”

You followed her gaze, your fingers curling instinctively before you forced them to relax.

“I think,” she continued, voice slow, deliberate, “you’ve spent so long bracing for impact that you don’t know how to let go.”

A strange heat curled in your stomach, something unspoken threading through the air between you.

She leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees. “Would you let me help you?”

Your stomach flipped. “Help me how?”

Agatha smiled—calm, measured, soothing. “A simple exercise. One that might help you process the tension you’re carrying.”

You hesitated, but there was no reason to refuse. It was therapy. She was your therapist.

“Okay,” you said finally.

Her smile deepened, approval warm in her gaze. “Close your eyes,” she instructed.

You obeyed, exhaling softly.

“Now,” she assured, “I want you to focus on the weight of your body. The way your spine curves. The way your breath moves through you.”

Her voice was hypnotic, her words weaving their way into your bones.

And then—

Fingertips against your jaw.

You startled, eyes flying open, but Agatha hushed you gently.

“Shh,” she soothed, thumb brushing along your cheek. “It’s alright. You trust me, don’t you?”

Your breath came a little faster. The warmth of her touch was dizzying. “I—yes,” you whispered.

Her lips curled in satisfaction. “Good.”

Her fingers trailed lightly, tracing the curve of your throat. You swallowed, pulse hammering against her touch.

“Your body reacts before you do,” she noted, head tilting slightly. “You don’t even realise how much you hold back.”

Heat rushed to your face. You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or something else entirely.

Agatha’s grip firmed just slightly—not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you she was there. “I want you to let go,” she murmured. “Trust me to guide you.”

Your mind spun, tangled between this is fine, she’s my therapist and why does this feel so good?

But you trusted her. So you nodded.

Her smile was slow, knowing. “Good girl.”

Your stomach flipped again. A rush of warmth curled through you, unsettling in its intensity.

She let her touch linger a moment longer before finally pulling back, leaving you bereft. “See?” she said, as if the moment hadn’t just unraveled something inside you. “You hold onto so much. But I can help you carry it.”

You swallowed hard, clinging to her words like a lifeline. “…Thank you,” you murmured.

“We’ll work through it together,” she promised.

You believed her.

You wanted to believe her.

Even as something in the back of your mind whispered that maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t.

—

The session after that felt different from the moment you stepped into the room. The air in Agatha’s office was heavier, charged with something unspoken. It coiled around you, wrapping tight around your ribs as her eyes tracked your movements, assessing, waiting.

“Welcome back,” she said smoothly, gesturing for you to come further in. You obeyed, feeling strangely exposed under her gaze. She hummed, studying you. “You look tense again.”

You exhaled sharply. “I mean… I guess?”

Her smile deepened. “You’ve been thinking too much. Haven’t you?”

Your breath caught. Because—yes.

She chuckled softly. “I told you, darling. You carry everything too tightly.”

You swallowed.

“I want to try something different today,” she announced. “Something a little more… physical.”

Your brain short-circuited at the word.

She leaned forward, voice dipping into something lower, more intimate. “Have you ever done guided breathwork before?”

You shook your head.

She nodded, as if she expected that. “It’s about control,” she said. “Releasing what no longer serves you.”

Your breath hitched.

“May I touch you?” she asked, voice velvety smooth.

“Y—yeah,” you stammered, your pulse pounded in your ears.

She stood, stepping behind you. The air shifted as she moved closer, the heat of her body ghosting along your back before her hands settled on your shoulders—firm, warm, grounding.

“You’re so wound up,” she murmured, her thumbs pressing in, kneading slowly. A soft sigh slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“Breathe with me,” she instructed, her lips near your ear now. “In…”

You inhaled shakily.

“Good,” she praised. “Now out.”

Her hands moved lower, gliding down your arms, her touch light but deliberate. “Again,” she hummed.

You obeyed, and as you exhaled, her hands skimmed lower, fingertips ghosting over the curve of your ribs, her thumbs teasing at the sides of your breasts. You stiffened, heat pooling between your thighs, but she only hummed in approval.

“You’re still holding back,” she whispered, breath warm against your skin. “I need you to let go.”

Her hands drifted lower, over your waist, her grip firm as she guided you back against her body. A quiet, shuddering exhale left you, your head swimming, warmth pooling low in your stomach.

“Good,” she praised, voice like silk. “You’re doing so well for me.”

A shiver ran down your spine as she pressed closer, the solid heat of her flush against your back.

“This tension you carry,” she sighed, her breath hot against your skin, “it needs to be released.”

Her hands slipped lower, over your hips, nails scraping lightly against fabric. A slow, deliberate drag that sent fire licking through your veins.

“Let me help,”

And then her hands moved lower. Your whole body went still.

Agatha hummed in approval. “You feel that, don’t you?”

A sound—something between a gasp and a whimper—escaped your lips, as your body burned with arousal.

“Good,” she praised again, like she could feel you unravelling beneath her touch. “You’re doing perfectly.”

Her touch dipped between your thighs causing a sharp gasp to tear from your throat as your body jolted, nerves alight.

“Shh, this is part of the process,” she soothed, her lips grazing your ear, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. “Trust me.”

You did. You shouldn’t, but you did.

Her hands were steady, patient, coaxing you back against her body. Heat seeped into your skin where she pressed, her perfume—something dark, heady, intoxicating—curling around you like smoke.

