Hello~ I'm Alex a Serbian girl who lives in Italy. This blog is my little nook where I express my feelings and passions. So no, this blog hasn't a particular theme, It's a mess.... but hey, the blog reflects me what did you expect?
Summary: Youâve always been Bucky's best friend, his steady presence and trusted confidante. But somewhere along the way, your feelings shifted, leaving you caught between loyalty and longing. Now, with Bucky as charming and elusive as ever, you canât help but wonder if heâll ever see you as more than a friend. Every stolen glance, every shared laugh feels like a step toward something deeperâif only heâd notice.
Summary: When Jake is tasked with taking his kids this festive season, he never though heâd get a call in the middle of the night that would change his life. Marriage is tougher than it seemed on paperâbut whats harder than accepting your marriage is crumbling around you is watching you ex wife slowly fade away.
Warnings: Character Death. Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ANGST. Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.
Author Note: Masterlist subject to change as series is still a work in progress. Descriptions, word counts and titles may vary.
-> Chapter One: [The Diagnosis] The last thing you ever expected was to be diagnosed with breast cancer. To make matters worse? Youâd been separated from the love of your life for just shy of a year. How do you tell the love of your life you might be dying? Itâs simple reallyâ You donât. (Out Now) 2.1
-> Chapter Two: [Chemo & Charisma] Jake arrives in Rhode Island to accompany his three kids back to Houston TexasïżŒ the next morning. He expects it to be slightly awkward, but something he doesnât expect is to be cryptically ïżŒseduced by youâhis ex wife. (Out Now) 4.6
-> Chapter Three: [V For VendettaïżŒ] When your stomach canât handle the Chemo medication, you empty the content of your stomach. While doing so, you and Jake come to a crossroads about your relationship going forward. (Out Now) 4.5
-> Chapter Four: [Parental Guidance] Jakes Mother simply cannot understand what he saw in you, your mother simply cannot comprehend why you left Jake. (Out Now) 4.1
-> Chapter Five: [Why Do They Call It Love?] Jake spends time with his side of the family and your kiddos in Texas. The lies quickly come to an end though when an overworked and overwhelmed nursing student makes the wrong call to your not so emergent contact. (Out Now) 5k
-> Chapter Six: [Chaos & Conflict] As panic consumes Jake after finding out about your current medical condition, Jake calls your mother to fill in the gaps. Nurse Lydia escapes being taken to her supervisor and Jake lets lose on his mother who tries to stop him leaving. (Out Now) 4.4k
-> Chapter Seven [Faucet Failure] Jake makes his way back to you after finding out the truth. While under sedation to give your brain some rest, you remember the good times and the bad with your husband. (Out Now)4.6
-> Chapter Eight [Oh, Honeybee] Jake canât accept why youâd keep such a life threatening situation a secret and you canât accept why he suddenly seems to care. (Out Now) 4k
-> Chapter Nine [The Pomegranate Theory] Jakes still trying to wrap his head around whatâs happening with your health. Doctor Ignatii oversteps? And you settle in while Jake helps you write some of your newest book. (Out Now) 4.3
-> Chapter Ten [The Potato Head Society & The Other Guy, Jarred?] Jake helps you shave your head in hopes of keeping your power and control. Facing your own mortality makes you question your faith in a higher authority and Jensen and Jake met for the first, and what you hope, will be the last time. (Out Now) 4.0k
-> Chapter Eleven [The Man] When Jensen and Jake butt heads over whoâs what to you, it blows way out of proportion to an extent so high, that Jake lashes out. (Out Now) 5.6
Content Warning: strong language and profanity, emotional manipulation and toxic relationship dynamics, physical altercation (slapping, shoving), depictions of verbal arguments and intense emotional distress, themes of infidelity and jealousy
Summary: Things arenât looking good between you and EddieâŠ
A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics !!! Not that anyone will remember, but I originally wrote and posted this fic back in 2022. I ended up deleting my work and blog for personal reasons, but Iâve decided to rewrite it and post it again. :)
You barge into the backroom of Scoops with Robin trailing close behind, her footsteps quickening to match your angry stride. She opens her mouth as if sheâs about to say something, but one look at your flushed face convinces her otherwise. She watches you with concern as you yank off your sweat-soaked shirt, tossing it aside with a huff. The sticky uniform you're required to wear stares back at you from a hook, and you mutter under your breath, wishing you could burn it.
Robin, always the practical one, moves to the mini fridge, fishing out a cold bottle of water. She places it gently on the small, cluttered table between the staff lockers. "Here," she says softly, her eyes never leaving your face. She drops into one of the worn-out chairs and pats the seat next to her, giving you that familiar look that says, Iâm here. Talk to me.
You take the offer, sinking into the chair with a long sigh before gulping down half the bottle in one go. The cold water is a relief, cooling you from the inside out. You finally feel the tightness in your chest start to ease.
Robin tilts her head, her brows knitting together with worry. âOkay, so whatâs going on? And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?â
âEddie Munson,â you spit out the name like itâs poison.
Robinâs face scrunches up in disgust. âUgh. Gross. I swear, if you and Eddieââ
You shake your head, a dry laugh escaping your lips. âNo, nothing like that. Iâm all hot and sweaty because we got into this huge argument. I refused to get into his van, and he just smirks and says, âFine, walk to work then.â Can you believe that? Complete asshole.â
Robinâs eyes widen. âAre you serious? Youâre like, miles away from here! You couldâve passed out from heatstroke or something.â
You snort. âWell, according to Mr. I-Failed-Senior-Year-Twice, itâs âjust a short walk.â The guyâs idea of distance is as bad as his grades.â
Robin chuckles, shaking her head. âHonestly, how do you even put up with him?â
You shrug, feeling a mix of frustration and something elseâsomething like the smallest hint of amusement. âI ask myself that every day.â
Just then, Steve pokes his head through the small service window, trying to look casual, but you know heâs been eavesdropping the whole time. His eyes shift between you and Robin, but he settles his gaze on you with a pointed look. âEddieâs here. Wants to talk to you,â he says, his voice heavy with the kind of sarcasm that only comes from dealing with Eddie Munson on a regular basis.
You exchange a knowing glance with Robin, who raises an eyebrow. âBut, hey, at least he knows when heâs wrong and can apologize,â you suggest, half-convincing yourself as you grab your ridiculous sailor hat. Robin gives you a doubtful look, but you ignore it, adjusting the hat with a small breath to steady your nerves. Maybe this time will be different, you think, as you head out to the front, hoping for an apology but bracing yourself just in case.
Eddie is waiting by the counter, leaning against it with that trademark smug grin plastered across his face. His hair is a wild mess, and he looks far too pleased with himself.
âHey, princess. How was the walk?â he asks, his tone teasing as his eyes gleam with amusement.
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. âOh, it was great, actually. Iâve heard getting some sun is good for youâsomething about vitamin D,â you shoot back, your voice laced with sarcasm.
âGlad to hear it,â Eddie replies, barely missing a beat. âBecause youâre gonna need another dose. My vanâs busted, had to leave it at the garage for repairs.â He picks up one of the flimsy menus from the counter and flips through it like he actually cares what's on it.
You narrow your eyes. âUh, donât you mean we have to walk home?â
He looks up with a lazy grin. âNo, I mean you have to walk. Funny thing, I bumped into Roxy on my way here, and she very graciously offered to give me a ride home. You remember Roxy, right?â
How could you forget? The mere mention of her name sets your teeth on edge. Roxy, the redheaded bitch whoâs been circling Eddie like a vulture ever since you two got together three years ago. Sheâs got that classic bad-girl look down: leather jackets, tight skirts with ripped fishnets, blood-red nails, and enough black eyeliner to intimidate a raccoon. The kind of girl who fits right into Eddieâs metalhead world. You feel your eye twitch involuntarily, the familiar surge of irritation bubbling up inside you.
You force a smile, though it feels like it might crack at any second. âIs that all you came here for, Eddie?â you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
Eddie's smirk widens, and you can tell by the glint in his eyes that he knows heâs gotten under your skin. âActually, since Iâm here, how about a small cookies 'n' cream shake andââ
âOh, would you look at that! Weâre all out of ice cream,â you interrupt, your voice dripping with fake cheerfulness. Before he can say another word, you grab him by the arm and start steering him toward the door. âCome back later!â
Eddie doesnât resist; heâs too busy laughing, clearly enjoying how riled up heâs made you. His laughter echoes down the mall as he disappears up the stairs, probably to waste more of his time somewhere else. You let out an exasperated huff, your patience wearing thin.
Robin, still perched on a stool behind the counter, looks bewildered as she munches on a cookie. âWhoâs Roxy?â she asks, her mouth half-full.
âOnly the hottest girl The Hideout has ever seen,â Steve chimes in, leaning against the counter and taking a long sip of his shake. His casual tone is enough to make your blood boil, and without thinking, you land a solid punch on his arm.
âOw! What was that for?â Steve yelps, rubbing his arm and giving you an offended look.
âGet back to work,â you snap, snatching his shake right out of his hand and dumping it into the trash without a second thought. Steve stares at the garbage can, then at you, his mouth agape, but youâre already turning away, too annoyed to care.
â
Itâs been five days since the argument, and neither of you has made the first move to apologize. In fact, each day has become a new game of seeing who can push the other's buttons harder, and today, Eddie was clearly in the lead.
Youâre wiping down the sticky tables, the sweet smell of melted ice cream lingering in the air, when Eddie strolls in with Roxanne by his side. Roxyâs eyes are all over him, like heâs the only guy in the room, but Eddie seems oblivious to itâor maybe heâs just pretending to be. They make their way to the counter, and Roxy leans over to obnoxiously ring the bell, the sound grating on your nerves.
âWhatâs a guy gotta do to get some decent service around here?â Eddie calls out, his gaze locked onto you with a teasing smirk.
Robin and Steve are out getting lunch, leaving you alone to man the counter. Lucky you. You toss the rag onto the table and head over to the register. âWhat do you want, Eddie?â
He leans against the counter, his smirk deepening. âNow, is that any way to greet a paying customer?â he taunts, clearly reveling in the way your eyes flick daggers at Roxy, whoâs practically glued to his side.
You let out a sharp breath, summoning your best fake smile, the kind that doesnât reach your eyes. âWhat can I get you today?â you say through clenched teeth.
Eddie clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. âCome on, Iâm pretty sure you guys have a slogan for greeting customers. Letâs hear it.â
Roxanne lets out a soft, condescending laugh, her lips curling into a smirk.
You bite back a retort, forcing yourself to keep up the act. âWould you like to sail the ocean of flavors? Iâll be your captain today. What can I get you?â The words come out stiff and robotic, practically dragged out of you, but Eddieâs grin only widens.
âGood girl,â Eddie murmurs, low enough that only you can hear, his voice a mix of teasing and something else that sends heat rushing to your cheeks. You can feel your face flushing, but you keep your expression neutral. âAnyway, Iâll have that cookies ânâ cream shake. What about you, Rox?â
Roxy leans in closer to him, practically pressing herself against his arm as she gives you a once-over. âIâll just share with you. Donât want to eat too much and mess up my figure,â she says, her gaze sliding over you with a smirk that makes your blood boil.
It takes every ounce of self-control not to leap over the counter and throttle her, but you clench your jaw and turn away, focusing on making the damn shake. Your hands move on autopilot, scooping the ice cream, blending it up, and pouring it into the cup, all while you imagine various scenarios where you tell them both exactly where they can shove this order. With forced calm, you place the shake on the counter in front of them and watch as they saunter off to a booth. Eddie's eyes keep darting over to you, but you pretend not to notice, burying yourself in the never-ending list of chores to stay busy and keep from glaring daggers at him.
Just as you start wiping down the counter for the third time, you glance up and catch Roxy reaching over to brush a crumb from Eddieâs lip with her thumb, her touch lingering longer than necessary. Before you can react, the bell above the door jingles, and Steve and Robin come back, a takeout bag swinging in Robinâs hand. She takes one look at Roxy playing at doting girlfriend and makes a loud gagging noise.
Roxy rolls her eyes but doesnât pull away. You decide itâs the perfect time for your lunch break. Tossing your apron aside, you head for the door, but just as you pass their booth, you feel something hard underfootâRoxyâs boot. You stumble forward and crash to your knees, the sharp pain shooting up your legs.
âAre you fucking kidding me!â you shout, springing up with fury boiling over. Without thinking, you lunge at Roxy, ready to grab a fistful of that perfect red hair and let loose, but Steve grabs you around the waist, pulling you back.
Eddie jumps up, positioning himself between you and Roxy, his hands wrapping around your fists, trying to contain you. âBabe! Just chill out, it was an accident! Youâre making a scene!â he says, his tone somewhere between pleading and annoyed.
âOh, fuck you, Eddie!â you snap, struggling against Steveâs hold. âYouâre the one making scenes, showing up here with that slut!â
âHey!â Eddie's eyes flash with anger. âSheâs my friend, and Iâm not going to stand here and let you disrespect her like that!â
You scoff, feeling the sting of betrayal sharp in your chest. âYeah, a âfriendâ whoâs been trying to screw you for years, Eddie! Open your eyes! You know what? Just go. Get the hell out of here.â
âFine, we will. Come on, Roxy.â Eddieâs voice is cold, his face hard as stone as he turns his back on you, motioning for Roxy to follow.
You watch, stunned, as he actually starts to leave with her. The disbelief sinks in like a weight in your stomach. You wrench yourself free from Steveâs grip, not wanting anyone to see the tears starting to burn your eyes. Without another word, you storm to the back of the store, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and hurt.
â
Night falls, and it's finally time to close up shop. The last of the customers trickle out, their footsteps echoing through the quieting mall as they make their way to the exits. You, Steve, and Robin work together to pull down the metal gate, the clattering sound signaling the end of another long day.
