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barcaatthemoon · 3 days

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sniffles || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you try to hide your sickness from the team.

you weren't really sure what was wrong with you, but you felt awful. it was the kind of sick that would have gotten you off from school whenever you'd been living with your parents. things were a bit different in barcelona with alexia, but you knew that she'd make you miss practice if she found out. sometimes, you wanted nothing more than a break from everything, but there was a big game coming up and you wanted in the starting squad.

that was why you had woken up extra early to make sure that you looked healthy. alexia was none the wiser, even if she had given you weird looks for wearing makeup. luckily, she didn't quiestion it much since a few of the girls had been teasing you for your very obvious crush on another one of the younger players.

"don't take too long getting ready," alexia warned as she let you stop into the locker room. unlike her, you hadn't just worn a training kit in. but you also didn't like to literally start things off by running some laps. you thought alexia was crazy for warming up for her warm ups, but you suspected that was what she needed to stay in such good shape after her injury.

"oi, little chick, are you feeling alright?" ona asked as she stepped up beside you. the team liked to tease you for being wound up for certain things, and your posture was one of them. you were a stickler for perfect posture, unless you weren't feeling well.

"just a bit tired, ale woke up me up earlier than normal." it wasn't a complete lie. you reminded yourself to stay sitting and standing straight for the rest of practice. occasionally one of the other girls would come up and ask if you were alright, noticing that you did seem a little off. luckily, you could pass it off as being tired, but as the day dragged on, it was getting more and more difficult.

your cover had nearly been blown in the gym during the day's lifting session. since you were trying to build up a bit more muscle mass, you trained with the keepers. you had counted on sandra being protective in the motherly way that she always was, but you hadn't expected cata to be keeping such a close eye on you.

"drop the weight down and step away," cata ordered. she had been spotting you on the squat rack. you were still in the lighter part of things and definitely shouldn't have been making the wheezing sounds that you were. "you know the rules. are you trying to hurt yourself?"

"what's going on?" if it was just sandra or alexia, you could have gotten away with claiming that cata was just being mean to you, but when irene joined the group, you feared the jig was up.

"there's something wrong with (y/n), she's wheezing!" cata exclaimed. alexia reached out to feel your forehead, but you ducked out of the way. unfortunately, sandra was able to grab you and irene placed the back of her hand on your forehead.

"she's warm, but she was also going really hard today at practice," irene said. she glanced over at alexia to help decide what they should do with you.

"she's sick, probably with whatever bruna had last week," cata said. you sent her a nasty glare, but the older girl was unphased by it.

"how do you feel?" sandra asked as she turned towards you.

"i feel fine, maybe a little tired, but alexia woke me up this morning. i'd like to finish my workout please," you said sweetly. cata scoffed as sandra let you go. sandra, irene, and alexia all kissed the top of your head as they apologized for interrupting you. cata was obviously mad at you, so you walked over to finish your workout with lucy and the other defenders.

at irene's insistence, you kept things lighter. you didn't notice cata telling alexia to keep an eye on you, so you had no idea that alexia was watching your every move after your shower. she cursed herself as the two of you got home when you let the facade slip a bit. it was obvious with your makeup washed off that you were not well. she should have listened to cata the first time and made you go sit down.

"what game are we watching tonight?" you asked from where you had already curled up on the couch. alexia sighed as she glanced down at you. it was usually a hassle to get you to watch games, and as much as alexia wanted the win, she also wanted to instill good habits in you as well. there would come a day when you'd go somewhere that she couldn't keep an eye on you, and it terrified her a little bit.

"we can start watching a game later, i wanted to talk to you first. how have you been feeling today?" alexia asked you. she made sure to use her gentle voice, knowing that you didn't do well wtih being lectured otherwise.

"well, i've been a bit tired, but otherwise okay. did cata really get it in your head that i'm like, sick or something?" you tried to make it as believable as possible that you were feeling fine. one pointed look at alexia had you mumbling out the truth with tears in your eyes.

alexia sighed as she pulled you into a hug and reassured you, "you're not in trouble this time, but don't do it again." you nodded with your head against her chest. you did start crying, and soon the tears turned into a pretty nasty coughing fit. alexia was quick to get up and get you a glass of water and some medicine. she took your temperature and texted jona whenever it came back way too high.

"i don't want to miss the game," you whined. alexia didn't seem to care as she tucked you into the couch. "i've worked so hard to get to play. please, ale, i want to play."

"if you feel better by the end of the week, we'll see about you subbing on. that just means you need to rest up until then," alexia told you. you'd do anything that she told you to if it meant that you'd get to play in the game. alexia seemed to know that because she had you spending the week watching all of the game film and taking notes that you could manage. whenever she had to be away, she left you in the care of olga, who definitely slipped you more sweets than alexia would ever allow and watched tiktoks with you on the couch for hours at a time.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #teen reader #platonic fic #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona x reader #barcelona imagine

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rafecameroninterlude · 1 day

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love your new theme and rafe + noncon (if your uncomfortable just ignore this)

warnings: non-con!!, ex-bf!rafe, possessiveness, breaking and entering (?), obsession, manipulation, unprotected sex

a/n: i’m so happy you love the theme, thank youuu <3 also i got a little carried away so this is a tiny bit longer than a drabble lol

“yes, i’m just so excited! i haven’t been on a date in so long..” you held your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you fixed the straps of your heels. “oh, my god, please tell me you’re wearing that one sexy dress that you keep in the back of your closet,” you laughed softly, “the dress that rafe never let me wear? yeah, i’m wearing it out tonight.” your friend squealed excitedly on the other line. “i just know you look insanely hot right now. what was that guy’s name again?” she asked. “warner. remember, he’s the one that stopped me outside when we were out for brunch?” you grabbed your purse, looking at yourself in the mirror one last time.

“oh, that’s right! okay, stay safe and tell me all the details when you get back.” she said. “i will, bye!” you hung up, making your way to the front door.. except it was already open. “warner, huh?” your heart dropped at the voice. it couldn’t be. “how did you get in here, rafe?” your voice was shaky, fear planting your feet in place. he sighed, pressing his chest to your back as he closed the door, locking it shut. “i made a spare key.” he shrugged, placing both of his hands on your shoulders. “where do you think you’re going, y/n?” his chin rested in the crook of your neck.

“on a date.” his breath was hot against your skin. “no, no, i don’t think so..” he whispered in your ear, a hand coming up to wrap around your throat. you should’ve known it wasn’t going to be this easy to ‘move on’ from rafe. he made it nearly impossible for you to get through each day without a reminder. the cryptic messages, the constant deliveries and showering of gifts, it, he, was inescapable. “please leave.” you whimpered, a chill running down your spine as his grip tightened around the column of your throat. “what did i tell you about this dress?” he traced a finger down your side.

“you have to leave me alone, rafe. i’m begging.” tears started forming in your eyes. “leave you alone and then what? let someone else have you? oh, baby..” he shook his head, “i’ll die before that happens.” you screamed as he dragged you down the hallway, tripping over your feet until he pushed you onto your bed. he straddled you, taking your chin between his thumb. “look at this makeup..” he marveled at the sight of your glossed lips and shimmery eyes, “i’ve always thought you looked prettier after i ruin it.” he laid you down, breathing in the scent of your perfume.

you pushed at his chest, the action deemed useless as he didn’t budge. his nose ran across the underside of your jaw. “you know what i’ve had to do since you left me?” he pinned your thigh onto his hip, stroking the soft flesh of your ass. “i spray your perfume on my pillows so that i could still go to sleep and wake up to you everyday.” you cried, still trying to push him off. “everything was so perfect..” he pulled away, wiping a stray tear from your eye, “until you fucked it all up.” he pinned both of your hands between the valley of your breasts. “until you said i was too controlling and left.” he said through gritted teeth.

rafe locked eyes with you as he undid his belt. “no. no, don’t do this.” you tried to kick and thrash, but the weight of him didn’t let you. “shhh, i’m not going to do anything i haven’t already done.” he cupped your cheeks, taking your lips in a searing kiss. you bit his bottom lip in a poor attempt to stop him but it only spurred him on even more. “you can’t hurt me, baby.” he laughed, sliding your panties to the side. “stop!” you looked away from him, screwing your eyes shut as he forced himself into you. you gasped, your walls fluttering around the intrusion. “i don’t believe you when you say you don’t want this, you know why?” he stroked your folds, holding his fingers up.

“look at how fucking wet you are, i just slid right in.” he smeared the shiny digit against your lips. you whimpered, hating your body for betraying you in this very moment. “please, rafe.” you shuddered when you finally looked at him again, a sadistic grin adorning his face. “keep going? i am.” he groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his jaw went slack. “fuck, i missed this pussy so much,” he hiked your dress up around your hips, his thumb now rubbing fast circles on your clit, “tell me you missed me too.” he tugged on the roots of your hair, forcing you to look down at where you two were connected.

you swallowed thickly, feeling yourself approaching your orgasm. “i missed you too.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but rafe still heard you clearly. “yeah?” he tenderly stroked the side of your voice. “yes. ‘missed you so much, ray.” your eyes rolled back as your legs began trembling around his waist. rafe’s hips stuttered, both of you clinging onto one another as you fell over the edge. tears rolled down your cheeks, your vision hazy while he spilled into you, your cunt still clenching around him for everything he had. you stared at the ceiling once rafe collapsed on top of you, running your fingers through his hair.

you two stayed like this for a few minutes before the door bell chimed. as if you snapped out of a trance, you were suddenly hyper aware of the sticky mess between your thighs. rafe got up, making his way to the front door as you laid there on your bed, legs feeling like jelly. you didn’t even want to imagine what rafe was saying to warner right now. you sighed, sitting up once rafe walked back into the room, a smug look on his face. “he won’t be coming back. let’s get in the shower and call it a night, yeah?” you nodded, allowing him to undress you. “ray?” you watched as he took your heels off, “yeah, pretty girl?” he glanced up, meeting your tear stained eyes.

“are you staying?” rafe massaged your foot, “yeah, and you’re not leaving.”

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screampied · 5 hours

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whiny toji was something i did know i needed till now🧍🏼‍♀️

now what about whiny sukuna👀👀 in his domain👀👀

-👁️

riding sukuna until he whines ★

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, whiney sukuna, brief choking, praise, dirty talk, premature ejaculation, mdni.

“oh, fine. do your worst, brat,” the curse would snicker with a sly grin stretching against the very curvature of his crimson pink lips. he’s not taking you serious.

then again, it’s rare for the sukuna ryomen to ever take you, his precious favorite human serious. you enlighten him so to speak, he cherishes the time he spends with you . . including the moments where you’re entrapped with him in his own domain. you’ve never had the patience though, as you’re straddling his lap— you’re hovering over his leaky tip and his fangs poke out into a mere, wicked smile. “givin’ up now? what’s with the hesitation, little one?” and a hand of his runs down the sides of your waist, a smirk pulling against his lips once he hums in amusement. “scared ‘m gonna stretch you out like last time?”