“This is what you need,” she declared, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your clothed clit. “A full release.”

Your body arched, a broken moan slipping past your lips before you could swallow it down.

“There it is.” Agatha’s voice was rich with satisfaction, her free hand dragging lazy patterns over your torso, her nails grazing just enough to make you shiver. “That’s my good girl.”

Shame curled low in your stomach, but it was drowned out by the pleasure winding tighter, by the way she spoke like she knew you better than you knew yourself. Maybe she did. No one else had reached this part of you—no one else had understood what you truly needed.

Only Agatha.

“You’ve been holding so much inside,” she mused, her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. “I think it’s time to let me take care of you.”

You whimpered, your breath coming in uneven bursts, but you didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

A pleased hum vibrated in her throat as she pressed her fingers against your slick heat.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, her lips brushing against your temple, “you do need me.”

Your head lolled back against her shoulder, your lips parting in a breathless moan as she circled your clit with practiced ease, teasing and coaxing you into submission.

“Such a sweet thing,” she remarked, her other hand coming up to tilt your chin, guiding your gaze to hers. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy, and the look she gave you made your stomach tighten.

“There’s my good girl.”

The praise sent a pulse of heat through you, something deep and desperate unraveling at the sound of it. You wanted to please her. To prove that you trusted her.

Her mouth slanted over yours, swallowing your gasped moans as her fingers slid inside you, slow and purposeful. A sharp cry left you as she stretched you open, her thumb still circling, teasing, never letting you sink too deep into mindlessness. She wanted you present. Aware.

Your body jerked, overwhelmed by the sensation, but her hands were steady, guiding you through it. “Breathe,” she instructed, her lips brushing against your cheek. “In through your nose… there you go, good girl… and out.”

You tried. You really did. But every exhale was a stuttering moan, your body trembling against hers.

“That’s it,” she soothed, her fingers curling just enough to make you keen. “Let yourself feel it. Let yourself fall.”

Your fingers grasped at her sleeve, desperate for something to hold onto as she worked you open, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’ve spent so long running from this,” she murmured, voice low, hypnotic, each word coiling around your ribs and pulling tight. “From what you need. From what I can give you.”

You shook your head weakly, barely processing her words through the pleasure threatening to swallow you whole.

“No?” She tutted, her fingers never ceasing. “Then tell me, darling… why are you shaking?”

You couldn’t answer. She had you undone, every nerve alight, every thought consumed by her.

“Let go,” she commanded, her voice velvet-soft but unyielding. “Let me take care of you.”

As the pleasure coiled tighter, your body trembled against her, every muscle wound impossibly tense. Agatha’s touch never wavered—precise, knowing, relentless.

"That's it," she murmured, her lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You’re so close, aren’t you?"

A breathless whimper escaped you, your hips bucking into her hand, chasing that final push. She chuckled softly, her fingers maintaining their rhythm, teasing you to the brink.

"Good girl," she praised, her voice dipping into something darker, richer. "Give it to me. I want to feel you cum on my fingers."

Your breath hitched, your body straining under the weight of pleasure, but she didn’t let you fall just yet. Her free hand dragged up your torso, nails grazing along your ribs before curling around your throat, a light, possessive pressure that made you gasp.

"You've been holding onto this for so long," she crooned. "But not anymore. Let. Go."

Her grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly as her fingers curled against your g-spot, pushing you past the point of no return. A sharp cry tore from your lips, your entire body arching as the pleasure finally snapped, pleasure ripping through you in waves.

"That’s it, my sweet girl," Agatha cooed, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Ride it out—just like that. So perfect for me."

Your walls clenched around her fingers, the aftershocks making you shudder, but she didn’t stop. Not yet. She drew out every last pulse of pleasure, her touch easing from devastating to indulgent, dragging you through the bliss until you were nothing but a boneless, gasping mess in her arms.

"Such a good girl," she muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple as her fingers finally stilled, her palm resting possessively against your slick heat. "I knew you could do it."

She let you catch your breath, but her fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your sensitive skin, teasing, reminding you who had brought you to this point.

Your breath still came in uneven shudders as she finally pulled her hand away. You barely had a chance to process the loss before she brought her fingers to her lips, her darkened eyes never leaving yours as she sucked them clean.

Heat flared in your cheeks.

Agatha only smiled.“We’ll continue this next session,” she promised, brushing a stray bead of sweat from your forehead. “I think we’re making real progress.”

-----

In this AU Agatha totally only became a therapist so she could mess around with people's minds and get paid for it.

N.B Agatha's behaviour is extremely toxic and manipulative due to the power she holds over reader. This work is purely fiction and such actions have no place in the real world.

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @jujuu23 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19

[uceyliyahh]

Summary: You are just a distraction to me nothing more.

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE, PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

warning contains: none

word count: 4,372

Jey Uso x Remiyah

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

this will be a four-to-five-part series hope y'all will like it trying something new. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @yana3sworld

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak

DISTRACTION

Ø3

Jey

I was at the gym, focused on my decline dumbbell bench press, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It struck me that I hadn’t heard from Remiyah since our session yesterday afternoon, and her sudden departure left me feeling uneasy. Concern for her well-being began to creep in.

I constantly found myself checking my phone, yearning for a message from her, but all I received was silence, except for a text from Jaida. This lack of response made me pull away from her, marking the beginning of my emotional distance.

