#no more staring at a plain white ceiling

[vegasthehedgehog]

This little galaxy projector is so calming. It gives me dissociation some sparkle ✨️

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass."｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, Bullying

Color indicator: Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

Another dull morning, you think to yourself, rolling over to turn off your alarm. You pick up your cellphone and blearily swipe your screen as you clamber out of bed. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you really didn’t notice anything was wrong until you stood up and looked in the mirror. You blink, poking at you face and staring where your reflection should be, but isn’t. You wave your hand in front of the mirror. Nothing.

You look around, only to realize that your surroundings are different, too. The room you’re in is plain, cramped, and completely devoid of character. It’s almost liminal, in a way. Eerie in its emptiness. 

You need to get out of here. 

You nervously reach for the door and twist the handle. The doornob moves with you, but the door remains fixed in place. Your phone buzzes, and you fish it out of your pocket, quickly turning it on. You’ve gotten a text, but the number is blank.

You have not chosen an avatar yet. Please choose one from the mirror before leaving your room.

Well, that woke you right up. Is someone watching you? You swerve your head around, checking the ceilings and corners for cameras. You try the door again. You go in circles, turning the whole room upside down. You try the door. Nothing. You check your phone. The same message appears as soon as you open it. You swipe it away out of habit, but it refuses to budge. Freaky. The time hasn’t changed since you woke up, either, though you’re sure you’ve been at it for more than fifteen minutes by now.

You decide to take a peek at the mirror again. You try to remove it from the wall to look behind, but your vision goes white the second you make contact with its’ surface. Your vision clears, and in front of you is a grey figure of ambiguous gender. It looks almost made of clay. Your phone buzzes.

Player avatar selection. 

Select a sex. Sex cannot be changed after starting the game.

1.) Male 2.) Female 3.) Hermaphrodite

Well, you’ve either fallen asleep or been drugged. Not knowing what else to do, you choose female, watching in horror and fascination as the figure morphs to accommodate your choice. 

>Next

Other customization options soon come up. You give the figure your ideal height, weight, and features. You change her skin tone, hair color, texture, and eye color. You watch as she slowly comes to life as your ideal. The person you’ve always wanted to be. 

Your phone buzzes just as you finish touching her up.

Set Name

You’re about to name her when the text fills itself in with your name instead.

Welcome, [First]! 1. Start Game!

You grimace, and hit play.

—————————

When you come to, it’s 07:00 again, and you’re still in that room. You glance at the mirror, only to see your avatar glancing back. You wave your arm in front of it, and she mimics your movements perfectly. You make a lewd gesture, and she does, too. Creepy. Is this really a dream? You’re startled out of your thoughts as your phone buzzes once again.

Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity!

If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. 

The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

1. Next

Your face pales as you read the text. There’s no way. You hit next, reminding yourself that you’re only in a dream, and that no one can harm you in a dream. Your phone opens to its home screen, where you see various apps, some of which are labled.

-Characteristics -Social -Traits -Journal -Stats -Feats

You open characteristics and take a look. At the very top is a color chart indicator. description of your body’s appearance and condition, underneath are familiar stats.

Purity: 7/7 You are angelic. Physique: 3/6 Your body is average. Willpower: 1/6 You are fainthearted. Awareness: 3/7 You have a normal understanding of sexuality. Promiscuity: 0/6 You are chaste and pure.  Exhibitionism: 0/6 You are coy. Deviancy: 0/6 You are squeamish.

Everything seems to be in line with the stats for the beginning of a playthrough. Everything except one.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure.

That’s…not good, if the blaring red is anything to go off of, anyway. 

You scroll down. Your skills are all ranked as F, which is actually better than the “None” stat they usually start as. That’s weird, but you aren’t complaining. Your sex skills, however…are all at C. That’s super weird! You aren’t sure what to make of it, so you choose to ignore it instead. 

Your overall school performance is terrible, with F’s all around the board. In real life, this would mean you’d picked the athlete trait, but your physique is baseline, and your athletic stat is also at F, so it can’t be that. It must just be inconsistencies from being asleep, you reason. That’s why your stats are all over the place.

Your status is normal, aside from your allure. Which is maxed out at “You look like you need to be ravaged.” You shudder.

You check traits. You have two.

Alien - You aren’t from around here! RPG like elements have been incorporated into your reality for a smoother experience.  Virgin - Your purity recovers faster. Your virginity might be worth something.

You open your journal. 

It is the 4th of September, 2022.

-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.

Current quests:

Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence.

Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting

You turn your phone off and look around. Everything seems normal, too normal. You read somewhere once that it’s impossible (or perhaps just very difficult) to read clearly while in a dream. Could you have been drugged? Or did you take something and then forget about it?

You pinch yourself. Ow.

Well, that’s not solid proof. People have reported cases of feeling pain in dreams before it’s just kind of really rare is all. Or, or! Maybe you’re not dreaming. Maybe you’re dying. Maybe you got into an accident somewhere, and now you’re in a coma. People hallucinate during comas, don’t they? 

You pinch yourself, again. 

It’s not real.

…You might as well see what this quest is about.

You leave your bedroom, and walk to Bailey’s office. You don’t question how you know the way there. You knock on the door and enter. 

“I know why you’re here,” he says. “You want me to release you from my protection, so you’ll be an independent citizen. I could do that. But there’s a problem. You’ve been living under my roof without giving anything in return. You owe me. Until you pay me back, I’m not letting you go.” He picks up an envelope and flips through it. Dozens of identification documents are stored within it. One of them is yours. “£100 should do. To start with. I don’t care how you get it. Knock on doors and ask for work. Rent yourself as a footstool. Steal it, even. Just have it a week from now. Or I’ll find a way to extract value from you.”

You nod and leave his office, returning to your room.

Your phone buzzes as soon as you close the door. 

Quest completed. New quest added to journal. View Now? 

Y/N

You hit yes. 

Time-Sensitive:

Bailey wants £100 on Sunday. Find a job and free yourself from his clutches. 

That’s great and all, but maybe you shouldn’t leave the orphanage today…or ever. Not until you wake up. You decide to just download some social media apps and scroll for the rest of the day instead. You scroll until midday, when you’re stopped by your stomach growling. Can you get hungry inside a dream…? You feel uneasy as you climb off the bed. Your neck hurts from the uncomfortable position you had been in, but that’s the least of your worries right now. 

You leave your bedroom and enter the main hall. A trim girl happens to be passing by your door, so you stop her and ask about when lunch is. She looks at you strangely. 

“Whenever you want…? Just go somewhere and get it. I don’t know.” 

“I meant here, can we get food here?” 

“Sure, if you’re underage. We have to provide for ourselves once we reach eighteen, though. You know that. Everyone knows that.” She leaves in a hurry. You go back to your room to watch “Gootube” videos. It’s not as pornographic as it sounds. 

You stay on your phone for the rest of the day. It never seems to run out of charge. Finally, you turn it off and climb under the covers. You don’t bother to wear pajamas. You sleep soundly, and wake up at 07:00 on Sunday, September 4th. 

Wait, what? 

You look at your journal again. 

Journal 

It is the 4th of September, 2022.

-It has been 0 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term starts on Monday the 5th of September.

Current quests:

Visit Bailey in his office by 20:00 tonight to recover your ID documents and gain your independence. Failure to complete quest will result in the day restarting

But you didn’t fail your quest! You completed it and…

It’s because you didn’t get a job yesterday, isn’t it? 

You sigh and climb out of bed. Off to visit Bailey again. 

“I know why you’re here,” he says. God, you wish you could skip dialogue in real life. Or in dreams, you guess. Bailey wraps up his speech and you leave, this time heading outside the orphanage to look for work right after. 

As expected, you bump into someone almost immediately. A voluptuous woman grabs you. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen all week!” She says, lunging for your clothes. You step back, but she catches you, lifting your sundress’s skirt and revealing your lace panties. You try to grab her hand and pull it away, but she’s stronger than you. She pushes you to the ground, and you land painfully on the sidewalk. You let out an involuntary yelp as your elbows scrape on the pavement. Is she really going to try and molest you out in public like this? It would appear so, as she’s currently straddling your legs with her knees, keeping them apart. You come to your senses when you feel a hand on your groin, and scream out for help. 

A taut man comes to your rescue, chasing off the woman and helping you to your feet. He treats your wounds and gives you a pepper spray charge. You thank him and go on your way. 

The dog pound is probably the best place to start with, you think to yourself while looking at the map on your phone. So you hop on a bus and wait for your stop, but not before a thin man sits next to you and rests his hand on your thigh. You shuffle away from him, and he follows you. You stand up, and he does, too. No one else is paying attention. You quickly walk to the most crowded area of the bus and sit next to a plush woman. She doesn’t look happy, but doesn’t say anything, either. The thin man watches you from his seat. You reach your destination, and he moves to follow you when you stand. Luckily, a tall man stops him, giving you a thumbs up as he blocks the thin man’s view of you. You give him a grateful nod and step off. 

Your shift at the dogpound goes on without incident. Thugh the employees tried to get handsy more than a few times, they never took it further when you moved away. You even took your lunch break at the nearby cafe! You’re surprised by how much character the place had visually, considering it comes from a text-based game.

By the time the dog pound closes, it’s nighttime. You pale at the realization. It’s nighttime, and you’re in Degrees of Lewdity. Should you risk taking the bus? Or should you risk the streets? 

If you’re on a bus, you’re there for less time, but it’s an enclosed space. If you’re outside, there’s more places to run and hide. But hiding goes both ways. 

You elect to go through the streets, sticking to the places that are the most open and well-lit. You get home without incident, though you swear you saw something in the alleys. 

You collapse into bed and sleep for ten hours. 

—————————

It’s 07:03 when you wake up. You have school today, so you look through your wardrobe for your uniform. You find it, but…why is it so skimpy? Sheer tights, short plaid skirt, tight shirt, platform mary janes and loose socks. You put it on, but the shirt is so tight it won’t button all the way, leaving a sizable amount of your cleavage and lace bra visible. 

Speaking of which, aren’t you only supposed to start with plain underwear? Why is all of yours lace? And why does it clasp at the front? You spend twenty minutes looking for a jacket, different shirt, or other way to cover yourself, but find nothing. Bailey bangs on the doors around the orphanage to wake the orphans up. You sigh and put your clothes back into your wardrobe before leaving.

You bump into Robin on your way out. Literally. He nearly runs you over.

“Hey!” He says running towards you. He doesn’t slow down in time and plows right into you. You help him up. “Thanks,” he says, looking a bit bashful. “I didn’t see you yesterday. Remember, you can visit me in my room anytime you want. I have something to show you. I’m so excited!” He runs off, and you realize you’ve forgotten your backpack, so you head back in and find it. It takes you another ten minutes to realize you’d put it behind the door. By the time you’re ready, it’s already half an hour past seven. You decide to see if Robin is still in his room. 

You knock, and hear some crashing. Before you can ask if something’s wrong, Robin opens the door and hugs you. “Look,” he says, pulling you inside. Your eyes immediately land on the shiny new game console in the corner of the room. “I’ve been saving up,” he says. “What are you waiting for?” He pats the bed beside him and you hop on. You watch him play for a few minutes, and the two of you walk to school together. 

Though it’s literally your first time meeting him, you feel safer around Robin. Though you know he can’t fight to protect you, having someone by your side does a lot to ease the mind. Plus, he’s one of the only decent people in the game. You’re glad, but at the same time, you’re uneasy. You wonder if he notices you’re not his childhood friend. That you look like her, sound like her, but you aren’t her. You wonder if he’d hate you, should he find out.

“Is something wrong, [First]?” You snap to attention. 

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. I’m okay,” you say. “I was just kind of busy yesterday, came home exhausted but couldn’t sleep, you know how it is.” You wave your hand dismissively at him as you pass the school gates. “Where are you heading? I’d like to go with you, if that’s alright. Since I didn’t see you yesterday, and all.” Really, you just don’t want to be alone here. But there’s no need to say that. 

Robin smiles, and the two of you hang out in the rear courtyard. It’s nice, but you can feel him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. It makes you uncomfortable. Has he caught on? You excuse yourself and head to the library. Maybe you should acquaint yourself with the other non-crazy person on campus. At least you won’t have to lie about your identity to Sydney. 

You walk over to the counter near the back of the library. A tall boy with a strawberry blonde ponytail and glasses is stamping books behind it. You smile as you approach him. “Good morning…” He says, yawning. “First time at the rental counter? You can rent out one book at a ti-” Sydney yawns.. “Time. You can also buy school-approved clothes here. Headmaster Leighton’s marked the prices way up, though. Students with a good record get special discounts.” He seems excited, though you can’t place why. 

“Books can be rented out for two weeks at a time. You can renew your rental at any time…” He looks down. You look down. Sydney has stamped his hand. You smile.”...Let’s call that a demonstration of what happens if you return a late or damaged book. My name’s Sydney, by the way! Pleased to meet you.” 

“I’m [First],” you respond. You and Sydney spend some time chatting. You notice that he’s oddly red. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask, raising a hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up! Let’s get you to the infirmary!” 

“W-what? No, I’m okay…” 

“No, you’re not,” you say, pulling him up by the forearm. You drag him to the infirmary, and he has to bend down to allow it. No one pays you much mind, though you’re sure you look a little silly, holding onto the forearm of someone much taller than you. You reach the nurse, who informs you that Sydney is perfectly healthy, though tells him to take a rest on one of the beds upon seeing the bags under his eyes.

“See?” He says, smiling. “I didn’t realize you were such a worrier.” You flush, embarrassed. Is pure Sydney supposed to tease people? His face softens. “Thanks…for worrying about me, though” he says, then checks the time. “You should probably get to class.” Right, you’d nearly forgotten you were at school. You thank Sydney for reminding you and leave as he waves you off.

You go to your science lesson. Despite your grade being at F, the lesson is actually pretty easy to follow, some of this you remember from your own highschool lessons. The bell rings and you leave the classroom, only to get shoved into a locker immediately. A boy with blonde hair covering one eye looms over you. You recognize him immediately. 

“Don’t get in my way again,” Whitney says, pressing his knee against your crotch. “Or I’ll put you in your place.” He releases you, but you know that won’t be the end of it. You hurry to math class, hoping Whitney will skip today. You’re tense for the first twenty minutes of class, but slowly begin to relax upon realizing Whitney probably isn’t going to show up. Nearly half an hour into class, the teacher River steps out for a moment. And with the kind of timing you’d only see in movies, Whitney waltzes in, his jacket thrown over his shoulder. You try to look away, but it’s too late. Whitney makes eye contact with you and grins. He walks over to the mousy girl sitting next to you. 

“Move,” he says. She does. You turn away from him, but he grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him.

This is unfair, you think to yourself. Whitney isn’t supposed to sit next to you unless you’re dating. Why now?

“Watcha lookin at, slut?”

This sucks. You want to go home. When is this dream supposed to end? 

Whitney tugs at your hair even harder. “I asked you a question, slut.”

How did you even get here in the first place? Did you really die? Were you in a coma? Whitney yanks your hair back so hard your body goes with it, creating an awful screeching sound as your chair lurches back. River walks in just in time to see you fall on your back. Whitney is sent out. He turns to make a penetration sign with his hands at you as he leaves. 

Math ends, and you head to English. There’s a crowd of students blocking your path. You peer over shoulders and heads to see the source of the commotion, and see a dark haired student on the ground, with two bullies standing over him. Your first instinct is Kylar, but you must be wrong. Kylar’s event shouldn’t happen until a week from now. 

You could try to help, but that would probably get you assaulted. Even if you didn’t, your fellow students would think less of you, leading you to getting picked on later, and potentially assaulted more and–

Fuck it, you can’t ignore this. You’re already shoving past students and blocking the bullies’ view of the student. “Leave him alone,” you say. “I won’t stand for this.” One of the bullies, a thin girl, shoves you down. 

“Sit, then!” She says, the audience laughs. You pick yourself up and ram into the thin girl and her friend. You knock her off-balance and she falls to the floor, screaming as soon as she lands. “You stupid bitch! You broke my tailbone!” The audience is laughing at her, now. Her friend is helping her up. “I’ll get you for this! Mark my fucking words!” You shiver. Hopefully no one notices. You turn to check on the boy they were harassing, only to nearly bump heads with him. You jump back, and the boy smiles apologetically. There’s something else in his expression, but before you can figure out what it was, you make eye contact with him, and the whole world goes dark.

Tousled black hair, short stature, sickly pale skin and the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. It’s Kylar. It has to be. “T-thanks,” he says. “I-I’m Kylar.” Your face drops, but you aren’t sure if he saw it before running off. The tips of his ears are red, you notice. You step towards the crowd, which is already dispersing. The remaining onlookers make way for you, though you feel a hand grope your butt as you leave. You turn, but no one’s there. 

You head into English class, already exhausted. Kylar watches you from the back. You ignore him. The plump boy sitting behind you sniffs your hair during the entirety of the lesson, so it’s hard to focus. You look down at your notes. It’s an unintelligible mess. Is this what it means to have a grade F in English, you wonder?

Finally, it’s lunch time. You head to the cafeteria, passing by the headmaster on your way there. You swear you saw him checking you out. You shudder and speed up. Upon reaching the canteen, you are presented with three options.

Robin is talking with some students at his table, they seem to be arguing.

Sydney is sitting alone, several piles of books surrounding him. 

Kylar is also alone, stabbing at his food with more violence than seems neccesary.  

Despite your self preservation instincts, you walk towards Robin to see what the commotion is. The lean boy is accusing Robin of ‘looking at him with disrespect’. Arguing with him would be pointless. So you do the next best thing and smile as you spit in his face. 

As expected, he doesn’t take it well, and pounces on you immediately. He tears open your shirt, leaving you only marginally more exposed than you already were. You scream loudly, and Leighton rushes in. You suppress a smirk.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” He shouts, pushing past students to find you exposed on the ground, the lean boy holding you down. He scrambles off of you, and you fix your uniform. The lean boy tries to explain, but Leighton cuts him off and sends him out. Robin helps you up. 