“no one’s scared,” you reply with an eye roll, pressing a chaste kiss against his mouth. sukuna hums, multiple eyes flickering at you, taking in your beauty. a broad hand of his slings around your waist before giving it a tight squeeze. “just shut up ‘n lie back, ‘kuna.”

“not likin’ that attitude,” he grumps—crossing the upper part of his two arms before parting his legs. he was very beefy, the size difference between the two of you was almost adorable. another broad hand of his brings you closer, a hiss snakes from his lips as he feels your folds gradually swallow his frenulum. “but like i said, do your worst. i’ll be nice ‘n try not to fall asleep, heh.”

you were always annoyed with the smug, complacent smile that’s forevermore printed onto the curses lips. as you’re taking him down, it feels warm. he groans at the way your gummy walls easily clamp down against him.

easy, two of his hands grab onto your waist before he leans back against his throne. “you’re too cocky for your own good sometimes, ‘kuna,” and his eyes flicker at you. the nerve, he’d let you get away with saying almost anything to him.

the only reason why—simply because you were known as his favorite,

“and you’re too bratty for your own good,” he replies back with wit, the roughness in his tone making you throb. sukuna was so close to your ear, you inch closer until you’re met with his chest. perfectly toned pecs—soft toned pecs rubbing against your own, you can feel how perky his nipples were, brushing against the fabric of his cottony made kimono. inside his domain— it was dark, a mere scary glimpse of his own perfect little world. and yet, here he was sharing it with you. he sucks his teeth, your cunt holds him tight, refusing to let go and his head goes back. “my, perhaps you’ve missed me a lot more than you let on.”

so cocky,

with an eye roll, you lean in for a kiss— the demon returns it, a free hand of his wrapping around your throat whilst you’re taking him fully.

your hips start to sway, picking up a decent rhythm before you moan in his mouth. he skims a thumb down the aisle of your throat, feeling the vibrations that’s continuously flees from your voice. so harmonic, the sweet sounds you always made for him was a song he’d constantly listen to if he could.

“ugh,” he grunts, pulling away—a glimmering mixture of his own saliva departs away from your lips as he stares at you blankly. he’s almost in disbelief. with your arched hips in mere constant rotation, a raw groan rips from his lips. he finds it cute. the small prints of your fingers wrap around his throat, never once leaving eye contact. “you’re a kinky little girl today, huh. got no right choking m-me.”

sukuna’s voice falters all of sudden, he lets off a sharp gasp. the plump tip of his dick abruptly thumping against a specific spot deep inside of your swollen cunt. it hits it again, and again, and again,

he’s getting a bit sensitive. sukuna’s caught off guard—especially with how not only you’re choking him gingerly, but resuming to grind your sweet hips against him. so warm, you ride his lap like it’s your own personal throne. the middle parts of his back slumps against his royal seat as he gnaws on his lip. his breaths become significantly heavy and he already sounds like he’s running out of breath.

languidly,

your hips stutter against him—the hefty size of his cock rummages all through your pussy before you conceal yet another moan.

sukuna groans, feeling you lean up close to pierce the crowns of your teeth into the depths of his skin. lolling out your damp tongue, you savor the curses taste. he tastes sweet, almost salty but of course candied. a hand of his reaches near the outer cusps of your ass before a long nail of his carved light against your skin. moaning yourself, you seep your tongue canines into his neck to leave a mark and he grunts— yet this time, instead of his usual gruff tone that booms throughout his infamous, blood-curdling domain, for the first time in centuries or ever, sukuna ryomen whimpers.

it slips out of him easily, and oh is he embarrassed once he sees the dumbfounded expression of yours turn into straight smugness.

the whine spews from his ancient lips and he’s not fond of this feeling at all— he’s so deep into the very pits of your lower abdomen, making you feel every staggering inch of his cock and he sucks his teeth in desperation. a finger of yours slips through his kimono, trailing against his sculpted abs before you lean up close to him to whisper.

“aw,” you giggle with a hum shortly following, the rupture his dick makes within you almost gives your legs a good enough excuse to give up. running a finger down his undercut, you’re met with the meanest glare. “all that sass and you’re a whiny baby, sukuna,” and you thrust your hips against him further. the massive weight of his balls slapping back against your skin and he tenses up. broad shoulders raise before he whines again, although this time— it’s from feeling you kiss near the neglected corner of his lips. “who knew the king of curses could be a cute whiner.”

“s-shut up, mortal,” he groans, the sensitivity of his cock repeatedly thrashes against your g-spot. sukuna’s too caught off guard that he doesn’t even realize he ends up finishing early.. too early,

thick stringy ropes end up shooting into you, it’s warm and sticky. you pause your hips—relishing in the hotness of his spurts of seed that trickles its way into you. sukuna’s spasming out underneath you, it’s so cute to see. his jaw hangs open, the most lewdest whimpers leaving out of his throat before the veins that run within his bulky arms pulse. he’s seeing everything but the vision; the vision of you straddling his lap, staring into his eyes with that cheeky grin.

submissive sukuna,

you lean in to kiss him whilst he’s still dumping an entire gluey load of cum into you. such satiny ropes, he sloppily returns the favor, breath heavy and sheets of sweat pouring down the sides of his face. “goodness,” and his voice— it’s not as confident as it was, you hear a slight tremor in it and it’s cute. he’s still heaving, clingy walls continue to grip around him before his fangs nip at your bottom lip. “a-ah, got me soundin’ like a worthless p—”

“shh, baby,” you purr, and he’s like puffy folding in your hands. once cruel and sadistic eyes—now all droopy and full of heart eyes at your very expense. he calms down from the strokes of your hand against his face and he shudders, trying to pull into another kiss but you stop him. he whines again. “oh, does the demon want another kiss?”

he nods, that same cute grump of a scowl returning to his lips before he sighs. “give me a kiss.”

“not when you ask like that, ‘kuna,” you tease and his eye twitches, again— the nerve..

he feels the way his cum starts to ooze out between your thighs and he glowers at you. such a baby, you lean in to kiss his pout away and his arms go back to being crossed. “say pretty please.”

“perish.”

“fine kiss yourself,” you roll your eyes with a sly smile, preparing to make your way off the demons lap until he holds you tight. two strong arms grabbing you,

so clingy . .

with a scoff, he looks away—a cute tint rising to his face before he mumbles. “give me a kiss, pretty please.”

“that’s a good demon,” you giggle, slinging your arms around him before pressing him a soft, wet kiss. he whines at your taste, wanting nothing more than to savor it. his tongue curls against yours before he feels your hips start to pick up again. he moans, his left thigh twitching before your bouncing accelerates. he was still so sensitive, and yet here he was, like dough mending underneath you.

a while after, you pull away and he pouts— hiding his face into the very crook of your neck. sukuna snarls, nibbling against your skin before whining out a low, raspy, “i- i need a minute,” and he hides more of his sweetened whimpers into your neck. “don’t move. we’re gonna stay like this, f-fuck.”

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calliopesdiary · 3 days

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“mini-me”

synopsis; your little sister captures the hearts of your boyfriends, you may even say she has a little crush on james.

contents; sexual activity mentioned, fem!reader, reader has a cute lil sister, poly!marauders, james has baby fever, you have baby fever, i have baby fever, everyone has baby fever

warnings; none! just a brief mention of sex but nothing bad (;

a/n; i’ve been daydreaming about this fic for so long

“NESSIE! FINALLY MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!"

roared a thunderous James Potter who’d spotted your little sister— Vanessa.

Nessie was all over the boys, and they were all over her. she was a first-year hufflepuff and a true sweetheart.

Sirius silently adored how similar you two looked, it was like looking at twins— except one of them happened to be five years older than the other.

He was too afraid and stubborn to admit it, but Nessie gave him a heavy dose of baby fever.

was she a baby? no, not even close. but something about her cheeky smile, the way her robes hung over her like how a child pretending to be an adult’s would, and how her hand (which was considerably smaller than his) slid into yours lovingly at any given time.

maybe it was just that he wanted to see you as a mom, or that he longed for a family that was warm and loving.

“y/n, dear.” Sirius caught your attention quickly, even though you were watching James ramble on to Nessie like it was an oscar award winning film.

“hm—?” you hummed, attempting to pry your eyes away from the sweet scene.

“what do you think i’d-be like?”

“what do i think what would be like?”

“you know, having kids.” he could tell from your flustered expression that to were certainly not expecting that.

“o-oh… w-well…”

luckily the conversation had been interrupted by one Nessie.

Nessie ended her conversation with James, earning a “hey!” when she walked away from him.

“Siri.” she tugged in his sleeve.

“yes, darling?”

she blushed at the pet name, and started twirling her hair.

“um.. will you guys take me to Hogsmeade…?”

“Hogsmeade? Ness, only third years and over can go to Hogsmeade—“

“Professor Mcgonagall said if i went with you then it would be alright!”

She tugged on Sirius’ slightly oversized leather jacket once more, as he stumbles from the unexpected tug.

“whats going on in here— AGH!”

Remus stumbled backwards as Nessie pounced on top of him like some wild animal who was about to feed on him.

“hi— oof— hi Nessie.”

Remus was taken aback by the little first year jumping around in him in a circle chanting;

“i’m going to Hogsmeade!”

“Ness, he gets it.” You groaned from your position on James’ lap.

“Get off!!” Nessie shoved you with all of her pre-puberty force.

“N-Nessie!” you ‘gently’ hit the bedpost as Nessie locked herself onto James.

“What candy is she on? Pixi Stix?”

“Oh, suck my dick, Moony.”

“Gladly—“

“Oi!” Barked James.”

“whats a dick?”

“Nessie—..”

HOGSMEADE was beautiful in summer time.

obviously— it wasn’t summer yet, but with April coming to a close and blossoming like a flower, you could basically say it was summertime.

you walked along with Remus and Sirius, as Nessie was hanging around with James as they skipped ahead down the alleys and walkways of Hogsmeade.

you adored James, and how sweet he was to your sister, she was such a sweet kid and deserved the love.

"James?" Nessie stopped skipping for a moment, keeping a steady walking pace instead.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my sister?"

"I do."

"so why don't you marry her?" Sirius burst into a quiet laughter, and Remus tucked the hysterical boy into his chest.

"i- marry her? i'd love too, but we're a bit young."

“but Snow White was 14 when she got married.”