âHow about you join us tonight?â Robin suggests, a hopeful smile on her face as she nudges you. âSteve and I rented a stack of horror movies. Weâre having a movie night.â
âYeah! We can order a ton of pizza, make popcorn, the whole shebang,â Steve adds, clearly trying to sweeten the deal. âCome on, it'll be fun. What do you say?â
Before you can answer, you catch a glimpse of Eddie sitting by the fountain alone, his head down, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee. For a moment, you consider ignoring him, letting things stay the way they are, but something inside you pushes you to try and be the bigger person. You turn back to Robin and Steve. âGive me a second?â you ask.
They exchange a look but nod, standing by the gate as you take a deep breath and head toward Eddie. Just as youâre about to reach him, Roxy appears out of nowhere and slides onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss right on his lips. Your stomach twists into knots.
âOh my god, Eddie, what are you doing?â you exclaim, your heart pounding in your chest as you step forward, disbelief and hurt surging through you.
Eddie's eyes go wide, and he quickly pushes Roxy away, but she just smirks, satisfied with her little display. âOh no, baby, weâve been caught,â she says in a mocking sing-song voice, her eyes glittering with mischief.
âWhat? No!â Eddie stammers, panic flooding his expression. âBabe, itâs not what it looks like!â His hands reach out toward you, desperate to explain, but you slap them away, the sting of betrayal sharper than anything he could say.
âI hope you have a happy life together!â you shout, your voice breaking as you reach for the necklace around your neckâthe one Eddie made for you, his favorite guitar pick hanging from it. You rip it off in one swift motion and throw it at him, the small piece of him that you once cherished now clattering to the ground between you. âWeâre fucking done!â
âBaby, please, donât do this!â Eddie's voice cracks, and he reaches out, grabbing your arm in a last-ditch effort to stop you. His eyes are desperate, pleading, but youâre beyond reason now. Without thinking, you use your free hand to deliver a sharp slap across his face. The sound echoes in the near-empty mall, startling even you.
You yank your arm free, turning away as the sting of your slap leaves a red mark on his cheek. Steve and Robin are at your side instantly, and as you storm off with them, you don't look back. But you can hear the ragged breath Eddie takes, his shoulders trembling as he stands there, one hand cradling his stinging cheek, his eyes wet with tears that spill down his face. He's crying, but you donât let yourself turn around. Not this time.
BAD LUCK âĄïž PT 1 | Best Friend!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Series Summary: Youâre resigned to living in your best friendâs shadow, letting her walk all over you in her designer heels because life is just easier that way. But when she takes the one thing that matters you decide enough is enough. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
WC: ~4k
Warnings: Angst, jealousy, pining, unrequited love (for now), brief mention of f!masturbation, reader has poor self-image, swearing, heartbreak, eventual smut, eventual witchcraft/occult themes, eventual dark-ish!reader, everyone is 21+ 18+ MDNI
Over the years you had come to realize that in life there were certain indisputable truths â things that you could count on happening time and time again without fail. A fumbled slice of bread would inevitably fall butter-side down. The checkout line you picked at the supermarket would always end up moving the slowest. And perhaps most notably, your best friend Georgina Banks would always get whatever she wanted.
If it wasnât already enough that Georgina had been born into a life of wealth and privilege, sheâd also been blessed with perfect skin, hair and posture. With a face kissed by the gods and perky breasts pushed sky-high in pink cashmere cardigans, she was the living, breathing embodiment of feminine grace.
And after nearly a decade of friendship youâd learned that fate would always side in her favor.
During Georginaâs reign as the Queen of Hawkins High, sheâd ruled her faithful minions with a well-manicured iron fist. Most of your fellow students would have given their right arm to sit at the lunch table over which she presided, but only a select few ever managed to make the cut.
And for some reason, that included you.
You knew that people who saw you and Georgina together likely thought you made a very odd pair, and in all honestly you were just as perplexed by your friendship as everyone else.
You never quite understood why sheâd chosen you to be her best friend out of all of her available options, but as much as you hated to admit it, her attention made you feel special â not a sentiment you were overly familiar with.
As a teenager youâd spent an embarrassing amount of time in front of your bedroom mirror mimicking your best friendâs gestures and style, hoping some of that Georgina magic might eventually rub off and transform you into someone more like her â popular and beloved instead of the dull, awkward girl you saw staring back at you in the reflection. It never worked, and as you grew older Georgina continued to float through life with infuriating ease while you justâŠdidnât.
In the grand scheme of things, without Georgina by your side to open all the right doors and secure all the right invites, your social status was even lower than the outcasts and unpopular kids, who at least got some attention, albeit negative.
You were invisible.
A true nobody. An afterthought who barely registered as a blip on anyoneâs radar. A stagnant weed unable to flourish in the ever-looming shadow of Georginaâs lofty branches.
Sometimes, deep down, you wondered if that was the real reason she kept you around. It made perfect sense. You, of all people, would never pose a threat to her position as queen bee. She could rest comfortably knowing you would never try to steal her spotlight. Never put your own needs first. Never dare step out of line, lest you fall victim to social ruin.
You hadnât exactly found it easy to make friends after moving to Hawkins while in middle school, and once Georgina had scooped you under her wing that was pretty much it. You had no one else in your corner and she knew it.
She knew you would continue to take what she dished out, all the while making her look more vibrant by comparison; a drab extra in the background of her life, blending into the scenery while she got to shine.
And oh, how she shone.
Perfect grades without opening a book. Lead actress in each yearâs drama production. The hostess of every highly anticipated party or social function Hawkins had to offer.
Georgina was a natural born star.
To you it felt like everyone who met your friend instantly fell under her spell, and youâd watch with veiled disgust as people would fawn over her to a sickening degree. Teachers, children, even small animals â it didnât seem to matter. Nobody in town was immune to Georginaâs winsome charms.
Growing up youâd even had a sneaking suspicion that your own parents wished that sheâd been their child instead of you, a laughable scenario at best because there was no way in hell that Georgina Banks would have been able to endure the ordinary existence of your simple family home. No maids? No avant-garde cuisine? No, thank you.
You found the way people worshipped her to be a very curious phenomenon, because even though she was beautiful, rich and well-dressed, she wasnât a good person. Just like a piece of spoiled fruit that looked ripe and sweet on the surface, when you finally peeled back the layers, Georgina was rotten to her core.
If you were being totally honest with yourself, you hated her.
You hated her fake smile, and the way her perfect lips would curl in callous mockery of anyone she felt was beneath her. How she could be so casually cruel without a second thought, twisting the knife in deep to make sure it inflicted maximum damage.
You hated how she treated people in general, but especially the ones she had labeled the weirdos and freaks; a wide-ranging group that consisted of anyone whose interests veered outside of shopping, parties, or anything else that Georgina deemed ânormalâ.
As time went on, that part started to bother you the most of all, because you just so happened to be fond of one of those aforementioned âfreaksâ. Very fond.
Youâd become friends with Eddie Munson shortly after starting your first semester at college, when youâd taken a part time job at the local record store.
The first time he came in to buy some cassette tapes youâd thought he looked familiar, but you couldnât quite place him. At least not right away.
When youâd heard the bell over the store entrance chime, and looked up from your spot behind the counter to see a handsome man with wild long hair walk through the door, you had been intrigued. He wore a battle vest that was covered in various rock paraphernalia, and even though you couldnât quite put your finger on it, you could have sworn youâd seen it somewhere before.
As you sat there watching him check out the music displays you had noticed he was cute, really cute, with big brown eyes, a defined jaw and full lips that lent a softness to his face. How had such a hot guy been right under your nose in Hawkins without you noticing? You swore sometimes it was like you lived under a rock.
After browsing the metal section for a few minutes, he had approached you at the counter and you'd silently willed yourself to try and play it cool. Something that was much easier said than done.
âHey, do you guys have the new Metallica album in yet?â heâd asked in a deep voice that caused a slight clench of your thighs, and all you could think in the back of your mind was that it just wasnât fair how attractive he was.
âNo, itâs not in yet. Sorry,â youâd told him with a shake of your head. Then youâd smiled sympathetically at his obvious disappointment.
âWeâre supposed to be getting it in on Friday,â you added helpfully. âIf you want to leave your name and number I can give you a call when it gets here.â The prospect of getting to see him again was already making you giddy.
âYeah sure, thanks.â The smile he gave you in response was wide enough to make his eyes crinkle at the corners, and the sight had caused an unfamiliar tightening in your chest.
Youâd pushed a pen and paper across the counter towards him.
âIâm looking forward to hearing it too,â you had volunteered quietly as you watched him write his contact info on the sheet, and heâd looked up at you immediately, his big eyes widened in surprise.
âYou like Metallica?â Eddie had tried to keep his voice casual, but could barely contain his excitement at meeting a fellow heavy metal fan â something few and far between in the small town.
âYeah, I love them. Their last record was amazing...â you had said full of enthusiasm, before trailing off shyly. Youâd wished you could think of something else a bit more insightful to say about Master of Puppets, but unlike Georgina who was a gifted conversationalist, you always struggled to find right words. Especially around someone as handsome as the brown-eyed metalhead.
After heâd left the store with a promise to come back on Friday, youâd looked down at the sheet where he had written his name and everything finally clicked into place. Eddie Munson. Of course! You were immediately hit with a vivid memory of him atop a cafeteria table back in high school, making a scene while loudly calling out the preps and the jocks. You remembered being amused by his obnoxious antics at the time, but had only dared to cheer him on inside your head. You hadnât been brave enough to laugh out loud with Georgina perched at your side, especially considering she was one of his intended targets.
Other than the occasional cafeteria rant, youâd never really crossed paths with Eddie while you were at Hawkins High, not surprising considering his reputation and the fact that Georgina kept you on a pretty short leash. You may have forgotten about him back then, but after that fateful day at the record store, you couldnât seem to get him off your mind.
After that day Eddie started to visit to the store on a much more frequent basis, and before long he became one of your favorite customers. Ok, the favorite.
Eddie was one of the few people youâd met in Hawkins who made you feel comfortable in your own skin. It felt amazing to spend time with someone who wasnât always looking over your shoulder and judging everything little thing you said or did. Since you and Georgina had moved into an apartment together after starting college, you felt more trapped than ever within her controlling grasp.
You started to live for those shifts at the record store.
After a while Eddie asked for your number and you started to hang out with him outside of work, meeting up to go to rock shows on the rare occasion that a decent band came through town. He also invited you to the weekly gigs of his own band, Corroded Coffin, and you quickly became their number one fan. Well, you and the other five drunks.
It didnât take very long for you to fall in love with Eddie; it was like heâd been created in a lab specifically for you. He could be sarcastic yet sweet, a little rough around the edges but still a bit of a dork â a perfect combination that made you swoon. It also didnât hurt that he was easy on the eyes.
As your feelings for Eddie grew, so did a raging battle inside you, because while you didnât have the confidence to tell him how you felt, you wanted him so very badly. Adding to your confusion was the fact that he could get a bit flirty at times, but you were never sure if he meant it or was just kidding around.
You werenât used to being the object of anyoneâs desire, and found it hard to believe that someone like him would be interested in you. For as long as you could remember every time a guy had looked your way, he was just trying to see around you to get a better view of Georgina.
As much as you wanted to be with Eddie, you couldnât help but worry that the signals he was giving off were all in your head. If you confessed your feelings and he turned you down, it would have shattered the one fantasy that got you through the day. You decided it was safer to keep things between the two of you platonic, at least until you could be absolutely sure.
Still, when you touched yourself late at night, it was his face that you imagined. His eyes on yours â his hands, his mouthâŠthose lips. And when youâd finally spill over the edge into the most exquisite pleasure, it was his name you would sigh out in the dark. Afterwards you would lie there alone in your bed, wishing you could feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours beneath the sheets. Sometimes the yearning was almost unbearable.
Of course, you never dreamed of telling Georgina about your crush. Eddie was so far beneath her on the Hawkins social ladder that there was no way she would have approved. It wasnât that you cared about her opinion of him at all, but you didnât want to let her taint that part of your life, as she would no doubt try. Your time with Eddie was something special, just for you.
To keep from having to explain things to Georgina, you hid your outings with Eddie, telling her that you were heading to the library to study whenever the two of you met up. It was the perfect white lie that you knew sheâd never figure out, because the library was one place sheâd never be caught dead.
Your ability to hide your friendship with Eddie was one of the few times that Georginaâs disinterest in you worked in your favor. She never noticed what was going on with you unless it affected her in some way. In fact, even though you spent most of your free time with each other, you were pretty sure she didnât know a single thing about you. All of your time together was spent talking about Georgina â her interests, her crushes, her problems.
It was never, ever about you.
So you were understandably taken aback when your birthday rolled around and she asked what you wanted to do to mark the occasion.
âI cleared my whole night,â sheâd announced haughtily, as if you should thank her. You had just stared at her blankly, not quite knowing what to say.
It just so happened that Corroded Coffin was playing a show at the Hideout that night, and Eddie had promised there was going to be a special birthday surprise just for you. Naturally you wanted to be there front row center to support your friends, but certainly not with Georgina in tow.
She never wanted to do anything unless it benefited her, so when you begrudgingly admitted that you wanted to spend your birthday at a metal show of all places, you expected her to dig in her heels and refuse to go.
You were unpleasantly surprised when she agreed to join you.
That night when you arrived at the entrance to the Hideout, you could tell that Georgina was already horrified by her surroundings. The old dive bar wasnât exactly the Ritz, after all. She sniffed at the burly doorman when he asked for her ID like heâd somehow managed to offend her to her core. It didnât get any better once the two of you got inside.
âIâm not sitting on these,â she hissed in a horrified whisper, gesturing at the bar stools youâd suggested as a place to wait for the show to start. âLook, theyâre all grimy. This skirt is suede.â
You just rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore her complaints because you were there for Eddie, not her.
The show that night had the potential to be a really important one for Corroded Coffin. Theyâd heard a rumor that a talent scout for a record label was going to be in the audience, and if everything went well, it could be their chance to finally land a recording contract.
You waved at Eddie when you saw him walk out onto the stage during soundcheck, and when he smiled and waved back your stomach did an excited little flip. You were so happy that not even Georginaâs presence could ruin your mood.