“Are you okay?! Why did you do that?” 

“I saw Leighton on the way over here. I figured if we caused a scene, he’d be the one to get in trouble for it.”

“Don’t do something like that again! That was really dangerous!” You nod, though you don’t really mean it. 

Kylar watches from across the canteen. +Jealousy

The rest of lunch passes without incident and you go to History with Robin. The two of you chat about his game before class starts. You learn some interesting things about the history of the town. Nothing happens during history, and you leave feeling refreshed. You navigate the halls to your swimming lesson and change. You keep your eyes down, but swear you feel the stares of your classmates. You think you hear a camera go off, but when you turn, no one’s looking at you. 

A taut boy follows you around the pool, and doesn’t stop trailing until the lesson is over. He keeps his distance, but it still makes you feel uneasy. The bell rings, and you don’t see him again. 

You meet up with Robin in the courtyard, but hesitate walking home when you see Whitney hanging out by the gate.

“Can we go out through the back?”

“The back? Why?” You nod your head towards Whitney and his friends, and Robin makes an ‘O’ with his mouth. “I don’t mind, but how will we get out?” You’re about to answer when a realization hits you. Right. You haven’t unlocked the tunnel outside yet, which means you can’t leave unless you climb the fence. 

“...Nevermind,” you say. “Maybe they won’t notice us.” You and Robin try to blend in with the crowd, but a hand on your shoulder quickly yanks you into the open.

“Hold it, slut.” Shit. “You didn’t pay the toll.”

You grit your teeth. “What’s the toll?” Whatever, you have twenty quid to spare.

“Flash us your tits.” There’s a crowd circling around you. You notice people pulling out their phones. 

“[First]...” 

“It’s fine, Robin.” You give him a strained smile as you unbutton your blouse. “Happy?” You ask, turning back to Whitney. 

“Not quite,” he says, grabbing the front of your bra and unclasping the hook. Your breasts flop out. “There. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” You turn and quickly fix your bra, wishing it clasped at the back instead of the front like a normal bra. You and Robin speed away, then find a secluded ally to fix your shirt.

Finally home, you decide to check out some of the apps you didn’t bother with yesterday.

Social              

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

Primary relationships: 

Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend.           Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40%

You smile. It’s little different than the starting relationship in the actual game, but you’re slowly getting used to the inconsistencies. You’re about to look at the next box when your eyes are drawn back up to the pink text. Wait a minute, doesn’t that mean bad? You check the color chart to make sure.

But, why? Why is that bad? Isn’t it good? Or, is it because his confidence is low? Maybe the key word here is “wants”. Still, wouldn’t that count more as poor than bad? Whatever, no need to nitpick. You’ll check back in on it later. You move on.

…You almost move on. Why is his love so high? And his lust, too?! It’s gotta be a glitch, right? Right?

Right. You restart your phone and boot it back up. Nothing’s changed. You put that aside for now.

Whitney The Bully  Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100%

Another different one. Also bad. Terrible, even. You aren’t even sure what to make of it. You just met him, and his lust is already maxed out. His love is also surprisingly high, though only half as much as Robin’s is. You make a mental note to sit in view of the teacher during math going forward.

Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90%

Another case of inexplicably high stats right off the bat, though you aren’t surprised with Kylar. You move on.

Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66%

Okay, you’re pretty sure those are all just angel numbers. Or, supposed to be angel numbers. It’s kind of hard to do that with only two numbers. Though 666 is actually more of a demonic number, it still fits the theme. Aside from the strange percentages, you’re also concerned by the question mark next to ‘faithful’, not to mention the fact that his purity is already so low he’s conflicted. You haven’t even flirted with him yet!

You glance at the other named NPC’s. They’re all unremarkable, full of “has no strong opinion of you” aside from two.

Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99%

Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85%

Your stomach lurches. Gross. You are absolutely repressing that shit.

You check your reputation next.

-The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. -The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. -You are considered a normal student by teachers. -Your fellow students desire you.

You grimace at the last one. You make a mental note to buy a more concealing uniform.

Finally, you have your fame. This one should be normal, right? You’ve only just gotten here.

Sex: Unknown Prostitution: Unknown Rape: Obscure. Beastiality: Unknown Exhibitionism: Unknown Pregnancy: Unknown Combat: Obscure Kindness: Obscure Business: Unknown Socialite: Unknown Overall: Famous

What?! Famous?! How does that— Ugh, forget it. You keep reading.

The townsfolk call you Darling. Those in the criminal underworld call you Darling.

…?

What…what does that mean?

—————————

Next>

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Post Patrol Sex

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader

You’d just gotten up for the bathroom. It was barely dawn when you heard the door open and close. 

“Babe? Is that you?” You called out and were met with just a grunt. You hummed an acknowledgement and came out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Hey, how wa-” Bruce looked… off. Yeah, that would be the word. “You okay?” You asked slowly, standing frozen. 

He was breathing heavily, his knuckles were bloody and when he pulled back his cowl, you swallowed. His pretty blue eyes were black. You knew these mornings too well. This wasn’t your Bruce. This was still Batman. You didn’t want to make any sudden moves to rile him up further. 

There was still too much adrenaline in his veins and he was thrumming with need. That much was evident with how feral he looked. 

There was no noise in the room except that of your breathing and the clips unlocking as he took off the pieces of his kevlar. The utility belt fell to the floor in a loud thud and you flinched. It was definitely one of those mornings. 

“Bru-” You whispered and he cut you off. 

“Bed.” He said, leaving no room for argument. You nodded and started to peel off your clothes as you got to bed. 

You didn’t dislike these mornings. God no- The sex was always so phenomenal. But it was an issue when you’d be out of commission for the entirety of the next 24 hours. 

You sat in the middle of the massive bed, kneeling, naked, waiting. 

The more layers that came off Bruce, the more you felt yourself buzz with excitement. His body is marred with scars that he’s earned from his years as Batman and god help you, you love them all. Even on days when he was his scars. 

One thing you always loved was how unashamed he was of his body. Of his nakedness. 

When the last piece of his suit fell away, he stood in a plain white vest and black boxers. The boxers were tented, his cock threatening to pop out of the slit at any given stride. 

“Lie down. On your back.” He said, finally meeting your eyes as he pulled off his vest. You swallowed and did as told. Lying straight, your thighs twisted together, your hands over your chest. You weren’t shy but days like this made you feel like it was your first time with him all over again. You didn’t dare to look at him, staring at the ceiling. 

Bruce pulled off his boxers and his thick cock was painfully erect. 

“Colour?” He asked huskily as he crawled onto the bed. Looming over you, pulling your hands away from your tits, forcing your legs apart with his knee. 

“G-Green-” You swallowed, finally meeting his gaze. 

He nodded, his eyes stayed focused on you as his hand traced your body, moving down, down, down- “So wet, already, hm?” You gasped, his index bullying its way into your cunt.

“Y-Yes-” You mumbled and glared, “Sorry- Yes sir-” 

“You’ll be good for me, won’t you sweetheart?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. Yours parted as you tried to reach up to kiss him. However, at the tiny movement, his other hand wrapped around your throat. A warning. “Answer.” You swallowed and rasped yes sir for him. “Good.” He smiled, his index curling slightly inside you, making your hips buck. “Ah- ah- No moving.” 

“Bruce- Please-” You begged, it was too much and not enough at all. 

“Always so needy-” He growled, forcing his middle finger to join the index. You gasped soft thank you, thank you- as he started to move his fingers, curling them just enough but not entirely so. “Dripping, hm? All for me?” His thumb brushed against your clit, making you moan for him.

You mewled another yes sir. That earned you a smirk. You didn’t see it but you knew it was there as he licked and nipped at your throat. Biting and sucking hard enough to leave a trail of marks. It wasn’t because he owned you. It was just to actually make his brain know that you were here, were real and were his. 

Gods above, you were his and he was going to take you.

You whined his name again and he pulled his hand away. You swallowed, frowning, your brows knitted together. Your needy pussy clenched at air, wanting more but he wasn’t willing. 

“Please-” You begged again. You needed more. He’d taken you to the edge and then pulled you back. His hand was still resting at your throat, not squeezing but there. A reminder that you needed to behave-

He moved back onto his haunches, removing himself from you. You were spread out like a buffet for him. Your pussy dripping onto the sheets. His dark eyes looked at every contour of your body as he pumped his cock a few times. 

“Hands and knees.” That’s all he said and you moved into position. “Headboard.” He said you nodded, holding onto the railing of the bedhead. You leaned down, your head against the pillows, your cunt still clenching for something, anything. 

Soon enough, his knees roughly parted your legs even more. Your hands held the railing until your knuckles turned white. You bit your lip to not make a noise but a gasp still escaped you as the head of his cock rubbed against your cunt. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He growled, one hand holding your waist tightly. 

Your back arched more, needing him inside you already but he was still just teasing. You knew he was aching for it as well but he also wanted to torture you. The tip kept rubbing against your clit, making shivers run up your spine. 

“Colour?” He asked again, his hand clenching at your waist. Fuck, that will leave a mark. But you really didn’t care. 

“Gree-” The wind was knocked out of you as he forced his cock into your tight hole. You gasped and bit down on the pillow as he stretched you to the brim. The burning pain slowly turned to divine pleasure as he started to move. 

However, the soft pleasure was very short-lived. Because as soon as he felt you open up for him, his slow pace turned into hard, heavy, deep thrusts. Each move slapped his cum-heavy balls to your clit, making you gasp, moan and cry out for him. Every snap of his hips echoed in the room with a slap. If he hadn’t been holding you by your waist, you wouldn’t have been able to stay in this position. 

“I’m- Please-” You cried out, your orgasm quickly approaching. The way his balls hit your clit with every harsh thrust was going to be your undoing and you knew it. “Bruce!” You gasped again, clenching involuntarily around his cock as you felt the coil snap in your low abdomen. 

You moaned out his name breathlessly, your knees giving away. But his forearm snaked around your waist to hold you up. 

“I’m not done, sweetheart.” He growled- sounding more animal than man.

“Bruce- Please- I-” You gasped for air but he wasn’t in the mood for listening currently as his pace grew from slow and hard to fast and brutal. 

His other hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you up, and making you arch your back almost painfully. He hunched over to kiss you messily. Teeth, tongue, spit and so aggressive as he pounded into you. You wanted to scream but he was swallowing every noise you made. Your neck was craned, your back was twisted and he was fucking you relentlessly. You were losing air, your head starting to get dizzy and he just grunted a chuckle. He pulled back and you slumped in his arms. 

“Fuck, fuck- Bruce- I-” You moaned desperately, you knew you would be too overstimulated after this, “Bruce, please-” You begged but didn’t say the safeword. 

“Almost, sweetheart- Almost-” He was feral at his point. The way his arm was squeezing your waist was making it hard to breathe, and the way he was fucking into you was making it hard to even think. Everything felt like it was on fire but god, you didn’t want it to stop. 

Your moans turned into desperate incoherent mumbles. 

“That’s it- Let go for me-” Bruce grunted, his adrenaline of the night finally seeping away. “So good for me, such a good girl- fuck- always such a perfect cunt- swallowing me whole- taking me so well- fuck, fuck - my pretty girl- mine-” He husked, moaning every other word. 

Tears were streaming down your face. You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum. All you knew was that his balls had abused your clit and he still hadn’t finished. You whined pleases but somehow begged for more too. You had no backbone or moral compass right now. Anything he would’ve asked, you would’ve done- you would’ve done- god- you would’ve- 

Bruce moaned your name like a prayer and you felt his hot cum fill you so much that you tasted him at the back of your throat. You felt your thighs become sticky as his cum leaked out of you. 

The dawn was gone and the sun was filtering through the curtains. He’d been at this for hours when he finally laid you down on the bed and pulled out of you. 

“Sleep, pretty girl. I’ll clean you up.” He said softly and you hummed, having no strength to say any more. 

Kinktober 2024.

[luminnara]

Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)

Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.

Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk

Word count: 6k

Check out my feyd rautha playlist!

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty

The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.

And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.

But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.

“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.

You felt a chill fly up your spine.

Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.

You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.

Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.

Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”

You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.

“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.

“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”

“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”

You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.

-0-

The negotiations seemed to stretch on.

After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.

You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.

When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.

In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.

You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.

Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.

Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.

His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.

The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.

It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.

“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”

He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.

“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”

You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.

He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.

But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.

You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”

“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”

“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”

“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”

“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.

This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”

You looked at him boredly.

“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”

He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.

“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.

“What?”

“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”

He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”

“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”

“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.

You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.

“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”

“But have you killed?”

“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”

“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.

“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”

With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.

“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“

“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”

You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”

“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”

You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.

“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”

You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.

-0-

“What?”

“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.

Your head was too busy spinning.

“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”

Your heart dropped in a sickening way.

“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”

“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”

“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”

“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.

“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”

“Ta ta, dear one!”

And just like that, your entire world was shattered.

As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.

“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.

“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”

“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.

“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”

“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.

The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.

But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.

With a deep breath, you opened the door.

“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.

Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.

“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.

“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."

When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.

“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”

“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”

“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”

The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.

“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”

“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”

In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”

His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”

“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”

“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.

“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”

You were in danger.

You knew it.

“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”

“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.

He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”

You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”

His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”

Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.

“My father.”

As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.

“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”

A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.

“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.

“Did he fight it?”

You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.

“Yes.”

“Did he deserve it?”

You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.

“Yes.”

But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.

“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.

“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.

If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?

Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.

Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.

“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.

“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”

“Hair is…barbaric.”

You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.

“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”

You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.

“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.

He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.

“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”

Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.

“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.

He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.

He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.

Feyd Rautha.

Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.

His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.

He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.

In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.

"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."

"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"

It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.

You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.

"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.

He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.

"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.

The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.

"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.

"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."

He paused, waiting for your reaction.

"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."

His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"

"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."

Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."

Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.

-0-

"Do you like it?'

The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.

You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.

But not you.

Never you.

He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.

Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.

"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.

"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.

"Will it grow back?"

"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."

"And the rest...?"

He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."

At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.

You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.

Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.

You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.

It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.

"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."

"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.

You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.

"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."

He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.

"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.

"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.

"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.

"Only the best for my darlings."

"Human?" she demanded clarification.

Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."

You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?

He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.

Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.

When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.

As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.

The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.

PART TWO

[selarina]

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 2: The Green Light

Content Warnings: college bf!gojo, long-distance, fluff, smut, established relationship, summer, phone sex, nudes, light angst, emotional tension, insecurities, gojo is rich and clingy! Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.6k words

Author's Note: had "Good Looking" by Suki Waterhouse on repeat as i wrote this. can you tell?

You had thought coming home for the holidays would mean endless days spent with Gojo, caught up in each other with nothing else to do in this sleepy town. Here, time moved differently, like honey trickling from a spoon.

Time spent in college had been different— there were classes, assignments, and the whole college thing — but now, time with him would be luxurious, unhurried, just the two of you, without the world pulling you apart.

But it had been two weeks since you last saw him.

To start with, your mother, in that peculiar way mothers are, still treated you as if high school had just ended yesterday. And then there was the summer ritual – three weeks spent with your grandmother, a tradition that pulled you three states away, leaving Gojo behind in all his boredom. The first week of summer had been his, or at least partially, for even then half of it was lost to the tournament that kept him longer on campus. Now, only a single constrained week and a month remained, 

“So, you’ll be back by then?” he asks, a kind of hope edging in his voice. You almost feel bad.

“I don’t know—” you speak up. “I always spend three weeks. I don’t want to leave earlier.”

“It’s only a week early and it’s my birthday, baby,” he whined, his plea childish, like a boy who doesn’t understand why he can’t have everything he wants.

“I know, but we can always celebrate later,” you offered, knowing full well it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Okay,” he says, and you hear it, his voice is thin and worn. It’s not the first time he’s asked you to come back earlier, nor would it be the last. “How’s it going in Midsommar-land anyway? You need to start sending me more pictures or I’ll forget how you look.”

You scoffed, but there was a smile in it. It was the least you could do. “I promise, I will.”

You chat on about things, meandering through familiar territories. And when you finally ran out of things to say, Satoru started asking you about colors, shapes, chickens, and just about anything he could think of to keep the conversation going. 

Four hours had passed, and the weariness in his voice was clear.

“Satoru.”

He hummed in response, his voice soft, almost dreamy.

“Go to bed,” you say gently.

“But I don’t want to,” he mumbled, the resistance fading even as he spoke.

“Yeah,” you said, understanding. “I know. I’ll call you tomorrow anyway.”

“Mmkay,” you hear him yawn through the crackles of the phone. “Don’t forget — pictures.”

You hummed in agreement, ending the call.

You fell back onto the bed, feeling the dull ache in your elbow from holding your head up for so long as you spoke. 

The ceiling, plain and blue, stared back at you as you tried to think of what you would do today. And then it struck you — pictures first.

Your fingers moved quickly, perusing through the squares in your phone’s gallery, searching. But the images were all wrong— food, your grandmother, endless trees, and greens, but not a single one centering you.

You frowned, scrolling back to the last picture of you —a simple mirror selfie. The first week of summer, it dated. You were standing clad in Gojo’s tournament jacket and shorts. The memory brought a smile to your face.

You got up then, moving with purpose — like a mad scientist, you started to dig through your suitcase until you found it. You took your top off, as you pulled the jacket on. The heat was far too horrendous for both items layered on top of one another.

You fell back onto the bed again, the pillow soft beneath your head. You held the camera up — your hair spreading around your white pillow covers, with your face in focus.

You realized you looked tired, dark circles blooming like dark mold under your eyes, but your grandparents would return soon and you wanted to get this over with now and for all. 

Click.

You drew your hands back a bit more, making sure the jacket engulfing you was visible.

Click.