“Oh.” James was clearly a bit flustered, his cheeks turned to a shade of pink.

Remus watched his lovers interact with Nessie, and it sparked something deep inside him.

Remus (until now) had ruled out a happy ending for himself.

being a lycanthrope, he never wanted to pass that burden to his child. so he couldn’t— no, wouldn’t have kids.

but somehow, someway, as he watched you with your little sister. he realized how badly he wanted you to be a mom.

for the first time, Remus realized that he could live happily.

“Remus? are you alright?” You tapped his shoulder rapidly, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Y-yes, sorry I got distracted.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” you smiled brightly up to him, the smile he was so in love with.

the smile he wanted his kids to have.

you four dropped Nessie off back at her common room, and Sirius immediately sprung onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Siri?” you asked through soft giggles.

“I can’t wait to have a kid with you.”

#marauders era #fem!reader #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fanfiction #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader'

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heartateasee · 1 day

Text

“Safe”

mafia!harry x you

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: mentions of a break-in and violence (talks of being bound, and a slap) & talks of death (inflicting death on others)

Plot: While Harry was out of town on business, your home was broken in to, leaving you with some injuries. When Harry comes home to see the state you’re in, he’s beside himself, and he steals you away to his lake house so you can be alone together.

❈❈❈❈

“Where is she?” You heard Harry’s voice from downstairs, and you immediately sat up a little more on the side of your bed. You clutched the mug of warm tea in your still trembling hands - a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

“She’s upstairs in your bedroom, but Harry-”

You could hear that Harry’s right-hand man, Elias, was attempting to keep him from coming up the stairs right away, and that he wanted to explain things further, but Harry cut him off.

“Get out of my way, Elias. I need to see her.”

“I understand that, but I need you to listen to me for just a second before you do.”

You flinched as you felt a hand stroking your hair off your face, and you looked over to see the doctor, who Harry always had tending to you if you were sick, standing there. She must’ve come back from the bathroom already like she said, but you hadn’t heard her. You were too focused on your boyfriend’s voice.

“The swelling should go down in a couple of days,” you heard the doctor say, who’s name was completely escaping you right now. She tilted your head to the side a bit, and you watched as her eyebrows narrowed. “There’s already some bruising, but I don’t think it’ll get much worse, if at all.”

Closing your eyes tight, flashbacks of what happened just about an hour ago bled their way back to the forefront of your mind. The back of the hand that forced its way across your cheek. The forcefulness at which your hands were tied behind your back with zip ties.

Your throat was raw from your screaming, although your mouth was soon duck taped after they realized you weren’t going to stop - no matter what threats they had thrown your way.

The memory of Elias forcing his way into the room was burned into your brain, and once he had taken care of the men who had harmed you, and threatened you, you watched his face soften once he looked at you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, not wasting any more time as he rushed over to you. Turning you on your side from where you were laid on the floor, he got his knife out to rid you of the zip ties, and then he carefully pulled the duck tape from your mouth. “Where else did they hurt you?”

His eyes were focused on your cheek that you knew was already showing signs of violence, but you shook your head.

“Nowhere,” your voice rasped as you answered him. “It’s just my cheek.”

You were drawn out of the horrific flashbacks as you heard Harry’s voice booming downstairs - growing louder. “Where the fuck were my men?!”

“They killed them!” You heard Elias yell back, clearly sick of Harry’s attitude at the moment. “Listen to me…they got in. They killed all seven of the men you had standing guard, and we got lucky because I was coming to check on her like you asked me to. If I hadn’t…”

It was silent after that, and it wasn’t too long that you heard a deep sob. You closed your eyes again as your bottom lip started to wobble. There had only been a handful of times that you had seen Harry cry, and you hated when he did. You wanted nothing more than for Elias to let him upstairs to see you so you could hold him.

“Please just-” Harry choked out, pausing for a moment, and you could tell he was trying to get himself together. “Please just tell me that she’s okay.”

“She’s okay,” Elias’ voice was now soft as he responded. “She is hurt, but it could’ve been a lot worse. Her face, and her wrists. They’re bruised.”

More silence followed until you heard a large crashing, and you knew it was coming from the living room area. You jumped - almost spilling your tea at the sudden sound. Another loud crash caused you to flinch, remembering those same sounds happening just moments ago, but not at the hands of Harry.

“Fuck!” His voice echoed off the walls, and you set your tea down on your nightstand.

You needed to go to him. You needed to show him you were okay.

“Slowly,” the doctor whispered next to you as she started to help you off the bed once she could tell you were trying to stand.

The blanket dropped from your shoulders - leaving you in one of Harry’s large t-shirts, and some wool socks on your feet. When the doctor showed and asked if you wanted to change out of the dress you had been wearing when you got home, the one you had worn to work, you immediately grabbed Harry's things. You wanted to feel close to him.

Helping you carefully down the steps, the doctor remained by your side until you reached the foyer, and from there your movement had caught Elias’ attention. He held his hand out for you, which you took without question, and the doctor took that as her sign to go ahead and leave for the night. She had already told you earlier that she was only a phone call away if you needed anything else.

Elias led you into the living room, Harry’s back to you as he stood in front of the bar cart. You could see he was downing a glass of whisky, and he wasted no time in filling it right back up.

“Harry,” Elias said as the two of you stood in the middle of the room, and you watched as Harry shook his head.

“I don’t want to hear anyone else’s goddamn voice tonight unless it’s my-”

Harry stopped talking once he turned around and saw you standing there, and he froze. His eyes trailed down your body - looking for injuries, and they darkened once they got to your face.

“I’ll leave you two for the evening,” Elias said as he released your hand, but not before giving it a small squeeze. “I’m just a phone call away, if needed. That goes for the both of you.”

Tearing your eyes away from Harry, you looked to Elias and gave him a nod. “Thank you. For everything.”

Elias returned your nod, pulling you in quickly for a hug - pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Once he released you, he exited the house.

Now it was just you and Harry inside, and you weren’t sure how many new guards he had standing outside.

You continued to stare at each other for a moment before Harry turned around to face the bar cart again, and you swallowed harshly.

You walked forward and gently placed your hand on his back - slowly lowering your head to rest your forehead between his shoulder blades.

“Harry,” you whispered, and you felt his body tense at the condition of your voice. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Harry shook his head, placing his glass down as he clutched the sides of the cart. “If I had been here, or if I had just taken you with me, none of this would’ve happened. And you begged me to take you, but I didn’t listen.”

“I didn’t beg you to take me because I thought this was going to happen. I begged because I missed you, so please don’t put that on yourself,” you told him, but he was quickly moving away from you.

You dropped your hands by your side as you watched him, tears forming in your eyes.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this is the time he realized that your relationship isn’t worth all of this. That you’re not worth all of this.

“Alright,” you said, mostly talking out loud to yourself as you nodded. “I’m going to go pack a bag.”

You didn’t even make it to the staircase before you felt Harry’s hands cupping the outsides of your arms, and he carefully turned you around. “Y/N,” you looked up to see tears of his own in his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Slowly, he lifted his hand to brush the back of his fingers against your tender cheek - not enough pressure applied to have it hurt you. He then grazed his thumb over the split in the corner of your mouth before looking down to your wrists.

He lifted them in his large hands, and brought each one to his mouth - pressing kisses against your bruises.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he shut his eyes tight, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Shaking your head, you went to pull your wrists away to cup Harry’s face in your hands, but you didn’t have the chance to as he fell to his knees. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he buried his face into your stomach. “I promise you that this will never happen again.”

Streams of tears now flooded down your cheeks as you ran your fingers through Harry’s hair, feeling him sob against your torso. You then wrapped your forearms around his neck, and cradled his head in your hands as you leaned down to rest your cheek against the top of it.

“I know, Harry,” you spoke softly to try and keep him as calm as possible, sniffing as you tried to force your tears back. “But it’s okay. I’m safe, and now you’re here. You’re home with me, and that’s all that matters.”

You hadn’t noticed the state of the house until you quickly flicked your eyes around the living room, and you knew these damages weren’t just from Harry when he got home. They had destroyed your home in the process of trying to destroy you. Trying to destroy him.

Harry looked up at you, and you sent him a gentle smile as you pushed stray curls off of his forehead. “How about we go to the lake house?” He asked, licking over his bottom lip. “I don’t want to stay here tonight, and I’m sure you don’t either. I’ll have someone come in and clean this all up so that when we come back, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. How does that sound, my love?”

You nodded at him, and you held his forearms as he picked himself up off the ground. “I would like that very much.”

Harry took your hand in his as he guided the both of you back up the stairs, and he was quick to pull a large suitcase out of the closet for the two of you to share. “Pack however much you want. We’ll stay however long you want to.”

Moving around the room, you packed several pairs of pajamas, a couple of bikinis and some light sundresses. You packed two pairs of sandals and your slippers, and then you smiled over at him as he packed his own things.

Neither of you bothered with toiletries, knowing you had everything you needed in that aspect already at the lake house.

It was late, and it was going to be at least a two hour drive to get there, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted to get you away from all this for however long you needed.

He’d have men cover for him while away, Elias being the main one. He trusted him, even now more than ever after what he did for you. Harry knew that he could handle taking over for a few days, or even weeks.

Pulling his phone out, Harry made a phone call to have a couple of security guys follow you on the way to the lake house, and they’d remain there during your time together to keep watch over everything.

“Ready, honey?” You asked him once he was off the phone, trailing your fingertips over the back of one of his hands before taking it between both of your own.

“Ready.”

❈❈❈❈

You and Harry had been at the lake house for four days now, and you were feeling much better about everything. Your wrists were fully healed, and the bruising on your cheek was starting to fade completely.

Harry was still acting a bit distant, but not physically, at least. He held you close at night, and was right by your side around the house, but emotionally, he had changed. You knew he was still blaming himself for what happened back at home - no matter how many times you told him that he shouldn’t.

So today, as you stood in the kitchen, cleaning up your dishes from lunch, your eyes were set on Harry through the window above the sink as he stood on the back porch. He was on a phone call, one of the many he’s taken while being here, and you knew he was probably speaking with Elias.

You finished up the dishes, and you pulled the sliding door open to join him - your bare feet meeting the warm wooden porch. You weren’t sure if Harry heard you coming out as he continued his conversation without hesitance.

“Elias, I’m telling you right now,” Harry’s voice was low, and firm as he spoke. “I don’t give a fuck how many men we have to send. We’ve found him, and I want him, and anyone else involved in the terror they put my girl through, dead. Is that clear enough for you?”

You halted your footsteps upon hearing his demand, and you took a minute to truly process what you heard. You knew what Harry did. He tried to keep most of it a secret from you for a while, but one of your biggest fights ever was you threatening to leave if he wasn’t completely honest with you.