Whenever she expressed a desire for intimacy, I found myself turning her down, claiming exhaustion and a need for rest. I was confused about my feelings—was I developing a crush on Remiyah? It seemed impossible, as I didn’t view her in that light at all.

During my bench workouts, I noticed my brother Jimmy entering the garage with a puzzled look on his face. For a moment, concern washed over me, prompting me to pause my exercise and head over to see what was troubling him.

I set my wireless headphones aside, fully focused on his words.

“What’s up Uce?” I asked.

“Did you hear what happened?” Jimmy asked as I looked at him confused while shaking my head.

“Nah, I haven’t been on my phone yet, why what’s up?” He pulled out his phone to show me the latest news about a wrestler who had crashed their car into a tree. The images looked quite severe until I realized the car was familiar.

That was Remiyah’s car the fuck did she do?

I took his phone and examined the car more intently, confirming it was indeed hers. My heart raced with excitement as I handed his phone back, leaning back on the bench and running my hands over my face in disbelief.

“The fuck did she just do? Fuck,” I whisper softly.

“She’s in the hospital uce if you wanna go see her, look I know you and her are going through a rough patch but I can see how you be looking her like you don’t want her,” he said as I gave him a stern look trying to deny the fact that I was not crushing over her.

“You don’t even be around Jaida anymore, all you be worried about is Remiyah, don’t deny it uce because I know you like what kind of person takes a girl on dates? Dick her down good, spoiling her rotten,” was he wrong? I mean did spoil her a lot more than I do with Jaida especially when it came to taking her out on dates.

I got up from the bench grabbing my phone and my keys while heading out towards my car until I heard Jimmy say something, “Yo! Where you going?” I went inside of my car before speaking.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be back,” I said while backing out the driveway heading straight towards the hospital to see Remiyah.

On my way to the hospital to visit her, I decided to make a quick detour to the store to pick up some red roses, her favorite flowers. I can't quite explain why I felt compelled to get them; it was just an instinct. I never imagined that she would be in such a dark place, contemplating ending her life because of me. I shared my feelings with her, but I never anticipated this reaction.

I noticed a message from Jaida pop up on my screen via iMessage, clearly indicating she had reached out. However, I chose not to reply at that moment because I was behind the wheel.

Jaida😘: Baby wya?

Don't misunderstand me; Jaida is great and all, but there's something about Remiyah that resonates with me on a deeper level. I can't quite put my finger on it, but she has this captivating aura that draws me in. What are you even thinking, Joshua? You truly care for Jaida, right?

I successfully arrived at the hospital, parked my car in the lot, and switched off the engine. As I stepped out, I picked up the flowers from the front seat and made my way into the building.

Upon entering the hospital, I made my way to the reception desk, eager to find Remiyah. There was an undeniable urgency within me; I needed to see her, if only to reassure myself that she was alright.

“Hello, Sir, how can I help you?” The recipient lady asked.

“Yes, I’m looking for Remiyah Harris is she in this building I’m her boyfriend,” I said feeling uneasy when I had said that.

“Oh, yes she is on the second floor down the hallway when you turn to your left in room 289 sir,” she said as I nodded my head thanking her in the process.

As I approached the elevators, eagerly anticipating their arrival, I took a moment to reply to Jaida's message.

Zaddy🤍: I’m at the store rn baby I’ll see you when I get home aight?

Jaida😘: okay daddy see you when you get here

As the elevator doors slid open, I stepped inside and pressed the button for the second floor. As the doors began to close, I leaned back against the wall, lost in thought. What could have driven her to this decision? She has a promising career ahead and is undoubtedly well put together. It just doesn’t add up.

Remiyah is a force to be reckoned with; she has a clear understanding of her values and desires in life, unlike even Jaida, who seems uncertain. What has shaped her into this determined individual? As the elevator doors chimed open, I made my way down the hallway, taking a left turn.

I finally arrived at her room, pausing to take a deep breath before I knocked on the door. Just then, I heard a soft voice say, “come in,” from the other side. I opened the door to find her sprawled on the bed, seemingly engrossed in whatever was playing on the TV.

My heart ached as I took in her battered state; she was covered in bruises and looked so fragile. Her eyes widened in surprise at my arrival, yet she remained silent, unable to find the words.

I noticed her flinch as I approached, even before I had the chance to present her with the flowers she adored. Realizing this, I gently placed the bouquet on the nearby counter and then took a seat in the chair right beside her.

She clears her throat beginning to say something, “T-thank you for the flowers, they’re my favorite,” she said while giving me a faint smile.

“I know that’s why I got them, but how are you feeling?” I asked her.

I can’t express how much it hurts to see her like this. She mentioned she’s in pain, dealing with a broken rib, a bruised nose, and a head injury. Despite everything, she’s on the mend, but witnessing her struggle truly breaks my heart.

I managed to interlock her fingers within mine causing her to look at me, “I’m sorry if I’m the reason you’re up in this hospital mama,” I apologized while rubbing my thumb against the palm of her hand which she shook her head.

"It's alright, Jey. I've realized that I'm not the type of girl you're looking for, and that's perfectly fine. I've experienced this situation before, so it's not unfamiliar to me," she explained. I was left puzzled by her words; what did she mean by having gone through this before?

“What do you mean?”

Remiyah let out a heavy sigh, “What I mean is that I’ve never felt like I was enough for a man to want something serious with me. This has been the case in all my past relationships, including what we have now. So don’t worry, Jey; your feelings are valid.” My feelings?