Your eyes caught a glint— a silver shine at your neck. Of course. You reached for it, a delicate gold necklace with a blue jewel at its center, Gojo’s 6-month anniversary gift to you. You remembered the guilt you felt then, for you had given him a silly joke of a book in return.

It now lay over your — his hoodie — sitting against the hoodie, a small, almost hidden detail.

Click.

The phone was warm in your hand, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. One more, you decided. The last one.

You listened, straining for any sounds in the silence—footsteps, voices—but there was nothing, just the quiet of the empty house.

You pulled off the jacket, your movements quick but deliberate, and you lifted the phone above you, adjusting the camera before snapping a shot of you with your bare chest. Bare, but not entirely so — the gold necklace still graced your neck. 

The moment passed as quickly as it came, as you pulled the jacket back on in haste.

You selected the last two photos, sending them in quick succession. The order mattered, after all. 

—

The next morning, you had risen a bit too late in the afternoon. The light of the afternoon sun already slicing harshly through the curtain. The evening yesterday was eventful with the bonfires you helped build, and food you helped grill. It had been lovely. Exhausting. Glorious.

You immediately reach for your phone. Almost giddy with anticipation. 

But when you opened the screen, there was only one message from Satoru.

Satoru <3: Pretty 

The text specifically replied to the first picture you had sent, conveniently leaving the second unacknowledged. Your brows knitted together. 

You tapped his contact and pressed the phone to your ear, the silence of the room amplifying each drawn-out ring.

Once. Twice. Then, the line crackled, and his voice came through, light and smooth.

“Afternoon,” he drawled. “Did you just wake up? It’s late.”

“Pretty?” you ask, agitated. 

“I am? Thank you,” he says, you can almost hear the grin form on his mouth. 

“Satoru,” you reply, it was your turn to whine now.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, feigning innocence. Oh, he was loving this, wasn’t he?

“Just pretty?” you asked, your patience stretched thin but still intact. You felt small, however, in an odd way you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll get more than that,” he said, “if you say you’ll come to my birthday.”

A groan escaped you. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered. “No more pictures for you. Ever again.”

And you only smile when you hear him fumble — words overlapping one another as though he’s finding one that’s appropriate enough to satiate you — to convince you to do both. 

“I just want you here,” he said finally, the simplicity of the statement catching you off guard. “I really do.”

“You’ll see me two days later,” you countered. “You don’t even care about your birthday.”

“I don’t,” he admitted easily. “But everyone else does. You know my mother will make a whole thing out of it — the birthday will be loud. And annoying. I need you with me. Please—”

“You only want me there because it’ll be annoying,” you replied, your frown deepening, though a certain softness crept into your tone later. “It’s only two days. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah, how? you’ll send me more pictures?” he asks, his voice lithe.

“I don’t know,” you teased, the earlier irritation melting away, as it does. “You didn’t seem to like the last one.”

Silence. 

“I liked it,” he finally said, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “I did.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice lower, mirroring his. “What did you like about it?”

“I liked you,” he said. “You’re pretty.”

“I am?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Very.”

“Why thank you,” you said, the gratitude in your voice genuine, yet playful.

“I’m looking at it right now,” he continued, his voice taking on a breathy quality as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “Pretty,” he murmured, devout.

“What’s pretty about it?” you prompted, curious and engaged now.

“You —” he says. “Want you here with me, so bad.”

“You want me there with you?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m— I’m in my bed.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Where are you?” he asks then.

“Well, I just woke up,” you replied.

“So, you’re in your bed too,” he surmised.

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling the cover up to your chest. “Hey,” you decided to add. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asks, chewing on his lips. “I’m wearing your hoodie too,” you said, and though he could not see you, you could almost sense his reaction.

"Fuck," he exhaled, the word barely more than a breath. "And, what else?"

“Um—” you start to feel a bit awkward. “Shorts. Black shorts.” Do specifics matter, you start to wonder?

“Bra?”

You glanced down, though you already knew the answer. "No," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it before you could hide behind something safer. You cleared your throat, speaking up, clearer this time. "No."

“Fuck,” he says again. The mental image of you wearing his sweatshirt without any bra was driving him a bit hazy. 

You rushed to break the tension, "Your turn."

"Huh," he responded as if he had lost track of the conversation, of where this had started.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Well, just sweatpants and a t-shirt,” his voice casual. 

“Take them off.”

He chuckled, the sound soft, surprised. "As my lady pleases."

You heard rustling sounds, and you let your imagination wander to an image of him in his room. You’ve never seen his room, save for some hints in the many pictures he loves to send you, but you haven’t been to his place. Yet. 

Based on what his dorm looks like, he’s such a boy. It doesn’t have a theme, just a mixture of things he’s collected erratically placed in places he could if you get the gist. 

You wonder what color his room is. 

You realize you’ve wandered too far, the tension that first filled the space between you two as he speaks is gone, as you’ve indulged your mind.

"They’re off," he stated, his voice bringing you back, grounding you in the present moment. "Now take yours—wait! Take only your shorts off. I like you in my hoodie."

You smiled at that, and just as you’re about to take it off, your hand lingering at the waistband, ready to comply when—

“Hey, sweetheart,” your grandmother’s voice cut through with the sound of your door hinging open, bringing you to notice that there is a world beyond the two of you.

"Grandma, what—" you stammered, your heart racing as you scrambled, about to cover yourself, though you realized a second later that you didn’t need to. You were still fully clothed, still just talking on the phone. You sighed. "What happened?"

“Oh, nothing, dear but if you’re not too busy… could you help Yuuji with the birds? He hurt his wrist this winter, poor thing, and I think he could use your hand.”

“Of course,” you sighed with a smile, a small and reluctant thing, forcing its way to your lips. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll be down.”

“Tell that friend of yours you’re always talking to that I said hi,” she added, a warm smile in her voice.

You nodded, almost absently, the phone still pressed to your ear as she left the room, the door closing with a soft click.

“Grandma says hi,” you relayed.

"Tell her your friend says hi back," he responded, his voice carrying an edge now, a note of irritation that was impossible to ignore.

There were too many things left unsaid, too many disappointments lining up on the horizon—birthdays you wouldn’t be there for, a family you hadn’t yet told him about.

You felt the fairness of it, just a bit. There are many things at play right now — you hadn’t told your family about him, you wouldn’t be coming in time for his birthday — too many things disappointing a boy who’s used to having it all. "I’m sorry," you said, the words sincere. "I’ll call you in the evening. Same as yesterday.”

He made a sound that was neither agreement nor refusal, just a noncommittal hum. "Have a nice day," he muttered, and the line went dead, leaving you alone in the silence.

—

It was warm, and windy as you drove back home to see Satoru Gojo. You drove alone, aside from your backseat companions – jars and jars of condiments from Grandma.

His house was even more elaborate than you had first expected – a whopping red and white brick mansion. It was a mansion you thought one would only see in their extravagant imaginations but there it stood, just beyond the long stretch of a well-furnished garden. 

As you pulled up – a man appeared. He was middle-aged, and greying at the temples. His manner was brisk, so formal, as he offered to park your car, and you simply let him. You assumed he was a chauffeur for the estate. 

Standing before the entrance, you feel as though the mansion seemed bigger than when you first laid your eyes on it from afar. Looming. Its sheer size made you a bit dizzy and small as you stared up at it. 

You walked up, your hand reaching to press the small buzzer on the side of the ornate door.

“Oh!” The voice belonged to a woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. “You must be here for the young master’s party?”

Young master. Satoru. You nodded, stepping inside.

And then you walked and you walked, and you started to wonder if they should invest in a vehicle for an inside the house. 

Walking through a high hallway, you finally made your way into what seemed to be a living room or just a big room where there were a bunch of people pacing and talking about with drinks and sticks with food in their hands. 

You assumed you finally arrived at the party, as the bright-eyed woman nodded at you as she left you to find your own steps now.

A breeze flew through the room just as you walked in, blowing the curtains in at one end and out like flags as you walked into where the concentration of the room lay.

The only seemingly still object in the room, amidst the whipping of the curtains and the moving guests, was the enormous white couch in the middle. And that’s where you saw him, Satoru, lounging, with a glass perched on the bridge of his nose as he spoke to a boy. The boy you barely glanced at — he was of no consequence just yet. 

You approached, your eyes noticing the lines of his black shirt as it ruffled with the breeze. With each step closer, your courage grew, pushing to make your presence known to him, and the guests that surrounded him. 

A sudden boom echoed through the room, and you turned just in time to see the same bright-eyed woman from earlier closing the long windows with a decisive motion. When you looked back, you noticed Satoru’s gaze had already fixed itself on you.

His brows, you could see, even through the glasses, emerged upward, in surprise.

Without thinking, you reached for his glasses, slipping them off as you spoke. “Hi,” you said. A giggle, a nervous giggle following you.

“You came,” he murmured, almost in a daze. 

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday. What do you make of me?”

[azlrse]

➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[a-ikuoliver]

kinktober day 31: maki + stepcest

w/c: 2.9k warning/s: f!reader (wearing a dress, referred to as woman), stepcest/incest, characters are referred to as sisters/use of honorifics, masturbation (r!receiving), panty sniffing/stealing, degradation, oral (r!giving), semi-public sex, maki's kinda (read: very) mean lmao notes: this is part of @ficsforgaza kinktober event!! ffg kinktober masterlist — please enjoy and check out the creators who helped raise over $400 usd for gaza aid!! this is my first time writing maki and i think i've gone blind from horniness so i think i did well LMAO inspo/acknowledgements: co-written with my lover @cottoncalicoes

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

“congratulations again to the happy couple!” swallowing thickly, you take the opportunity during the applause to clear your throat, “and i’m so excited to be an honorary zen’in.”

you hate your cognisance of the weight of the microphone in your hand, your sweaty palms sliding against the metal no matter how nervously you adjusted your grip on the cylinder. you feel like you’re going through withdrawal, your lips too tight in your smile, showing too many teeth, your fingers twitching at your side, sweat beading on your brow as you stood at the centre of the dance floor in front of your new family on the best day of their lives.

for them, it looks like it is; mai, mingling with everyone in her stunning bridesmaid’s gown, dark green hair framing her pretty face, glitter sparkling on her eyelids in the low light, the blushing bride glowing at the centre table, her white slip dress rubbing against her grooms leg as he inched their chairs closer, both of them beaming with lovesick smiles. and maki, in a matching dress with her twin, the gown ruching, plunging and bunching on every addictive curve of her body, like your mother had chosen the dresses just to torture you. you, in comparison, look miserable with your flushed cheeks, darting eyes, clammy fingers attempting to pull the clinging fabric away from your searing skin.

you can’t do it. you can’t. you can’t even last a day without it.

your lewd vice. an unintentional habit born the week you moved in with your new family. you’d all settled into a routine quickly; family dinner, tidying the home, showering and bathing, and then slinking back to your bedroom for some peace. any apprehension you may have felt about the change melted from you when you’d stepped into the bathroom on your fifth night, the walls still sticky with humidity from your step-sisters shower, the faucet dripping against the porcelain tile rhythmically. only after stripping down to your underwear did you notice it; your downfall served to you on a silver platter. maki’s underwear strewn carelessly across the floor.

the fabric was plain. black. a boy short cut, curved to complement the shape of her ass. everything you'd expect from your new step-sister.

shame bubbled in your stomach, a pit of trepidation building the more you stared at the garment. moving on autopilot, hot water spouted from the shower, noisily hitting the tile and glass opposite it, steam billowing to the ceiling, your fingers snatching the panties before you can think about the repercussions, your left hand slipping between your thighs to furiously fuck yourself, your garbled moans and pants muffled by your right hand, holding her panties over your nose and lips like a depraved version of a mask.

each and every single day since had been no different. you and maki crossing paths, her hair still damp, droplets trailing down the skin of her neck, and you, refusing to meet her eye, hurrying into the bathroom after her, needing to huff and suck and lick at her underwear while they still tasted like your oneesan.

wetting your dry lips, you pass the microphone along to the next, family members rushing to pass along their well wishes to the happy couple, you only hope your new family doesn’t notice the way your eyes glaze over, meeting maki’s across the room. your (now official) step-sister stares over the top of the round frames of her glasses, tawny eyes studying you like she’s watching the memory replaying in your mind, too, hearing the wanton call of her name.

with a polite smile to a cousin who’s name escapes you, you slip from the banquet room, ducking your head past ornate decor, white, gold and a muted emerald green to match the bridesmaid dresses, the train of your own billowing after you as you rush toward the end of the hallway, near sprinting by the time you reach the door.

swinging the door open, your chest heaves, lungs tightening each time you try to catch your breath, too preoccupied with hiking the length of your dress up to focus on your breathing, too impatient to even hold your underwear aside when you press your fingertips to your aching clit, only just managing to slam the stall door shut before you breathe out an airy sigh.

the bathroom door swings open, the hinges creaking, a noise that should send your heart to your throat. instead, you only feel a frustrated scream build in your oesophagus, willing your unwanted guest to take care of themselves quickly, to let you take care of your issue.

their steps echo ominously toward your stall, each click in time with your erratic pulse before stopping outside your door, their shoes eerily similar to the heels maki adorned for the event.

“you're pathetic.” the familiar, bored voice rings from the opposite side of the stall, icy blood rushing in your ears nearly deafening you, “what’s it been, hm? not even an entire day without stuffing yourself full?”

your cunt aches at her tone, disappointment laced through every syllable, disappointed in your weakness, about to lecture you on self-control.

when you don’t answer her, she knocks sharply against the door, demanding your attention with the jarring note, “come here. now.”

reluctantly, you obey, a painful jolt shooting through your spine to your neglected clit when you drag your hand away, clenching your fists between your thighs, trying not to release a petulant groan, willing yourself not to whine and cry to your step-sister about your addiction, your debauched habit, the wail catching in your throat before it can be free. easing the door open, you attempt to steel your features, letting your dress fall back into place, hiding the slick on your thighs when you meet maki’s wolfish gaze.

“look at you,” she sneers, tilting her head to take in your dishevelled appearance — your dress creased at your hips, the angry marks your nails left in your palms, your swollen, bitten lips, “can you even get off without your nose stuffed in my underwear?”

your stomach drops at her words, eyes darting around the confined space, trying to find something to look at other than her face. feeble excuses tumble past chapped lips, stuttering over every word that comes to mind, finally landing on a complete sentence, “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

picking nervously at the bed of your nails, painted to match hers for the special day, you still avoid her sharp eyes, your gaze landing on her lips as she laughs at you.

“perverted and an actor,” crowding into the already cramped space, she’s sure to slide the lock into place behind her before she continues, “you really thought i wouldn’t notice your little habit?”

cowering under the heat of her stare, maki easily backs you against the wall, the tension thick enough even the dullest blade would slice through it; a heat blossoming anywhere she touches you, one hand at your shoulder, the other your waist, her hips pressing into yours to trap you beneath her patronising sneer.

“how long?” her slender fingers move to grasp your jaw, calloused fingertips squishing the fat of your cheeks, pressing them together until your lips parted dumbly, tilting your head to look into her shining eyes. the glass atop her nose flashes, a fierceness reflected back at you.

although, the longer you stare, the sooner you realise it’s her pupils swimming with the wickedness.

“what?”

“how long did you think you could get away with it?” pressing herself harder to you, she studies every minute reaction: the flutter of your eyelashes, the pucker of your lips, the whine in your throat, the wiggle of your hips, chasing the euphoria she was willing to give you with every adjustment of her hips.

“using me to get off like that,” leaning closer like she’s going to kiss you, she continues clicking her tongue at you, her voice dripping in vitriol, “stealing my underwear, getting yourself off to the smell of me like some pervert, and all i get is a selfish little sister and stained underwear.”

digging her fingertips into your side to halt your wiggling, you bite back a moan, a small part of you worried you’re going to stain her dress with your slick.

“christ, and you’re getting off on this, too?” looking down her nose at you, there’s a pang of humiliation blooming at the nape of your neck until she grins, as evil as the glint in her eye, “you fucking freak.”

“i’m not a freak.”

maki laughs, no, snicker at your weak voice, sounding more like a frightened child trying to stand up to its playground bully, 'sensei said you're not allowed to snatch,', dropping her hand from your waist, she slips it between your thighs, allowing you to wiggle and grind into her hand, your body still screaming to cum, here, like this, with your sister’s fingers inspecting the slick drooling from your pussy, the voice in your head screaming at you to leave growing quieter and quieter, silenced for good when she swipes her thumb over your clit.

“you have a different word for getting this wet for me?”

heat rushes to your face, stammering like a poor little victim again as she strokes your dripping slit painstakingly slowly, “you know what i think?”

you only whine in acknowledgement, reaching for her wrist in an attempt to get closer, to feel her weight pinning you, her heat, for more.

tightening her grip on your jaw, she sadistically draws her fingers away from you, “when your oneesan asks you a question, freak, you answer.”

“w-what do you think, maki?”

“show some respect,” she goads, “what do you moan when your fingers are stuffing your greedy cunt? say it.”

“what do you think… oneesan,” you sound pathetic moaning the honorific, the taste of it on your tongue enough to make your cunt pulse and gush, your empty hole clenching around nothing when maki rewards you with her thumb stroking circles on your clit.

a predatory smile graces her lips, still glossy with makeup, her feminine features twisting as she taunts you, “i think you owe me.”

it doesn’t take much for maki to get you to your knees, pushing at your limbs until you’re fumbling to kneel on the frigid tiled floor beneath her, your face level with her crotch. even maki’s hands tangling in your hair can’t stop you from pressing your face between her thighs, the dull pain of her tug at your scalp nothing compared to the ache in your stomach, a hearth burning and smouldering with each prod, pinch and spit from your step-sister. the scent of her like gasoline, your kindled hearth quickly growing into an uncontrollable flame.

she was right, you can’t get off without this anymore, without the taboo, the scent of her, the taste of her on the cotton.

your eyelids flutter, dazed when you dip your head beneath the hem of her dress, sucking in a deep breath with your face pressed to her cunt, already addicted to how much better it is like this – the heat of her muscular thighs around your head, the strength of her smell, the way you can trace the shape of her cunt while sucking her taste from the material, more and more of her cum starting to drool from her cunt the more you tried to lap it up, greedily drinking everything in.

hot blood rushes in your ears, into your cunt, pressing your face harder into her cunt, bruising your nose against her pubic bone while mouthing desperately at her pussy. as if remembering yourself, you bring your hands up to join your ravenous mouth beneath her dress, a whimper torn from your throat when she snatches you away from her soaked underwear.