Once the lights went down and the show started you decided to move closer to the stage, dragging a very reluctant Georgina behind you. The entire set you stared up at Eddie from the front row like he hung the moon, your eyes locked on his large hands as they coaxed the most incredible sounds out of his guitar that youâd ever heard. Youâd never seen him play with such fiery passion.
You got a nervous lump in your throat when he finally zeroed in on you in the crowd, flashing you an adorable dimpled smile as he shook his head to move away the sweaty curls that surrounded his face. Then he stepped to the mic and announced that they were going to do a cover of your favorite song.
âThis one goes out to my special girl on her birthday.â
He winked at you before counting it down, and your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest. You couldnât get his words out of your head.
He had just called you his special girl in front of everyone. Not his friend or buddy or pal â his girl. Was it possible that you hadnât been imaging things after all and he actually liked you? You stared up at him in love struck awe as the first notes of Master of Puppets filled the air.
And thatâs when Georgina finally noticed Eddie.
Well, not him exactly.
She noticed the way your eyes lit up while you watched him, and saw the dreamy smile plastered across your face. It was pretty obvious you had it bad for the handsome metalhead, and from the way he was looking down at you from the stage, the feeling appeared to be mutual.
âYou like him.â It wasnât a question, but a matter-of-fact statement, spoken just loud enough that you could hear it over the buzz of the boisterous crowd.
You snapped your head around to face Georgina, and you could see the realization written all over her face. She now understood why you had wanted to spend your birthday squished alongside sweaty bodies in the front row of a metal show instead of somewhere more dignified with her and her other posh friends.
âNo, I donât.â You shook your head in brisk denial, but the flame you carried for Eddie burned too bright for you to hide. Youâd always been a terrible liar and Georgina could see right through you.
âDonât lie. Itâs cute.â She gave you a tight-lipped smile, and even though the pleasant expression didnât quite reach her eyes, it was a much tamer reaction than you had anticipated. You had always imagined her angrily scolding you for associating with a âfreakâ who might make her look bad by association.
Realizing there was no longer any point in lying, you nodded and even dared to flash her a relieved grin. You couldnât believe Georgina was being so calm about the whole thing, but it felt amazing to finally be able to admit your feelings out loud to someone. Youâd been dying to let it out for so long.
âYes, but please donât say anything when he comes over, okay? He doesnât know,â you begged, and she nodded, pulling her finger and thumb like a zipper across her pursed lips.
When the set ended, Eddie made his way through the crowd to greet you, wiping the sweat from his brow as his warm eyes assessed the ripped cropped top and tight jeans youâd squeezed yourself into for the show; not a Georgina-approved outfit by any means, but she had let it slide seeing as it was your special day.
âHey, get over here birthday girl.â He laughed as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you close to him in a tight embrace. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne as you relished in the feeling of his body held to yours. For that short moment you could almost imagine that you and Eddie were the only two people left in the crowded bar, but you werenât, and when he finally let you go and stepped back with a bashful smile, Georgina quickly slid in front of you and cleared her throat.
For a split second you thought she was about to tell Eddie to get lost, and you were just about to rush to his defense when your annoyance quickly turned to confusion.
You heard a soft giggle pass through Georginaâs glossy lips, and not just any regular old, run-of-the-mill giggle. No, you would have recognized that high-pitched girlish sound anywhere. It was her extra special giggle, reserved for flirting.
Like a switch had suddenly been flicked, Georginaâs sour grimace from earlier had been replaced by a dazzling smile, directed squarely at the man that you adored.
âYou guys were on fire tonightâŠespecially you,â she purred as she moved close enough to run her hand down Eddieâs sweat-glistened bicep. Her flirtatious words echoed and bounced around your uncomprehending skull as you watched Eddieâs dark eyes gleam and his front teeth protrude just enough to bite his lower lip.
What. The. Fuck.
âI love your ringsâŠtheyâre so sexy.â
You could hear Georginaâs voice but it sounded far away, muffled by a fuzzy pounding in your head that had started to make things go out of focus. You watched as she reached out to touch the jewelry that decorated Eddieâs hand, her manicured nails gleaming as they caressed the fingers that youâd imagined on your skin so many times.
No, no, no.
On the outside you were frozen in place, but inside you were screaming. Your fleeting hope, now swallowed whole, and sinking slowly into a bottomless pit of despair that knew no end.
You stood there, helpless, watching them make eyes at each other for a few moments before you finally found your voice and jostled Georginaâs arm.
âWeâd better head out now. Itâs getting late and Iâve got that paper I need to work on, remember?â
You hoped your words might trigger Georginaâs memory, and remind her that she wanted to go home. That she would realize you were offering her an escape from the dingy bar that sheâd wanted to leave since the moment sheâd stepped inside.
Instead, she turned to face you, her eyes widened in confusion as if she had suddenly just remembered you were there.
âThen go,â she said breezily, her icy cold eyes were a stark contrast to her forcibly casual tone. âI want to stay.â
âButâŠIâm your ride.â
You were still struggling to make sense of what was happening. It felt like you were losing your grip on a situation that was rapidly spinning out of your control. You couldnât have prepared yourself for the turn of events that was unraveling in front of your eyes. Not in a million years.
âUh, I can give you a ride if you want,â Eddie offered in a low voice while he gazed into Georginaâs eyes. It was like he was hypnotized and couldnât look away.
Georgina raised a seductive eyebrow at the obvious double entendre before turning her head over her shoulder to fix you with a triumphant smirk.
You shook your head in angry disbelief.
Your eyes stung as you fought back tears, completely crushed by Eddieâs betrayal. You had learned to always expected the worst from Georgina, but not him. You had told him about her nastiness so many times, and heâd seemed genuinely disgusted. So all it took was a pretty face and a low cut shirt, and suddenly everything heâd shouted about on table tops was forgotten?
âThere, itâs settled. Eddie will give me a ride,â Georgina said coldly as she dismissed you from their presence with a wave of her fingers. âYou can go.â
You looked helplessly at Eddie one last time, hoping heâd try to convince you to stay. But he wasnât paying any attention to you. He was too wrapped up in Georgina, just like the soft curl of his hair that was already twisted around her finger.
Suddenly feeling ill and in desperate need of air, you turned on your heels and rushed out of the bar and into the parking lot. Once outside, you fought to catch your breath and tried to keep your tears at bay until you could make it to the privacy of your car.
You drove home through a haze of tears, barely able to see the road. You felt like your whole world had suddenly been flipped upside down and nothing made any sense.
When you arrived home, you stormed inside and proceeded to pace your apartment, impatiently waiting for Georgina to return. The bar would be closing in a couple hours and you were resolved to finally to give her the piece of your mind that had been a long time coming. You had taken her shit for years and never once fought back, but this time she had gone too far. This? This was unforgivable.
But as the hours passed and the night wore on, Georgina never came home.
You waited up all night until finally, exhausted and heartbroken, you fell into a restless sleep on the sofa, lying on top of the decorative party banner that had fallen off the wall behind it.
Happy birthday, indeed.
A/N: Yikes. I'm so sorry, but reader is going to have to go through it a little. We all need our villain origin story, right? đ See you in the next part! I'll be posting the next parts of this story over the course of spooky season <3
When Ghostface is unconscious after your car crash, you turn the tables on him, setting off a wild ride. This is a dark fic. It's fantasy. Read at your own risk. Ghostface is anonymous & masked. Secondary characters are at horror-typical risk of death.
I said I was going to write a story based on how I just got my heart broken and Iâm pulling a fanfic move and moving back to my hometown.
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader
Written on phone at 3AM, while heartbroken.
Might suck but feedback and constructive critism is always welcomed. Just be nice.
Possibly might do a part 2. Possible happy ending, depending on the mood Iâm feeling.
Song on blast as Iâm writing this is August.
You Were Never Mine
You knew it was going to happen. You felt it deep inside, you just chose to ignore it. You held on to false hope, thinking that maybe you were just overthinking it. He had started being distant. You thought that maybe he was just busy, or had a lot on his mind.
But you knew deep down that wasnât the case. You just hadnât expected that it had something to do with her.
You thought he had gotten over it, but you were wrong. He was wrong.
But what could you do? You canât force him to stay. You canât force him to love you the way you love him. You let him go easily.
But your heart still yearns for him. You hadnât seen him in a few weeks. He was sent on a mission by Charles. You had planned to tell him that you loved him when he came back. You had wanted to cook him dinner, make something he had always wanted to try.
But when he came back, he didnât really talk to you. You felt something was off, you had even told your friends back home about it, but you thought it was just that the mission hadnât gone the way he wanted it to.
But how wrong you were. He had sat you down and told you the heartbreaking news.
âIâm sorry. I thought I was over her, but I was wrong.â
Your world shattered as you heard those words come out of his mouth. Tears instantly clouded your eyes.
âWhat?â
He looked down and took a deep breath.
âIâm not over her. And I canât continue on with you if Iâm not over her. Itâs not fair to you.â
Tears were falling from your eyes. You took a deep breath and putting your head in your hands.
âIâve been thinking about her. This. For weeks. Iâm sorry. I know you didnât want to hear this but I canât drag you along.â He tried to take ahold of your hand but you pushed him away. You sat up abruptly.
You didnât want to face him. You couldnât, lest you breakdown even further.
âI appreciate your honesty Logan. I really do. Thank you for letting me know before this couldâve turn much more serious.â
In reality, you and Logan had been seeing each other for 4 months. Before that you had feelings for him. But he was with Jean.
They had ended badly. He didnât date anyone for months but he had asked you out.
You foolishly thought that she wasnât going to affect him and his relationships anymore.
âIn reality Logan. I felt this coming. Just didnât expect it to be because of her.â
He looked down, he looked guilty.
âI hope you can figure it out Logan. Iâm glad you told me. Donât worry about me. I shouldâve been prepared for it.â Your voice failed you, but you didnât turn to look at Loganâs reaction.
âAgain. Iâm so sorry.â Logan stood, trying to step closer to you, but you didnât let him.
âI know. But thatâs okay. I canât force you to be in a relationship when you arenât in it fully.â You move further, wanting to step out of his room.
âI wish things were different. I really like you, but I know that if we kept going, Iâll only break your heart.â Logan said. He sounded conflicted. But he knew he had to be honest with you.
âI know what you mean. Iâm glad you were honest with me.â You started to head out.
âI wish you luck.â
You donât know why, but that shattered whatever remaining hope that maybe, just maybe, heâll come to his senses and realize that everything he could ever want was right in front of him. You shake your head, trying to stop yourself from sobbing.
âYou as well.â
With that, you stepped out and closed the door behind you.
You went to your room. You didnât want anyone to see you.
As you got inside, you headed to your bathroom. You turned the sink on and splashed water on your face.
You looked in the mirror, thinking about everything thatâs happened. You couldnât take it anymore and broke down in heavy sobs, falling to the bathroom floor and hugging your knees to your chest.
You wondered why. Why did it always have to be you? You always had the worst of luck finding someone, someone who treated you with respect and love. Then you found the one, only for him to be ripped from you as well.
You couldnât take it. You needed air.
You got off the floor, you headed to the balcony attached to your room.
You took deep breaths as you tried to calm your crying.
You needed out.
The only reason you had stayed at the mansion was for Logan. You had wanted to go back home, to your friends. To your family. But Logan was the one thing keeping you here.
Now that thatâs done, you didnât have anymore excuses. You had decided right then and there that you were going back home.
A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!
Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written
Finally. Youâre in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets youâve pulled up to your chinâŠÂ
âŠSave for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friendânothing more.
But now that youâre finally alone, itâs too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you.Â
âF-fuck,â you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining itâs Loganâs hand insteadâexploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.Â
You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. âLogan,â you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you.Â
Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You mustâve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like youâre singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.
But then he hears his name.Â
âLogan.â Itâs a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hallâthat maybe you need help, maybe somethingâs wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses.Â
âLogan,â you moan again. And he hears it all this timeâhears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet.Â
Your door is almost closedâthe latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. Itâs warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him inâcan feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles.Â
But then youâre calling his name again.Â
âLogan,â you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish heâd come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good.Â
Loganâs cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell youâre getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldnât, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. Youâre in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties.Â
âN-need you,â you stutter. You need him to really touch youâneed to feel his body against yours. Need toâ
You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open.Â
Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes.Â
âHow long were youââ
âI heard everything, pretty girl,â Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. Heâs holding back, restraining himself. âHeard you calling my name.â
âI-IâŠâ You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You donât know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this.Â
âYou what, princess?â Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. âYou want me that bad?â He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. âWant me so bad youâre thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when Iâm not around?â
He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. âLogan,â you choke, catching your breath. âI didnât mean toââ
But heâs crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. âDonât worry, darlinâ,â he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. âI want you too.â His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. âYou want me to take care of you?â
You swallow harshly. âY-yes,â you stammer. âPlease.â
He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. âWhat were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?â He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress.Â
âYou,â you mumble.Â
Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. âI know that pretty girl,â he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. âBut what were you thinking about?â His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly.Â
âTh-that,â you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud.Â
âJust this?â He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him.Â
âMoreâŠâ You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Loganâs circles become faster.Â
âEyes on me, pretty girl,â Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Loganâs thumb finds your clit again. âNow tell me what you want.â
You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and youâll take anything heâs willing to give you. âW-want your tongue,â you finally choke out.Â
âYeah?â Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. âThis what you wanted?â He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. âThat feel good?â Heâs lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles.Â
âYes,â you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way heâs swallowing you whole. âFeels so good, Logan.â
He smirks against you. âSuch a good pussy,â he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. âTastes so fucking good.â His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds.Â
âPlease,â you beg, his gaze meeting yours.Â
âPlease what, princess?â He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. âThought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,â he commands, and you listen.Â
âW-want your fingers,â you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue.Â
And then heâs thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. âSo wet,â Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back inâsomehow deeper this time. âSo beautiful like this, always so beautiful.â
Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. Itâs overwhelmingâthe way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours.Â
âLo,â you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again.Â
âThatâs it, pretty girl,â he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. âCould smell how much you needed me from the hallway,â he says between laps. âKnow youâre getting close for me, sweetheart.â
âFuck, Logan,â you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. Itâs all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, thatâs it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. Heâs consuming you. Dying to be inside youâto be as close as he can possibly get.Â
âThatâs it, darlinâ. Let go.â
And then youâre coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes.Â
âFuck,â Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. âSo fucking good. Did so good for me.â His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you.Â
âLo,â you groan, squirming underneath him. âNeed you now.âÂ
âYou have me,â he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit.Â
âButâŠâ you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. âN-need you. Please.âÂ
He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. âSay it,â he demands, your release glistening on his chin. âTell me exactly what you need.â He climbs up your body. âGo on,â he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra onâyour breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples.Â
You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. âNeed you to fuck me,â you whisper, and Logan grins.Â
His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. Heâs perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. âNeed my cock, pretty girl?â He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side.Â
âYes,â you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and heâs so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight.Â
Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. âGonna take care of you, sweetheart,â Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance.Â
You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. Heâs so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.