My emotions are in turmoil. I had no idea she had faced such struggles before, and it truly hurt to learn that she felt inadequate. The truth is, she has always been more than enough for me from the very first moment I saw her. Her presence, her energy, and the gentle way she speaks captivated me completely.

Her graceful stride and the confidence she exuded were qualities I deeply desired. I yearned for her, though I struggled to acknowledge it within myself. As I gently pressed a kiss onto her palm, I noticed the surprise flicker across her face. “Don’t do that, Jey. I don’t want to be a fool falling for your tricks again,” Remiyah replied.

I could see her perspective clearly; it all stemmed from my own foolishness and my failure to appreciate what was right in front of me. Jaida simply couldn’t offer me the same things that Remiyah always did. Rising from the chair, I slipped off my shoes and made my way to the hospital bed beside her.

She appeared slightly confused when I made the move, but she carefully shifted over, being cautious not to hurt herself further with her broken rib. As I draped the blanket over us, I gently pulled her closer, resting her head on my chest.

There’s a serene peace that washes over me whenever she’s near; her presence effortlessly lights up my world. Could it be that I’m developing feelings for her? Perhaps my twin brother was onto something with his observations. As I looked at her, I noticed her eyes glued to the television, completely unaware of the admiration I held for her captivating beauty.

My phone was buzzing incessantly in my pocket, so I took it out to find messages from Jimmy and Jaida. Unsure of what excuse to fabricate, I opted to check what Jimmy needed.

IMESSAGE

Twin🩸: where yo’ ass at? Jaida over here trippin!

Twin🩸: she’s crashing out uce

Jey🩸: I’m with Remiyah at the moment tryna figure some shit out

Twin🩸: figure some shit out? Like what? Are you just comforting her bc you feel bad or something? Tf goin on?

Jey🩸: something doesn’t seem right about how I am feeling

Twin🩸: is it bc of what I told you before you left?

Jey🩸: yeah but I’m figuring out now just tell Jaida to go home aight?

Twin🩸: she ain’t gonna listen to me unless you say something uce

Jey🩸: tell her I said to take her ass home I’ll handle her later please

Twin🩸: aight aight I’ll tell her

I let out a heavy sigh, my fingers pressing against my temple in frustration. It’s exhausting to manage Jaida’s neediness whenever I’m away or unable to give her my undivided attention.

I set my phone down on the table beside the hospital bed, my gaze meeting Remiyah's innocent eyes. In that moment, her serene expression washed away my frustration over Jaida, bringing me a sense of calm I desperately needed.

“You okay?” Remiyah asked as I nodded my head boring into her delicate eyes.

"I'm alright, just handling a few things," I replied, and she acknowledged me with a nod, choosing not to pursue the topic further. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted elsewhere, but I gently cupped her chin, guiding her eyes back to mine.

At first, it took her by surprise, but she held my gaze. I found myself glancing at her lips before returning to her captivating eyes. It felt as if I were under a spell, completely mesmerized by her beauty. What was happening to me?

I moved in closer, my nose gently grazing hers as she remained perfectly still. I could sense her breath quickening, and in that moment, I pressed my lips softly against hers.

She hesitated at first, not immediately returning my kiss. But as I gently gripped her throat, drawing her closer, she finally melted into the moment. Our lips met with an intensity that ignited a fire between us, my tongue dancing with hers as her hands tangled in my mullet, craving every bit of this passionate connection.

“Fuck,” Remiyah muttered.

I could sense a rush of excitement coursing through me, and despite the undeniable attraction I felt, I knew I had to maintain my composure in her presence. There was something uniquely electrifying about this moment, something in the atmosphere that made being near her feel entirely different from before.

I sensed her rising onto her knees, moving closer to my lap as my hand instinctively found its way to her hips. "Watch out for your ribs, mama," I whispered softly.

She pulled away from me gazing into my eyes, “I’m okay Jey I promise, what’s goin with you?”

I found myself in a whirlwind of emotions, kissing her as if she were the love of my life. It was confusing, yet I couldn't resist; she was simply flawless, even more so than Jaida.

I remained silent as I drew her in for another kiss, one that was filled with longing and desire. My hands gripped her hips tightly, and I pressed my body against hers, making sure she could sense the intensity of my need for her. This kind of passion was something I had never experienced with Jaida.

I was deeply concerned about her, especially with one of her ribs broken, yet she was pulling at my hair as if this was exactly what she desired. “J-Jey, what do you want? W-we can’t be d-doing this,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I was lost in the moment, ignoring her words as I pressed my lips against hers, then trailed soft, lingering kisses down her neck. Something felt different within me; it wasn't just desire I felt, but a deeper longing for her that I couldn't quite understand.

I sensed her distancing herself from me, yet I clung to her tightly, unwilling to let her slip away. "Jey! What do you want?" she exclaimed, forcefully shoving me aside.

“I’m not going to be playing these fucking games with you! When don’t even know what the hell you want!”

I felt a surge of frustration as she continued to raise her voice, fully aware that it would only escalate the situation. “Miyah…” I said, locking my gaze with her warm brown eyes, “please lower your tone when you talk to me.” Despite my plea, Remiyah ignored my request, and I could feel my patience wearing thin with this girl.

Remiyah yelled, her voice filled with frustration and hurt. "You stroll in here pretending to care about me, yet you pull stunts like this! Is it any wonder I'm stuck in this hospital? I’ll never be good enough for you!" She winced, a sharp pain shooting through her rib cage.