“still so greedy, aren’t you?” maki’s eyes match yours, a debauched need burning in the depths of her dark eyes, “use your manners. ask for a taste.”

“oneesan,” you don’t hesitate like you did moments ago, too caught up with the desperation to taste her firsthand, instead of your face buried in her panties trying to taste the minute amount of her through the material, too caught up in your sister’s gravity to bring yourself to care about the humiliating position she had you in. with a broken voice, you plead, “please, let me taste you, oneesan.”

hazel eyes flash at your eagerness, hardly moving an inch in a nod before you're pouncing on her — pawing at her underwear like a woman starved, tugging the material down enough to curl your tongue around the string connecting her to the fabric before you abandoned them in place of spreading her thighs apart, conscious of every precious second that could be spent with your nose bumping against her clit.

if you thought you were addicted before, tasting maki like this had you hooked, euphoria swimming in your veins when your tongue connected with her flesh. you didn't think you could sink any lower than suckling your step-sisters underwear clean in the shared bathroom, but stuffed and kneeling in a bathroom stall at your parents wedding, you realised you had miles left to sink for her. moaning against her skin, you press forward, crawling on your hands and knees to impatiently suck at her skin even as she stumbled into the stall door.

saliva slips down your throat, your lips wet with it when you keen, curling and swirling your tongue over every inch of her cunt you can possibly reach like this, desperately pawing at her thighs to get more, taste more, touch more, just more.

“god,” crossed eyes meet hers, expecting her to look even half as debased as you do, instead eye to eye with her glare, one dark brow quirked, there's only disinterest reflecting back in her pupils, “i finally let you eat my cunt, and this is the best you can do?”

gripping the hair at the base of your skull, she steps over you until you’re stretching awkwardly to keep your head comfortably in her grip, one of your hands holding her ass to stay upright while she positions herself to fuck your mouth, “maybe you should just stick to licking my cum off my underwear. seems that’s all you’re good at.”

tightening her hold on your hair, maki manoeuvres you beneath her, tugging your hair — and subsequently your head — where she wants you. she's slow, deliberate, at first, tortuously so, your tongue tracing sensuously along her slit, dipping into her cunt to taste the cum beginning to drip from her, before she’d drag you backward to her clit.

while pushing and pulling you, her hips grind in a perfect rhythm to soak her pussy, working herself  closer and closer, using your tongue like some toy; grinding harder on your face when she wants to let you have a taste, tugging you back by the hair when she wants to watch the way your lips are connected to her cunt with a silky white string, studying how your eyes roll into your skull, hazy with lust when it snaps back onto your bottom lip.

“so lucky your oneesan is here to teach you how to eat pussy, hm?” her cheeks are flush, the only sign of your affect on her other than the cum sticking to her thighs, to your lips like her perverted take on lip gloss. licking her cum from your mouth, you nod, your eyes darting back to her cunt in a silent plead for her to let you continue, to taste her cum as her thighs shake around your head.

she obliges your taboo request, a hiss echoing in the small stall when you dig your nails into the fat of her ass, burying your face in her once more — gently lapping at her pussy while your nose rubbed against her clit, the scent of her cunt driving you insane, her smell embedded in the hair just above her clit making you dizzy, grateful for your kneeling position, taking everything in you to be patient, to go slow, to follow her movements as she strings you along.

sucking and swirling your tongue around her clit until she cants her hips, slurping and flattening your tongue to drink in much of her as you could, mouthing along her slit when she'd cradle the back of your skull to hold you close to her.

you think she's close, her clit pulsing like yours did beneath your fingers when you'd nearly suffocate yourself with her panties to your nose, her pussy clenching around your tongue, her hips jumping erratically. her moan wavers as her hold on your skull tightens, dull nails scratching angry marks into your scalp as she holds you with both hands, using your face, spreading her cum all around your nose, lips and jaw, your tongue stuck out dumbly as she takes what she needs from you, holding your face deep into her cunt when she cums with an airy, drawn out hum — silky cream drooling straight onto your tongue while you hungrily lapped at her skin, licking her cunt and thighs clean of the precious liquid, ears perking at each of your sister's sharp inhales.

like an over excitable puppy, maki has to pull you away from her again, “you were alright.” she pants, catching her breath as you stare up at her with clouded eyes, “try harder tonight you can keep the panties to jerk off with, pervert."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[sugvssy]

jjk headcanons 🔞

this post contains mild nsfw headcanons about satosugu (goge) and shokohime (just shoko's) and how they found out they were gay + the preferences I personally think they have.

DISCLAIMER: Written 'cause I'm bored, if you disagree w my takes, just scroll. I'm not engaging in top/bottom discourse.

english is not my first language so bear w me, okay.

satosugu (goge)

I'll start with them since they have my entire soul and heart on a chokehold right now

Satoru thought he was straight all his life, being born and raised in a conservative clan, he was taught he'll have to look for a suitable wife once he comes out of age, if he didn't, then he'll have to marry out of convenience to a noblewoman from another prestigious jujutsu clan; chosen by the Gojo elders. So, he automatically believed there was only one option to choose from, women.

Also, he didn't give a damn about romance, since he was entirely focused on perfecting his abilities at the time.

Then he turned 16 and met Geto Suguru, immediately finding him interesting; Suguru's pretty black hair, soothing voice, unusual bangs... bangs, bangs, bangs. Gojo liked his style and personality a lot, he kept Gojo on check and rapidly become his equal. They trained together, ate together and played videogames together. Gojo loved being surrounded by someone as strong as him, even being scolded by Suguru was kinda fun instead of annoying, so without noticing, Suguru became Satoru’s first best friend and crush ever.

He thought he only admired Suguru a lot at first though, that was, until he had a wet dream starring no other than his best friend in it.

In his dream, they were kissing profusely and touching each other in a warm embrace, entangled in his bed without a care for the world. It was a pleasant dream, Suguru touching Satoru's abs and chest, ass and cock, exploring his body; coy, foxy eyes staring at Satoru, which made him harder than he's ever been. Satoru never thought about touching another man's cock but found himself very happy to explore Suguru's dick. In his dream, Satoru jerked him off and even put him in his mouth, that morning, Satoru woke up with a very painful hard on and a lot of questions in his head.

Gojo never told Suguru about his dream and attraction for him, instead, Satoru set on a “I’m very gay but I don’t care about coming out” mindset, which was surprisingly easy to live with.

Their friendship only grew from that point, Satoru teased and flirted with Suguru, it became a casual bro thing between the two, sometimes Suguru flirted back too--which always led to Satoru's heart jumping so hard it made him choke.

Two years later, he found gay porn, his eyes were glued to it at first, this new discovery was both very arousing and life changing. Then a question popped in his mind, was he a top or a bottom? Or a switch? He entertained the idea for a while, staring at the ceiling, thinking what gets his dick harder, being fucked or fucking someone...? He didn't get the answer right away.

That was until a very hot afternoon, when the sun was ablaze and they planned to a friendly outdoor sparring, he witnessed something that radicalized him: Suguru in tight shorts.

Tiny, tight, black shorts.

He never knew Suguru hid all that.

Suguru looked delicious, long, thick legs and an ass so fat Satoru wanted Suguru to sit on his face to suffocate in it. Suguru also had a pretty snatched waist, his body had a special harmony, it was muscles and curves that sent Satoru's mind on a spiral. Suguru's high ponytail did nothing to ease Satoru's internal gay turmoil too, his neck was all sweaty and that white t-shirt he was wearing was very much see through; pink pretty nipples on plain sight.

And Satoru had seen Suguru wearing only a towel before, but he never paid special attention to him until now that he had become some sort of simp, if Suguru asked him to bark, he'd bark and roll over, so as the dog he is now—he saw more skin and had a neuron activation moment.

He wanted to manhandle Suguru and sit him on his lap to kiss and lick him all over, then Satoru would fuck him while griping that slutty waist and fat ass, yeah, there was his answer; he was born to pound some ass, more specifically--Suguru's ass.

It did happen of course, as time went by, Suguru ended up confessing and Satoru will never forget that day, the loveliest day ever--their first time was sloppy and messy but it was fun, Suguru turned out to be a pillow princess when cumdrunk and a power bottom on special nights, it was so hot.

Suguru never had an issue with labeling himself, he always knew he was gay but of course that wasn't public knowledge since he was born and raised in the countryside--but that never stopped him from accepting himself for who he was and what he liked.

So when he moved to Tokyo, he felt more free and accepted, he didn't date anyone though, but he felt more at peace on a big city with more open minded people all around.

When he met Satoru, Suguru was dumbstruck. His white hair and vibrant blue eyes, he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Of course he kept on a collected face that day, he wasn't going to crumble right away.

What surprised him about Satoru was his personality, he seemed all serious when they were introduced, after that, they didn't get along that well--fights broke now and then, Satoru was bratty as fuck and Suguru valued order and good manners a lot. Despite that, the more time they spent together, the more they showed their true colors and started caring for each other.

Suguru learned they matched their personalities really well, when he let the curtain of correctness down, he behaved as goofy as Satoru did--they both liked pranks, wacky jokes, playing videogames until midnight and escaping from class to go to the arcade.

He never showed Satoru how flustered and nervous he felt to Satoru's teasing when they were just friends, that one time Satoru put an arm around him and gave him a kiss on his cheek, Suguru faked annoyance. That one time Satoru pushed his messy bangs behind his ears, he shoved Satoru's hand away.

But alone and locked in his room Suguru blushed and smiled thinking about it, that´s when Suguru knew he had developed a hopeless crush on Satoru before becoming best friends.

When they were officially inseparable, he felt like teasing back and flirting too, it was so fun because he could mask his advances as friendly behavior, sometimes it made him a bit sad though, but he learned to live with it as time went by.

They went on missions together all the time and spend summer, winter and spring together. Rides on bicycles, they went to Okinawa once, they also went to karaoke together, sometimes even Shoko joined them...

Suguru felt his crush developing into love when their second spring as best friends hit Tokyo, and Satoru insisted on even spending more time together outdoors, whether it was taking a long strolls together to enjoy the weather or share popsicles or spar, that spring was the best season of his life.

Of course not everything was cutesy and pure, he also wanted Satoru to fuck him stupid. He often thought how good it’d be to have Satoru inside him, Satoru’s large, pretty hands all over him, on his waist, on his ass, on his neck… He knew he was a bottom when he played with himself there years ago and busted a nut so hard he passed out. It was laughable how he simply blacked out to a hard orgasm, but it happened, so ever since then he has fantasied about Satoru doing it to him rather than his own fingers.

Time passed and Suguru couldn't keep his feelings to himself anymore, so he bashfully asked Satoru out one day. Satoru was blushing and giggling the entire 'date' and that's when he had a boost of confidence and simply confessed, Satoru hugged and kissed him so hard they had to move it to their rooms, where they messed around and fucked for hours.

They immediately started dating after, no one was surprised, and four years later (in an alternative universe where gege is a kind person) they got married and adopted Megumi, Tsumiki, Mimiko and Nanako.

They are happy gays in my universe, okay?

shokohime

so, they're my favorite lesbians ever but sadly we don't have lots of crumbs about them so this is like... 100% made up lore by me (when i catch you, gege)

Shoko has had multiple people, men and women, confessing to her and never really caring about them at all, just declining one after another--she thought love wasn't for her, she wasn't interest in it, they only thing she cared about was fooling around, hanging out with her friends, just living in general, a classy carefree life.

Even Gojo and Geto were surprised she never accepted any dates at all, they once questioned her about being a lesbian since she only had expressed her profound love for female idols, but she doubted about being one, she did reject some girls before so... maybe it was just pure fanatism and nothing that actually labeled her.

But then she met Utahime, it was insane how clingy Utahime was and how Shoko never felt annoyed by her, she'd let Utahime give her bone-crushing hugs all the time and never stopped her, they even shared cigarette breaks when Utahime agreed on escaping from class. It was a nice friend at first, until Shoko felt like her company was all she needed and looked forward to after class.

It wasn't a revelation but much more like something that just happened, they forgot an umbrella one day, having gone to walk around the forest near jujutsu high and the rain surprised both of them. Utahime was distressed, her white miko was all soaked and dirty and Shoko felt really bad about it. They walked back to the school and suddenly found themselves running, it was fun and exhilarating. They started laughing all loud and competing on who's faster and shit until Shoko needed to rest against a tree, Utahime stopped and stayed next to her in a second.

Utahime's face was so red and her smile was wide and just perfect, Shoko couldn't help herself and kissed her. They ended up making out messily in the rain. Shoko pushed Utahime against a tree, bumping her lower body against her, both a panting mess and completely lost in the feeling. That's when Shoko knew both things: that she was indeed a lesbian, and that if she didn't eat Utahime out at that very moment, she'd die. So she did, Utahime's tears merged with the rain, moaning loudly and that was the beginning of their relationship (and their exhibitionism kink LMFAO)

They kept it a secret for a while, not telling anyone about it until they graduated and Utahime was offered a position as a teacher in Kyoto. Shoko was really sad, watching her leave broke her, the dorms where suddenly so empty. Utahime insisted on not breaking up despite the distance, Shoko agreed even if she felt stressed about it, she learned she needed Utahime's bone-crushing hugs to have a good day.

Years passed and Gojo found out about it a night when they went out to drink. Gojo had fought with Geto and vented about it, which lead and gave Shoko the will to confess to his friend that she had been dating Utahime all this time. Gojo was shocked but not surprised, Utahime wasn't the best person when it came to hide her feelings after all.

Gojo offered to help, (in exchange of Shoko talking and convincing Geto to forgive Gojo) being a clan leader of an important jujutsu family, in a blink of an eye he had Utahime and her students moving a whole season to Tokyo so they could compete in a friendly tournament. It worked and Shoko passed all the time with her beloved, she was the clingier one now.

In this universe, they also got married and went on double dates with Gojo and Geto, bowling, KFC, karaoke, you name it.

My gays lived happily ever after :,)

my twitter

my ao3

[ravenna-reid]

The Tortured and the Test Subject 2

Finally a Part 2!! Pls lmk if you like it/like where this story is heading and I might turn it into a longer series hehe

Warnings -- mentions of death and torture

"So, super strength and healing huh?"

The soft moonlight filtered through the grand windows in the hallway. You and Jason continued to silently stroll through the manor as he gave you a quick tour, his eyes attentively glued on you the entire time. Jason was trying hard to make conversation. He had made sure not to mention the fact that you knew you couldn't die. You gave a small smile in response, still feeling a little indifferent to the powers that were forced upon you.

"Yeah." You said before glancing over to where the windows sat, and suddenly you came to a halt. Then, your feet lead you over to them until you saw the manor's magnificent garden lit up by lanterns and the vast night sky outside.

The sky.

Glistening stars peppered the navy blue, a few rain clouds here and there slowly crawling across the dark sky. You had spent many nights at Cadmus thinking about those stars as you stared up at the plain white ceiling. Wondering if you would ever see them again. And now that you were here, outside, it was all too overwhelming. You were sick with relief, you were grateful, but your heart also seemed to be shattering. Mourning all of those lost years.

You put a hand to your mouth, eager to stifle an oncoming cry, and the simple action made Jason's stomach drop.

"Hey, you alright?" Jason asked sheepishly. He had to stop himself from reaching out to you.

You had kept yourself together for all those years in Cadmus, so you weren't about to lose it now. You'd wait until the boy was gone and you were in a proper bed, hidden beneath the covers.

"I'm ok." You managed, a tightening sensation in your throat. "Is there anything else you want to show me?"

Jason watched you a second too long, unconvinced, before moving towards the closest door in the hall.

"Uh, no. I can show you the rest tomorrow." He stood beside the door, hand on handle. "This is your room while you stay here."

Jason opened the door to allow you to walk in, but you stopped at the doorframe. "Where will you be?"

A little flutter began in his chest. "If you need anything, I'll be right next door." He nodded towards the door to your far right. "Just knock."

Your gaze fell back into the room onto the charcoal bedding and stack of what looked like some very old books on some shelves. The room was nice and simple, but it had so much more warmth to it compared to your cell back at Cadmus.

"Do you need anything else?" Jason asked, trying not to fiddle with his fingers.

"No, thankyou." Your voice was soft as you gave a gentle smile and went into the room.

You'd probably spend most of the night looking through every little thing in there. The drawer of clothes, the plethora of books, you will definitely be staring at the night sky and outside world for as long as you could. And you'd make sure that window stayed open. All night. You would probably do silly things like lay against the soft carpet, or run your fingers across the curtains. You also found that your mind was still a little drawn to that boy and his odd, padded outfit with the red bat across his chest.

Jason. Yes, you'd think about him for a few minutes longer than you would like to admit, as well as his odd family.

And then after all that, you would throw that horrid jumpsuit into the bin, desperately ridding the number 09714 from your mind, and throw on the clothes that sat folded on the end of the bed. Then, you knew you were going to spend some time crying and comforting yourself. As you always did.

Jason stood at the closed door before turning to leave. That's when he caught sight of the shadowy figure lurking towards the end of the hall.

"Isn't that your room?" Dick asked, and although it was dark, Jason could hear the smirk in his voice. "Or, old room?" He corrected.

Jason simply brushed past him, "Don't know what you're talking about."

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒⟡₊⋆∘𓈒

Meeting you had brought up a lot of unsettling memories in Jason's mind. The abuse he can imagine you endured in Cadmus reminding him of his own time spent with the deranged Clown. The fact that you had died dragging him back to the night he had. The white streak that laced your hair...