 His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. âFuck,â he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. âTight little pussy.â He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. âSo fucking warm, so perfect,â he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace.Â
He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. Heâs filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. âFeels so good, Lo,â you moan.Â
His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. Heâs hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. âIs this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?â Logan grunts, slamming into you. âThinking about me fucking you just like this?â
âYes,â you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. âAlways thinking about you.â
Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. âBet you wanted me to hear you,â he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. âBet you left that door open on purpose.â
You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way heâs stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper.Â
âNeeded you too, beautiful,â Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. âNeeded you this whole time.âÂ
You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.
âI know, darlinâ,â he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. âCan feel you squeezing me, know youâre already close.â
âJust feels so good,â you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. âDonât want you to stop.âÂ
Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. âDonât think I can, pretty girl.â He twitches inside you again, and you know heâs close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in.Â
âSuch a good fucking girl,â he praises. Heâs still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. âWanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?âÂ
âY-yes,â you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you.Â
âThatâs it, Iâve got you,â he coos, circling your clit. âCome on my cock, just like that.â
Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. Itâs all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him.Â
âWanted you this whole time,â he groans, his hips stuttering. âSo fucking beautiful,â he husks. âSo perfect.â You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes.Â
His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high.Â
He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. âYou okay?â He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.
âYeah,â you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. âMâperfect,â you mumble, burying your face into the center of Loganâs chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. âCan you stay with me?â You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no.Â
âNot going anywhere, pretty girl,â Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. âI promise.âÂ
summary: Thomas and his brothers returned from war alive but scarred for live. Just when the memories start to fade and normality returns to Small Heath, a young woman with pierced upper ears appeared. She came for a reason to Small Heath, to take revenge for what was done to her during the war.
includes: SMUT 18+, age-gap, mention of death, mention of gore, mention of SA, mention of war
 âGod, Y/N. Iâm fine.â Rafe pulls your hand from his collar. But you click your tongue at him.Â
âCome on, I promise you look better with it folded properly.â
Rafe glances at his watch. âWeâre running late.â
âWho cares?â You mutter as you straighten the creases of his shirt.
âI do.â He snaps before grabbing hold of your wrist and dragging you out of his room, not letting go until you are standing right next to his car. He opens the door for you and taps his foot as he waits for you to get inside but your steps are too slow with you checking your bag for necessities.
âTylenol. Mouthwash. First aid kit.â You look up from your bag. âYou still have our extra clothes in your trunk, right?â
âYes.â He spoke impatiently, his bored stare sharpening.
When you finally get inside, he slams the door extra loud, startling you, but you shrug as you fasten your seatbelt.
Rafe jams the key in and ignites the engine. Heâs about to step on the pedal when you place a hand on his chest.
âSeatbelt.â You smile sweetly and he bites back a retort, only choosing to roll his eyes and fix his seatbelt.
âHappy?â He spoke sardonically and you scan your eyes over him and grin.
âYes. Just remember not to go over the speed limit.â
This is why he didnât like to invite you to parties. You act like a mother hen, and him, your baby chick.
You are glued to his side the whole time. He understands this behavior back when you were six, but youâre fucking adults now, when are you gonna grow out of this?
With you by his side, he canât score on some chicks. Them thinking that youâre his girl, thus extending his dry spell.Â
But thereâs that new girl by the punch tables. Standard hot girl, lean, tanned, long legs, and bleached hair. Sheâs shyly looking at him, but sheâs not exactly being discreet either.
âIâll get us something to drink.â He pries your fingers one by one from his arm.Â
âI can come with you.â You suggest hopefully but heâs already heading to the punch table. You head to the side, sitting on an old and broken down cobblestone wall as the night breeze nips your skin. Just smiling and nodding at the people you know while watching the rest of them have fun.
The party is in full blast. Thereâs a lot of Tourons joining the party too.
You wonder whatâs taking Rafe so long.
Deciding it was best to go look for him, you get up from your seat. You brush the dust off your shorts as you tighten the button up that you stole from Rafeâs closet around your body.
Just as you start looking for him, you notice hurried footsteps and cheers from one side of the party. A guy bumps into you but he quickly hooks an arm on your waist to keep you from falling.
âOops.â He laughs. âSorry, Y/N!â It was JJ and you watched him run with the others.
âWhatâs going on?â You mutter.
You hear a sigh next to you and you turn to see Sarah and Kie, looking at the gathered crowd in disappointment. Sarah turns to you with a tired face. âRafe got in a fight with a Touron.â
They look at you in pity as horror crosses your face. As you run to the fight, they shake their heads. Youâre too good for this world.
You run as fast as your legs can carry you, hands pushing people away just to get through.Â
When you finally do, you see Rafe with a busted lip, his chest squared up and heaving as he looks at his opponent who is barely standing, leaning his weight on some girl you donât recognize. His face was red in certain places, his eyelids swollen, two nostrils bleeding. Is he missing a tooth? Good God.
Rafe was yelling insults, how this is his island, heâs about to march over when you throw yourself on him, arms tightly wrapping around his torso to keep him from moving.
âY/N! Fucking let go!â He grips your arms tightly, adrenaline clearly coursing through his veins.
âNo! Thatâs enough!â You say sternly as you bunch his shirt on your fist. âWe should go. Please!â
Rafe scoffs. âI said, let go!â
When you only tighten your grip, he curses and throws the guy one last glare before dragging you with him back to his car.
âWhat were you thinking, beating up that guy?â You say in disbelief as you make him lean against the hood of his car while you dig through your purse. Â
He curses at you when you dab a wet wipe on his lip.
âIf you donât get in stupid fights, I wonât have to clean you up now, will I?â You reply angrily before slapping his hand away and dabbing gently. You play oblivious to his searing glare. Trying to ignore his hisses when you accidentally dab too roughly.
âWhyâd you decide to make that guy a punching bag, anyway?â You ask while smearing a disinfectant ointment on his wound. Your heart beating wildly at your close proximity.
Rafe clicks his tongue. âHis girl was flirting with me.â
You look at him in disappointment, making his blood boil. He hates receiving that look, it reminds him of how he constantly fails his father.
âYou must have encouraged her too.â You really donât know when to stop.
âShut up, alright?â He pushes past you. âItâs not like I knew she had a fucking boyfriend.â
You sigh as you tidy up your kit. Rafe opens the door for you and you take your time in getting in.
âWhyâd you have to flirt with all the girls at every party? Can you think with your mind next time and not with your dick?â You mutter under your breath as you glare at nothing in particular, upset that heâs got himself into trouble, and upset that itâs because of a girl. Again.
âThatâs it.â Rafe slams the door before you can take a step in, the impact makes you gasp, your fingers nearly crushed by the door. Your eyes are wide and afraid as you look at him. He backs you up until your back is flushed against the door. He rests an arm over your head, as he points a finger dangerously close to your face.
âRafe-â
âIâm fucking done with your bullshit.â He spoke through gritted teeth. âIf you think you have the right to speak to me this way, let me tell you something. You donât.â
You bite your lower lip, eyes turning glassy as you fight the urge to cry. âIâm just concerned.â Whatever immunity you thought you had from his anger crumbles like sand on the palm of your hand. Youâre no exemption from his outbursts, apparently. Youâre just like everybody to him.
âI didnât ask for your concern.â He laughs dryly. âAnd I donât care about your stupid crush on me, either.â
Your lips part as you blanch, looking at him in embarrassment and frustration. Your palms sweat as your fingers twitch, wanting nothing else but to get swallowed by the earth.
âYeah. You think I donât know about your feelings for me?â He laughs at you before he slams a fist on his car, making you scream and cover your ears in fear. âItâs kinda cute, you know. Watching you chase after me, clean after me, do everything I say like a pathetic puppy waiting for a treat.â
Something inside you snaps. âStop talking.â You hiccup, tears dripping down your cheeks. Â
Huh, itâs been a while since he saw those tears.
âWhy?â He asks in feign concern. âAm I hurting your feelings?â
âYes.â You say shamelessly, making him scoff. âI just wanna go home, please,â
Mascara has ruined your pretty makeup, tears wetting your cheeks as your hair sticks on your temples, making you look disheveled and wrecked.
Rafe looks at you blankly as he runs a tongue on his tooth. âFine.â He runs a hand over his face as he attempts to calm his breathing. Heâs tired of your bullshit for today, heâll deal with you tomorrow. âLetâs get you home.â
He opens the door for you and you get in without sparing him a glance, your shaking hands quickly fastening the seat belt. Rafe looks at you in silence but your eyes are dropped to your feet, adamant on not looking at him.
âYou crybaby.â He spoke lowly and you closed your eyes. âGet it through your dumb head, alright? I donât fucking like you.â
You whimper, arms wrapping around yourself as you shrink away from him.
âStop doting on me like weâre dating.â He continues. âYouâre fucking embarrassing.â
âJust take me home, please.â You sob and for a moment he feels the need to wipe your tears but he stops himself, a frown creases in his brows.
âAnd donât fucking boss me around. Youâre not my mom.â He slams the door and the rest of the drive is filled with nothing but your sniffles.
The thing about Rafe Cameron is that heâs impulsive. Always speaking his mind without thinking of the consequences. He is very quick to anger yet very quick to calm down after the stimulus vanishes from his line of sight. Â
You canât keep up with the shift of his emotions throughout the ride. With him honking at every driver in front of him then suddenly nudging you and pointing at something down the street, laughing like he didnât just murder you inside. He really doesnât understand what heâs done. Heâs a child and you wanna strangle yourself for ever letting yourself love a man like him.
âShit, Y/N, calm down.â He groans as he parks outside your house.
You attempt to open the door but he clicks the lock in place.
âLet me out.â You whimper.
He rests his elbow against the door and scratches his chin. âNot until you calm down.â
âIâm calm.â You respond in a shaking voice.
âUhuh.â He hums as he rakes his eyes over your face. âCanât take a rejection, princess?â
You donât respond, hands tightening over your bag.
âWeâre not in fucking elementary school anymore.â He props his head against his knuckles as he grins at you. âAnd Iâm not Rafey anymore.â
âI know.â You spoke harshly as your bloodshot eyes stared forward.
He chuckles. âGood, thatâs good.â
âYes. The âRafeyâ I know would never hurt me like this. Youâre not him, not anymore.â You stare at him blankly. âHeâs gone and I can see that now.â
Rafe straightens up in his seat, biting his cheek as he nods at you, though his mind is still trying to wrap around your words.
âRight. Itâs good that you get it now.â But why does he suddenly regret all this?Â
Heâs been trying to get you to understand this for the longest time. And now that you finally do, all the challenge between you is gone, and he is lying if what is going to happen after this does not make him anxious. Is this another one of your reverse psychology tricks? You know it always worked on him.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and he clears his throat, swiftly opening his door and races to your side but you beat him to it. He swallows thickly as he shoves his sweating palms in his pocket.Â
Rafe walks you to your gate but you donât acknowledge him, even if he pushes the gates open for you. He tries to catch your eyes but he starts to bleed with the background around you, no longer relevant enough to be looked at.
When you lock the gates, he leans on it and watches you turn away and head to your house. Leaving without the usual cheek kisses and âsee you latersâ
He clears his throat. âUhâŠso, tomorrow?â A desperate attempt to keep you with him a little longer. Â
You pause and you turn to look at him with your face cold and hard, so devoid of emotions. He never thought youâd be capable of holding such a look. âWhat about tomorrow?â
He grips on the thin metal of your gate, the weathered paint chipping and clinging to his palms. âYou said you wanted to check out the ice cream parlor that just opened?â He adds the charming smile he knows you like but your face remains blank.
âI changed my mind.â You start to walk away again but he calls your name and you look at him with a small frown on your eyebrows. You really wanted nothing to do with him anymore, huh?
âIâll call you later?â
âWhat for?â You cross your arms and for the first time, he is rendered speechless, his tongue heavy as he racked his brain for a response.
Youâre right, what for?
Rafe shrugs while he tugs at his collar. âI donât know. Donât you like it when we call?â
You sigh. âGoodbye, Rafe.â
He watches you leave and he tightens his grip on the gate, making the metal dig on his palms.Â
âGoddammit!â
He messed up. He messed up real bad. And heâs not sure he can still fix this.
Hello! I'm back with another chapter of my Feyd-Rautha/Reader arranged marriage series.
AO3 link here for full fic: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 5 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]
Side post that has some of my headcanons for how I interpret Feyd-Rautha's own relationship to his sexuality: Hello, Friend - So I've been working on a Feyd-Rautha/Reader... (tumblr.com)
This fic and this chapter are 18+ up only. Tags, content warning, and full chapter below the cut
Tags/CW list: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced pregnancy; nature versus nurture; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual assault; implied/referenced incest; first time; rough sex; oral sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; blood kink; pain kink; sadomasochism; period sex; problematic smut; inappropriate misuse of BDSM; slow burn emotionally but the exact opposite of a slow burn phyiscally
CHAPTER FOUR: A BLOODY GASH
You're fertile. Youâve never had any reason to believe otherwise. This union is contingent on giving him childrenâat least one son, and as many attempts as necessary to get there ( and you desperately hope that youâll only need that first one. You donât want to raise a daughter in this place, amongst these people .)