That occurred about six months into your relationship, and he came clean about everything - laid it all out on the table. He made it clear when he did that if you wanted to still leave now that you knew who he truly was, he wouldn’t stop you. But you didn’t.

You loved each other, and you were sure he was the love of your life.

But now, even two years after that conversation occurred, it still shocked you sometimes to hear him asking for the death of others.

“Great, thank you,” Harry said into the phone, and even though that tone was sarcastic, it soon shifted as he spoke his next words. “And I know I haven’t told you yet, but I’m really grateful that you were able to be there for her that night. Although I wish it had been me to get to her first, if it had to be anyone else, I’m glad it was you.”

Your heart fluttered as you listened in. Harry wasn’t a man to show emotion often, even with you, but every now and then you managed to get that hard exterior of his to crack. But the fact that he was displaying his emotions to someone else, it made you happy - even if the circumstances were grim.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s not get too sappy, alright?” Harry responded playfully to whatever Elias said, and it caused you to smile. “Stay safe, and we’ll talk soon.”

As Harry ended the call, he let out a hefty sigh before turning around - pausing as he saw you.

“Hi,” he cleared his throat, slipping his phone into his pocket. “How much of that did you hear?”

“A good amount,” you shrugged, not wanting to lie to him. “So you found him?”

Harry nodded as he walked forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes lingered on your cheek, just as they had several moments a day throughout your time here, before he met your eyes.

“We did. And we’ll be taking care of it.”

A chill ran through your spine at his words, and as much as you knew that hearing them should scare you - you weren’t scared at all. Not around Harry. Never around Harry.

“Okay,” you lifted your hands to rest on his chest. You stroked your thumbs against his skin through the material of the t-shirt he had on. He had been dressing casual since you had been here, something you weren’t used to, but you loved it. “Do you want to go for a swim? We haven’t gone yet.”

You could see the contemplation in Harry’s eyes, and just when you thought he was about to deny you, a smile pushed onto his lips. “A swim sounds nice. Did you pack your pink bikini? The one with the white hearts.”

Your stomach swirled, and you giggled. “I did. I’m guessing you’d like for me to wear that one?”

“Only if you want to, Y/N, but I do particularly love that one.”

“Then I’ll wear it,” you pressed onto your tiptoes to let your lips gently brush over his. “Just for you.”

Pulling away, you leave him stunned on the porch, and you smirked to yourself as you entered the bedroom of the house. Just that small interaction had you feeling like things were getting back to normal for the two of you.

You grabbed the much wanted bathing suit from the suitcase before slipping into the en-suite to change. After a moment, you heard Harry rummaging around in the bedroom, and you knew he was changing into his swim trunks. Once you had the bottoms on, and the top around your neck, you exited the en-suite and turned around once you were next to him.

“Can you tie this for me, please?” You asked sweetly, moving all of your hair over your shoulder to give him proper access.

Harry’s fingertips skated up your back before you felt him tying a secure knot against your spine. Once he was finished, he leaned down to press a kiss against your bare shoulder. “So pretty, and soft. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you whispered as you turned around - wrapping your arms around his neck. “Always all yours, and only yours.”

After separating and gathering the rest of the supplies needed for your time down at the lake, you and Harry started down the pathway that started right off the back porch. Sunglasses were perched on both of your noses, and your fingers were interlocked as your feet crunched against the rocks.

It wasn’t too hot today, but it was hot enough where the water would be a relief, and you wouldn’t get too cold once you got out.

Once you made it down to the edge of the lake, you and Harry spread your towels out over the rocks, and you pulled a t-shirt of his that you used as a cover-up over your head. You tossed it down onto your towel along with your sunglasses before looking over to Harry.

“I’ll race you,” you winked, and you watched his eyebrows raise from behind his sunglasses.

He was quick to remove his own eyewear, and shirt as well, before the two of you turned to face the lake.

“On three,” you stated with a nod. “One, two-”

Before you even said three, you jetted off towards the water, and you heard Harry’s voice calling from behind you.

“You cheater!” He exclaimed as you ran through the shallow part of the lake, looking over your shoulder to see him closing in on you quickly. “Oh, you’re in for it, love.”

You squealed as you tried to tread through the water faster, but it was no use, and you soon felt his muscular, and inked, arms capturing your waist. Giggles flooded from your lungs as he lifted you out of the water, and he moved one arm down to carry your bridal style as he went out further.

Soon you found yourselves in the deepest part of the lake, and you skillfully shifted yourself around to where your legs were around his torso - one of your hands on his shoulder while the other ran through the back of his curls.

The sun was gleaming against his emerald eyes so perfectly, and you could already see freckles on his shoulders that were usually hidden coming to life just from the small amount of rays kissing his skin. He was perfect. He was your everything, and you knew you could never be without him.

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” Harry asked, and you nodded.

“I do, and I love you all the same,” you leaned down to place a delicate kiss against his lips, but as you pulled away, you felt Harry’s hand against the back of your neck to keep you close to his face - your foreheads almost touching.

“I’m never going to let anyone touch you again, do you understand? Never again,” his gaze was hard as he stared at you, but it’s because he wanted you to know that he was serious. “You’re always going to be safe with me, and I promise you that.”

“I know, honey,” you nodded, moving your hand from his shoulder to grip to the back of his neck as well, and you inched your head forward so your foreheads were now touching, but you kept holding his eyes.

“You’ll keep me safe. Forever.”

❈❈❈❈

Just a little blurb for you all on this Sunday evening. Let me know if you guys would be interested in seeing more of these two! I fear I’m attached to them already 🤭

❈❈❈❈

Taglist: @daydreamingofmatilda @prettygurl-2009 @ghoststyles @lillefroe @gem1712 @lemoncrushh (if you’d like to be added to my taglist, please send me a DM!)

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purple-obsidian · 2 days

Text

show me (18+, dick grayson x fem reader) wc 1.1k

⭓ this post contains sexual content and is not suitable for minors.

"I'll never grow tired of this." Dick murmurs, brushing your hair away from your neck before placing a kiss against your flushed skin. The contact causes you to shiver, letting out a low moan while he rolls his hips into yours languidly.

You had been sleeping, snuggled up in the soft cotton that adorned Dick's bed, laying on your stomach with one of your legs kicked out to the side. He found you, breathing deep and even, arms wrapped around one of his plush pillows when he returned from his nightly prowl. When he turned on the dim light of the bedside lamp and saw your frame drowning in one of his t-shirts, nothing else keeping his eyes from wandering over your naked lower half, he couldn't help himself. Seeing you here, in his apartment, in his bed, so comfortable and at home…

That's what got you where you are now. Split open on his cock, manicured nails gripping the pillow and sheets, torso twisted a bit so you can look up at his deep blue eyes. The vigilante thrusts into your tight warmth from behind, murmuring against your neck as the sounds of sex fill the room.

"Dreaming about me?" He asks, slowly moving his hips in a steady pace that makes your toes curl. There's nowhere else this man would rather be, than here with you, inside of you, feeling parts of you meant for him and him alone.

"H-how did you-" You stammer out, getting cut off by his mouth that leaves the comfort of your neck to find your soft lips. His kiss is hungry, but not urgent. He's taking his time with you. Dick can tell that you're still fuzzy from your slumber. He loves you like this. All sleepy and slow, keeping his bed warm for him while he's out late into the night. So warm, your skin soft, and your body so welcoming. The little noises and whimpers you make cause his swollen cock to throb painfully inside of you. He nips at your lower lip briefly before pulling away to answer.

"You're soaked, princess." He explains with a low chuckle. "I'm the only one who can make you this wet. So tell me. Did you fall asleep touching yourself to the thought of me inside of you?" He snaps his hips into yours, enjoying your muffled reaction. "Or were you dreaming about me?"

Strong hands reach down to adjust your hips, allowing his arousal to collide with yours at a deeper angle, making your eyes flutter with each soft smack when he bottoms out. You rest your head on the pillow, and Dick lets more of his weight crush you against the plush bedding. You let out a sigh that morphs into a whimper, the feeling of him stretching your walls and molding you to fit him is divine.

"Answer me, baby. Tell me what's got you so wet for me." He moans out with a grunt. "So worked up," He leans his forehead against your hair and inhales the scent of your shampoo, putting just a little more force into his pace. "You're such a pretty little mess for me."

You rub your head against the pillow, squirming and groaning at the irresistible friction of his cock teasing your g-spot. "D-dream…" you finally mumble as you clutch the pillow tighter, arching your back to help him out. You lean into his warmth against the back of your head, craving his closeness, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts as your body becomes more awake.

Dick's mouth finds your neck once again, this time biting at your skin with a satisfied grunt. Knowing that you dream about him? Oh, that makes his already inflated ego soar. To be the one who plagues your subconscious, to be so desired by you that the waking hours of the day spent with him aren't enough, it makes his cock twitch and his pace falter briefly.

Your boyfriend stills himself for a moment, panting quietly as he tries to stay off his orgasm. "Tell me about it." His breath fans over the skin of your neck, wet from his saliva, the cool sensation sends tingles down your spine.

Its a demand. Not a question. He wants every detail, running his fingertips along your arm as he waits for you to respond.

The room is dark, and with his movements stopped, the only sound that can be heard is the soft patter of rain against the windows. You think for a moment, blushing into the pillow when you recall the filthy scenes that were dancing in your mind before he came home.

"I… i think…" You pivot your head a little to offer him better access to your neck, clenching around his length when you feel his warm hand grip your hip a little tighter. He craves any small sign of submission he can get from you. Its like a drug to him, one he's decided he cannot live without.

"Hm?" He grumbles, starting to move painfully slow, sliding even further into your body, eyeing the hickies appearing across your skin.

"…I'd rather show you." you whisper, gazing over your shoulder to try and find his eyes through your haze.

"Show me?" He repeats back with a sly smirk.

You bite your lip as the sensations he's giving you grow more intense. You nod your head, and mutter out a broken "Please?"

Dick's pupils dilate when he hears your plea. Fuck, he loves when you ask nice like that. "My princess wants to be on top? Is that it?" He asks, his tone almost teasing. But it doesn't bother you any. You know who you're dating.

"Will you let me?"

You genuinely aren't sure what his answer will be. Dick is always on top. That's where he's most at home, and he doesn't often want to deviate from his comfort zone. But the man is also head over heels for you, and you can't remember the last time he's told you 'no'.

You almost regret asking when you feel Dick shift his weight off of your body and pull out of your dripping pussy, leaving you feeling empty and aching. But when you see him shift to the side and lean his back against the pillows, hands behind his head and smug smile on his face, you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Your eyes trail over his toned body, drinking in the sight of the man before you. He's strong, chiseled, handsome as hell, and most importantly, yours.