He'd woken up, shirt drenched in sweat and limbs trembling. Again nightmares plagued his sleep, and again he was sitting in his bed on the couch desperately trying to calm himself down. When suddenly he heard a door creak open and he knew that sound all too well. His bedroom door.

Carefully, he peered down the hallway to where you stood leaning your forehead against the windows. Eyes closed, as though you're desperate to escape something.

"y/n?"

Your head snapped over in his direction, eyes wide and fearful. "Jason?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me. You ok?"

You directed your 1000 yard stare back towards what lied beyond the window. "I can't stay in the room. In the bed. I feel trapped again."

Jason understood. Hell, he understood completely.

"Do you wanna go outside?"

You nodded in response, and soon you were following Jason around the still mansion until you reached the courtyard. It was large and grand, filled with perfectly trimmed hedges and stone. It was beautiful. Sitting down on two of the most comfortable arm chairs, you breathed in the fresh air like it was your last breath, eyes close and heart full now that you were outside. The air was crisp and cool and you loved it. Jason sat beside you, carefully taking you in.

"Better?" He asked.

"Mmm." Silence settled over you both before you spoke. "I accidentally broke the tap in the ensuite."

Your eyes met.

"Sorry."

Jason let out a tired, breathy laugh. "It's fine. Bruce has enough money to fix anything you break."

You took Jason in, properly this time. Dark, damp hair fell before his bright eyes. He was dressed in a shirt that looked a bit too small for him, tracksuit pants and socks on his feet. Your eyes then fell down to the arm closest to you and the ghastly mark that run along it. It was a new wound, still red and raw.

"I don't remember doing that when I pinned you to the wall."

He flashed a look of confusion at you before following your eyes. He quickly hid his arm once he realised.

"No, you didn't do that."

Jason was so tired he had forgotten all about the graze he received on patrol earlier, given it had eventually stopped bleeding.

"Want me to fix it?"

He became more self-conscious now as he instinctively edged away from you, a bashful expression melting across his face. "No, it's ok."

"Are you sure? Cause I don't mind. Might as well use what they gave me."

The moonlight accentuated his blue-green eyes as he stared back at you. "I'm sure. It's fine."

You accepted his answer and looked back out to the view as the sun began to bleed a bright orange and deep pink into the sky, nudging the moon and stars out of the way. Jason was mentally kicking himself, but kept very quiet. You on the other hand were so content, even if some of your demons hung around at the back of your mind, that you didn't notice how he fidgeted.

"I get it you know." Jason's voice broke the silence, quiet and unsure. You glanced back over at him with furrowed brows.

"It sounds stupid. But I understand how you feel. I-"

He forced himself to gain enough courage to look at you. You, one of the most beautiful girls he had ever met. And it wasn't even your physical features. It was something else. Something deeper. Instantly, the words seemed to die on his tongue as you waited for him to continue.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, really. And I'm glad that we found you."

The words tumbled out before he got up and went back inside. Leaving you feeling both oddly warm and confused.

Part 3??

[neonpaperlanterns]

Hello! I noticed you were open to any ideas or prompts and I thought of one

Reader being a worker of playtime that was Assigned to help dogday taking care of the children (this happens before the hour of joy) and reader has Cynophobia (extreme fear of dogs) and so when they first land their eyes on dogday, panic

Reader tries to avoid talking or being near dogday as best as they could, Which would confuse and made dogday feel guilty thinking he did something wrong to upset them

So dogday being the sweet pup he is tries to comfort and show reader he's not a bad guy

It's a bit long sorry ^^"

[A/n: I almost feel like I should make this a full series. Just to explore the development more]

He's a dog

Everything is fine, it’s perfectly, totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. Yeah totally not freaking out. These palms are completely dry and your heart is beating at a completely normal rate.

So what if things didn’t turn out how you thought they would? You were adaptable, you could roll with the punches. Even if… Even if the punches were this. 

“Alright everyone, we have some new members joining us today!” Says the giant talking DOG. 

This. Is. Fine!

You got this as long as—

The dog is touching your shoulder. His voice echoes in your ears and yeah no.

Nope. 

Nope. 

You have got nothing. Nothing! 

No—

~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes flutter open. Breathing deeply you stare up at the ceiling. It’s a mix of yellow, red, and blue. The paint is chipping in the red part, showing that underneath the ceiling is just plain gray concrete. 

Hm. Where were you? 

“Oh you’re awake!” The voice was cheerful, sunny even. Looking over you are filled with regret. Standing in the doorway of what you now understand to be a nurses office was the dog. Every muscle in your body seized up and it felt like your throat was full of cotton.

“I was so worried when you fainted. Are you alright? It didn’t say anything in your application that you were susceptible to dizzy spells~” He kept talking, his hands? Paws? His appendages moved around animatedly. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved closer. His words turned to white noise as he loomed over you.  

If there was some divine being watching from above why did they hate you? Had you done something in a past life to warrant such ire? 

“Oh dear, you look like you’re going to faint again. Is there something I can help you with?” All you could do was blink owlishly at his concern. Words were unable to come as you stared at him. You were sure you looked akin to a deer in headlights. You watched him cough awkwardly into his fist. The smile never left his face but it wasn’t as genuine as before. 

For what felt like forever you stared at each other. 

“Okay, um I’ll leave you to rest. And when you feel better I look forward to working with you!” Some of that sunny disposition returned to his face. You did nothing but blink and watch him shuffle out of the room. 

He said he looked forward to working with you. The sentiment was not returned but you were sure you wouldn't be seeing him much. You were assigned to be the helper of the unicorn. So you were sure you would be able to avoid him as much as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~

There must be a god and they must hate you. They must find your suffering to be the ultimate entertainment. You had thought you were meant to be CraftyCorn's helper. You could have sworn you were. But no! By some unholy sick twist of fate you are actually the assistant to him. 

The desire to cry on your second day of work was overwhelming. But you held it in. Somehow. You had already fainted on the first day you did not need to get a reputation. So you sucked it up. At least you tried to suck it up. It didn’t help that DogDay was so tactile and friendly and inclusive. 

You were living in your own personal hell. 

“Hey there my happy helper!” If DogDay noticed you flinch, he didn’t say anything. But he did slow down and there was still some distance between you two. 

You stared at him. 

He stared at you. 

A cough escapes him as you fidget. 

“I uh need your help with one of the kids. It’s Isabelle.” You didn’t know all of the kids yet so you weren’t actually sure which one Isabelle was. But you nodded anyway and trailed after him. You may not like this but you did like the kids. You would bear it for them. 

~~~~~~~~~

DogDay had no idea what he did wrong. He watched the other Smiling Critters with their helpers. Everyone was getting along. It was so nice to watch the others but then he glanced over at his own helper. Who sat with their shoulders hunched up around their ears and a perpetual thousand yard stare.

He had thought that maybe you were just shy. Not yet used to them but he has seen you interact with the others. You were quiet but happy. Talking freely and playing with them and letting the children climb all over you. But the moment he walked over you would freeze up. Any pretense of joy wiped from your face and replaced with a blank look. 

He confided in Catnap and KickinChiken that he felt like you didn’t like him. Catnap had simply flicked his tail at him but KC told him that was impossible. He said that DogDay was a rad dude and his helper just needed time. 

But it’s been a month and every attempt to get to know you was met with either silence or your rapidly walking in the other direction. He just didn’t understand and it was driving him crazy. Had his first impression been too much? Did he come on too strong when he came to see you in the nurse's office? 

He wished he knew. He just wants to be your friend.

~~~~~~~~~

You were starting to feel like a jerk. At every turn DogDay was trying to be nice to you and at every turn you would bolt away or shut down. And he definitely noticed. How couldn't he? You weren’t known for subtlety, especially not in this situation. 

Though with the forlorn looks you were getting from DogDay you wished you had been. 

“Hey Happy Helper.” You watched as his hands did a lackluster wiggle. He wasn’t looking at you and they just made you feel even worse. 

“H...H..” You swallowed thickly. “Hey Bodacious Boss.” Did you just say bodacious? To your boss? From the look on his face he was just as shocked as you. Though you don’t think it was because you said bodacious. Probably.

After a moment of silence with you staring at each other, DogDay recovered first. He was looking at you now and he was smiling and his tail was wagging. Seeing him light up made you feel a bit better. Your hands were still clammy and there was a lot of saliva pooling on your tongue but it was nice to see him happy. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Can I ask you a question?” DogDay picked at the fur on his wrists. It’s only been a week since you spoke to him and boy was he nervous. He didn’t want to ruin whatever this was. 

“Hm?” You were making sandwiches for the kids. It would be lunchtime soon. Shuffling in place he took your noncommittally hum as que that you were listening.

“Do you like me?” He watched as your shoulders stiffen. That blank look slowly creeping back onto your face.  

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” 

“I’m afraid of dogs.” You blurted out stopping DogDay in his apologetic tracks.

“What?” It was his turn to blink owlishly. Not really sure what to say right now.

“When I was younger there was an incident…” You waved your hand in the air, like you didn’t want to remember it. “Anyways it messed me up and ever since I have been terrified of dogs.” You continued to make sandwiches.

“I’m a dog.” He says rather dumbly. 

“I know.” You nod as you heave a sigh.

“I’m.. I’m sorry.” He frowns as he pulls at his ears and he can feel his tail sag against his legs.

“Please, don’t be.” You look up at him, a tight but genuine smile on your face. Your hand shakes a bit as you raise it in his direction. 

“I like you. You’re my Bodacious Boss.” DogDay felt his tail twitch as he tentatively took your hand.

“I like you too, my Happy Helper.”

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Secrets We Keep

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

John Wick X Reader

Warning: Allusions (and mentions) to murder, subtle yandere traits and threats, intimidation.

Unedited

It was late, but sleep was the last thing on her mind. She simply laid on the bed, starring at the ceiling above, letting flashbacks and thoughts consume her while her wristwatch on the nightstand ticked.

A gift.

She wished she could cry this out but she felt heavy. Heavy and—-

The doorbell rang and her breathing stopped. She waited, holding her breath for a few moments.

The ringing of her doorbell invaded the otherwise quiet apartment once more. She sighed, feeling the echoes of her thumping heartbeat.

The doorbell rang again, accompanied by knocking this time. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, she jumped out of her bed and grabbed her housecoat, slipping in it as she padded towards the door. Looking through the peephole, she shut her eyes and sighed. 

She saw this coming.

Putting the chain-link on, she unlocked the door, allowing the light from the building corridor to flood in from the tiny gap.

“Hello (Y/N).” He stood tall, dark eyes staring down at her from the gap “I’m here just to talk.” 

His voice gave away nothing. Always quiet, polite and to the point. But she could not trust that now– could not trust him anymore– now that she knew.

“John, I saw nothing—”

“There won’t be a chain-link holding your door then.” He cut her off, only to sigh and soften his voice “I promise I just want to talk.”

“How do I trust that?” She felt bile rising to her throat as she spoke, struggling to keep her voice steady.

John leaned closer, making her flinch step away.

“Because if I wanted anything other than to just talk,  this chain-link or door, or any door, can do nothing to stop me.” His tone did not change, nor did his voice raise.

He was calm as ever and she knew that there was no lie in his words. Feeling cornered and stripped of any other option, she unlocked the chain-link, letting the tiny but sturdy chain hang against the door as it opened wide in a smooth motion.

John stepped into her home in silence before gently closing the door shut. Her hold on her phone tightened instinctively. Although it was in her pocket, she prayed that he took no notice of that.

He loomed over her, dressed like any other man she would pass by. A plain white shirt, a pair of denims and a leather jacket. No one could picture him killing a man with a pencil. But she saw him do that two nights ago, and it would never be the same between them.

She had spent the last two days, terrified and paranoid. It was only a matter of time before he came for her, and there he stood, looming over her– the grim reaper dressed as a civilian. But even if his deep, brooding eyes pinned her down without giving away an ounce of his thoughts, she could at least try to evade her demise.

“John, I will forget everything I saw. I promise, I will not report you, not spill anything about it—”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

She flinched when he switched on the lights, illuminating the room. Under the light, she realised, he looked slightly less ominous. More human. His eyes remained brooding but she thought she saw it soften slightly. 

No, it had to be the lighting.

He sighed, looking away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I did not want you to find out like this.” 

No, if he could, she would have never found out what he did for a living.

“But now that you know, I want to come clean. So that we can start anew.”

(Y/N) gulped. Starting anew was out of question. After whatever she had witnessed, she wanted to do nothing with John, no matter how much it would pain her. Maybe love was not for her. 

“John…I thought it wasan understood fact that…” she trailed of, licking her lips as a frown settled on his face.

“What?”

“That—you know after what I saw and—I don’t think we shouldseeeachotheragain.” she hurried through words, scrambled through thoughts all the while trying not to shake under his gaze.

He sligthlty titled his head. His eyes gleamed under the lighting in a way that distinctly reminded her of the carnage he was capable of. 

“No.”

There was no question mark, or even uncertainty. He was declaring, not questioning. And that made her hold tighten over her phone.

“John I—”

“I know you’re scared right now.” he contemplated aloud “I understand. But we are still, very much one–together.” His voice lowered, but there was a sharpness to it.

Like he was waiting. Waiting to pounce.

She gulped, feeling beads of sweat appearing on her nose and above her lips. She waited with bated breath. But he only gazed down at her for a long moment, until she looked away, unable to look into his eyes any longer. The longer she looked, the more it remind her of…of the night.

“I will get going for now. Get some rest, Love.” He spoke after a long, tense pause.

And for the first time since his visit she felt she could breath in relief. She heard the sound of opening of her apartment door–

“I will see you tomorrow, at the cafe around the corner.” he declared, making her look at him.

He was clearly not done with her.

“Also…There is no use of calling the police. It won’t make any difference.” His gaze dropped to her pocket where she held the phone.

Her throat was suddenly parched as she met his unreadable gaze before he gently shut the door behind him.

*****

So, what do you think?

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 19 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - With the help of his BAU family, Spencer starts making some positive strides in bettering himself. He and Maeve have a long overdue heart to heart in which they come to a mutual understanding.

A/N - here is the penultimate chapter!

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - hangovers, vomit, Spencer’s bad decision making, swearing, attempted one night stand, tears, BAU team as family, serious conversations, letting go of the past and moving on, talk of pregnancies, long overdue apologies, chapter starts angsty but there is a surprising amount of fluff in this.

WC - 5.9k

Chapter 19 - We're Good

No need to hide it,

Go get what you want.

This won't be a burden if we both don't hold a grudge.

I think it's pretty plain and simple,

We gave it all we could.

It's time I wave goodbye from the window,

Let's end this like we should and say we're good.

Spencer did wake up, but not through lack of trying otherwise. When he did open his eyes, his head throbbed so wildly he felt like someone had it in a vice. 

His mouth was drier than the sprawling Nevada desert he’d once called home. His limbs ached violently, his back felt as though he’d been folded in half. 

He blinked a few times, trying to work out where exactly he was. He didn’t have any memory past the fourth scotch, after that everything went black. 

He was staring at a white surface, possibly a wall or a door which was no more than a foot in front of him, the surface beneath his face was cool and hard, certainly not a pillow. 

He’d been laying on his side so he forced himself onto his back and tried to figure out if he knew the ceiling he was now staring up. 

It was white with a nondescript light bulb hanging in the centre. A little way to the left there was a large water stain he thought he recognised. 

He blinked at it, trying to pull a memory to the front of his fractured brain. Lily was two. Splashing in the bathtub. She threw her little body down so violently in the water she had sent a tidal wave crashing through the entire bathroom. 

Spencer had been soaked from his head to his toes. They’d had to replace the old floorboards for porcelain tiles. The kind of cool, hard tiles beneath his back. On the ceiling had been left a large water mark. 

He rolled his head to the other side and saw the bathtub next to him. At the very least he’d made it home. 

He inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and pushing himself into a seating position. He groaned, holding his head in his hands. 

He’d been hungover plenty of times before but not like this. This felt like the end of the goddamn world. 

The toilet seat was up and he could just about see the vomit pooled in the bottom of the bowl. He pulled a face and dragged himself towards it on his hands and knees, shut the lid and flushed it. 

Using the toilet cistern he got to his feet, wobbling as he did so. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his hair a complete mess and little flecks of vomit in the corners of his mouth. 

He ran the faucet and washed his face with cold water. Not having the effort to brush his teeth right now, instead he grabbed the bottle of mouthwash and swilled an ample amount around his mouth before spitting it out in the sink. 

Looking back at himself in the mirror he noticed now he was shirtless. He frowned, closing one eye in an attempt to aid his pounding head. He let his open eye fall down his body to see he was in fact completely naked. 

He shook his head, turning to the open bathroom door. He found his clothes in a haphazard trail along the landing leading to his bedroom. 

His bedroom, yes, a bed that’s what he needed. A couple of hours of decent sleep should help cure this rotten hangover. 

He stumbled through the door, ready to collapse but stopped short when he saw there was already a figure in his bed. 

She was awake, staring at him with a combination of annoyance and frustration. Spencer frowned at her, still wobbling on his feet.

“Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry but who the fuck are you?” 

“Wow,” she scoffed indignantly. “Just wow.” 

Spencer watched through bleary eyes as she got out of bed and started throwing her clothes back on, huffing periodically. He tried to remember where he’d met her, who she was and how she had ended up in his bed but his memory failed him. Once she was dressed again she turned to him and folded her arms across her chest. 

“First you can’t get it up and now you don’t even remember me? You’re a charmer.” She rolled her eyes.

“We didn’t sleep together?” He closed one eye again as the room started to spin. 

“No,” she huffed again. “You must have drank too much, couldn’t get hard.” 

“Of course I couldn’t.” He sighed. “That tracks. Please see yourself out.” 