So youâre horrified when you wake up the following morning to blood smeared between your legs, staining your chemise that rode up to your hips when you were sleeping, and leaving a smear on the sheets below when you move.
No. No.  You pull up the hem of your chemise and stare at your inner thighs as if just looking will change the outcome. Feyd-Rautha came inside of you four times in two days for nothing . Heâll be furious. Heâll question your very biology. Heâll have you examined as thoroughly and cruelly as possible.
You scramble, trying to cover yourself, wondering what you can even do next when Idrisa comes in with fresh water and coffee.
To her credit, she doesn't drop the tray when her eye line goes directly to your bleeding crotch for the few seconds itâs still visible.
âI knew my time for it was coming up, I just didn't think it would,â you say to yourself as much as her and come to meet her gaze.
She glances back down out of respect, but the awkward tension hangs between the two of you for a moment.
âDo youâŠâ you start, embarrassment flushing your face and neck, âdo you have anything for it?â You have no idea how menstrual care even works on Geidi Prime. Youâd just assumed that it wouldnât be an issue for another ten months.
She composes herself again immediately. âWhy yes, of course, Na-Baroness. I apologize for my negligence.â Before you can tell her there's nothing to apologize for, she adds, âI'll help you get cleaned up first.â
âThatâs alright, I can do it,â you tell her as you wonder for a moment who she served before that sheâd assume you want her to clean between your legs when youâre perfectly capable of doing it yourself.
She inclines her head further. âThank you, Na-Baroness. Iâll be back in just a moment.â Â
As soon as sheâs out the door youâre up and walking briskly to the bathroom.Â
Youâll need to have the sheets changed.
Itâs only been two days, you think, washing between your legs.  This doesnât mean anything bad .  When he asks for you, you can just explain the situation and try again in a few days. Until thenâŠuntil thenâŠÂ  For a moment you draw a blank, before remembering a conversation you had a few years ago with a slightly older friend when you asked her if husbands still desired their wives when their wives were bleeding.
â They honestly just want something warm, soft, and wet to bury themselves in, â sheâd told you matter-of-factly. â So most men just use their wifeâs mouths .â
â What do you mean? â youâd asked, fairly certain you had an idea what she was talking about but still more willing to briefly embarrass yourself by asking than remain ignorant.
â You know what goes on between a manâs legs, right? â sheâd asked in turn.
â Of course ,â youâd said, a little offended that sheâd think you so naive.Â
â When youâre bleeding and he still wants you to please him, put your mouth there instead, â sheâd told you. â Like heâs burying himself inside your mouth instead of your canal. You canât make babies that way, of course, but they often donât care about that .  You canât really make babies during your monthly courses anyway. â
You wonder how she reacted when she found out who youâd be marrying. You never got the chance to ask and assume, like many young women and their parents, that she was relieved that she wasnât the one hand-picked for him.Â
You also havenât done that to him yet, nor any other man, for that matter, and youâre sure your lack of skill will show. How are you meant to take the entire thing in your mouth when you can barely fit it where itâs meant to go? What are you supposed to do with your teeth? It also just seems somehow more daunting and personal than just having inside of you in the traditional manner. Â
Heâll be aggressive with it, like he is in everything else.Â
You canât stop thinking about it as you brush your teeth and hair and try to ignore the discomfort in your lower belly before you hear a click and the door to your quarters opening.
Idrisaâs back with a basket made of some kind of black synthetic material; itâs covered to protect its contents from passing view. You could kiss her for that, you think, and she starts unpacking.
She pulls out what look like thick handkerchiefs, going to your bathroom to stack them neatly on the countertop. She also hands you a canister that you open to find a handful of circular tablets.
âTheyâre not as strong as what I left for your wedding night,â she says, âand they wonât put you to sleep, but they should suffice if you need them.â
Youâd chalked up your cramps to nerves but now that you have your answer the symptoms couldnât have been more obvious. âThank you, I think I will,â you tell her as you think about how youâll likely be expected to join your new family, if one could call them that, for breakfast again. The thought makes you want to crawl back under the covers.
âCan you also please tell Feyd-Rautha that I apologize for missing breakfast but that I'm feeling unwell this morning and wouldn't want to be poor company in my condition?â you ask.
Idrisa hesitates, nervous. You realize that she's thinking, You know that your husband finds me far more disposable than he finds you, right? He could easily kill and replace me and no one would care.  You also realize that she canât and wonât say no to you. But just that look reminds you that as frightening as this fortress is to you, itâs much worse for her. You havenât seen Feyd-Rautha kill outside of the arena yet, but you also barely know him; killing people who displease him over minor inconveniences, especially if theyâre low-born and low-ranking, could be a common occurrence for him. The Harkonnens didnât earn their reputation for nothing.
âUnless you think they won't notice if Iâm even there,â you add, thinking. The Baron couldn't care less if he never has a conversation with you again, and outside of the marriage bed, Feyd-Rautha doesn't appear to have any real plans for you. âI could justâŠstay here and if Feyd-Rautha has any questions he can ask them.â
Idrisaâs shoulders had been locked and tense but appear to relax just a little at your words. âI can make a plate for you and bring it back here,â she says, already knowing your preference. Given Geidi Primeâs incredible wealth and lack of natural resources other than fuels and metals there are imported fruits that youâd never had before coming here that youâre certain youâll never get sick of.
âSounds perfect, thank you,â you tell her, and take advantage of the new medication when she leaves.
When she returns with another tray for you, sheâs accompanied by two other girls holding a fresh arrangement of sheets; the hems and necklines of their garb are cut a little different from hers and they look younger, perhaps the same age as your little sister. You wonder if the difference in the way theyâre dressed suggests rank? They keep their heads down and donât acknowledge you other than a silent curtsy before stripping your old sheets and setting down a new spread. You look at them for a moment, wondering if itâs at the Baronâs insistence that no staff ever look a Harkonnen royal in the eye or if this ruleâs been going on for generations when Idrisa snaps you out of your thoughts.
âI have a tea prepared for you as well, Na-Baroness,â she says, gesturing towards the tray that sheâs set on your end-table and removing the cloche covering your plate. âItâs not medicine strictly speaking but it has soothing properties.â
You turn and look at her. She doesnât look much older than you, but the same can be said of most of the female slaves. Are they banished to where they wonât be easily seen when they reach a certain age? Whatâs the life expectancy? It feels more than a little insensitive to ask right now, so you just let them work as you take a seat at your end-table and take a sip of your tea.
After breakfast is over and youâve found a comfortable position sitting up in bed, propped up by the pillows and headboards, you read a bit more on the Harkonnen lineage. The more you read, the more you understand why Father always insisted that Geidi Prime is no place for a woman. Women in high places, you find, have in history been assassinated more often than the men, or kidnapped to use as collateral and tortured. You wonder if thatâs why you saw so few at the wedding and reception, why they seemed so hidden out of view even while accompanying their high-ranking husbands.
Youâre reasonably certain that your new husbandâs concerned enough with his image as heir to the Harkonnen throne not to tarnish the alliance your marriage has created, that even if he doesnât really know you and may never love youâyouâre reasonably certain that heâs incapable of feeling such an emotionâheâll still make sure to protect what he sees as his. His uncle will likely be another story. Â
The door opens unannounced and you look up, expecting Idrisa only to find Feyd-Rautha letting himself in without a word and closing the door behind him. He doesnât speak at first, but everything in his demeanor tells you that he did in fact notice your absence and wants an explanation.
You compose yourself. Thereâs no need to panic. âGood afternoon, husband. To what do I owe the pleasure?â you ask, tone as light and cool as the weather would be on your home planet right now.Â
He leans against the door as he folds his arms across his chest and looks you over. âI missed you at breakfast,â he says.
âYes, my apologies. Iâm not feeling well,â you tell him. Â
He clearly doesnât believe you.  You donât seem feverish , he seems to think with his unimpressed gaze.  You seem fine . âStill getting adjusted to the atmosphere on Geidi Prime?â he asks, and for a foolish moment you hope that heâs giving you an excuse. Maybe he thinks youâre avoiding him because of last night, and youâre content to let him think that.
âYes, husband,â you tell him. Â
âThatâs a shame,â he says, crossing over to your bed and sitting at the edge of it. âIt occurred to me last night that whoever taught you close-range maneuvers didnât do their job right. You shouldâve been able to evade me.â
You wrinkle your brow and donât have it in you to hide your insulted glare; your Houseâs military is considered a force to be reckoned with and a slight against your training is a slight against your House and your father himself. âDid you want me to evade you?â you ask.
He seems amused by your sudden sharpness, and you realize that heâd wanted to hit a nerve. He knew what he was implying and got the precise reaction heâd been hoping for. âThatâs not the point, wife. You said yourself that you were out of practice and as soon as youâre feeling better I intend to rectify that. Your cute little boot-dagger wonât serve you any good if you canât correctly use it.â Â
He places his hand on your leg, trailing it along your thigh and stopping just shy of your apex, his thumb brushing against it through the fabric of your skirt. You give a sharp inhale that makes him smile. You start to close your legs but his hand, now cupping your inner thigh, holds one open enough for him to continue to fondle as he pleases.
His hand stays there for a moment, stays over the light material of your skirt even as you're sure the soft flesh of your inner thigh heats his palm, as flushed as you feel under his touch. He leans in, inhales as he leans over you and sniffs your hair. Itâs not even the first time heâs done it. You wonder if he finds your hair to be a sort of forbidden fruit; something he canât say he likes because to do so would disrespect Harkonnen hairlessness, but still something he finds fascinating or even enviable. Youâre not sure yet whether his lack of it is down to genetics or grooming but you assume the former, if it affects everyone including those who wouldnât have such prime access to constant shaving.
But then he fully brings his hand between your legs, fingertips rubbing up against you and you flinch. Â
Now? Is he going to try and fuck me right here and now?  You shift, trying to hide what youâre sure is a look of panic on your face, trying to scramble for an excuse as Feyd-Rautha rubs a whimper out of you.
In the moments he does and you freeze, he watches your face a moment longer and then something shifts in his eyes, and he pulls back.
âIâll call on you soon,â he says. Thereâs something satisfied, almost smug in his tone. He doesnât wait for a response from you before he gets up and leaves, and you wonder what caused his departure.
Idrisa comes in a minute later with more tea for you. âThe Na-Baron seems mollified,â she says. âHeâs taken the news well.â
âI didnât tell him.â
You catch Idrisa furrowing her brow-line, incredulous even with her head bowed before she can smooth over her expression into one of polite indifference.
âHe doesnât need to know yet,â you tell her. âHe said heâd call on me later.â
âMy apologies for speaking boldly, Na-Baroness,â she says, âbut the Na-Baron will still take you to bed tonight or whenever he decides is convenient. Harkonnen men expect their wives to always be available to them, no matter how theyâre feeling.â
You suppose you already knew this. It certainly doesnât help the gnawing feeling in your stomach even as the medicine Idrisa gave you has soothed the cramps for now. Â
âIt appears I can hold him off until after dinner, at least,â you finally say. Thereâs that; you also appreciate having another meal without the Baronâs presence.
You wish you had someone you could talk to about this in which it wouldnât feel weird to ask. You look over at Idrisa. Sheâs the only friend youâve managed to make so far and while you donât see that changing anytime soon, you havenât forgotten that she keeps you company out of obligation. You canât be certain as to whether or not she actually likes you, or if she only tolerates you due to her heightened position within the Harkonnen Fortress as your personal attendant. Still, sheâs certainly better than no one to ask. She takes your old mug and heads for the door.
âIdrisa,â you start. She turns. âYouâveâŠhave you been with men before?â
She inclines her head in a polite nod. âWhen itâs required of me,â she says.
Your second question dies in your mouth.  Oh. Right . Yet again youâre disgusted but canât say youâre all that surprised.
And instead of asking for advice youâre struck by another thought. âHas the Na-Baron everâŠ?â you start and she immediately shakes her head.
âNever, Na-Baroness,â she assures you. âHe has never been known to satiate himself that way with slaves.â
Are you being honest or telling me what I want to hear? you almost ask but spare her the indignity. Youâre reasonably certain that if Feyd-Rautha had taken advantage of her, heâd have gloated to you about it. âThank you,â you tell her. You donât want to know how men on Geidi Prime have abused her mouth. âI was just curious.â
âNot at all, Na-Baroness,â she says.
As the hours tick by you wish you'd just told Feyd-Rautha your situation and gotten whatever awkward ensuing conversation over with.
In the evening Idrisa brings you dinner, more tea, and a glass of wine. âThe Na-Baron has given you two hours before expecting you in his bedchambers.â
You sigh. âThank you, Idrisa,â you tell her, not quite willing to add, you were right . You eat, you have your tea, you bathe and clean your hair. And in the remaining time that you have before you need to leave, you sip your wine. Youâd be foolish to assume that it will truly settle your nerves, but it tastes nice.Â
âI guess itâs time,â you say finally, looking at the timepiece on your nightstand. âHow angry do you think heâll be?â
âIâm afraid I donât know, Na-Baroness,â Idrisa says as she opens the door to lead you to your husband. âHeâs never been married nor been instructed to sire an heir before.â
When you get to his bedroom heâs already standing in the middle of it, wearing only black pants with a relaxed fit that suggests leisure, maybe sleep. And here you hadnât taken him as the kind of man to own pajamas.
He looks over your shoulder at Idrisa, who seems just as surprised to see him as you are even as she immediately lowers her head in deference.
âDismissed,â he tells her, and she curtsies and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone and rather more dressed than youâve been in this room.
You stand, awkwardly, playing with the sash to your robe as the two of you look at each other in silence. Or rather, he stares at you and you look down, knowing what youâd rehearsed and still needing to force the words out.
âMy apologies, husband, but itâs my time of month,â you finally manage.
âI know,â he says. âI could smell it on you. I could feel your rag in between your legs.â
Was that what he was doing? You look up at his face and find nothing that you can really parse and pause, unsure what you could say to that, before you move on.