I rubbed my face with my hands, striving to maintain my composure. She was mistaken; she had always been more than enough for me. I noticed Remiyah's eyes welling up with tears as she attempted to rise from my lap gently, being cautious not to hurt herself.

She rose from the bed, gripping her rib cage as she reached for the medication resting in a cup. My gaze was fixed on her every action. Remiyah took two pills from her prescribed medication and washed them down with a sip of water.

Remiyah let out a deep sigh, expressing her frustration. “I can’t believe I’ve been foolish enough to think you might actually love me or want something meaningful with me. But I get it; it’s fine,” she admitted.

“It’s not like that Remiyah,” I said as she looked confused.

She stood there, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eagerly awaiting my response. "So, Jey, what’s it really like?" she asked, her curiosity palpable.

To be truthful, I was completely unaware of what I was truly feeling. My emotions and thoughts were chaotic, much like the aftermath of her car accident that landed us in this situation, which deeply troubled me.

I rose from the bed and made my way toward her, her eyes fixed on my every move. At 6'2", my stature loomed over her petite frame as she looked up at me, and I gently grasped her chin.

“It’s just something bout’ you I can’t get out of my head mama, I don’t know what it is but idk if im ready for it,” I confessed as I seen her unfolding her arms.

"What are you afraid of? You know I would never harm you, Jey," she said, pressing against my strong arms and wrapping her arms around my waist—she was truly going to drive me wild.

"I understand you wouldn’t, Remiyah. You’re truly a wonderful girl, genuinely good at heart, but…" my words started to falter as I met her innocent gaze.

"I’m not prepared for that level of commitment right now, especially after my marriage. My relationship with Jaida happened by chance; I wasn’t seeking anything serious. But then there’s you, Miyah…damn." Jimmy was right; I’m starting to fall for you without even noticing it. But the question remains: am I truly ready for this kind of commitment?

Remiyah listened to me with such focus, a quality I admired from the moment we first met. I shifted my hand from her chin to her hips, while she tenderly placed her small hands on my face, gently caressing my salt-and-pepper beard with her thumb.

She rose onto her tiptoes, gently kissing my lips with tender pecks that I eagerly returned before she stepped back, leaving a smile on my face. “I’ll be here for you, papa. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I know mama…I know, you for real gonna wait on me?” I asked just to be certain.

"Absolutely, I'm ready to wait for you." It's incredible how dedicated she is, especially considering everything I've put her through. I can't help but think that Jaida wouldn't have shown the same loyalty; she likely would have moved on and found someone else.

I gently pressed my lips against hers, looking down at her petite figure as she spoke once more, "Just don’t leave me hanging, waiting for you. I can’t handle much more of this, Joshua." I nodded, fully grasping the depth of her emotions.

“A’ight then little mama,” I said as she smiled at me her smile was so pretty what am I going to do.

OMNISCIENT

Jey had been at the hospital with Remiyah for a while, and as the evening wore on, he felt it was time to return home. However, Remiyah's reluctance to let him go revealed her affectionate side, which Jey found utterly charming. Her clinginess was a sweet reminder of their bond, making it hard for him to walk away.

As he drove into his driveway, the sight of Jaida’s car parked there filled him with dread—what was she going to be upset about this time? Jey stepped out of the car, the sound of his keys clinking in his pocket, and made his way to the front door.

He heard the door creak open and turned to find Jaida standing there, arms crossed and a fierce expression on her face. Ignoring her, he brushed past her and tossed his keys onto the desk before heading into the kitchen to grab a drink.

Jey propped himself against the kitchen counter, sipping his drink as he observed her furiously slam the door and march toward him with determination. "Where the fuck was you at?” She questioned him.

“I told you I was at the store,” He said rolling his eyes at her.

“You were at the store all night? That’s bullshit Jey and you know it, you were with that bitch Remiyah,” Jey chose not to mention it to her, as it was undeniable that he found solace in his time with Remiyah, a stark contrast to the turmoil he experienced with Jaida.

Jey set his drink on the counter, crossing his arms as he did so. “and if I was what does that have to do with you Jaida? I don’t question about your whereabouts,” Jey shot back looking into her eyes nonchalantly.

Jaida rolled her eyes and nudged him gently, “We’re in this together, Jey! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Jey felt overwhelmed by her words; he wished he had chosen to stay with Remiyah at the hospital instead of facing this confrontation.

He took a sip of his drink as he walked by her, ignoring her furious accusations about his involvement with Remiyah and the lies about where he had been. Unfazed, he continued his ascent up the stairs to their shared bedroom, determined to tune out the chaos behind him.

“Do you hear me talking to you!”

“Jaida! Please shut the hell up! Damn, so what if I’m spending time with Remiyah she was in a damn car accident I had to make sure she was alright damn,” Jey shouted while running his fingers through his face feeling frustrated.

Jaida fell silent, unaware that the unfortunate girl had been in an accident. Nevertheless, that didn’t alter the reality that he would remain by her side for the rest of the day until nightfall. In a moment of resignation, she raised her hands in defeat, choosing to abandon the argument, as she simply lacked the time and energy to continue.

Jey finally breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the rare moment of tranquility. In his state of calm, he completely overlooked the message from Remiyah. Once he managed to handle everything else, he resolved to reply to her.