With that he collapsed in a heap on the bed, burying his face into the pillow. He heard her scoff and then her footsteps getting further away. After a minute he heard the front door open and close. 

He closed his eyes without protest, not allowing himself to think about how royally he fell off the wagon last night. Maybe he’d never get sober, perhaps he wasn’t able to function without alcohol. 

Maybe his kids would be better off living with their mother full time and leaving Spencer to spiral into alcoholism. 

Thankfully his brain shut off for long enough to enable him to fall asleep, laying on his front on top of the covers whilst nuzzling the pillow. 

When he woke up again, it was with a start, as though he’d been shocked by an electric current. His eyes shot open and his heart was rampantly hammering against his ribcage. 

He immediately rolled over in bed, squinting against the onslaught of light through the open curtains. A silhouette stood in the window but he couldn’t work out who or what it was.

“Oh Jesus Christ, Reid,” the voice groaned. “Cover yourself up, please?” 

Spencer looked down at his body, still naked and exposed to whoever was in his bedroom. Without much contemplation he pulled the sheet over his lower half and attempted to sit up in the bed.

The shadowy figure got closer and he half thought he was imagining it. He’d lived with his demon so long that maybe they were now coming to life. 

When the haze cleared, Emily Prentiss’s face appeared through the fog and she sat down on the edge of the mattress. 

“Emily?” He croaked. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” 

“I knocked for like twenty minutes, called you multiple times. I tried the door and it was unlocked so I let myself in.” She shrugged. “By the way, I found your dog shut in the kitchen. He’d almost worn a hole in the door from scratching.”

“Ah shit, I must have forgotten he was in there.” He rubbed his eyes with his palms. 

“I thought Tara went with you to a meeting last night?” Emily asked, concern lacing her words. 

“She did.” He nodded. 

“So what happened? Clearly you’re hungover.” 

“After the meeting I went and irreparably fucked up my life.” He pulled a face, pushed his hair back from his eyes. 

“What does that mean?” Emily frowned.

“It means I went to see Y/N. I slept with her and then I told her I didn’t really love her and that I only told her that to get her into bed.” He sighed with a shake of his head. “Pretty good night, right?” 

“Oh Spence,” she placed her hand on his bare shoulder. His skin was hot and blanched. “You really aren’t yourself lately.” 

“No kidding,” he scoffed. “Emily I am utterly lost. I am out at sea with no life raft and I can’t see the fucking shore.” 

“You put your feelings over what happened with Maeve on the backburner for so long, it was inevitably going to catch up on you. You met someone, you started to fall for her and then you were reminded of the last time that happened to you. You were reminded of what Maeve did and how much that broke you.” She whispered, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“I’m going to lose my kids if I can’t sort my shit out.” He seemingly ignored her, changing the subject. “Emily, I cannot lose my girls. It will destroy me.” 

“You’re not going to lose them.” She gave him one of those looks that always made him feel like she knew something he didn’t. It was hard not to believe her when she looked at him like that. 

“How do you know that?” He sighed. 

“Because I know you,” she shrugged. “Because you would go to the ends of the earth for Daisy and Lily, you would do anything for them. You raised Daisy whilst working one of the most demanding jobs there is. You raised Lily while your wife was cheating on you. You have raised them both this past year practically alone and they are two of the best kids I have ever met. You are the best dad I have ever met. 

You have sacrificed so much for your daughter’s, things much harder than giving up drinking. You’ve got this, Reid, for that I have absolutely no doubt. You will stop drinking, last night was the last drink you ever have, do you understand me? You will go to meetings, you will let me and the rest of the team help you. You will lean on us the way every single one of us has leaned on you at some point in our lives. We’re family Spencer, you aren’t going through this alone.” 

His bottom lip quivered and soon a few tears rolled from his eyes and down his cheeks. Sometimes he forgot that they were family. He sometimes thought just because he’d left the BAU he wasn’t a part of that anymore. But family was stronger than that. 

“I love you, you know that right?” He sniffed. “I don’t say it enough but I love all of you.”

“That’s the beauty of family,” she smiled. “We already know.” 

“I think I’d like to shower and then maybe go to a meeting.” He rolled his lip between his teeth. “Would you come with me?”

“Of course I will,” Emily nodded. “On one condition.” 

“What’s that?” He frowned sceptically at her. 

“You let me call the rest of the team. I think this is something we should all be together for.” 

“Ok.” He nodded. “Ok.” 

“I’m proud of you.” Emily smiled as she stood up.

“Don’t be yet, give me a few weeks of sobriety first.” He inhaled, waiting for Emily to leave but she didn’t seem as though she planned on going anywhere. “Uh, Emily?” 

“Yes Reid?”

“If you want me to get up you’re going to need to turn around or something. Unless you want another eye full.” 

“Oh shit, yeah, sorry.” She laughed awkwardly, turning towards the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” 

Spencer slipped out of the bed, ignoring the pounding in his head, just as Emily opened his bedroom door. 

Another figure stood on the other side, eyes quickly flicking from Emily to Spencer and his naked form.

“Oh jeez!” Luke rapidly put his hand up to cover his eyes. “What the fuck have I walked in on?” 

“Did my house have a revolving door fitted without my knowledge?” Spencer cupped his crotch in his hands. “Where do you people keep coming from?” 

“I thought we were taking Taco to the park.” Luke groaned. 

“Change of plan, Alvez.” Emily laughed at his obvious discomfort. “Let’s go put the kettle on and I’ll explain everything.” 

***

An hour later the BAU team had gathered and sat in the back row of the community hall while Spencer took to the stage. 

Gathering the troops had been an easy feat. After Emily had told Luke the whole story over coffee she’d sent a text to Penelope simply stating: Spencer SOS and the address of the community centre. 

As expected, Garcia had rallied the rest of them and they all met outside of the building in downtown DC. 

Emily was closest to the aisle, JJ next to her who was clutching her hand for dear life. Penelope on JJ’s other side was getting the same treatment. 

Luke was next to Penelope, his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder. Matt was next to him offering Luke the occasional glance and gentle smile. 

To Matt’s left was Tara who drummed her fingers on her thigh until Rossi, on her other side, placed his hand on top of hers to still her. 

Seven of the members of the BAU family sat and watched their eighth member awkwardly stand at the podium, take a deep breath and speak. 

“I’m Spencer Reid,” he paused briefly to close his eyes for a second or two and then open them again. “And I’m an alcoholic.” 

***

Two days later Spencer opened his front door to be assaulted by his daughters throwing themselves at him. 

He was clear headed, forty eight hours sober and feeling surprisingly good. 

Ok, maybe good was a stretch. He felt fine, average at best. But having his girls home and the grip in which they held him made him feel on top of the world.

“Daddy!” Lily screeched, burying into his shirt. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too dad.” Daisy sighed in content as she spoke. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you two.” He squeezed them tightly, relishing in having them back. 

He glanced at Maeve who was standing on the steps behind them, hands in her pockets. Bobby was in his car on the drive. 

“Can we talk?” Maeve mouthed at him so the girls wouldn’t hear. He nodded in reply.

“Girls, I think Taco has missed you nearly as much as I have. I think he’s in the yard, why don’t you go find him.” He placed a kiss on both of their heads as they let him go and rushed past him inside the house, screaming the dog's name. “I would invite you inside but I’ve spent most of the last few days packing for the move and the house is a disaster.” 

“It’s fine,” Maeve smiled, keeping her hands in her pockets as she sat down on the front step, Spencer doing the same. “The girls said you were moving.”

“It’s time I think. I’m not sure I ever really liked this house.” He chuckled.

“Oh I’m sure you never liked this house.” Maeve laughed too. 

“It served a purpose, but it’s time to move on.” He nodded with a wistful smile. “So how was California? The girls seemed like they had a great time.”

“They did, it was so nice to spend that much time with them.” She narrowed her eyes on him, he could see her trying to read him. “How was your week?”

“My week?” He pulled a face. “It was…eventful. Enlightening maybe.”

“You look…tired.” Her eyebrows furrowed a little.

“That’s one word for it.” He exhaled. “I’ve been struggling if truth be told. For a long time. But I’m making some changes, I’m trying.”

“Oh yeah?” Her lip twitched at the corner. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m starting to see things from another perspective. I pushed you away. I was never what you needed me to be.” 

“Maybe, but it still doesn’t excuse what I did.” Maeve shook her head sadly. 

“It doesn’t. But I think I’m starting to understand. I need you to know I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done since our separation.” It looked like it pained him a little to admit as much. 

“I need to tell you something.” She sighed, rolling her lip between her teeth.

“Did you forget I was a profiler for many years? Not to mention the fact that I know you inside out, even after all this time.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“What?”

“Maeve, I knew the second you got out of the car.” He whispered, eyes welled with tears. 

She swallowed thickly, feeling her own eyes brimming. 

“The girls don’t know yet.” She sniffed. 

“They’re going to be thrilled. Lily’s always wanted a little brother or sister. And you always did want that boy.” A tear crept from his eye but he made no attempt to brush it away.

“There is one more thing.” Maeve sniffed again.

“You’ve had your hands in your pockets since you got here.” Spencer shrugged. “Let me see it, Maeve.” 

Maeve closed her eyes as a few of her own tears escaped. She removed her hands from her pockets and brandished the large, diamond ring on her finger. 

“Wow,” Spencer croaked, a couple more tears rolling from his eyes. “I’m…happy for you.”

“How much did it pain you to say that?” Maeve laughed through her tears and Spencer couldn’t help but do the same.

“Only a little.” He shrugged. 

“He makes me happy.” Maeve nodded, swallowing again.

“And I didn’t.” Spencer sighed. 

“Don’t say that.” She reached for him, grasping his hand in her own. “Of course you made me happy. I did love you Spencer. We were just never fated to have a happy ending.”

“I’m starting to think I’m not fated to any kind of happy ending.” He huffed. 

“I think you already found it but for whatever reason you pushed her away.” Maeve squeezed his hand. 

“Who called you?” He rolled his eyes, knowing this had the BAU all over it. 

“Rossi, he’s the only one who doesn’t hate me.” 

“They don’t hate you.” He shook his head. “I’m starting to think I might hate Rossi though.” 

“Blasphemy.” Maeve laughed. “He’s worried about you, they all are. I’m worried about you.” 

“I told her I didn’t love her. I told her I lied to her just to get her into bed. I said some horrible things to her. I told her that I couldn’t risk the girls getting hurt again and she accused me of being a coward. She was right.” More tears fell from his eyes. “The truth is I don’t think I can take another hit, I’m barely holding it together. Isn’t it easier to just be alone than risk that kind of pain?” 

“Look Spencer,” Maeve gripped his hand tighter. “I think it’s better to have someone. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s the most painful thing you have to do. Even if it’s the most painful thing you ever have to do. I think it’s better to have someone.”

“Jesus,” Spencer choked on a sob. “Stop making me like you.” 

“You don’t like me, you love me.” She chuckled. 

“Isn’t that a painful truth?” He laughed too.

“You misunderstand me. You love me,” she repeated, letting go of his hand and getting to her feet. “But you’re not in love with me. Not anymore. You called me the love of your life but we both know that’s not true.” 

“Isn’t it?” He frowned up at her. 

“No,” she smiled with a shake of her head. “We had a great relationship for the most part Spencer. I loved you, I was in love with you. But we weren't the loves of each other's lives.” 

“Because yours is Bobby.” He stood up. 

Maeve placed her hands on her stomach, not yet showing signs of the life growing inside of her, her ring glistening in the sunlight.

“And Y/N is yours.” She shrugged. 

“I’m not so sure.” He shook his head. “But thanks anyway.” 

“You’re going to be ok, you have to believe that.” 

“I’m trying. Like I said, I’m making changes.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “In that vein, I, uh, spoke to my lawyer yesterday. We started drawing up a new custody agreement.” 

“New? As in…” she frowned at him. 

“The girls will spend one week with me, one week with you. We’ll switch out the holidays every year. It’s still a work in progress but if it's something you would be interested in…” he trailed off and suddenly Maeve was throwing herself into his arms, with so much force he almost fell over. 

He tentatively wrapped his arms around her, accidentally inhaling her shampoo. He thought it might cause him to crumble. But it didn’t. 

The smell didn’t breed the kind of sad nostalgia of someone who lost his wife to another man. It was a comforting smell, a familiar smell. It was a reminder that he’d loved this woman but no longer felt that way about her. 

The simple smell ignited a hope within him that he and Maeve would one day be able to be friends. If they weren’t already. 

“Are you serious?” She squeezed him tightly. 

“Yeah, I think it would do us all good.” He stroked her back. 

“Thank you, Spencer. You have no idea what that means to me.” She sniffed, pulling back a little so she could look at him. 

His hands found her face, cupping her cheeks delicately and brushing away her tears. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” He smiled at her. “Are we going to be ok?”

“I think for the first time in a long time, we might well be.” She smiled back. 

“Truce?” 

“Truce.” She agreed. 

“You should get back to your future husband.” Spencer leaned in and placed the softest kiss on her cheek before letting her go, both physically and metaphorically. 

“A part of me will always love you, Spencer Reid.” 

“I should hope so.” He teased. “Now get out of here before you make me cry again.” 

“See you soon, yeah?” She spoke as she walked backwards down the stairs.

“I hope so. I really do.” He nodded, watching her go. 

It was funny really, he’d never realised the extent of the weight of his hatred towards Maeve until he finally decided to let it go. 

As he watched her happily slip into the car and kiss Bobby while toying with the new ring on her finger, Spencer felt lighter than he had done in years. 

He was happy for Maeve and Bobby and their future child, really genuinely happy for them. 

Maybe one day he’d find that kind of happiness. But for now he was content spending his time with his two girls. 

***

Spencer focused the next few weeks on his daughter’s and his own rocky mental health. He went to therapy twice a week, took his medication every day and he hadn't had a sip of alcohol in nineteen days. 

The girls spent the week after they arrived back from California with him and they took trips to the park, museums and everywhere in between. The second week he let them spend with Maeve even though the new custody agreement wasn’t finalised, he didn’t see the point in waiting. 

And the girls loved spending more time with their mom, even Daisy. 

While they were at their mom's, Spencer continued packing up the house, going on long walks and seeing his friend’s when he could to help distract himself from the need to drink.

Or the need to call you. 

He’d almost called you over a dozen times but every time he went to, he called Emily instead. When he was craving alcohol he called Tara and when he wanted to boot his dog in the face he called Luke.

He knew there weren’t enough apologies in the world to make up for what he’d said to you and the way he’d treated you and it wasn’t fair of him to keep dragging you into his messy life. He loved you, but he needed to let you go.

Maybe one day, once the dust settled and he had a handle on his problems then the two of you might find your way back to each other. If it was meant to be, it would be. 

But for now he needed to focus on himself and the girls. Everything else had to wait. 

The day Daisy and Lily were coming back to Spencer’s for the next week, he met Maeve and his daughters in the park. 

The girls were having a picnic with their mom while Bobby was at work, Daisy laying on her front, head in her phone, most likely texting Cam. Lily was playing with her new favourite stuffed toy, a surfing otter she had gotten in California. 

The girls didn’t know he would be joining them, the four of them hadn’t done anything together since Maeve left. She saw him approach them and smiled at him. 

“Hey girls, look who it is.” She nudged them both by their shoulders. 

Lily looked up wide eyed from her otter while Daisy took a second or two longer to tear herself away from her phone. His eldest sat up and frowned at him while his youngest grinned the brightest smile in his direction.

“Daddy!” Lily squealed. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” 

“Seemed like a nice day for a picnic.” He shrugged as he got closer, slowly lowering himself down to the blanket on the grass, next to Maeve, giving her a smile. 

“Nope,” Daisy suddenly shook her head. “Nuh uh.”

“What?” Maeve frowned at her daughter.

“You two are not getting back together. No way, please god.” The teenager sounded incredulous.

“What on earth would make you think that?” Spencer chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“I have not once seen the two of you smile at each other since you split up.” She was frowning at them. 

Lily simply looked between them in confusion. 

“We are most certainly not getting back together.” Maeve laughed.

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Spencer chuckled too.

“Oh thank god.” Daisy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Would it really be the end of the world if your parents got back together?” Maeve was still laughing.

“Yes.” She pulled a face. “I love you guys but you are so much better apart.”

“I mean, I can’t say I disagree.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Same here.” Maeve nodded. “And you know Bobby and I are getting married.” 

“I’m going to be a bridesmaid!” Lily cheered. 

“I was just making sure you hadn’t changed your mind.” 

“You don’t need to worry, your mom and I are pretty set on this whole divorce thing.” Spencer insisted. 

“Well something is going on.” Daisy’s gaze shifted between her parents. 

“I do have something to tell you and I wanted your dad to be here when I did.” Maeve instinctively placed her hand on her belly. “Daisy, Lily, you’re going to get a little brother or sister.” 

Lily’s whole face lit up and she started rocking back and forth where she sat. 

“I won’t be the little one anymore?” She beamed. 

“No sweetheart you won’t.” Maeve ruffled her hair. 

“Can I have a brother? I don’t want another sister.” She wrinkled her nose. 

“Uh, it doesn’t work like that I’m afraid.” Maeve laughed. “Daisy, do you have anything to say?” 

“Not that I can say in front of her.” Daisy shot her sister a look. 

“Why?” Lily whined. 

“Because you’re a baby.” Daisy hissed. 

“I am not!” 

Maeve and Spencer exchanged a curious look, unsure of what their eldest wanted to say. Spencer sighed before turning to Lily. 

“Lil, why don’t you go play on the jungle gym? I’ll be right over.” He asked her softly.

She pulled a face like she might argue but then she huffed and reluctantly stood up.

“Fine,” she sassed him. “But I am not a baby.”

Spencer and Maeve watched her run off towards the jungle gym before turning back to Daisy who had her arms folded and was glaring at them in frustration.

“You guys are the worst.” She spat. 

“Excuse me, young lady?” Spencer frowned at her. 

“What exactly have we done to earn us that title?” Maeve added. 