âI know itâs not ideal, but we can try again in a few days, and in the meantime,â you try to sound like youâre not as nervous as you are, fully aware that seduction was never something you learned, âI know that there areâŠother ways to satisfy you.â  A few days and we can resume trying to secure your firstborn . Â
He gives a small smirk at the second part of your statement but comments only on the first. âA few days?â he repeats, as if youâve just said either the funniest or dumbest thing heâs heard all week. âWhat makes you think I care to wait a few days?â
Youâre not sure you heard him right. âThe blood,â you say slowly. âI canât control it.â
âYou think a Harkonnen would be scared of a little blood?â he says.
Youâre not sure what to say to that. In hindsight, youâre not sure why youâd assumed that this man of all men would be too squeamish to fuck a bleeding woman.
âStrip down,â he says, after the seconds of silence that follow. He sounds so casual as he says it, as if he just told you to have a seat. You hesitate, still unsure if heâs being serious.
âDid you not understand me?â he prompts when seconds tick by and you havenât moved.
âI do, husband,â say. âBut still, I have to warn you that itâll make a mess.â
âY/N,â he says, his tone somehow light. Thereâs an element of danger to it. âYouâre not the one whoâll have to clean up afterwards.â
Nor you , you think. âSo you want me in this state.â You donât phrase it as a question but he can hear the confusion in your voice.
The smirk never quite left his face but returns in full as he crosses the few steps over to you that leaves you close enough that you can feel his breath. He takes your wrist and presses your hand to his groinâitâs rapidly filling out.
âWhat do you think?â he says.
You gasp, almost giving an incredulous laugh as you glance between his face and back down to his groin. Harkonnen men are built differently, you suppose. Â
You pull away enough to unravel your robe and step out of your slippers. He doesnât object to your garments being left on his floor instead of neatly tucked on his dresser, so you keep going, pulling your chemise over your shoulders, pulling down your undergarment and letting it slide down your legs, until youâre bared entirely for him.
He looks down at the blood that gathered in the kerchief lining the gusset of your undergarment as it hits the floor and you step out of it, and then he looks back at you.
âHold your arms out like this, wrists together,â he says, extending his own to demonstrate.
He still doesnât seem angry, his tone suggesting patience that you know he doesnât have, but you hesitate before mimicking him.
âVery nice,â he says, and you bristle at his condescension as he half-circles you before heading for his armoire. You turn around to watch him open it, and your jaw drops when you see whatâs inside.
Itâs lined with whips, rope, chains, knives, scalpels, collars, and other items youâve never seen before but if this is in his bedroom then it must serve one particular purpose, either on himself whoever has the misfortune of being with him when he wants to use any of these devices. Â
He glances over his shoulder and looks if anything delighted by your stunned reaction, the growing sense of dread. âI didnât say you could drop your arms,â he says, and turns back to pick out a length of black rope.
You suppose you ought to be grateful that he didnât pick out any chains.
You watch as he loops an intricate tie binding your wrists. He does it with such practiced ease he looks directly into your eyes as he does it. You manage to hold his gaze in defiance even as your heart hammers in your chest and youâre scared of whatâs going to happen next. You know that, like a true Harkonnen, he likes your fear, but it hasnât occurred to either of you yet that he also appreciates your fire.
âGet on all fours on the bed, pet,â he says, tone light and playful as much as his gravely timbre can make it.
You try to keep your eyes on him as much as possible, making sure heâs never fully out of your sightline as you get on the bed, squirming but managing to maneuver the position he wants while your wrists are bound. He knows that you donât trust him, and if anything that seems to elevate his excitement. Â
Good girl, he seems to be thinking. He looks you over, turning and sauntering so he can take a moment to gaze first at your naked profile, then at your backside.
You have to keep reminding yourself that he wonât do anything that will risk you being able to give him children as he turns away and pads over to his armoire. For a moment youâre not sure if heâs trying to decide what heâd like to use, or if heâs purposefully biding his time to make you more nervous. His fingertips seem to dance over the whips, then the chains. He briefly touches the handle to one of his knives.
Not the scalpel. Please not the scalpel.
You see itâcorded leather. A black whip with multiple knotted tails. He takes it down from his display but leaves the armoire doors openâundoubtedly to keep reminding you of what else he could be and very likely will be doing to you in the future.
You think about the Bene Gesserit Litany and try to repeat it in your head as you consider the tool? the weapon? clutched in his fist. At first glance the whip looks like the cat-of-nine-tails your brother-in-law seems so fond of. However, when you shut your eyes, take a breath, and think of the wordsâ fear is the mind-killer âyou realize when you open your eyes again that what Feyd-Rauthaâs holding is a lot smaller than a proper cat-of-nine-tails and the tails thicker. You have no doubt that this is going to hurt, but it doesnât look like it will rip you apart.
âWhat, what is this? A punishment for bleeding? â you finally ask, unable to handle the silence anymore and because thatâs the only explanation you can imagine.
And yet Feyd-Rautha looks amused that youâd suggest it. âItâs because I want to use it on you,â he says, as if any further explanation would be silly. âEver since I first saw you, I wondered what that pretty ass of yours would look like after Iâd taken this to it.â He holds up the device for emphasis. âI wondered what noises youâd make. I wanted to know what youâd look like with your wrists bound, naked and helpless in my bed. What youâd look like squirming and bleeding.
â Yesterday was a punishment,â he adds. âThis is just fun.â
For you, perhaps, you think. Itâs no matter; youâll just have to prove that you can take whatever he dishes out. You just have to decide whether itâs better or worse that heâs not doing this out of anger.Â
âAre you scared, pet?â he asks.
â No, â you lie in the most adamant and dignified tone you can muster, and once again he acts like what youâve said is cute. He clicks his tongue.
âYou mustnât lie to me in bed, pet,â he says, approaching the bed again, his free hand skimming over your ribcage, your side, your hip, as he finally stands beside the bed, and ever-so-slowly draws the corded whip up and down the backs of your thighs. The tassels brush gently against your skin and it feels perverse, the anticipation heâs building within you. On his second pass you inhale sharply, shutting your eyes, hips twitching away from the device, and Feyd-Rautha chuckles at that.
âRelax,â he says.
Fuck you. You know I canât. Just do it and get it over with , you want to tell him with your sharp exhale, and one second later he draws his hand back and brings the whip down.
You cry out, rocking forward, your entire body clenching up as much from shock as pain. Nothing could really prepare you for this; his hand from the first night had been easier, more personal. The individual cords spread out like a fractal tree, like cracks in a block of ice fanning out.Â
The second time is less sharp, more of a thud that reverberates through your body, the impact reverberating in your pulse. Tears prick up at the corners of your eyes and for a moment you canât breathe. It would figure that this man has used this device often enough that he knows how to inflict different flavors of pain depending on whether heâs putting the movement in his wrist or his forearm. You clench your fists, waiting for the next lash, and then the next.
Your nerves are on fire. You can barely think, barely focus on anything but the exquisite pain on impact, the sharp sting of the air against your impacted flesh, the sweet moments you adjust, finding your breath, before he comes down again. You donât scream, not after the first blow, but the tears forming at the corners of your eyes start trickling down your face and then drop directly onto your forearms the covers below you when you bow your head. Â
You donât know how long he keeps going, donât keep count. The pain starts to dull but the intensity becomes overwhelming as he compounds on every lash. Your ears are ringing. You taste iron at the back of your throat. The worst part is that you find, to your horror, your nipples feel stiff. You start to feel wet.
It has to be a fear response. This isnât enjoyable . Itâs intense, itâs painful, and you canât help but feel shame lance through you that your body would react this way.
Please. I canât take any more , you want to tell him, but opt instead to whimper through your clenched teeth.
At that moment the whip comes down and it sends you toppling forward, finally collapsing. The covers are soft against your tear-stained cheek. You shut your eyes, panting, waiting for him to haul you back up and continue the process.
But nothing happens. You donât try to look behind you and hope that heâs done. You just take a rattling breath and listen for the sound of the whip and its tendrils slicing through air, and it doesnât come. Â
âYou lasted longer than I thought you would,â Feyd-Rautha says, the first time heâs spoken in minutes, and you open your eyes and turn your head to see him twist the coils of his whip and head over to the armoire.
âCome on,â he says over his shoulder. âBack into position, pet.â Â
You grit your teeth and force yourself back up on your hands and elbows. âGood,â he adds softly, and itâs embarrassing how one single word of praise makes you flush, sends a pleasant tingle down your spine. This shouldnât have the effect on you that it doesâmaybe itâs because now that itâs over, you feel lighter, almost dazed. All of your muscles had tightened into coils, but now you feel pliant to the point that your limbs feel rubbery. Youâre exhausted. Youâre hurt. You donât know what else he has on the agenda for you tonight but you just hope it doesnât involve another one of his whips or ropes.
He sets the device back in the armoire and turns to face you. He looks at your flushed, tear-stained face and smiles, mouth-closed before approaching the bed, his cock hard in his pants, and even though part of you wants nothing more than to melt into the bed and to get some relief for your stinging backside, you know heâs still going to chase his own pleasure.
âHeâll want your mouth,â you remember. Â
You wonât wait for him to force it or grind your face into his privates. If thatâs what he wants, youâll get there first, and so you drop your head and fumble as you reach with bound wrists for the fly of his pants.
Youâre focused on whatâs directly in your eyeline, so you donât see his brief look of surprise, but you hear his voice, sounding pleased. âLet me help you with that, pet,â he says, pulling away long enough to pull his pants down, stepping out of them.
Itâs even more daunting when itâs this close to your face, but he steps back in, cradling your jaw, and you lean in and lick the tip of him.
For a few seconds thatâs all you know to do, to lick around him, feeling the ridges and veins under your tongue. Itâs all the verification he could possibly need that youâve never done this before, and that spurs him on, cradling your head in one large hand as the other guides himself past your lips and into your mouth.
It confirms what you suspected; heâs too big to take all the way and thankfully, doesnât try to make you. Â
Not yet, a part of you thinks. You try to breathe, try not to get your teeth on him, try to relax and close your eyes as he controls the pace. Itâs easy enough at first; far from the rutting of the past couple of nights. It doesnât occur to you that, by his standards anyway, heâs being gentle with you. Doesnât occur to you to wonder why. You just try to keep up as your backside and the backs of your thighs sting like hell and you hope Idrisa will have some sort of lotion for it when you get back to your quarters.
Feyd-Rautha appears to have yet another reason to like your hair, it seems, as he threads his fingers through it, guiding you onto him in slowly greater increments until heâs suddenly over halfway in and you freeze, nearly gagging, forgetting how to breathe.
He holds you in place for a moment, just long enough for your eyes to widen as you glance up at him and his heavy-lidded eyes and chest heaving with arousal. He waits until youâre about to struggle and tear away from him before he relinquishes your hair and steps away, pulling out. You take a deep breath, gulping the air down. Â
âStay right there,â he says, and settles in behind you, stroking your hindquarters like youâre a horse that heâs trying to calm down. Will he put a saddle on you next? You exhale hard through your nose, mouth pursing, waiting for what heâll do next. Will he mark up the stinging raw skin heâs already flogged with his hand?
Fine. Fuck you again. I can take whatever youâve got. I can handle it , you want to tell him out of spite.  You sense him shift, dipping his head, and despite your steeled nerves canât help but gasp and feel something flutter in your core when you feel his breath against your lower back.
What exactly is heâ? is all you have time to think before he dives in.
You jolt and wriggle in shock as he licks over one of your growing welts; you canât quite tell but wouldnât be surprised if he broke skin. However, itâs how his tongue glides over your backside before shifting his weight to your folds that sends waves of shock, revulsion, and excitement as you cry out, stunned.
Heâs licking my wounds .
Youâre trying to wrap your head around how salacious it is that his lips and tongue alternate between licking the impacted skin on your buttocks and the backs of your thighs and dipping his tongue inside of you. He has your hips firmly in place, which serves him well given that youâre torn between recoiling away from the heat of his mouth and wanting to press back against it. You can feel him smirk at the sounds of your shocked moans.
He pulls away long enough to turn you on your back and you wince at the impact before you see him slide down along the bed and continue the onslaught. You can hardly believe it as he grabs your still-stinging buttocks and buries his face against your bleeding pussy.
This is disgusting , part of you thinks. Another part of you can hardly understand whatâs happening. In all your years youâve never met a man who didnât recoil hearing about monthly courses. Youâve never heard of anyone wanting to taste aâŠa bloody gash .
Your wrists are still bound, and you grip onto the pillows above your head as he lifts your thighs to rest over his shoulders and dives back in, tongue pressing inside of you. Â
It feels incredible.  Youâd prefer it if it didnât. More than anything else, you donât want to be enjoying this, wish the continuous whines and moans heâs drawing out of you were insincere, but he can feel as well as you do that you mean every sound. You, Lady Y/N of the powerful and dignified house of Y/H, are getting your bloody pussy licked by the ruthless barbarian Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and Great Mother and every forgotten old god, youâre enjoying every visceral and shocking moment of it.
He knows it, too, the smug bastard. He probably feels even more powerful like this, on his belly and with his face between your legs, than he did when he was tanning your hide.
He raises one hand from your hip to your breast, giving one of your nipples a cruel pinch, smirking against your slit as you whimper in protest, and continues. His nose presses and rubs against your bud in the onslaught and you finally admit to yourself that any last vestiges of resistance you might have had has caved when you squirm, rocking your hips upwards and desperately wishing that your wrists were free so you could press his face closer into you.
He keeps up his pace, bringing you as close to the edge as possible without reaching it until finally, mercifully, he shifts his mouth to your bud, his fingers replacing his tongue inside of you. Your unrestrained cries fill the room, spurring him on, and then the force of it hits you as he brings you over the precipice for the first time. It feels like it comes in shockwaves, especially as he keeps going through it all.
Youâre still pulsing and squirming against his tongue when he stops, raising himself up and leaning over you. Inky, sticky blood coats the lower part of his face, from his chin to his nostrils, and youâre a little surprised at how the sight doesnât alarm you as much as it probably should, especially since thatâs your blood covering his face.