"Go on." Dick encourages you, his heart racing in anticipation, dark eyes swimming with excitement. "Show me."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

#purple-obsidian #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing smut #nightwing x you #dc smut

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luveline · 17 hours

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HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice.

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You��d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank.

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person.

You’d felt different.

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?”

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?”

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.”

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About you not talking to me.”

“Funny.”

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk.

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.”

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears.

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.”

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James.

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually.

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.”

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.”

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down.

“Sirius never used to act like that.”

“What?”

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.”

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand.

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room.

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks.

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk.

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.”

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come.

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.”

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?”

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.”

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.”

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.”

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too.

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous.

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?”

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.”

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.”

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it.

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?”

“I’m fine, James.”

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.”

“Why?” you ask in a rush.

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.”

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.”

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.”

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.”

“For what? Being helpful?”

“Harassment.”

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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thevoidstaredback · 12 hours

Text

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7

Tag List: @zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23 @aki-bara @chasing-liberosis @weirwulf20 @mynewhyperfixation

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midastouch013 · 19 hours

Text

Scars and All

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have been dating for almost a year, and so what happens when you finally find out why things never get steamy

Warnings: Insecurity, Scars, Flashbacks of Redroom. Super soft Nat.

---

You and Natasha had been dating for close to a year now, having moved in a month ago to the floor Tony had given the both of you happy to see his, and you quote ' favourite spider' so in love, and though your relationship was incredible in so many ways, there was one aspect that sometimes caused a bit of frustration. Every time things got a little bit steamy, Natasha would freeze up. And every time it left you confused, more than before with every occurrence.

It happened again tonight. You were tangled up in each other, lips locked in a passionate kiss, hands exploring, when Natasha suddenly pulled back, her breath uneven.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You froze, your heart pounding. You were frustrated, sure, but you respected Natasha enough to honor her wishes. With a heavy sigh, you pulled away, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, concern evident in your voice.

She nodded, avoiding your gaze. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… not feeling it right now."

You couldn't help but feel disappointed, but you didn't want to show it. Instead, you forced a small smile and said, "Okay. I'm just gonna… take a cold shower then."

Without waiting for a response, you got up and made your way to the bathroom, leaving Natasha alone on the bed.

The cold water did little to wash away your disappointment. You couldn't shake the feeling of frustration, unable to understand why Natasha kept pulling away.

After what felt like an eternity under the icy spray, you finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As you dried off and got dressed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When you emerged from the bathroom, you found Natasha lost in her own world, her eyes unfocused as she begged someone she had only told you about once, Madame B, not to hit her.

Your heart broke at the sight. You knew Natasha was reliving a moment from her past, a nightmare from her time in the Red Room. Without a second thought, you crossed the room and enveloped her in a tight hug, hoping to ground her in the present, having it done many times previously.

"Nat, it's me," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing. "You're safe now. You're with me."

Slowly, Natasha's breathing began to steady, and the tension in her body started to ease. She clung to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck as she struggled to break free from the memories that haunted her.

You held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance until she finally began to relax in your arms.

After Natasha falls asleep in your arms, you gently tuck her under the covers, making sure she's comfortable. With a lingering glance, you quietly slip out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You make your way downstairs and pull out your phone, dialing Yelena's number. She picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hey," she says, her voice filled with concern. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to explain what just happened with Natasha.

"Not really," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Nat had a flashback… to the Red Room, I think."

There's a pause on the other end of the line before Yelena speaks again. "Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's sleeping," you reply. "But… I don't know what to do, Yelena. Every time things start to get… intimate, she freezes up. I can't shake the feeling that it's connected somehow."

There's a thoughtful silence before Yelena speaks again. "Does my sestra shower with the door closed?"

You frown, confused by the seemingly random question. "Uh, yeah, she does. Why?"

Yelena hums thoughtfully. "And does she ever… mention anything about about her post-missions "

Your heart skips a beat as the pieces start to click into place. "No, she doesn't even let me see her till she's in pajamas. Why?"

Yelena lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I think… Y/n, you're pretty smart, so I'm surprised I have to be telling you this, but my sister is insecure about something. And maybe, just maybe, that's why she keeps pulling away."

"But what insecurity?" you question," She-"

Before you can say anything else, Yelena interrupts you. "Sorry, I have to go. Kate's calling me. Just… be there for her, okay? She needs you."

After Yelena hangs up, more incidents with Natasha flash through your mind. Little moments that, when looked at together, begin to form a pattern. And suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Natasha's insecurity is about her scars.

Just as you're connecting the dots, Natasha comes downstairs to grab something to eat. Wordlessly, you grab her by the hips and lift her up.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she squeals, trying to wriggle out of your grasp.

Ignoring her protests, you carry her back upstairs to your room. Once there, you gently set her down on the edge of the bed, ignoring her playful protests.

"Okay, seriously, what's going on?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

You don't answer right away. Instead, you kneel down on the floor in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"Tasha, I love you," you begin, your voice steady. "And I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know… I know that something happened tonight, something that triggered a flashback. And I think… I think I know what it is."

Natasha's eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she looks like she might bolt. But then she takes a deep breath and meets your gaze.

"You do?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, squeezing her hands gently while taking a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. "Natasha, do you not like your scars?" you ask gently.

Natasha's defenses go up immediately, and she tries to deflect the situation with humor. "What, these old things?" she says, gesturing to her scars with a forced smirk. "Just battle wounds, nothing to worry about."

But you're firm in your resolve. You don't let her deflect this time. "Nat, please," you say, your voice pleading. "I need you to be honest with me."

She sighs, the forced smile slipping from her face. "Fine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine, you want the truth? I hate them, okay? I hate the way they look. I hate what they remind me of."

Your heart breaks at her words, but you keep your voice steady. "Why, Nat? Why do you hate them so much?"

And then she confesses, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Because I'm afraid, okay? I'm afraid that when you see them, you'll finally realize that you're dating a monster. A cold-blooded murderer. I'm afraid that you'll look at me and see nothing but a killer. And I love you so much, and I don't want to lose you. But I'm afraid that these scars will scare you away. That I don't look… sexy with my scars and all."

Tears fill her eyes as she speaks, and you feel your heart breaking all over again.

You feel a surge of anger and hurt at Natasha's admission. How could she think of herself like that? And how could she think that you would ever see her that way?

"You really think that?" you say, your voice coming out a bit harsher than you intended. "That I would see you like that? That I would ever think of you as a monster? God, Natasha, how could you even think that?"

Natasha flinches at your words, and for a moment, you regret the harshness of your tone. But then you take a deep breath and soften your voice.

"I'm sorry, It wasn't supposed to sound so rude, but… I get it, Nat," you continue, your voice gentle now. "I get that you're scared. And I understand why you feel that way. Even if I've not been through what you've been through, I'd like to think that I get it. But you need to know that I love you, scars and all. And I would never, ever think of you as anything less than amazing."

You feel Natasha's arms tighten around you, and you know that she's listening, really listening, to what you're saying.

"And another thing," you add, your voice firm now. "You need to stop calling yourself those hateful things. You are not a monster, Natasha. You are not a cold-blooded murderer. You are a hero, you are the role model to millions of kids out there, and you're my girlfriend. There's no way in hell could you be what you claim to be. Don't you ever forget that."

Natasha doesn't say anything in response, and for a moment, you worry that you've pushed her too far. But then she pulls back slightly, her eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for… for loving me, scars and all."

You shush her with a gentle finger to her lips. " What have I told you about that?" you ask in a tutting tone.

She chuckled breathily, a faint smile on her face " Never thank you unless I don't want dinner that night"

You look into Natasha's eyes, your heart overflowing with love and reassurance. Without saying a word, you lift her (Well yours, but anything that was yours was hers) t-shirt and leant in to press a gentle kiss to one of her scars, then another, and another, until you'd kissed each one.

Each kiss is an act of reassurance, a silent declaration of how beautiful and attractive you find her scars. And with each kiss, you feel Natasha's tension slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance.

When you finally pull back, Natasha is looking at you with tear-filled eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I love you" she whispers, her voice filled with emotion.

" I love you more"

"Willing to bet on it?"

#avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha x you #anon ask #anonymous #natasha romanoff hurt/comfort #natasha x y/n #natasha marvel #yelena and natasha

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lilmashae · 1 day

Text

good luck ! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

you've got your ex boyfriend in a chokehold...

for whatever reason you two never worked out. you're convinced that it's just because jake wants to prove you and all of his friend's wrong. he’s not the type to be in love. he's always leaving with another dumb excuse.

however he always comes back — within a day at that. it's not like he needs you or anything — it's just that there's seemingly no one as good as you out there for him.

11:29 PM — there's a knock at your door... you sit down on your couch picking at your nails until you hear another one... and another one. it's not anyone important — just jake. this is apart of his routine in which he runs off before rushing back into your bed. however he's seriously starting to piss you off as far as his routine of calling things off goes. the knocking finally comes to a halt before you get up sauntering towards your apartments entrance. click! you push the door open — 'you know you are really starting to piss me off jaeyun! really how many times are you going to —' before you could finish scolding him jake's lips were colliding roughly into your own.

you knew what to expect — just not like this. usually he likes to bluff — indulge in a ‘serious’ conversation admitting to all his faults before he tries to mount you. but this time he wastes no time at all. jake kicks the door behind him backing you into the corner of your living room. your back is firmly pressed against the cool glass of your apartment’s window. as hot as this is… you’re still upset.

he hums into the kiss nipping at your lips as you finally pull away. ‘hey! you can’t just barge in.’ you huff — your heavy breaths can across his face a smile dancing along his lips. ‘I missed you…’ jake sighed. ‘yeah.’ scoffing you push him off of you wandering to sit back onto your couch. ‘I bet you did.’ it’s been what..? 10 hours — since he just up and left. less time than the last but still longer than usual. admittedly it was becoming sickening to be apart of his little affair.

‘baby… come on.’ he pleaded. jake softly walked in your direction — standing above you he reached for your hands. ‘you know how I get… how we are..?’ he licks his lips. ‘you know I want you more than anything in the world.’ again he does anything possible to stop himself from saying it out loud — he loves you. ‘same as always jake.’ you try to stand up but not before his hands engulf your own and he drops to his knees before you. ‘im yours you know that.’ in his hand your own palm strokes his cheek as he nuzzles into the warmth of your skin. ‘seemingly your anyone’s with a hole—’ your interrupted by the abundance of sudden kisses and strides along your thighs.