“You guys slept together?” She hissed, eyes wide. “You’re having another kid but you aren’t getting back together? And you’re marrying Bobby?” 

Maeve and Spencer started to laugh out of nowhere, seeing their daughter’s error. Daisy frowned at them while they chuckled heartily. 

“Oh pumpkin,” Spencer shook his head. “This is not my baby.”

“We maybe should have said you’d be having a half brother or sister.” Maeve giggled. 

“Also I don’t love that you know how babies are made.” Spencer pulled a face. 

“I’m fourteen, dad.” Daisy rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure you knew where babies came from when you were fourteen.”

“I had an IQ of one hundred and sixty one when I was fourteen, of course I knew where babies came from.” He clucked. 

“So to confirm,” Daisy frowned again. “You did not sleep with-”

“Please don’t say it again.” Maeve cut her off. “No Daisy, we did not. Bobby is the father of my baby, not your dad.” 

“Gross so you slept with Bobby.” Daisy pulled a disgusted face. 

“Can this conversation please be over now?” Maeve asked no one in particular. 

“I’ve got a kid to see about a jungle gym,” Spencer pushed himself up to his feet. “Have fun.” 

Spencer left them, heading towards where Lily was hanging from the jungle gym, swinging herself back and forth. He came close to her and placed his hands on her hips and she dropped into his arms. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck while he held her by her thighs. She smiled brightly at him.

“Are you ok, pumpkin? You’re happy about all of this? You’re mom marrying Bobby and having a little brother or sister?” He started carrying her towards the swing set. 

“I think so.” She nodded, but she had a curious expression on her face. 

“What are you thinking?” He used one arm to hold her, his free hand brushing her unruly hair back off her face.

“If mommy marries Bobby, does that mean he’s my daddy now?” She pouted. “Because I don’t want him to be my daddy. I want you to be my daddy.” 

Spencer’s heart wrenched at the mere thought of his kids calling someone else daddy. He grinded his teeth for a moment as he lowered her onto the swing and dropped to his knees in front of her.

“Lily, I will always be your daddy, ok? Nothing is ever going to change that. When Bobby marries your mom he becomes your step-dad, but you don’t have to call him that, you can keep on calling him Bobby. I will be your daddy for the rest of your life, pumpkin. Promise.” He used his index finger to poke the end of her nose and she giggled. 

“Ok!” She nodded bouncily. “That’s good because you’re the best daddy in the whole wide world and I wouldn’t want another one.” 

He closed his eyes for a few beats, trying to force the tears back. 

“And you are the best daughter in the whole wide world, you and Daisy. And I wouldn’t want another one of either of you.” He smiled at her.

Lily gripped the chains of the swing and leaned closer to her father, placing a rather sloppy kiss on his own nose. 

“I love you daddy.” She beamed. 

“I love you too, pumpkin. You have no idea how much.” 

***

Waiting outside of the theatre he checked his watch again and huffed out a breath. The movie should have finished fifteen minutes ago, at least that’s what she’d told him. 

He didn’t like this one bit. He didn’t like his daughter going on dates, he didn’t like being made to wait fifteen minutes after a movie finished because Daisy and Cam were doing god knows what. He didn’t like anything about this. 

He looked at his watch again, wondering how much time could pass before it was appropriate to go in and look for her. When he glanced back up a set of sparkling blue eyes were staring at him. 

“When I was their age, my ex-husband and I would stay behind after the movie finished and make out.” Blair shrugged, sidling closer. 

“Wow, I did not need that image in my head, thank you.” Spencer rolled his eyes.

“They’re fourteen, Spencer. They are most definitely making out in there.” Blair laughed.

Spencer pulled a face, looking a little like a moody child being told he couldn’t have ice cream for dinner.

“I was in college by the time I was fourteen and everyone was significantly older than me. Is it normal to be making out at that age?” 

“Very,” Blair nodded, leaning against the wall of the theatre next to him. “You really did not have a normal childhood did you?” 

“I did not.” He sighed. “I didn’t kiss a girl for the first time until I was twenty one.” 

A silence passed between them, the awkwardness of this situation washing over them like a wave. Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets and rolled his lip between his teeth. 

“You didn’t call.” Blair finally broke it, her eyes turned down. 

“I specifically remember you telling me not to.” Spencer shrugged. 

“Unless you were choosing me.” She nodded. “So you chose then?”

Spencer nodded slowly, inhaling a sharp breath before letting it out through his nose. 

“I did.” He caught her eye. “I chose my girls. I chose me.” 

“Good for you.” She offered him a half smile. 

“I’m sorry for the way things ended. I did intend to call but every time I went to I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me. I figured with our kids dating it was inevitable we’d run into each other at some point.” 

“Did you mean to cringe when you said our kids were dating?” Her smile grew. 

“No, that was entirely involuntary. It has nothing to do with Cameron, he seems like a really good kid. I just hate that my daughter is old enough to date.” He laughed. 

“And make out with boys.” 

“Ok, you have to stop that.” He shook his head, causing Blair to giggle. 

Just then the front door of the theatre opened and Daisy and Cameron emerged, hand in hand. The sight made Spencer’s stomach coil into knots and his chest tightened painfully.

And he did not miss his daughter's kiss-swollen lips. 

Oh good god, I can’t deal with this. 

Blair nudged him in the arm as he was staring awkwardly at them and he desperately tried to push past it and not dwell on the fact his daughter was making out with boys in movie theatres. 

Daisy and Cameron joined them, hands still interlocked. 

“How was the movie?” Spencer asked, trying to keep the emotion from his voice. 

The teens exchanged a look, smirking at each other. 

“It was good.” Cameron shrugged.

“Really good.” Daisy agreed. 

Spencer pulled a face, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Once upon a time he would have snatched Daisy away from him, forbade her from seeing him. 

He was growing. Or at least he was trying to. 

“Can we all go get ice cream?” Daisy asked, looking between them. 

“The four of us?” Blair frowned a little. 

“Yeah.” Daisy shrugged. 

Blair looked at him with a questioning expression and Spencer sighed. 

“Seems super awkward. Count me in.” He agreed. 

Daisy let go of Cameron’s hand and he and his mother started walking. Spencer hung back with his daughter and eyed her curiously. 

“I swear if this is some kind of parent trap…” 

“Dad, trust me when I say I do not want you dating my boyfriend's mom.” Daisy scoffed before walking off, catching up with Cameron and slipping her hand back in his. 

Spencer didn’t move for a moment or two, simply staring at their entwined hands and ruminating on his daughter’s words. 

“Boyfriend?” He grimaced. “My daughter has a boyfriend.” 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamlessfangirl-3 @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

[writinghotchner]

I know this is a weird request so please don't feel like you have to fill it lol. Hotch x Reader fic where Reader has a type of disability? Whether its like crippling depression/anxiety or something else, your choise! Something cute and fluffy preferably but that's also up to you!

no such thing as a "weird request" to me, i'm insane <3 and thank you for requesting!!

fandom: criminal minds pairing: hotch x fem!reader rating: E tags: depression, mentions of anxiety

you're on the couch wrapped in the thickest blanket you could find when you hear the front door open and close.

usually, you'd greet your boyfriend at the door, kiss him, ask him about his day, discuss dinner plans and all the usual adult things an adult couple does.

but today you can't make yourself move. that usual spark of joy that lightening strikes its way through your spine when you know he's home isn't there. the excitement to run to the front door to kiss him stupid like you would normally do isn't there. what's there, though, is the soul numbing feeling of absolutely nothingness. you don't feel sad, you don't feel happy, you quite literally feel numb- nothing. so you don't move.

if aaron notices, he doesn't say anything. instead, he makes his way over to you and leans over the back of the couch to kiss your blanket covered head. he doesn't say anything, and you surely don't say anything. you hear him shuffle by, assuming he's going to the bedroom to change out of his suit like he normally does.

a few minutes later, he reappears in black sweatpants and a basic plain white t-shirt. he sits at the end of the couch and lifts you feet onto his lap and gives them a little squeeze.

you've been together long enough for him to know that this is just something that happens. nothing necessarily triggers it, and he knows he didn't do anything wrong so he's not quick to jump on you and ask questions and plead to know how to "fix it". you're beyond thankful for that. you discussed how bad your depression can get when you first got together a few years ago and he completely understood. of course he did, after finding out everything this man had been through, of course he knows a thing or two about being depressed.

"have you eaten today?" you hear him ask, the blanket covering your entire head making it sound like he's underwater.

you want to answer him. you want him to know you aren't ignoring him and that it's not his fault, even if he knows and understands, the anxiety of it all makes it all crush your insides a little bit more.

one day he's going to get sick of this and leave.

after a beat, you unwrap the top half of yourself from your cocoon and stare up at the ceiling and then eventually look over at him. he flicks you a comforting smile as he presses his thumbs into the arches of your socked feet.

you shake your head 'no' at him and he nods his head. "are you hungry?"

you shrug, barely, but he sees it.

"okay," he says softly leaning up, resting his elbows on his thighs. "if i make us something, will you try to eat?"

you stare at him. he waits a second before adding, "you don't have to eat if you don't want to, but i'm going to make you a plate anyway, okay?"

you blink at him, and nod slightly. he gives your foot one last squeeze and gets up to head to the kitchen.

you turn your eyes back to the tv that's been playing in the living room this entire time. you aren't watching it, you truly have no idea what's even on, your eyes not focusing enough to process or care what it is. you barely even register that there's sound coming from it.

you're not sure how long it's been, but hotch comes back with two plates in his hands and sets them down on the coffee table. he sits down on the floor and scoots your plate over towards you. there's not much food on it. a couple pieces of steamed broccoli, a scoop of mashed potatoes and a pathetic excuse of a piece of meat. you stare at it, willing your brain to just let you move and want to eat it.

"it's not much, but it was the quickest thing i could throw together in the air fryer," he tells you. "well, the broccoli was steamed in the microwave...i cheated a little." he shoots you a cheesy grin that you barely catch out of the corner of your eye. "and the mashed potatoes are instant. don't tell anyone though."

it's funny how moments like this make you fall more in love with him. he knows you're hurting, would stop the world and do whatever it took to get the pain to stop, but he acts normal around you, keeping light conversation with you and not trying to get you to "cheer up" like most people would try to do.

you're still staring at the plate, an internal screaming match taking place inside the entirety of your brain when you realize he's still talking. you have no idea what he just said, but he's still got that goofy grin on his face as he shoves a piece of broccoli in his mouth.

something inside of you loosens, the vice grip lets go of your soul for a moment and you huff a small laugh at him.

"are you laughing at me or the fact that jj accidentally broke reid's nose?"

okay, wait a second. what?

"what?" you ask, your voice a little hoarse but full of complete amusement.

he laughs, a full toothy laugh that always makes your heart swell. "yeah," he finishes chewing and swallowing his food and turns to look more at you. "reid was trying to show her some new magic trick he'd just learned and, i'm not entirely sure how it happened, but it startled jj enough to where she accidentally elbowed his face. right in the nose."

you blink incredulously at him before you shift yourself up on your elbow. "is he okay?"

hotch nods. "yeah, he's fine. after the initial shock of it, they all started laughing."

the conversation tapers off and your eyes go back to the plate thats slowly getting cold. hotch is nearly done with his. he pats the floor next to him, "join me?"

and so you do. you really have to make your limbs work and it's such an energy draining task that just makes you angry because why in the world do you have to keep fighting with yourself to literally just...live. but, you shake that thought out of your head and melt yourself off the couch and land on the floor next to him; it makes him laugh again and that seems to help dissipate even more of the darkness leaching to your spine.

"want me to feed you?" you know he's joking, he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he says it, making airplane noises with his own fork as he wiggles it around the air to your mouth.

you actually laugh at that and the smile he gives you is so beautiful you nearly, actually cry.

"i love you." is all you say. you rest your head against his shoulder and slide your plate over in front of you and take a bite of the mashed potatoes. the first bite always kick starts your brain, making you realize just how hungry you are so you quickly scoop up another forkful and nearly shovel it in your mouth.

"i love you too, honey." he tells you and you turn a little to kiss his sleeved shoulder.

"it's because of the steamed broccoli, isn't it? that always gets the girls all wild for me."

the rest of whatever evil lurking inside you breaks and you snort laugh at him, throwing your head back onto the couch cushion.

[opossum-rights]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<< Prologue - Next Part >>

Word Count, 3.5k

“How are we feeling? Your medication should’ve started kicking in by now,” says a nurse as she goes about conducting your checkup.

“I feel fine.” You give her the thumbs up, not really looking for any conversation. You appreciate how nice the nurses assigned to you are, but you think that’s partly because your parents haven’t visited other than to do paperwork, so they feel bad for you. They were always pretty distant, so you don’t mind them not showing up.

“Alright then, you know what button to press if you need anything.” She scribbles something down on her clipboard and leaves you be.

Back to staring at the ceiling again.

It was about a week after the incident and you were still in the hospital. You’re not sure what’s worse, the dull ache that washes over your body if you so much as squirm, or the boredom you’re faced with everyday. For a while, you were too out of it to realize how stuffy it was being stuck in a hospital bed, but after being taken off the stronger painkillers they had you on, you found yourself staring at the wall more often than not.

A classmate of yours brought your laptop, books, and some other things from your dorm to keep you entertained during your stay. They didn’t help much.

Looking at any type of artificial light for too long makes your head hurt, thanks to your concussion, and everytime you pick up a book you find your attention drifting before finishing the page.

You think it’s the lack of scenery and social interaction that’s making you go stir-crazy the most. Apart from that one classmate, you had no other visitors. The day after you got here a basket arrived from Best Jeanist’s agency, filled with treats and flowers and a card signed by your coworkers.

It makes you sad to think that by the time you’re discharged from the hospital, work studies will be over and it’s back to school. Though it’s nice to know that someone’s thinking of you.

There’s a knock at the door. You tell the person it’s okay to come in as you glance at the clock on the wall. It isn't the time they usually bring you dinner.

“Delivery!” A nurse enthusiastically calls out. You sit up, curious.

In her hands is another ‘get well’ basket, only instead of the sweets in the one you received from your colleagues, this one seems to have some over-the-counter medicine along with some other basic medical supplies, and what looks like a bag of takeout. Taking a closer look at the bag you realize it’s from a restaurant near the U.A. campus; a popular hang-out spot for students, especially after the move into the dorms.

“Who’s that from?” You ask, reaching out to grab it. The nurse shrugged.

“I’m not sure, it was dropped off at the front desk. Receptionist said it was a couple of U.A. boys. Maybe some classmates?”

You try to think of who it might be, but a single name can’t come to mind. You aren’t close with any of your classmates, even considering the one who grabbed your stuff only an acquaintance. Not that you particularly dislike any of them. It’s just that most have that ‘business student attending a prestigious school’ vibe.

“Well, whoever put this together definitely put some thought into it. Maybe they’ll come back.” The nurse sees your bewildered expression. She reminds you how much time there is until your next dosage of medication, then walks out and gently shuts the door behind her.

Despite how confused you are, the takeout has you feeling more upbeat than you’ve been in days. If you’re honest, any other non-hospital food would’ve brought out the same reaction.

You look inside the bag to see a little card on top of the containers. It’s plain white, ‘Get Well Soon’ printed on the front. In your hand, it’s a little warm from the food. On the other side of it is a brief handwritten note.

‘Hi there! I’m not sure if you remember, but we’re the ones who found you after the building collapsed. We’re relieved to hear that you’re doing okay! Always glad to help fellow U.A. student!’

Under the message are three signatures: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, and Todoroki Shouto. Going by handwriting, Midoriya was the one who wrote the message. You sort of remember them.

You smile to yourself as you place the card on the bedside table. No longer able to resist the smell, you dig into the takeout bag. What they got were safe choices, in other words kinda plain and not what you would’ve picked, but after days of hospital food, you’re about ready to cry from the flavor.

After you're finished, full and satisfied, you go to toss the bag away when you see a thin white sheet of paper. A receipt from the restaurant. Bakugou was apparently the one who bought it.

He must’ve ordered it from his phone, then gone to pick it up, going by a cell phone number listed. Would it be an invasion of privacy to call or text to thank him?

You decide to sit on it. Looking through the rest of the basket, you find over-the-counter pain relievers, an electric heating pad, some ointments, and some other minor things.

You’re flattered, to say the least.

This sways your decision to reach out, grabbing your phone and the receipt.

‘Hi, this is the student from the hospital. Thank you all so much for saving me and buying me stuff! Food was good.’

You’re not sure exactly what to type, so you decide on something short. Almost immediately after setting your phone in your lap, it pings to let you know you got a response.

‘You better be grateful.’

Huh, not what you were expecting.

‘I really am! The supplies are definitely going to make the next week I’m stuck here more bearable. Tell your friends I said thanks!’

‘Those two dumbasses aren’t my friends’

Ok, you’re getting a better idea of who this kid is. Now that you think about it, wasn’t he the one who had to be muzzled at the sports festival? You’re kinda surprised they let him into the hero course.

Not sure what to say to that, you set your phone down and go back to digging through the basket. All the while, a warm feeling in your chest.

…

It’s a couple of days later, and you’re still holding onto the feeling that popped up knowing those boys thought of you. Truthfully you expect nothing else. What they’ve done for you is more than enough. So it’s definitely a surprise when a nurse slides into your room saying that you have a visitor; a U.A. boy named Midoriya.

You tell her to send him in. Quickly, after she leaves the room, you sit up and brush your hair down. It’s the first time you’ve seen anyone but a nurse in a week, and you’ll admit you haven’t been putting as much thought into your appearance since you got here.

“Um, hello. Is this the right room?” The green-haired boy, who you now know is Midoriya Izuku, nervously steps into the room.

“Y-yeah, it is.” You mentally groan at your awkward response, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It’s great to properly meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he says with a genuine smile on his face. He holds up another takeout bag in his hand.