IMESSAGE

Rem💋: Hey, I was checking in to see if you made it home safely

Jey🫶🏽: Yeah, I made it home but I might come back over there

Rem💋: why? Did something happen?

Jey🫶🏽: you can say something like that, she over here trippin about me spending time with you 🙄

Rem💋: Yikes, she sounds like a handful

Jey🫶🏽: you okay little mama?

Rem💋: I’m okay Jey just eating me some dinner before I get ready for bed for tonight

Jey🫶🏽: I miss you already

Rem💋: come back then if you miss me so much

Jey🫶🏽: hell I might if she keep bitchin fr mama

Rem💋: well when the doctor come in I’ll let her know that I have someone coming if you do show up.

Jey🫶🏽: aight mamas ttyl

Rem💋: ttyl 🫶🏽

Jey experienced a wave of relief as he sent a message to Remiyah, appreciating the unique way she showed her care and comfort. Unlike Jaida, who constantly questioned him and his activities, Remiyah's approach felt genuine and understanding, making him feel truly valued.

He could hear Jaida on the phone, venting to one of her friends about how he had been out all day with Remiyah. With a deep sigh, he stripped off his clothes and made his way to the shower.

He finished his shower and could still hear Jaida voicing her frustrations on the phone. Choosing to slip into some cozy clothes, he made his way downstairs, only to find Jaida still engrossed in her conversation, completely oblivious to his presence.

He strolled by her, slipping on his shoes and snatching his keys, which drew her gaze. “Where the hell you goin’ now? Hello! Nigga do you not hear me talking to you? Hold on girl,” Jey remained silent as he walked out the door, not uttering a single word to her.

He climbed into his car and turned on the engine, just as he noticed Jaida stepping out of the house barefoot, looking wild and unpredictable. It was a scene he had no desire to confront, especially with her now pounding on his car window.

He exited the driveway, heading straight for the hospital to be by Remiyah's side, leaving Jaida in a state of shock. Frustration washed over him; dealing with Jaida was exhausting and overwhelming.

He was determined to avoid any distractions this time; all he wanted was to be with Remiyah. She was the only one who could soothe his restless spirit and provide the comfort he craved in moments of turmoil.

He realized that Jaida wasn’t the girl he wanted but Remiyah was the girl he needed.

Jey successfully arrived at the hospital parking lot, shutting off his car as he prepared to enter the building. Approaching the receptionist, he informed her that he was there to see Remiyah, confidently making his way to the designated area.

As Jey made his way down the hallway to the left, the elevators chimed open. He knocked on Remiyah’s door, but there was no response. Curiosity piqued, he turned the handle and stepped inside, finding the room shrouded in darkness, save for a dim light flickering in the corner.

He noticed the TV was still on, so he picked up the remote beside her and turned it off. Carefully, he slipped off his shoes and set them down next to the bed. Without disturbing her, he climbed into bed beside her, placing his phone gently on the nightstand.

“J-Jey…?” Remiyah mumbled in her sleep.

He nestled close to her in bed, gently pressing his lips against hers while softly calming her with soothing whispers.

“Go back to sleep mama, get some rest,” He said pulling her closer to his body.

His phone started vibrating incessantly, prompting a deep sigh as he reached for it, noticing a flurry of unread messages from Jaida.

Jaida😘 sent 5 messages

Jaida😘: where the fuck did you go?

Jaida😘: I know you didn’t just go over there with her

Jaida😘: you know that she isn’t better than me Jey you fucking know it

Jaida😘: when you come back home we need to have a chat

Jaida😘: I hate you nigga

Jey sighed in exasperation at her message, choosing to leave it unanswered as he set his phone down on the table. He felt Remiyah stir gently in her sleep and adjusted himself in the hospital bed, ensuring she was snug against his chest. With a tender touch, he traced soothing circles on her back, hoping to bring her comfort.

He shut his eyes, embracing a wave of comfort as he released the stress accumulated from dealing with Jaida's nonsense throughout the evening, allowing himself to gently drift off into a peaceful sleep.

A/n: Jaida trippin fr fr but I hope yall enjoy this part lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

[phneltwrites]

Happier

Written for the music poll challenge. What are 5 sentences really

Wilhelm steps onto the public bus and realises he doesn’t know what to do. It hadn’t really been a conscious decision to get on. Think of Erik’s legacy, Wilhelm and if anyone asks about the hazing at Hillerska say it didn’t happen during your time and Wilhelm waited for his mother to be distracted and then he turned and walked away from the national day celebration. He’s still in the outfit. But he started walking and kept walking and then a bus came and he got on. 

The bus driver stares at him. Wilhelm blinks. Mortification creeping up his collar, he glances at the rest of the riders, who are all staring back. His eyes roam left to right and then freeze, gaze catching on the most beautiful boy in the world. He’s the only one who seems nonplussed, sitting there with a paper book.

Then he gets up.

“You need to pay with the app,” the angel with the curly hair says.

“Okay,” Wilhelm responds, going breathless. Then he fumbles with his phone, unlocks it.

He snorts. “I’ll show you.” He reaches for the phone and their fingers touch. Wilhelm lets him take it, and his fingers curl, reaching for the man’s hand as he pulls it away.

The man fiddles with it, and then taps the phone against the reader. The bus lurches and Wilhelm sways into him.

“I’m—I’m Wilhelm.”