There are far worse ways he could be smeared with your blood . You gasp, still, at the striking color against the pallor of his face, reminded of seeing him in the arena.Â
He presses damp, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts and collarbone, as if to mark you with it. Finally he sits up, bringing your legs over his as he guides himself into you with his bloodied fingers.
He stays upright as he pulls you onto him, and you watch his face as he looks down where youâre joined, his groan like a rumble in his chest as he sees himself pumping in and out of your bleeding pussy. He wonât last long, you realize. Heâs been holding himself back from fucking you into the mattress since he visited you in your chambers hours ago.Â
He curves in then, bracing one hand above your head to grip your still-bound wrists as his other hand grabs your hip to keep you stable. You realize what heâs about to do a split second before it can happen.
Heâs going to kiss you with that bloody mouth .
You tamp down on the revulsion of it and the coppery smell, again refusing to let him shock you or give you anything you canât take and move in first, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Â
He groans into it, hips pumping, tongue invading your mouth as he speeds up, going hard, hips snapping into you. Heâs relentless; this would be agonizing if he hadnât worked you open and pliant with his lips and tongue and even still, it veers on the edge of being overwhelming. Your whimpers and cries only encourage him.
And then he finally comes, burying his face in the crux of your neck and biting down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough that it will leave a bruise later.
For a moment the two of you stay that way, then he releases your wrists and sinks down onto you, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder as he pulls out and takes a moment to catch his breath. After a moment he raises himself back up on his forearms, pauses, and takes in the sight of your face and your lips stained red before reaching for your wrists again and untying the rope; once freed you notice that your skinâs been chafed rosy but still fully intact. Â
He gets up, and you watch the lines of his legs, the slope and curve of his buttocks, the taper from his shoulders to his waist as he gets up and sets the rope back in the armoire before finally closing it shut.
Guess heâs done for the night .
But is he going to send me back right away? you wonder, turning to your side to watch the way he moves. It takes some effort. You feel as depleted as a rung-out damp rag.
He approaches the bed and wordlessly holds out his hand, and once you take it guides you to your feet and leads you into this bathroom.
Like his bedroom, itâs larger than yours.
He doesnât let you wash your blood off your body; he wants it to remain on you until it dries and peels off on its own. Instead he wipes his face, rinses and cleans out his mouth, and gives you a cup of water to do the same. He wipes off in between his legs and then yours, quiet and strangely peaceful. He takes another cloth and wets it, and then grabs a small bottle out of a drawer. âTurn around, hands on the counter,â he says.
Fairly certain you know what heâs about to do, you acquiesce. âDid you draw blood?â you ask over your shoulder.
He shakes his head. âNot this time,â he says. âWasnât trying to.â And then he surprises you by getting down on one knee.
You give a small gasp. It just seemsâŠlewd? Subservient? And tired and sore as you are, you canât help the twinge you feel in between your legs as he gingerly presses the cloth against your reddened skin. You grip the countertop tighter as he opens the bottle of what you can only assume is ointment because after a moment his fingertips are smeared in a cool balm that offers such sweet relief you drop your head, trying to hold yourself together when your legs feel like theyâre about to give out and you can feel Feyd-Rauthaâs breath so close to the sensitive skin of your backside.
He seems to be applying the ointment to the worst of the welts, starting in silence and then adding, âYouâre sensitive, but you have a decent pain tolerance. I like that.â
You huff a laugh.  I bet you say that to all the girls, you almost tell him, and immediately think that thatâs probably not true. If it werenât for the fact that heâs tending to your wounds youâd assume that heâd never do anything like this. Something tells you that this small act of kindness isnât to be taken lightly or for granted.
Once he seems satisfied with his work he gets back up, sneaking a glance of your face in the mirror.
Is he thinking about how much youâve already changed since youâve met? Since youâve married? When you see your reflection you donât see the same person you did a week ago. Of course he didnât know you a week ago. He barely knows you now. Still, when your eyes meet in the mirror, he looks at you with something almost close to affection before he leaves the bathroom.
âStay the night,â he says when you walk over to your abandoned clothes so you can gather them up, get dressed, and return to your chambers.
You look over at him.
âIâll want to sample you again first thing in the morning,â he explains, âso itâs more convenient if you remain here.â
You huff, torn between incredulity and amusement. âTaking advantage of the situation while we still can, are we?â you ask.
âI doubt itâll come again for another ten months,â he says, and then strides, still naked, for the door. He opens it, and a few words of battle-language later he shuts again. He sees your confused expression and explains, âYour slave was still waiting for you. I told her to go.â He tilts his head in the direction of his bed, and after a moment you follow. It appears that he doesnât even want you to pull your undergarment back on.
As soon as youâre under the covers with him he tugs down your end of it to get one last look at your marked chest. And after heâs looked his fill, he reaches for a switch that turns off the lights and even as the two of you canât quite see each other, you still find yourselves on your sides facing one another.
âI wake up earlier than youâre probably used to and Iâm a light sleeper. Your slave assured me that you donât snore,â he says.
âNot that Iâm aware of,â you tell him.
âOnce you stop bleeding Iâm going to start having you train in my Halls,â he adds. âI was serious earlier.â
âBut for the next few days Iâm chained to this bed.â
âThat could be arranged,â he says. âIn any case you werenât complaining when I was licking your cunt earlier.â
He wonât see your flush, but he must know that itâs there. âSo⊠is it safe to assume that none of this isâŠâ you try to find the right words, âtypical? For a man, I mean.â And in quite possibly the biggest understatement youâve ever made, âYouâre not a normal man.â
Youâve adjusted enough to the dark to see his smirk. âI think you've known that since before we met, Y/N,â he says. And after a moment he lays his head, settling in and getting comfortable. He doesnât say another word to you that night, just closes his eyes and within a couple of minutes his breath slows.
Itâs hard to imagine being able to let your guard down enough with this man to sleep beside him, even if he falls asleep first. Like sleeping beside a wild animal. Â
Sleep does come to you, though, after long minutes watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up and scare you, lunge for you, and it doesnât happen.
You turn to your other side, facing away from him then, and the only signal you get that heâs not entirely asleep is that as you start to drift off yourself, he reaches one arm to pull you in closer to him.
Tag list: @wo-ming-bai @blazeflays @richardslady121
a/n: would yall believe me if i said i wrote this while listening to pussy talk by city girls LMFAOOOOO p.s. Happy valentines day (THE RED TEXT IS "FESTIVE" im trynna get into the valentines day spirit :D). I wish i could've given yall part two of illicit love instead of this but i'm not done with it </3. ALMOST THO!!! (gif creds: @world-of-pandora)
(p.s. part two is out now!!)
it was never supposed to end like this. jake's mouth felt bitter. his whole body shook as he let out the most heart-stopping scream when his eyes landed on his eldest daughter. you, neteyam's twin, lay lifeless in his arms. your father cried because he never got to tell you he was proud of you, or that he loved you, or that you didn't need to compare to your brother to still be considered his baby girl.Â
it wasn't always like this, though.Â
you and neteyam were always happy and playing around together when you were younger. still, as you two grew older, neteyam took on olo'eyktan training and became his father's perfect warrior. where does that leave you? mo'at had chosen kiri to pursue tsahik training because of her apparent connection to eywa. so where does that leave you? lo'ak took on the role of the troublemaker, and tuk, of course, is just the baby of the family. so where does that leave you?
you're lo'ak's babysitter. making sure the boy doesn't get into trouble, but with your lack of training due to your father training your brother more than you, you weren't really the best babysitter. honestly, it was more lo'ak protecting than you protecting him. he kept you from losing balance while in high places, saved you when you fell into the rapids and flew you home when you forgot your way as if you had not lived in this forest your whole life.Â
you felt like a burden on your family.Â
nothing you ever did was right.Â
you went hunting? cool, but you didn't bring back enough for the whole family, so now neteyam and lo'ak have to go out and find more food for everyone else.Â
you bead a necklace for your friend? great, but you messed up the pattern she asked for, so she brought it to kiri so she could remake it.
tuk wanted to go play with you? of course! but now she has a sprained ankle from falling into the river while you were looking at flowers a few feet away.
and every time, somehow, some way, your family always managed to say something that felt like a blade stabbed through your heart.
"next time, y/n, just leave the hunting to neteyam and i. at least we know the right amount to bring back." it was lo'ak before he and your twin had to go hunting for more food for dinner a few weeks ago.
"you know, sister, your jewelry hasn't been the same recently. i've had sooo many of your friends coming back to me saying you messed up the pattern they asked for. just try and pay more attention when you're beading." kiri said as you walked into your home. she was re-beading the necklace you gave to your best friend yesterday.Â
the one she told you was perfect and that she loved it.
"how could you leave your sister unattended like that y/n she could've been killed?! why can't you be like neteyam? youâre twins, for crying out loud, y/n. do you not care for your sister's well-being?" your father scolded you outside your grandmother's hut. you could hear her cries inside the tent, along with your mother's gentle words of comfort, as she tried to calm her youngest daughter down.Â
you were being compared to your twin for the millionth time in your life, and as used to this as you should be, it still hurt just as bad as the first time your father had said it.Â
"she only sprained her ankle. it was an accident sempuâ" you tried to defend yourself, but you were cut off.Â
"NO. it is, sir. do you understand me?" jake yelled at you. in your 18 years, your father had never raised his voice at you, let alone for you calling him 'sempu.' he used to love it when you called him because you were his ite and he was your sempu. but right now, to him, you were just someone who had hurt his child and nothing more than that. you hang your head, eyes falling to the floor in front of you as you didn't want your father to see you cry.Â
"sorry, sir." was all you said before walking away. you don't know where you walked, but you found yourself at the abandoned shack. you knew this area was forbidden, so when you realized where you were, you immediately crouched. you were just gonna walk back because your father would kill you if he found out you were over here, but then you heard voices. you looked through the bush to see a group of 3 or 4 avatars. you knew you couldn't escape now, so you pressed on the collar of your neck.
"sempuâ sorry. sir, i need help, i wasn't paying attention to where i was walking, and i can hear avatars speaking english andâ" your father cut you off.
"where are you?" he, your mother, and your two brothers were patrolling around your land's territories when they heard you through their earpieces.Â
you let out a heavy sigh, praying to eywa that he wouldn't chew your ass up for being here, before pressing the button again and saying,Â
"i'm at the abandoned shacâAHH! OWW, LET GO, YOU ASSHOLE!!" you couldn't finish as one of the avatars found your hiding spot, grabbing you by your queue.
thankfully your family had heard enough. your twin telling his father he knew a shortcut, they all flew as fast as they could to you. honestly, this was their last straw. everyone was fed up with you constantly making things hard for everyone.
your mother, though, was worried. you were caught by those skydemons all by yourself. who knew what they would do to you?
as you waited for your family, you were roughly held by your queue as they poked and prodded at you like they had never seen a native before.Â
"let me see your hands." the man with a buzzcut spoke.Â
"why don't you look at my feet instead?" you said. they all gave you a confused look until you kicked quaritch right in his face. you don't know how, but it caused the avatar behind you to loosen his grip, so you tried to make a break for it.
unluckily for you, the female avatar grabbed your arm, pulling you back into her form. she gripped you by your neck, unaware that she had pressed the button on your communicator. you hissed at her. the man you had kicked was only laughing as he wiped the blood dripping from his nose. "she must be one of his. she's defiant. grab her hands, let me see." he said
the avatar behind you grabbed your hands, holding them both out.Â
"hm⊠four fingers. maybe she's not one of his." were they gonna let you go? wishful thinking.
"fine. she may not be one of his but if one of their people go missing they're bound to come for her. keep her." his words made your heart sank. were they gonna take you? away from everything? your home? your family? if you could even call it that.Â
but then you thought about it. you really can't call it that. you don't remember the last happy memory you had with someone, anyone, in your family. it clicked to you that it had been about 10 minutes since you had radioed your father, and he wasn't here yet. were they even coming for you? you knew it was a stupid question. they weren't coming for you. why would they when this was the easiest way to get rid of the weak link of the family? it's not like your blood would be on their hands, and their life would be way better without you.
"they're not gonna come for me. i have no family. you killed my family in the last war, you dickhead." you lied to the man you had kicked earlier.Â
hearing you say this confused your family. what were you talking about?
"dammit you're an orphan? i didn't know the na'vi had any of those. then what do we do with her. she's useless. nobody will notice she's gone." the woman behind you asked her superior.Â
"hmm.. i have a better idea. kill her. use her as a warning to the sullys. this is what we're capable of now. it'll be a threat. give us jake sully and nobody else will die. but this one⊠this one is our lab rat. we're gonna make you bleed out nice and slow little one." he said as he grabbed his pistol off his waist, pressing it below your jaw. the nickname made you internally gag, but you held your ground.Â
these people had no real idea how tired you really were. you were exhausted. you were ready for life with eywa. you wanted your deity to hold you close, keep you warm, and protect you from the harsh real world. the world that your parents didn't adequately prepare you for. the world that you were ready to leave.Â
"kill me," you said as you grabbed quaritch's wrist and moved his gun from under your jaw to right above your heart. "and make it quick. nobody will come for me anyways," you said in a monotone voice.
the avatars all looked at you in awe. they had never once seen a na'vi so willing to give up their life. the natives they had all met were vicious, hissing and armed, always ready to kill. but you. you were the opposite.
you were fed up and ready to die. but not for your people. for your own inner peace.Â
"no," quaritch said, putting his gun down. that shocked everyone. like he shocked his soldiers and your family, who had been listening the whole time. they were trying to get to you as fast as possible.
hearing how you really felt was a wake-up call for your family. and when they heard bullets moving within the chamber of quaritch's pistol, they all flew their ikrans as fast as possible, weaving through trees and around mountains, trying to get to you.
you looked at the man like he had just betrayed you.Â
"DO IT, YOU COWARD! FUCKING DO IT! NOBODY WILL COME FOR ME!! THEY DON'T CARE!! THEY DON'T FUCKING CARE!!" you don't know what came over you, but you tried to wrestle quaritch's pistol out of his hands. your family was only 2 clicks away and could hear you struggling. everyone landed at the same time. the sullys, excluding tuk and kiri, who had stayed with mo'at, caught quaritch's attention, which distracted him enough for you to pull the gun from his grip.Â
you distanced yourself from everyone, and looking around, you realized you were surrounded by everyone. your family and these random avatar people. everyone could read you. you were a ticking time bomb and the only person in control of the trigger was you. one of the avatars took a step forward slowly, but you saw him move and point the gun at him. it didn't stop him from moving, but you heard screams of protest when you pointed the gun at your own head. that's when everyone froze. the avatars. your family. nature. time. eywa. you. everything was frozen.