‘jaeyun…’ you glare down at him. ‘please…’ he whined. ‘fine!’ you cave. ‘I’ll play your little game…’ you sigh throwing your head back. defeat — again: or at least that’s what jake sees. once more your positioned underneath him — his head burrowed between your thighs tongue lovingly lapping your cunt as his teeth nipped at your clit. ‘fuck…’ you gasped. ‘at least your good for one thing.’ he frowned against your cunt still sloppily making with your entrance. a groan flew past his lips at the feeling of your fingers digging into his scalp — intertwining with each loc of hair and yanking him into place before kneading his scalp to ease the previous damage.

it was normal for you to be rough with him: pull his hair scream at him — especially after this sort of thing… happens. however you’re eerily calm — softly gasping and heavily breathing beneath him. it was a bit weird — you’d usually fuck all of your anger out by smothering him between your thighs sitting on his face and grinding against his tongue until you spilt and toppled over — that or you’d let him fuck you in missionary as he thrust his length further within the walls of your cunt you’d slap him and slur out all sorts of insults. but again jake felt a sense of calm wash over him as you harshly yanked his hair again… this time pulling him completely away from your pussy. he glanced up at you — hooded eyes and furrowed brows. he was expecting some derogatory remark however he was only met with a simple demand. ‘get up.’ you said. slowly he’d risen to his feet. his adman’s apple bobbed as he thickly swallowed the lump in his throat.

frankly you were sick of the bullshit. jake needed to realize that he couldn’t have the whole world in his reach all the time. ‘now you sit.’ another pair of instructions fled your mouth as you stood eye level with him. ‘go on… what are you waiting for?’ after that he found himself sitting before you — your positions replaced.

you say perched prettily on his lips. before jake got the chance to ask any stupid questions you suffocated him with your lips — passionately kissing him so hard he sunk back into the pillowy soft material of your couch. ‘shit y/n…’ you left a peck on the side of his lips staring deep into his eyes — your fingers yet again travailed the expanse of his head before latching onto his hair. ‘fuck!’ a moan ripped from his throat feeling you manhandle him. ‘listen jaeyun.’ you warned. ‘im getting sick of going back and forth understand? you’re mine and if i have to fuck that into you… so be it.’ you smiled against the nape of neck — trailing wet kisses down his collarbones. ‘please fuck me…’ he groaned. you could already feel his cock growing beneath you — the imprint of his shaft and leaky tip caressing your naked sex.

you gently lifted yourself up off his lap. curling your fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants and slipping them down his thighs. through his boxers you could clearly see the strained image of his cock. ‘poor boy…’ you cooed. he nodded along with you. ‘damnit… just fucking touch me…’ jake was growing impatient: desperate to feel the warm silken walls of your cunt tightly wrapped around himself. quickly you grasped his face between one of your hands. ‘don’t rush me.’ you smiled removing his boxers at the same time. ‘ah…’ the cold air kissing his tip caused him to moan out for air. you could see every vein adorning his cock pulse toward his tip.

sinking down into his shaft — both your brows knitted. both jake and your own facial expressions twisted into something of an uncomfortable pleasure. ‘so tight… I think my dick’s gonna break..!’

‘relax…’ you kissed along his jawline before beginning to pump his dick inside of your cunt. ‘m… fuck baby… no one does it like you…’ you roll your eyes at the comment. you know… just as well as he does. he loves you and your cunt. of course no one is better. ‘I know… just waiting for you to realize.’ you began to speed up — feeling the tip of jake’s cock kiss your cervix.

his hand’s remained firmly splayed on your hips as you continued to rock back and forth — eventually bouncing on his cock like crazy. ‘s-shit.’ he tripped over his words as his hips stuttered up into your pussy. ‘yeah? ‘feel good ‘yunie?’ you mockingly stared down at him — frantically nodding. ‘hm… I bet.’ you watched as jake sunk his yeeth into his deliciously plump lips trying to bite back any moans. ‘i think I’m going to cum.’ he announced. you smiled holding him up by his chin. ‘are you?’ ‘y-yeah..?’ you began to slow yourself down… truth be told you were close too. your stomach tightened and you felt a wave of pleasure beginning to dawn over you. however like you mentioned before — jake’s kiddy antics were really staring to piss you off. ‘what..? fuck! why’d you stop ..?’ he hissed — his orgasm slowly fading into overstimulation.

you watched as his eyes became foggy and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. ‘you know why… say it jae… come on pretty boy — it’s not that hard.’ he furrowed his brows once more whimpering beneath you… truly pathetic… ‘you’re mine yeah? be a good boy and stop running away just because you’re embarrassed to admit you love me.’ he let out a strained moan. ‘m… fuck fuck shit..! I do love you… love you so fucking much but!’ no buts… you continued grinding painfully slow into his bulge. ‘say it jaeyun… you won’t cum tonight yeah? and definitely won’t cum thanks to some other girl your using to replace me.’

‘im yours… god! please let me cum — I’m yours y/n! shit baby just want to be with you forever.’ that’s it… that’s exactly what you wanted — the truth. ‘good on you for being honest baby… now go ahead.’ you began to pick up your pace — steadily bouncing on his cock until tears fled his eyes. ‘fuckkk..!’ he gasped as he came inside of your cunt. hot ropes of cum sprayed your insides as you came undone as well. you finally placed one last kiss on to his lips before getting up. the sticky mess you’d both created oozing from your cunt and melting into his lap.

waltzing off to go get a towel to clean yourselves jake stopped you. ‘wait… come back.’ he slurred with barely open eyes. ‘what is it jaeyun?’ ‘I love you… ‘don’t ever want to leave again.’ he would be the death of you…

being in a relationship with him you’d need all the good luck you could conjure!

I am genuinely unwell… was feeling sad, so here’s some jake smut with incorrect grammar, etc 🤡🤡🤡

#lil-ma-shae #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enha hard thoughts #sim jaeyun smut #jaeyun smut #sim jake smut #jake sim smut #jake smut

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witchywithwhiskey · 3 days

Note

Hey hey! How about...

16. trying something new

With...😏

first-time plant parents

pairing: husband!ari levinson x female reader

warnings: domestic fluff, referenced smut (not really 18+ but i'd always rather minors do not interact!), kissing, little bit of dry humping, non-graphic sex, pet names (sunshine)

word count: 1,500ish

a/n: thank you for sending in this prompt Navy!!! i have no excuse for this except i just think starting a vegetable garden with ari would be neat 🤷🏼‍♀️ this is so so so so self-indulgent but i hope y'all enjoy ♡♡

You were surprised by how good it felt to get your hands dirty, your fingers sinking into the rich soil as you scooped some up and patted it down around the tomato seedling you’d just planted. Sitting back on your heels, you looked down the row of tomatoes you’d finished planting, a sense of accomplishment settling deep into your body and making you smile to yourself.

But it seemed you weren’t the only one to take pride in your efforts, as a warm, familiar voice called, “Lookin’ good, sunshine,” from the other side of the small vegetable garden you and your husband had set up in your backyard.

Lifting your eyes from the row of tomato seedlings you’d carefully planted, your gaze collided with that of your husband, Ari Levinson, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the bright spring sunshine. His grin was wide as he used a hand to push his golden brown hair back from his face, pride and affection shining in his gaze as he looked at you.

Your smile widened in return, and you raised a hand to shade your eyes so you could see his progress. “How’re the herbs coming?” you asked, your eyes skimming along the basil, rosemary and mint you’d decided to plant. They were in their own planter boxes to ensure they didn’t overrun the garden, and it looked like your husband was done with the task. “They look good.”

You’d never had a vegetable garden before—at least, not one of your own. Your grandmother had one when you were little, your father taking you into the impressively large garden to show you where they’d planted spinach and tomatoes and green beans and rhubarb.

But with that garden long since gone and both your grandmother and father having passed, you’d told Ari you wanted to try your hand at growing some veggies of your own. Your husband had been excited to try it, even though he had less experience than you.

But he’d jumped into it as eagerly as you, digging up a little plot in your backyard and setting up a fence so that the animals didn’t get to your herbs and veggies. The garden was bigger than the meager crop you’d decided to plant that first year—just the herbs, your tomatoes and some spinach—but Ari said the two of you would grow into it.

“Do they look as good as your husband?” Ari asked teasingly, drawing you out of your thoughts and back into the moment.

You couldn’t help but smile as you got to your feet, brushing your hands off on your shorts and picking your way across the garden to your husband. You bent down to look at the planter boxes, making a show of assessing his work in planting the herbs. When you’d drawn it out long enough, you stood back up and looked to your husband, having to stifle a laugh when you saw he’d somehow managed to get streaks of dirt across his forehead.

“They look better than you,” you said, barely contained laughter making your voice waver as you reached up and tried to brush the dirt from Ari’s forehead, asking, “How did you manage to get dirt here?” However, since your hands were also covered in dirt, you only managed to make things worse. Ari laughed at your wince of apology.

“I think you’ve got a little something, too,” he said playfully, brushing his dirty fingers over the tip of your nose. You were certain you didn’t have any dirt on your nose, which meant he’d just gotten you dirty for no good reason.

Gasping in mock outrage, you jumped back as he reached for your face again, knocking his hand away. “Don’t get me more dirty than I already am!” you cried, but you were laughing as you fended off your husband’s filthy, reaching hands.

You danced around the garden, trying to avoid Ari and your plants, but after a few moments, you decided to go on the offensive. “Let’s see how you like getting dirty!” you yelled, darting close to your husband and swiping your fingers across Ari’s cheek, leaving behind a new streak of dirt above the line of his beard.

However, Ari didn’t let you escape, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and hauling you up against his chest. “Do your worst, sunshine,” he challenged, laughing right along with you.

Since his hands were busy holding onto you and yours were free, you brushed even more dirt on his cheeks, giggling as you got him even dirtier. But it wasn’t long before your giggles died down and the two of you were left pressed against one another, your chests heaving as you caught your breath and stared into each other’s eyes.

You could feel your body warming, which seemed to be a natural reaction to your husband’s closeness, your nipples tightening and heat sinking low to settle in your core. Squirming in Ari’s arms, you could feel your expression change, your eyes turning pleading as an aching need built up in your body.

“Stop looking at me like that, sunshine,” Ari rumbled, a gruff warning in his tone. You could feel his body responding to you, his arousal digging into your belly and making your legs tremble beneath you. “Or I’m liable to take you right here—garden be damned.”

Ari’s words sent new tendrils of heat curling through your body, even as they knocked some sense into you and you managed a playful gasp, pressing a hand to your chest as you pretended to be scandalized. “Not in front of the plants, Ari,” you scolded, your tone more flirtatious than chastising.

Your husband grinned, squeezing you tighter, and ducked down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that had you melting against his chest. Your fingers dove into Ari’s beard, clinging to him and holding him close while you devoured each other. When you whimpered into the kiss and rocked your body against Ari’s bulge, he pulled away with a groan.