“Simon,” Simon says, eyes sparkling in a way that lets Wilhelm into the joke. Wilhelm follows him back to his seat. There are empty ones on the bus, but Simon obligingly slides over to the window to let Wilhelm in next to him. Wilhelm straightens his embroidered vest as he sits down. “Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

It’s a fair question. The whole family is out for it, as they are every year.

“I think I could be happier,” Wilhelm says, eyes on Simon, hoping he knows Wilhelm means with him, away from the game of the court, the negotiations. They’re never going to change, but Wilhelm can. He can get on the bus, now. Simon taught him.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” And when Wilhelm stares at him, Simon doesn’t look away.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve been a bit depressed with job hunting, and Wyvern, and imposter syndrome. My betrothed got home and found me just sad sacking. They tried to pep talk me but it’s hard, it’s not like someone can just hand me a job.

They bustled around afterward setting up for DnD. A while later they came up to me and held out their phone. I looked at it in puzzlement. I looked up at them. They smiled and nodded. I took the phone, still confused on what I was meant to do with it when they flicked the button to pull up the Lock Screen.

It’s the new art I just made of their character in her new dragon form. I’ve only had them like my art enough to be their Lock Screen once before. I was so happy I just sat there making their phone light up over and over.

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

I ran this morning AND wrote some AND made art and I’m so proud of me

[stardustedknuckles]

Most of the way through creating a new dnd character and why are they all boys except my changeling who was everything. I'm not transmasc. I don't want to be a boy necessarily. I am not attracted to dudes. And yet. These are my boys and I care them.

Ramblings about the newest boy under the cut.

He's an Eladrin and I thought about making him nonbinary but when I picture him I see his face and it's his. Now - he's not cis, but it is still very much his face. Conceptually he started out as "how can I make a jedi in 5e" and after about seventeen class combinations and a headache I chatted with the DM and a backstory took shape that informed my class choices. I was originally going to give him a level in wizard (not everything is about optimization and it worked for the initial idea - also! Monk with shield? Killer.) but the synergy very simply was not there. He's about 35, which is quite young for a race that is functionally immortal (within the fey realm anyway). The world we are playing in was broken a long time ago into shards, which function a bit like planes, and the walls between the shards are made of time. When the world broke, my 12-ish year old boy ran with the rest of the people of his home and ended up in a fog, where he walked and walked for hours. When he emerged from the fog, a thousand years had passed and he was alone in a new and fractured world. He was taken in by a couple who used to be adventurers (a rogue and a wizard, lesbians) and raised in the city where they lived for 15-20 years. As far as he knew, his world was gone forever. As far as anyone knew, really. There are rumors of eladrin locked away, sequestered in a safe kingdom ruled by the star-queen, but who and what he is remains a mystery to most.

I think in his culture, Eladrin become adults when they first manifest the magic of the feywild they live in. For most, that happens around age 100, usually in the form of becoming a druid or ranger or some such, and at that point they receive an adult name. My boy is in his mid-thirties or so, but the thing about Eladrin and elves in general is that they move on a time scale slower than we can really conceptualize. My boy was raised by people with shorter lifespans. He grew up around people who move at a much faster pace. So for all these years, since he was about 20, he's been going to the local monks for training to focus his mind. He only needs to trance for four hours, so going for moonlit walks to the monastery several nights a week provides him with clarity and a sense of intent for his body. For the last few years, he's been going out some nights to fight low-level monsters and problems the city faces. Masked, silent, but considered something of a folk hero (your friendly neighborhood Eladrin). That's how he's gained experience. On the anniversary of the day he turned up in this world, the one time a year he permits himself to dive deep into what memories he has and revel and mourn by turns, he's practicing his forms and meditating on his memories of his mother the Wolf of the Wilds (druid) and a punch he throws comes with a lungful of fey spring surrounding him as a blast of dewy morning air rushes from the end of his fist. He hasn't smelled those trees and that damp, early morning light since he was truly a child and it starts to dawn on him that somehow, some way, he has connected with the magic of home just by holding the memory close for all this time and letting it flow through him instead of trying to forget it and move on. Suddenly the rumors of other Eladrin matter. Suddenly the idea that the place he came from could have survived the calamity in some way is lodged in his mind and he can't let it go. If the magic is in him, he thinks, it is still coming from somewhere that must still exist to grant it. He spent so long becoming at peace with the thought of being cut off from it when it was destroyed, but here it is.

He tells his parents he needs to go and they support him entirely. By this point they are too old to make this journey with him, or so they say, but two retired adventurers can sense when it's time for someone to have one of their own. He promises to come back, hugs them both on the doorstep, and sets out to run into the other (extremely magical) chucklefucks the other players are making.

I care him. I can't wait to get to know him better.

[kkujo]

also idk i feel so fucking good abt myself idk genuinely being consistent with my gym routine has done everything for my mental health and confidence like i still feel bad abt myself sometimes but for the first time since i was probably 9 i'm having days where i look in the mirror and thinking DAMN i look good and those days are getting more frequent it's really the best feeling

[running-in-the-dark]

I just tried rollerskating outside again for the first time since last year and oooof it's so bad, I'm so bad at it, the pain is so bad, everything about it is very very bad

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

[paranoidblue]

right fellas, let's see if we survive the night

[irisseireth]

.