"babygirlâŠ" the nickname made you snap your neck to the man who was the root of your problems.Â
"NO! no, you do not get to call me that. if i can't call you ma sempu, don't bother referring to me as your daughter." you said. your energy was depleted, and you knew you would only be able to stand here for a couple more minutes before you opened your own doors and walked to your great-mother. jake tried to take a step closer to you, which only caused you to tense up and pull on the trigger a little bit. everyone immediately backed up, your mother hissing at you through her tears. "MA ITE, PUT THE GUN DOWN," she screamed at you.
"sa'nokâŠ" you whimpered, not even being able to look her in the eyes.Â
"sa'nu⊠i can't" you sobbed. you could barely breathe and your tears were coming down in waterfalls at this point. you couldn't see anything clearly. your tears had blurred your vision.Â
you knew your mom loved you. she and tuk were the only ones in the family who had never uttered a harsh word in your direction. though she was busy taking care of tuk, so it wasn't like you got much attention from them either. but there's no way you would blame her or tuk for that. if anything, you're sorry that you have to leave them, but this world isn't for you. you turned on your heels, looking at the man whose gun you took.
"you are a coward. you should've pulled the goddamn trigger. you're fucking pathetic. are you happy now? now everyone here gets to experience what they've waited so long for." nobody had ever heard you speak to anyone like that. honestly, they couldn't tell if your words were directed at quaritch or yourself.Â
you inhaled, looking up at the eclipse, your bioluminescent freckles glowing brighter than they ever had in the nighttime as tears cascaded down your face.Â
"goodbye," you said as you squeezed the trigger, hearing a loud bang and tons of screaming. you felt no pain, though. you opened your eyes, not realizing you had closed them, and looked around. you noticed your pistol was stuck in the tree in front of you with an arrow clean through it. you turned to your twin with hate in your eyes. he lowered his bow as he read your expression.Â
"now you wanna save me?" your voice was weak but filled with venom.Â
"why didn't you save me when you noticed i stopped hanging out with you guys? hm? why didn't you teach me when i was younger? huh? why didn't you talk to me other than when you were chewing my ass out for something that was A FUCKING ACCIDENT, GODAMMIT. WHY?!" you felt like your tears were endless.Â
"WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME?! ANSWER ME YOU FUCKERS!! WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME?!" you screamed your frustrations at your father and brothers. none of them could look you in your eyes, save for your mother. "you only want to save me because you know how much i don't want to be saved anymore but it's too goddamn late," you said.
you turned to the female avatar who was holding you from before. you noticed her gun earlier and hoped you looked threatening enough for her to use it as you ran in her direction. she didn't know what to do. she didn't know you were a barely trained warrior or that you wouldn't have put a scratch on her. she didn't know you were harmless. all she knew was that you were a native, and the natives were hostile.Â
so she pulled her gun out and fired two shots into your chest.
the momentum of the bullet was enough to stop you from running. you felt the searing pain start to blossom in your chest area. falling to your knees, your eyes met the woman who had shot you. you looked at her shirt, reading her name. it was a funny name to you, but you didn't care. she had fulfilled your wish without even knowing it. so you used your last breath to speak.
"thank you, z-dog" you slumped over on your side, as everything started to go slow. your vision was starting to darken, and you let it consume you, not wanting to fight for your life anymore.Â
cue the screams and cries from your family and the fleeing steps of the rda soldiers. your chest stopped rising and falling, and your breathing had ceased. your family surrounded your body, trying to stop your bleeding and preserve the life that had already left your body. still, you had been shot twice, and both bullets had exit wounds. it was no use. nearby, na'vi had heard the screams of distress and had called over some hunters and scouts to investigate the scene since they knew the area was near the forbidden old shack.
the hunters and scouts arrived at the scene armed and ready to defend their people, but what they were met with was the last thing they expected to see. the eldest sully daughter was lying on the floor, motionless, with two bullet holes in her chest and her blood sinking into the forest floor. her family leaned over her body, screaming and crying for her to be okay and to return to them. they whispered how sorry they were. they whispered to her how if she came back, they would treat her right, teach her, hang out with her, and love her like they were supposed to. but it's too late.
nobody knew how to react. the eldest sully daughter had died, and nobody but her family knew what had happened.Â
âma ite, oel ngati kameie. i see you. i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. you don't have to be your brother. being you was just fine." your father cried as he cradled your head. brushing your hair away from your face, getting blood on your cheek since his hands were covered in it.Â
neteyam and lo'ak were each holding one of your hands. they cried as they watched their tears pool in your palm and then fall off the edge to drip into the soil below your body. they couldn't believe they treated you like anything less than their sister. they treated you like you were a stranger, a burden to deal with. and now that you were gone, they could not tell you how sorry they were for how they treated you.
neytiri was inconsolable. her firstborn daughter had just died in front of her eyes. willingly. she wanted this. her own daughter wanted to take her life. and she couldn't do anything to stop it. how could she not know? how did you go 18 years hurting in silence? how did she not know you needed to be saved?Â
"ma ite. my baby. ma y/n." neytiri's heart shattered when she saw those bullets go through your chest. she cried over your body for what felt like hours, but it was only a few minutes until the male healers came so they could carry you to the healing tents to prepare you for your burial ritual.Â
as jake pulled his mate from your body, she started to push against him trying to get him to let go of her so she could return to her daughter.Â
eventually, jake lets go, unable to keep his mate from her child. he joined her and just asked the healers to give your family a minute with you.Â
they just nodded in understanding, leaving your family to grieve.Â
two pairs of footsteps rushed towards the clearing, where the family mourned one of their own.Â
kiri and tuk had heard the news and came as fast as they could. tuk screamed, running up to you and curling herself into your chest as she sobbed into your neck. she didn't care if she was getting blood all over herself. you were her older sister, and she didn't even get to say goodbye. she felt nothing but sadness and loss. tuk felt terrible because the last time she had seen you was earlier when you brought her back from the stream because she had sprained your ankle. and now you were lying on the forest floor dead? how did this happen?
"HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! SISTER, PLEASE!!" kiri begged you to wake up as she placed herself where her father was earlier. she rested your head in her lap, looking into your lifeless yellow eyes. you were her elder sister. as much as you didn't know, kiri looked up to you. she knew how hard you tried for the family, and though it wasn't your fault that you would mess up a necklace every once and a while, she couldn't help but feel guilty for the words she said to you in those moments. she knew she could've should've been nicer about it.Â
when it was finally time for the healers to take your body, once again, neytiri tried to fight against them. this time everyone in the family had to hold her back as the healer walked you away in a leaf big enough to cover your entire body from the eyes of those around you. once you were gone from her view, neytiri fell to the floor again, sobbing into the ground,Â
"GREAT MOTHER, WHY?!!" their mother's screams felt like a knife in their hearts. the sully family felt nothing but guilt and grief upon your death. nobody got closure because there is no closure for this kind of thing. they were the reason you wanted to die, and now that you got what you wanted, they had to live with that guilt.Â
you were high in being held in eywa's embrace as you cried. looking down on your family. you did not regret your decision, but you just had one question for your deity.Â
"did they really love me, great mother." eywa heaved a sigh before answering you.Â
"my ite, your mother and youngest sister loved you everyday, they were just very poor at showing it i'm afraid." you nodded your head, asking a follow-up question,Â
"what about the others?" you knew by her face that you wouldn't like the answer, but it was too late. the question was asked. and the answer is precisely the reason why you did what you did.
"they loved you just a little bit too late, my child."
What if Will and the boys werenât enough to stop JJ from pursuing Spencer?
From the moment that you met Spencer Reid, you knew that he was the love of your life. You are faced with the harsh realization of your unrequited love whenever a heart wrenching confession is dropped during a hostage situation and derails all of your fantasies.
matt murdock x reader, matt murdock x karen page (high school au)
extremely angsty, heavily inspired by personal experience, i hate living fr
You, Matt, Foggy, Marci and Karen had become friends over the first semester. Everything was going great, until you got a weird hunch, which turned out to be spot on.
Iâve known it from the very start, weâre a shot in the darkest dark, oh no, iâm unarmed
âI seriously cannot believe our Philosophy teacher, she gave us a 100 item examination to be finished in 45 minutes? Has she gone insane? 100 Philosophy questions in 45 minutes?â, Matt rants as he angrily took a bite of his lunch. You try your best to keep your laughter in but end up snorting. Matt glares at you, âWhatâs so funny Y/n?â âOh chill out Matt, it is a rather silly situationâ, Marci states. âYeah Matt, besides, at least youâre not the one stuck studying Physicsâ, Karen adds, referring to you. Matt pouts as he rests his head on your shoulder, making your other friends laugh, making your heart flutter. It has been like this for awhile between the two of you, hugs and cuddles, holding hands. Matt had been touchy with you since the day you two started interacting, a part of him probably couldnât help it, he always had to hug you, to pat your head, to hold you close. Such actions slowly had you falling for him, tilâ you finally fell in love, the moment he saved you from being hit by a truck. It happened so fast, and you werenât thinking, you happened to step in the way of the truck that was backing up, luckily for your ass, Matt was walking with you and quickly grabbed you. Since that day you found yourself clinging onto Matt, seeking his touches.
Although these past few weeks, you couldnât help but notice Matt giving Karen similar attention, he wasnât as clingy to Karen as he was to you, but he certainly was more talkative with her. Probably because they had more shared interests than the two of you do. You felt a sharp pain in your chest the moment Matt started looking for Karen more compared to you. He never messaged you, but heâd hopped on calls with Karen several times, discussing their course and playing games you werenât familiar with. You kept telling yourself that heâs probably just being friendly, he tends to be, right? Thereâs nothing to worry about, Karenâs not the one whose hand Matt holds, sheâs not the one Matt kissed, itâs you.
Itâs not fair, âcause you kiss me and it stops time, and iâm yours, but youâre not mine
After eating lunch with your friends, you bid them goodbye as you headed to class, you took a different course than all of them, they often ridiculed you for being the only STEM student amongst the group, but you always retorted with âI am a proud woman in STEM, you Humanities students wish you were me!â, a ridiculous statement, ridiculous enough to stop the teasing. But as you were about to enter the STEM building, you feel a hand grab you from behind. You turn around to see Matt, breathless as he just ran after you from the other side of the school grounds. âOh, Matt⊠you okay?â, you ask, heart fluttering. Your mind flew to all directions, is he going to confess? is he going to say something thatâd break my heart? or is he just going to borrow a pen? âY/n, I⊠need your help with somethingâ, he said, your heart sank, you had a bad feeling, this wasnât going to end well for you. âUh, yeah sure. What can I help you with?â âItâs Karen, I like her, can you help me confess to her?â There it was, the words youâve been praying to not hear, the words that filled your nightmares. You stood there frozen, until luckily, the bell rang. âOh my gosh, Iâm gonna be late. Letâs talk about it later, okay?â, you said as you hurriedly ran away from Matt, rushing not towards your classroom, but towards the comfort room. There you started crying, endlessly, your sobs filled the room. How could I have been so stupid? I shouldâve known. He would never want me, not over Karen.
Whyâd have to lead me on, whyâd you have to twist the knife, walk away and leave me bleeding?
After that day, you couldnât bring yourself to talk to Matt and the rest of your friends again. You left the group chat, ignored them for 2 weeks. Until one day you found yourself conversing with Marci, you quickly ended the talk before it got any deeper. But that conversation led Marci to adding you back to the gc. There you saw a flood of pictures of Karen and Matt being all sweet together, being more than what you and Matt ever were. Your heart had now sunken completely. Anger, remorse and hatred flooded your brain, causing you to lash out in the middle of class, towards your favourite teacher. Luckily you also happened to be his favourite student, so instead of reprimanding you, he took you to the school park and checked on you. You poured your heart out to him, every single detail of the affair with Matt you told him. You were at your lowest, too hurt by the fact that the person you wanted the most, wanted your best friend instead.
Whyâd you have to make me love you? I said âI love youâ, you say nothing back
5:30 pm on a Friday, you were at the campus bus stop, waiting for one thatâll take you away. You couldnât bear to see your friends anymore, so you decided to move to a different campus, still of the same school, but in a much farther place, same place your favourite teacher was headed to for his transfer. Just then, Matt was headed your way, with his walking stick, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. You stood there, thinking, maybe they were for you, maybe heâd beg you to not leave, to stay, to stay with him.
I would stay forever if you say âdonât goâ
But reality hits you once again, the flowers were most definitely not for you, he didnât come to beg you to stay. He simply walked past you, not even noticing you, the fact that he was no longer familiar to your presence evident in his actions. He couldnât recognise you just by aura anymore, you werenât anything to him anymore.
but you wonât
Your bus arrives, you pick up your luggage and head inside. You find a seat, plug in your earphones and rest you head on the window. You took one last look at academy youâve grown to love over the past few months, sighing as music starts playing in your ear. Just then your teacher whom you talked with the other day sits next to you and taps your shoulder. âHey Y/N, itâs going to be alright, youâre going to love the Annex Campus. What happened was for the best okay?â You simply nodded and increased the volume of your earphones. The bus soon departed, with tears streaming down your face you told to yourself, Iâll find someone better Iâm sure, this is all for the best.
the end !!! that was the saddest fic iâve written so far, i hope you guys understood it, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated !! see you guys in my next fic đ