“Sunshine,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and drawing in deep, heavy breaths that pushed his chest against yours in the most delicious way. “If you don’t want our little seedlings exposed to our dirty deeds so early in their lives, you’re gonna have to let me take you inside now,” he murmured in a serious tone, but you could see the corners of his mouth flickering with his need to grin. “Because the idea of seeing you blissed out and satisfied in the garden we made is sounding better by the second.”

“Then take me inside, husband,” you said huskily, a smirk tugging at the edges of your lips, “because you are not fucking me the dirt.”

Wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck, Ari held you still while he kissed you again, his tongue plundering your mouth until your mind was fuzzy and you’d mostly forgotten where you were. You knew that had been Ari’s intention when his lips trailed along your jaw, nipping and kissing your skin until his mouth brushed the edge of your ear.

“What if I made love to you in the grass?” he rumbled teasingly, bending down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip so he could press his bulge into the apex of your thighs. His grunt was loud in your ear, but it didn’t drown out the low, filthy moan that slipped from your lips.

Still, you weren’t so far gone that you’d let Ari have his way with you just anywhere. “What about the shower?” you countered, your voice high-pitched and breathy, making your husband chuckle as he kissed down your neck.

Then you were shrieking in surprise and delight as Ari hauled you off your feet and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you into the house to finish what you’d started. He took you in the shower, the two of you laughing as much as you kissed, taking turns washing the grime of dirt from each other’s skin before sinking into the familiar rhythm of your bodies coming together.

Later, when you were both sated and clean and the sun was sinking lower toward the horizon, you stood in the grass outside the fence of your humble little vegetable garden. Ari stood at your back, his arms circling your waist and holding you close as you both took pride in the work you’d accomplished that day.

“Do you think we’ll be good first-time plant parents?” you asked softly, your fingers trailing idly through the hair on Ari’s arms. Tilting your head to the side, you wondered if you’d watered the newly transplanted seedlings enough to make the transition easier for them.

“I think we’ll do our best,” Ari murmured, curling his body around yours and pressing a kiss to your temple while he squeezed you tighter in his arms. “I think we’ll give them all the love they need, and I think they’ll flourish because of it.”

A pleased smile curved your lips and you hummed in agreement, leaning back further against Ari, knowing your husband spoke the truth. After all, you’d done the same with each other—you’d given each other all the love in your hearts and both of you had flourished. Ari was your partner, your husband, the love of your life, and you wouldn’t want to be first-time plant parents with anyone but him.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fluff #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans characters #witchywithwhiskeywork #navybrat817

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houserautha · 1 day

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These Destined Ends

Part Fourteen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: and they were cousins, poison, brief descriptions of violence and death

A/N: Thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I slowly update TDE🥺❤️‍🩹 Hopefully this chapter was worth it, I apologize beforehand for the lack of smut and the abundance of plot

You stare at the document in your hands, realization trickling in slowly, then with more force — a dam eroding before the subsequent flood. The longer you look at it the more the words and symbols swim before your eyes. How could this be? Had Jessica known about this?

She had to have, you puzzle, if it was in the study. Why didn’t she tell you? Could it be that she just never got the chance?

Or was she hiding it?

“You could at least look a little bit excited to see me.”

“Oh, Asha, I —” the content of the document promptly vanishes from your mind as it works instead to compute the image of Asha standing in the doorway of the study. “Asha!”

A shriek tears from you and you race across the room to your friend, embracing her tightly. She laughs against you. “There’s the welcome that I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry, I — actually, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” You hold her at arms length, examining her to make sure that she looks healthy and unharmed. “Are they treating you well?”

“The servants went sent ahead to prepare the rooms,” Asha says. “And I’m fine. How are you? Am I an aunt yet?”

There’s nothing you can do to suppress your eye roll, but you squeeze her hand assuringly. “You’ll be the first person to know.”

“Mm. The na-Baron needs to get on it.”

“Get on what?”

“Me,” you say. At the same time, Asha blurts, “Nothing!”

Feyd has replaced Asha in the doorway. He looks unfairly handsome, his skin retaining a little more color than usual from the Arrakis suns. Well, a red color, one that you’ve assurred him would fade.

Probably.

Seeing him makes your stomach flip. You’ve left the document out on the desk, and you glance at it quickly. But if he picks up on your panic, he doesn’t mention it.

“I suspected it was you when I heard all of the shrieking,” Feyd says. Then, this time to Asha, “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Thank you, na-Baron,” Asha says with a dip of her chin.

“Do you need something?” You ask him. As casually as you can, you return to the desk and slip the document into your pocket.

Feyd’s lips twitch. “Can a husband not just visit his wife?”

“A husband can,” you retort, “but I have the sense that you are here as the na-Baron. Not my husband.”

“Is there a difference?”

You look to Asha. “I’ll be right back,” you promise her. Not daring to say anything in front of Feyd, she nods. You trail after Feyd into the hallway, who sets a swift pace, striding away from the study and out of ear shot.

“There’s a problem,” he tells you in a hushed tone.

“Other than the fact that you just stole me away as soon as my best friend arrived?”

Feyd ignores this. “My brother has generously invited Irulan and her family to the feast tomorrow night.”

“What?”

“The Emperor has declined the invitation but Irulan has elected to attend. Even though her father won’t be there, I suspect he’ll send an army of reinforcements for her.”

You mull over this new information. Both of you fall silent as a pair of soldiers pass by, then you whisper, “Could they suspect our plan?”

“No. Impossible.” Feyd shakes his head. “I’m sure the Baron just wants to remind House Corrino of their hand in…this.” He waves his hand to encompass the palace as you walk through it.

“Dethroning my family by having them killed?”

Feyd stops and pivots to you, grabbing your wrist. “I haven’t forgotten. But neither have they. We must keep our wits about us if we hope to be successful.”

“Right. I know.” You free yourself from his grip.

“You can’t let your emotions distract you.”

“They won’t.”

Feyd inspects your face, and he’s quiet for quite some time. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“No I’m not,” you reply reflexively. Feyd raises a brow. A scowl crosses your features and, reluctantly, you ask him, “What do you know of my…lineage?”

“I told you, you must not —”

“Just answer the question,” you snap. He’s acting as if you’re a petulant child, liable to pitch a fit.

Feyd recites what he knows, what you’ve told him — how your mother’s parents were never revealed to her. His mouth forms a severe line. “Why?”

There’s a fleeting moment in which you debate whether or not you’ll share the information with him. Ultimately, you know that you will never be able to keep it a secret. With hesitance you draw the document from your pocket and give it to him. Feyd’s eyes flash curiously to yours then back to the paper before reading it.

His expression remains unchanged. He hands the paper back to you. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not surprised?”

You were cousins. Cousins.

“I didn’t know, obviously,” he says, his voice nearing a growl. Then something in him softens slightly. “I’m referencing the inexplicable…connection that I have always felt. That you must’ve felt. Our hearts knew the same blood ran in our veins before our minds did.”

“You’re okay with this?” You ask.

Feyd lifts a shoulder, diplomatic as ever. “It is not unheard of. Besides, I am too entranced with you to let this affect me. If anything it just cements the bond that we have.”

He draws you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head. You find comfort in the pulse of his heart under your ear, the familiar scent that you’ve associated with him. “You are me,” he says finally.

You smile softly. “And I am you.”

Late into the evening you help Asha with prepping for your esteemed guests, working alongside the other servants and sneaking sips of the spice wine. They’re unsure of you, at first, but Asha quickly puts them at ease with a few unflattering anecdotes. You laugh with them. It’s been too long of a time since you’ve really laughed, spent time with people who didn’t have any expectations of you except the ones that Asha dashed — you were not quite as scary as you looked, and you did not lash out at others at the slightest provocation.

“You’re confusing me for my husband,” you told them then, to weary laughter. You might not have been a threat to them, but they were all afraid of Feyd-Rautha. Understandably.

It’s a nice reprieve until you awake the next morning with a twinge of a spice headache and a spiraling sense of doom. What if your pain failed? What if something happened to you — or Feyd?

“Quit it.”

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in your finest dress. Feyd stands before the vanity and you watch him slip the Gom Jabbar into a hidden compartment in his sleeve. “Quit what?” You ask, fear tightening your chest.

“Worrying,” he says.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. A protest forms on your tongue but you know it would be futile to pretend that you aren’t worrying considering that he knows every subtle change in your expression. When you fail to reply, he turns to you, straightening out the cuffs of his smart jacket.

“Everything will be fine,” he tells you.

“You don’t know that.”

“I have never made a habit of being wrong.”

You fix him with an exasperated look. “We have no idea how this is going to play out.”

“We’re going to take back control from the hands of our oppressors,” Feyd says, his rasping voice like a lullaby. His long stride devours the space between you until he’s positioned himself practically between your legs. “We will finally take what we deserve.”

“I know. I know,” you say again with more conviction. You roll your shoulders back and try to emulate some of Feyd’s unwavering confidence, but he hardly looks convinced.

Gazing down at you, Feyd brushes his knuckles over the bannister of your cheek. “No harm will come to you. I won’t allow it.”

“And I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

His hand pauses. Feyd’s thumb and forefinger captures your chin, lifts it up. “Promise me that you will not jeopardize your safety for mine.”

Not for the first time, you admire the angles of his face — the smooth brow, the dark eyes looking down at you over his straight nose; the plush lips that you cannot look at without picturing them over your most sensitive parts. Your heart pangs. You would do anything for him.

You tell him in an equally soft tone, “I can’t promise you that.”

“You must.” His grip on your chin tightens.

“We’ve already established that you are my blood. My past, my future,” you whisper fervently to him, brave in the face of his obvious disapproval, “if the moment comes to it I would lay down my life to protect yours.”

Feyd leans down. His mouth slants over yours, a phantom of a kiss. “Then you’re a fool,” he breathes, words chilling you.

“So be it.”

Feyd releases his grasp on you, stealing the air from your lungs. Even the faintest touch of his leaves you wanting more.

“Come,” he says, holding out his arm, “my foolish wife. We have guests to receive.”

Glowglobes dance over your heads as you venture, arm in arm, to the front of the palace. No one has been permitted to enter without the na-Baron and na-Baroness and at your arrival begin to trickle in slowly, each guest stopping to greet you and praise you for your hospitality.

A few stop to ponder at the lack of wash troughs but after a series of dead-end interactions with Feyd cease to ask. It wasn’t a popular choice among the Arrakis staff, you had learned from your previous stay that they liked to sell the towels from which cleaned up the mess from the troughs. Your Harkonnen guest frown on this as well. Even Feyd was skeptical about your insistence on removing the tradition, but he supported you regardless, and you couldn’t be more pleased by your decision.