[midwestgender]

for every sports team in a highschool they should have two. one for the people who are actually good at it on competitive level and then one for people who just want to do it for fun/exercise. i think Fuck Around teams would be immensely popular actually

[klara-rosa]

anyway therapy was good today! I was very frustrated after last week's session. It was super uncomfortable and I wanted to cry afterwards (I have literally only cried twice during my entire therapy career). I actually told my current therapist that last week sucked and made me angry and we talked about it and she told me she really wants me to tell her this information in the future. And in general, today was a looot better and more positive and uplifting. We did an exercise in gratefulness and it really helped to kinda flip the coin and make you look at your life from a dofferent angle. I have sooo many negative self-beliefs and rituals I've accumulated over the years and sometimes I forget that a huuuge part of every one of my days is literally dependant on my own attitude and outlook on life in general. So I'll try and incorporate that exercise in my day to day life. Honestly, I left with such a lighter heart today than I did the last couple of weeks and that makes me happy 🥺

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

← previous chapter | next chapter →

The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed. 

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before. 

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

← previous chapter | next chapter →

please message me if you'd like to be added to my taglist!

A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

[madlori]

On Tommy Kinard

"It's not that I don't like Buck and Tommy, it's just happening so fast, he's underdeveloped!"

*clears throat*

Here is a recap of what we know about Tommy. And this is just off the top of my head, I didn't rewatch anything.

He was closeted at the 118 before and found the atmosphere repressive. He (probably) acted like a dick to fit in. When presented with the chance to make things better, he took it, and developed positive relationships with Hen, Chim and Bobby.

He was in the army and trained there as a pilot.

He knows Muay Thai and has a set up in his house.

He likes to work on cars and has a lift at his house (where TF does he live is my question - he has some nerve being agog at Buck's loft if he has a muay thai gym and a car lift)

He is down for violating departmental policy at the drop of a hat (has done so on at least two occasions) to help a friend and has no problems fucking with the fire chief.

He is a nerd. He likes pub trivia and has incorrect Star Wars opinions, and can keep up with Chim in the movie-quoting department.

His favorite movie is "Love, Actually" and he likes craft beer and monster trucks.

He came out when he transferred to Harbor and felt comfortable enough to stop lying about who he was.

He follows MMA and has friends in Vegas who like him well enough to hook him up to a frankly insane degree.

He'll risk his own life and engage in helicopter skulduggery to save people he doesn't know...I mean, apart from doing that for a living.

He'll take time out of his day to give a tour to the cute boy who called him up and offer to give that boy flying lessons (a significant time investment) which was probably maybe about more one on one time with said boy.

He yearns for the belonging and found family that the 118 became after his departure and probably befriended Eddie hoping to earn a plate at the cookout, aside from just clicking with him.

He likes Eddie and Chris a lot and they like him. Chimney also likes him.

He was attracted to Buck right away and was emotionally aware enough to pick up on Buck's jealous feelings over Eddie and his friendship, even if he was surprised that it was him Buck wanted to get to know.

He respects and values Buck and Eddie's friendship and wanted to make sure Buck knew that.

He's brave enough to shoot his shot by planting one on a dude.

He's a lil bitchy but also generous and ready to throw in with this insane guy who's inviting him to a family wedding after 0.5 dates.

He showed up to a bachelor party when he was on call because Buck asked him to, then showed up in turnouts after fighting a fire for like 12 hours yadda yadda we all know this part.

He has got it BAD for one Evan Buckley, who he only calls "Evan" which according to LFJR is a conscious decision by the writers, which fascinates me.

He was willing to take a chance with a man just discovering his sexuality BUT wasn't willing to put himself through that if the man in question wasn't ready for it. When Buck showed him that he was, he was all in.

He does NOT take his coffee like that.

Oh and

He's a beast.

This is VASTLY more information than we knew about ANY of Buck's previous girlfriends with the possible exception of Abby. Even Taylor did not get this much development over 20 episodes (things we knew about her: she was an ambitious and ethically flexible reporter, did not eat fudge, had a dad in jail, and sometimes jogged for exercise, she was capable of being nice and did love Buck, I believe). And as for it being fast? Sometimes it just be like that? A relationship doesn't have to have year(s) of buildup. Sometimes people do just meet, like each other, and start dating, in fact in the real world that's usually what happens. It's in TV Land that you have to have eighteen seasons of UST before pulling the trigger. Most of the time in reality people just vibe off each other and decide to go out and THEN they learn about each other.

And they've got a great start. You'd think they'd barely spoken by how a few naysayers are talking about it - the loft scene was like a solid five minutes of very open conversation, the Cringe Date seemed to have gone well and again, open and honest (if cringey) conversation before Cockblocker Eddie showed up, and the coffee meetup was again....open and honest conversation. They're not gonna show us long scenes of them exchanging firefighting stories and workout preferences (I mean, I'd watch that, but it's not what the show is about).

In conclusion, anyone saying he's poorly developed or the relationship is "out of nowhere" either is being willfully obtuse or has ridiculously unrealistic expectations for relationships and/or what constitutes character development.

As for whether they have chemistry, that's a matter of subjective opinion. Given that a TON of people watched that harbor tour scene (even when it was posted as a sneak peek) and started going "wait...what's going on here...are they flirting??" might be a clue. People were talking about Bi!Buck maybe happening with Tommy based solely off that clip of the harbor tour and what they were seeing between them. And imho that loft scene was crackling. But we all see things through the lenses of our biases, myself included.

Got that off my chest, whew.