“Kacchan, er-Bakugou said you liked the food he picked up last time, so I grabbed you some more.”

“You really didn’t have to, but thank you so much!” You properly introduce yourself, returning his enthusiasm, and gesture to a seat on the side of your bed.

“Since you’re here, let me pay you back at least.” You reach over the other side of your bed to grab your backpack on the floor.

“No, no you really don’t have to!” He shoots his hands up and rapidly shakes his head.

“If you’re sure…” you trail off. You sit back up quicker than you should’ve and feel a slight pain in your ribs. It must show on your face because Midoriya leans closer and looks you over.

“All you alright? Should I call a nurse?” You hurriedly tell him no, that you just moved too fast.

“Still not used to being so fragile,” you painfully chuckle and wave a hand at your leg.

He focuses on your leg, brows furrowing and seeming to be lost in thought. You feel your cheeks warm at the attention, and you ask the first thing that pops into your head to distract him.

“Do you wanna sign it?”

“Huh?” He turns to you with wide eyes.

“Well, you did save me after all. It’d be kinda cool having the autograph of a future pro hero. You can consider me one of your first fans.” Saying this makes him light up.

You grab a marker from your bedside table left by one of the nurses and hand it to him. He stutters out a ‘thank you’ and signs his hero name in neat characters in the space just over your knee.

“Deku, huh? I’ll be sure to remember it.”

After that conversation comes more easily. Both you and him seem more easygoing than when he first arrived. You chat about school, your respective courses, who you’re working under, and even more. Soon a nurse sticks her head in to announce that visiting hours are ending soon.

“Again, thank you for stopping by. Talking with you has been the most fun I’ve had in a while.” Your gratitude makes him blush as he bashfully scratches the back of his neck.

“Really, it’s no trouble at all. I’ve been thinking about you a lot since the incident. You seemed pretty frightened, so I wanted to check up on you.” Now it’s your turn for your face to warm up. You smile at each other.

“Would you mind if I came to visit you again?” He asks as he stands from his seat.

“Of course not, just no more buying me anything. Here,” you grab a napkin from the takeout bag, still sitting unopened, and scribble down your number. He takes it with a smile, and then soon enough he’s out the door.

Deku; you know for a fact that in ten years you’ll be hearing his name in the news all the time.

…

The next day rolls around and you’re in a way better mood than previously. Midoriya had texted wondering how you were, and you even made plans for him to visit later in the week. The uptick in your mood must’ve been obvious, as even the nurses were commenting on it. They were happy to see you so happy.

After your recent checkup, the doctor said that your concussion was healing nicely enough for you to watch some TV, but to turn it off the second your head starts to ache.

That’s where you are right now, getting caught up on the dramas you missed. In fact, you’re so into it that you don’t notice the loud footsteps stomping down the hallway.

You’re leaning in, anticipating the moment the lead confesses her love when your door blows open like an explosion took place in the hallway.

You jump away, watching as a spiky-haired blond boy walks in without saying anything. Again, in a U.A. uniform. It doesn’t take much thinking for you to piece together that this is Bakugou Katsuki.

“What?” He spits out when he sees you staring.

“Uh, what do you mean ‘what’? This is my room,” you point from yourself to the door. He looks at you like you’re an idiot.

“I know that, dumbass. I’m here to give you this.” He stomps up and thrusts a piece of paper at you.

You cautiously glance at him as you take it. You continue to look at him with it in your hand.

“Read it,” he grunts out, moving to the chair next to your bed.

You shrug at him then look at it. It’s a letter from Principal Nezu confirming that due to being injured from no fault of your own, you won’t need to make up for your missed time on your work study nor will you have any extra assignments. There’s even a note at the bottom from Best Jeanist, saying that what happened was tragic and that you’re welcome back to his agency the next time work studies roll around.

You’re touched, and it must show on your face as you hear a scoff from the boy next to you. You’ll be honest, you forgot he was there. Something else you forget was the harsh movements you made when he barged in. A dull pain sets in your leg, and you squirm around to try and get more comfortable.

“What happened?” He’s quieter now, though his words still have a bite to them.

“I just moved too harshly. I’m fine,” you say, and he gives a huff. Things taper off after that. You’re not exactly sure why he stayed past giving you the note.

“Thank you for the other day. You were one of the heroes that saved me from the rubble, right?”

“Damn right, I blew it away. Neither of the other two did jack,” he smirks, pride in his voice.

“Yeah? Well, thanks for the food too. I really like that place.”

“Hospital food tastes like shit. It’ll probably make ya even worse,” he looks away when he replies.

He takes a glance at your cast, more specifically the name on it.

“Deku…” He looks pissed off.

“You want to sign it too? You’re also one of my heroes,” you say as you grab the marker and hold it out to him.

Bakugou looks startled by your offer, but only for a moment. He roughly grabs that tool from you and gets to work. He signs his hero name in big, scratchy characters right above Midoriya’s. With an upward twitch of his lips, he caps the marker and throws it back onto the table.

“Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite…” You’re not sure if you were just pranked. Seeing the disbelief on your face as you look back at him, he scowls.

“Better remember it,” he’s serious. Not wanting to piss him off even more, you move on to flattery.

“Don’t think I could. Look forward to seeing it up on the charts!” This pleases him, you think. You’re sincere when you say it.

You make small talk for the rest of his time there. It’s mostly you egging him on. You talked about class, how he’s at the top of his both in academics and strength (you have no way of knowing if that’s true), and how he interned under Best Jeanist earlier in the year, that’s why he was the one to get the note.

Eventually, a text pops up on his phone and he glances at it, scowling once he sees who it is.

“Damn hag,” he mutters as he slings his bag over his shoulder and stands.

“Don’t die,” he’s blunt as he turns back at you in the doorway.

“Not planning on it,” you reply, giving him a little wave. He stomps back out the door, slamming it shut of course. It sounds like he pauses outside, then you can hear his footsteps move down the hall back to the elevators.

He sure has a strong presence, and you know how far that’ll take him in this industry.

…

Suddenly it’s a few days later, the day you planned for Midoriya to visit. You were excited, and a bit jumpy. Even with a preset time you found yourself hopping up everytime the door opened, only to be disappointed once it’s just a nurse.

You found yourself wanting to impress him, or at least not look like you’ve been stuck in the hospital for weeks. A nurse assisted you in taking a bath, and you put on a sweater over the top of your hospital gown. You’re afraid there’s no hiding how dead your skin looks with the lack of direct sunlight.

The time ticks on. You set your eyes to the clock set high in the corner of the room and watch as the hour and minute hands place themselves where they need to be, then past.

At first you can excuse it, his train probably got delayed or there was an emergency. You really didn’t want to blame him for it. He was a hero in training, after all, he probably didn’t have time to spend with a kid in the hospital.

There’s a lock at the door. You twist around, hope being brought back.

“Come in!” You try to play it cool and keep the excitement out of your voice.

There’s a pause on the other side. The door slowly opens to show not who you were expecting. It’s a boy with two-toned hair, and two different colored eyes. This is Todoroki Shouto if you remember correctly.

“Midoriya’s in the bathroom,” he stated as he stood in the doorway. You light up and smile at him, overjoyed to hear that he hasn’t ditched you.

“Thanks for letting me know. You can sit down, if you want,” you wave a hand to the chair at your bedside.

He nods, then moves to sit. As he does, he seems to realize something and briefly introduces himself. You do the same.

You had your fair share of awkward moments when Midoriya and Bakugou first came to visit, but they both did their part in providing small talk. This boy, on the other hand, is content with being quiet. You’re more intimidated by him than you were with Bakugou.

As you try and think of something to say, you hear a murmur.

“That’s what he picked?” You glance over to see he’s staring at your leg, where his teammates have written their hero names.

“Yeah, Bakugou’s sure is… something. It does fit him, though.” He agrees with that, not saying anything else. You decide to hurry things along and grab your trusty marker, pointing it at him between your fingers. He looks at you blankly.

“Go on, the other two did. You were also there to help me. Thank you for that, by the way,” you give him a smile as you shake your hand lightly.

“I’m a hero, it’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.” He takes the marker anyway. Under your knee, he writes his name in small, neat characters. When he’s finished he caps the pen and sets it back on the table.

“Shouto? Staying true to yourself, nice.” He gives you a barely there smile, and is about to say something when the door rushes open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Todoroki wanted to come with when I said I was visiting,” Midoriya slightly bows as he apologizes.

“It’s fine. I have nothing else to do other than wait.” You wave him off.

Looking around, you realize the only place to sit in the room is being taken up by Todoroki. You could call a nurse, but you’d feel bad making them leave their station just for a chair. Moving your good leg more towards you, you pat at the empty space. He looks unsure of it, but you pat it harder to get the point across that it’s fine. Hesitatingly he sits on the edge of the bed, being very conscious of your cast.

You all get to talking a bit more, mostly you and Midoriya, but sometimes Todoroki’s dragged in by one of you, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

…

As they’re getting ready to leave you call out to them.

“I know I probably said it a thousand times, but really thank you guys. If it wasn’t for you I’d be in even worse shape, or maybe dead,” you blink away tears in your eyes as you tell them. They both freeze at your expression.

Todoroki doesn’t seem like he knows what to do, but Midoriya gently places a hand on your shoulder. You place a hand over his.

“You guys are already amazing heroes.” They both are happy to hear that.

“Thank you, that means a lot to hear,” Midoriya sounds genuine, the light in his eyes warms your chest.

“So, see you later?” You let go of his hand, and he backs up to where Todoroki is by the door.

“Of course, I’ll text you when I have a free day.”

“Is it alright if I visit again?” The quiet boy speaks up. You’re surprised, but glad he seemed to have a nice time.

“Definitely, you guys are the only people I see outside of the nurses. It keeps me from going crazy.” They have a strange look flash across their faces, but quickly go back to normal and make to leave when a nurse walks in with some of your medication.

You don’t know if you can consider them friends yet, but you have a feeling these boys will stick around.

[cupofsapphics]

The Coffee Shop

[ melissa schemmenti x reader ]

warning(s): none

summary: a new coffee shop opened near abbott and something, or rather someone, keeps a redhead coming back

a/n: feeding you guys one fic a year is so generous, right? right?? also forgive me you guys, it's been a while since i wrote... so mel might be a bit ooc

word count: 1.7k

Mondays were always a pain for the staff at Abbott. Work to catch up on, plan lessons, and more. Just like every other morning, Janine walked into the room with a bright smile. “Guys, did you hear about the new coffee shop that opened down the road?” 

Barbara gave her a glance and shook her head. “I’m satisfied with my regular coffee.”

Ava suddenly bursts through the door. “Girl, no wonder you always be lookin’ so miserable. That new place serves one hell of a coffee, y'all should try.” She grins as she puts countless spoons of sugar into her coffee.

Barbara and Melissa shared a skeptical look before getting up to go set up their classrooms for the incoming kids. Undeterred, Janine turned to Jacob “I’m thinking of checking it out tomorrow, do you wanna come?” 

“I’d be happy to, I’ve been planning to go over there anyway.” Jacob gushes. 

The next morning, the two pulled the door open to the shop and were taken aback by the sight before them. Compared to the frigid air outside, the cafe felt welcoming. The walls were plain white, but many paintings adorned them. Strings of warm lights hung from the ceiling, inviting passersby to sit and relax. You just opened the cafe a mere 15 minutes ago and the ring of your doorbell caught your attention as you were cleaning the counter.

“Hi! Welcome to my cafe, what can I get you?” You beamed as you leaned on the counter with both of your arms. Business has been slow ever since you started the shop, so it was nice to see people come in.

“Just a cappuccino, please,” the woman says excitedly and moves to sit down at one of the tables. You nodded and turned to her friend to find him staring at cookies, donuts, croissants, and muffins through the glass. You clear your throat and his attention redirects back to you as he orders quickly to join his friend at the table. You quickly get to work and start preparing.

You approach them, with the two drinks and snack in hand. Putting them on the table, you ask, “Are you guys from the school across from here? I don’t get a lot of customers, so it would make sense if you guys work nearby.” They take a sip as they listen to your inquiries and their eyes widen as they drink more. 

“Yeah, we’re from Abbott, the school just across from here. I’m sorry, but I just got to say, this coffee is absolutely amazing,” Janine rapidly finishes as she drinks more. You hear a muffle from her companion, which you could make out was along the lines of, “I know right.” You let out a light chuckle. The woman sticks her hand out and says, “By the way, my name’s Janine, and my friend over there is Jacob.” At the mention of his name, Jacob pauses from eating to give you a small wave. 

“Nice to meet you guys, I’m Y/N.”

Janine and Jacob talked to you for a few more minutes before they had to go back to prepare for their classes. They promised to come here as often as they could for their coffee. Over the course of a few weeks, you became good friends with both of them and often joined them for meetups outside of work.

--

You got a call from Janine about a week ago about having some drinks and snacks out for the staff at Abbott to enjoy. She asked if you could provide them and bring them over. “I’m sorry if this is kind of last minute,” she says nervously. “It’s okay, Janine. I’ll bring them over next Monday,” you replied reassuringly.

Monday came quickly and before you knew it, you found yourself in front of Abbott Elementary with armfuls of coffee and food. Scrambling to the counter, you ask the person in the front for a pass (Janine said you needed one) and made your way towards the staff room. There were already a good amount of teachers chatting amongst themselves. Janine made her way up to you as she took the boxes off your hands and set them on one of the tables. “Everyone, this is Y/N. She owns the coffee shop across from the school and was kind enough to bring us some coffee and food to get through the morning!” Janine rambles eagerly. 

Everyone’s eyes were on you as you gave a small wave and started to hand out some coffee. You let your eyes drift to a redhead with glasses focused on grading some papers. Noticing no coffee next to her, you made your way toward the table and gently put down a cup next to her. The sound made Melissa look up, preparing to give a cold response. However, she was surprised to find a sweet and unfamiliar face. 

Not expecting her eyes to look so mesmerizing, you practically stutter out, “Hi, I noticed you didn’t have any coffee cup next to you, so I just wanted to give you one.” Melissa blinked for few times, not used to kind gestures from strangers, let alone pretty ones. She didn’t reply until Barbara elbowed her side and she jolted back into reality. “Thanks for the coffee, sweetheart,” she murmured. You could feel your face turning beet red at the nickname as you nod slowly and make your way back to the table where Janine sat. 

Melissa smirked at your reaction, watching you turn and walk toward Janine’s table. In the corner of her eye, she saw her friend shaking her head. “Melissa Schemmenti, you sure are something,” Barbara states as she returned to her morning crossword. The redhead shrugged. She already had her coffee for the morning, but she wouldn’t mind another one if it came from you. 

Taking a sip of her new coffee, Melissa paused, licked her lips, and turned to Barbara. “Oh my god, this coffee is unbelievable.” Her friend raised an eyebrow as she took another sip. Melissa thought that it was about time she paid a visit to the coffee shop across the street. 

--

It was a busy morning for you. Your alarm didn’t go off and when you got to the cafe, you found the sink in the back having some issues. You were scrambling to fix the pipes somehow when you hear the doorbell ring. Panicking, you quickly made sure there would be no leaks and stood up, moving to wash your hands. “Hi, welcome to the cafe! Give me one second and I’ll be right with you,” you said promptly. You came out to the front but slowed down when you recognized who it was waiting to order. There she was in all her glory with her leather jacket and fiery hair. Realizing you’re still at work, you snap out of it. “What can I get you?” You lean on the counter waiting for her order.

Approaching the table, you handed the captivating woman her coffee and felt the redhead’s hand brush against yours. Your face was painted with a light blush, causing the woman to grin. “What’s your name, hon?” God, this woman was going to kill you. 

“The name’s Y/N. Nice to finally know the name of the gorgeous lady I saw the other day,” you replied. You weren’t sure where this confidence came from, but those questions disappeared when you witnessed her eyes widen at the unexpected answer. The moment was quick though, for she recovered and quipped back, “Well, nice to meet you Y/N. The name’s Melissa. What’s a pretty girl like you doing working in a coffee shop?”

From then on, Melissa came every morning before her classes started. It didn’t matter the circumstances: rain, hail, shine, snow, she would still be there every single morning chatting away with you. She said that it was because the coffee there was just unmatched by any she’s had anywhere else. You’d like to believe that if it weren’t for the fact that you two exchanged flirtatious remarks every single day. 

--

Another dreaded Monday came for everyone and it became a regular sight to see Melissa walking into the staff room with a coffee from the shop across the street. The redhead sat down in her usual place next to Barbara who glanced at the coffee but said nothing. Everyone was wondering the same thing, but no one wanted to say it. Janine, brave as ever, decided to break the silence. “So… you must really like the coffee from the shop that Y/N runs right?” Melissa looks at Janine and then proceeds to look at the coffee cup. A soft smile appears on her face as her thoughts drift to you and all the moments the two of you shared over the past month or two. “Hello, earth to Melissa!” Janine says with a confused expression. 

Melissa looks back up at Janine. “Yea, she makes the best coffee I’ve had in a while,” she says hastily as she goes back to her grading. Jacob turns away from Melissa to mutter to Janine and Gregory. “The coffee’s not the only thing that Melissa keeps going back for..” Gregory snorted as Janine tried her best not to laugh. 

Melissa heard what Jacob said and she thought about it for the entire day. Sure, the coffee was amazing, but it definitely wasn’t the real motivation for coming to the cafe every single day. Melissa finally came to the realization that Jacob was right. The next morning, the redhead practically barged through the door and walked towards you. The sudden impact of the door startled you as you see Melissa coming towards you with an unreadable expression. You couldn’t help but feel nervous as she rounds the counter and kisses you. To say you were caught off guard would be an understatement, but not wanting to give the wrong impression, you kissed her back. After what seemed like forever, both of you pulled away and a comfortable silence filled the room. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?” Melissa let out a light chuckle before deciding to respond. “What do you say to dinner at my place tonight, hon?” The smile you offer her gives Melissa the answer she’s looking for.