Water was sacred here and you would not flaunt your access to it, not even to those who had never had to safe keep it.

It’s difficult to maintain the smile on your face as you welcome noblemen and bankers, wealthy businessmen, and even the occasional individual that you sense dabbled in the more seedy side of entrepreneurship. The duel suns have just started to set when you notice a familiar dark shape approaching you.

“Uncle,” Feyd greets the Baron.

“Feyd-Rautha, na-Baroness.” His voice slips over you like grease and his eyes are even more beady than you remember. Your grandfather. “It is good to see you again and to celebrate your victory.”

“Indeed,” you reply, not meaning it in the least.

From behind the Baron, his suspenders whirring with the effort of lifting him, emerge Rabban, clutching the wrist of one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Her dress gives the appearance of armor but still impressively elegant, blonde hair slicked back and green eyes latching onto you immediately.

“Princess Irulan,” Rabban says. “Though she hardly needs an introduction.”

“It’s a pleasure,” you say, curtsying.

Irulan smiles wistfully at you. “There is no need for that. We are destined to be family, after all.”

“My apologies,” Feyd retorts.

“Don’t mind him,” the Baron directs at the princess. One of his massive hands clamps down on Feyd’s shoulders, a gesture that you do not mistake for anything less than threatening. “He jests as all brothers do.”

“I understand,” Irulan says with a melodious laugh. Though as the five of you take to joining the rest of the party (along with Irulan's small army of guards), you can’t help but notice the way she glances at you. You have trouble deciphering the look but it slips from your mind after another session of small talk before the first course is served.

The table has just been set with plates of all sorts of delicacies when you feel a small hand grab you. Bodies press against you as guests hurry to claim the most coveted seats at the table. A chord of surprise is struck in you when you realize that the hand is not that of someone hoping to steady themselves amongst the sea of bodies but, rather, the intentional grip of Princess Irulan.

“We must talk,” she says. “It’s not every day that you find yourself in a situation like the one we have both been put in.”

“Did you not think your father would arrange your marriage?” You ask stiffly.

Something reminds you that Irulan is studying to be a Bene Gesserit, a feat that you could never hope to accomplish. You have to admit that it’s admirable. But the less tolerant side of you resents her for it.

“I could never hope for that, much like you were unable,” Irulan says. “I meant in the nature of being engaged to Harkonnens.”

“Oh.”

Distractedly you let your eyes wander until they fall on Feyd, who is sitting in his place at the head of the table and entertaining a small audience. Rabban, on the other hand, glowers at the food heaped on his plate, fork gripped in his fist as if he wants to launch it at someone.

“Do you have any wisdom to impart?” Irulan asks.

“I’m still trying to learn myself,” you tell her. “The Harkonnens are a…unique people.”

Irulan leans closer to you. “Is Feyd-Rautha as psychotic as they say?”

“Even more,” you say in interest of feeding the rumors. They weren’t wrong, of course, but you could hardly consider him as such when it was Irulan’s own betrothed who worried you.

And they both had a hand in your family’s deaths.

Before you can say anything to this effect, however, Feyd beckons you to the table. You smile at Irulan placatingly — the expression of a wife under her husband’s control — then find your place beside him. Irulan sits down on the other side of Rabban. Is she still staring at you?

You can’t help but feel as you did when Jessica would scrutinize you, analyzing your every move and word. It unsettles you.

The dinner starts without a hitch. You do your best to move the food on your plate around convincingly and avoid Irulan’s gaze. Everyone seems content to listen to Feyd’s stories about dismantling the spice smugglers, though, which leaves you mostly adrift with your thoughts. In fact, you’re so surprised when someone speaks to you that it takes several moments for you to compose an answer.

“Pardon my niece,” the Baron interjects with a sickening smile. “She certainly has a lot on her mind. Arrakis is grueling for even the weakest of individuals, though she’s had experience with it before.”

The noblemen who spoke to you nods. “That’s right. You’re of House Atreides. My condolences about your parents. Duke Leto was a magnificent man.”

“If only other men were possessed of such magnificence,” you mutter in reply, angrily spearing a vegetable on your plate. You shoot a glare at the Baron. “My father inspired cowardice in those who could not even hope to compete with him.”

“True cowardice lies in refusing to admit when you’ve been beat,” the Baron says coolly. He licks sauce from his thumb.

You stare back evenly at him. “You would know about true cowardice.”

The nobleman stuck between you both clears his throat awkwardly and drains the rest of his glass. Conversation swells again and thankfully diverts the topic of your family, and as the dinner transpires you’re itching to enact your plan. Finally dessert is cleared and after-dinner drinks are set before all of the guests.

Feyd rises to his feet and draws the attention of the room, holding up his flute to indicate a toast.

You stand, too, and smile endearingly at him.

“Tonight we have gathered to celebrate the prosperity of the House Harkonnen,” he rasps. “In the face of adversity we have yet again come out the victors on the other side.” This is met by a small smattering of applause. Feyd continues, “Of course, where would we be without our patriarch? The Baron has…provided for us for many years. I can only hope to return the favor.”

Feyd and you both drink from your glasses, as do the rest of the party.

It takes only a few seconds for panic to arise.

While you and Feyd gaze out contentedly at your guest, they find themselves paralyzed and unable to move a muscle. It’s a temporary poison — it won’t last longer than a few minutes — but it’s one that you both have acclimated to. You are free to round the table to Rabban at the same time that Feyd strides to his uncle on the other side.

You pull the Gom Jabbar from your corset. Every Noble House is in possession of one, which is why Feyd also had to steal his own. In a movement that seems almost choreographed, you and your husband bring the needles up to the necks of your prisoners. Adrenaline soars through you.

“It was always going to end like this between us,” Feyd murmurs almost lovingly to the Baron. He brushes his finger down his uncle’s face.

You turn your attention to Rabban. Although he cannot move, the muscles in his eyes strain to glare at you. You hold the needle just centimeters from his skin. “I will give you the same mercy you gave my family,” you whisper. “None.”

“STOP!”

Time ceases to move as, from your peripheral, you watch Irulan shoot to her feet. You’re unable to refuse the call of The Voice, and you’re rendered as paralyzed as the guests who drank from their poisoned glasses.

Which, apparently, the princess had not.

“You two are both fools,” she hisses. Her fingers form claws at her sides. “Did you not think I would notice what you were doing? That I would let you unravel the hard work of my father?”

Using The Voice, she orders you to drop the needles. They clatter to the ground.

You manage a glance in Feyd’s direction. His expression is grim, jaw clenched and eyes burning with rage at having been thwarted. Out of all of the outcomes of this evening, you hadn’t expected this to be one of them. A leaden feeling fills your entire body.

Irulan holds you, frozen, until she can call her father’s guards into the room and command them to seize you for treason.

“Irulan, please,” you beg her once liberated of her hold over you.

She simply gazes at you with contempt.

Guards descend on the room without warning and, without any verbal agreement, you and Feyd do your best to fend off wave after wave of them. They drop like flies, but there’s too many of them for you both to dispatch. You step and whirl over fallen bodies as you fend off the guards with nothing but a butter knife, the Gom Jabbar having been the first thing the guards kicked out of your grasp.

“We have to get out,” Feyd snaps at you. He throws a punch over your shoulder, hitting a guard and giving you enough time to spin and kick the offender in the gut. “Now.”

You pant, “Where?”

Irulan was tending to Rabban, who had stirred and was glaring murderously at you as he waited for the rest of his body to cooperate. The Baron simply stared from his seat. You had no idea if he was fully awake or not, but you didn’t want to wait for the punishment he fettered out.

“Here.” Feyd pushes a torn up napkin into your hands and demonstrates his intention by forcing them deep into his ears.

You quickly do the same. If you can’t hear Irulan, then the Voice won’t work on you.

Right?

It seemed as good a plan as any. Like a conjoined beast, you and Feyd tear through the swarm of guards like cutting through tall wheat. Blood splattered his face and his knuckles had broken open — you were sure you looked just as deranged, hair loosened from its pins and dress ripped from where a guard had taken hold to try and stop you. You had promptly struck him in the head with your foot, knocking him out and releasing his grip on you.

A roar from behind alerts you to bigger troubles. Rabban staggers after you, face reddened.

“Y/N!” Asha cries. You’ve made it to one of the adjoining hallways, and she latches onto your arm, pulling you towards her.

“Asha, no —”

“Go! Take her!” Feyd yells.

You wrench yourself free from Asha but Feyd has already been swallowed up by a wall of guards. A keening sound escapes you. You try to push yourself back but Asha won’t let you. “No, Feyd! Feyd!”

“He made me promise that I would help you escape,” Asha tells you, panicked. “Come on.”

“I won’t leave him.”

Asha tugs your arm. “I doubt he will be able to tolerate being apart from you for very long. But he will not tolerate it if I let anything happen to you.”

A guard with a lasgun splits from the dining room towards you and Asha and, with one more prompt from her, you take off running in the opposite direction, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The lasgun fires off two rounds, narrowly missing you. You pump your legs as fast as they will go, completely disconnected from the task at hand as you remember the image of Feyd interlocking with Rabban before he was obscured from your view by the guards. Would even your husband be able to escape such force?

“Turn here,” Asha instructs, your feet thundering loudly on the polished floors. She turns and thrusts you into a segment of the wall that has fallen away, moving swiftly to replace it. Stupidly, you hover, ensuring that you’re not being followed. The sound of the guard’s heavy breathing passes by you, then disappears. Asha turns to you, her face in shadows. “Move.”

Once you’re safely away from the door, tunneling through a narrow passageway, you ask her, “Where are we?”

“Abandoned servants halls. They used to use them to travel through the palace without being detected.”

A rush of adrenaline keeps you moving. You trail after Asha as she guides you through the winding passage, relying only on touch to navigate. You can barely even lift your arms at your sides without touching the walls, and its pitch black, no glowglobes to light your way. There’s no saying how far you go until Asha is grunting and pushing her shoulder up against another segment of wall.

You blink rapidly as you encounter a burst of light and the grit of sand on your tongue. Somehow you’ve bypassed most of the palace for the hangar. It’s shaded by an awning but open on one side to the harsh elements.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. If they’re smart they’ll know where we’re going.”

Asha leads you to one of the idle thopters. “I have no idea how to pilot one of these,” you say, alarmed.

“It’s been preprogrammed to at least get you out of Arraneen,” Asha says. “The rest is up to you. It’s not hard. This is the throttle—” she points to a lever, then another, “and this is the clutch.”

“I —” the words die in your throat.

I, what? Can’t land this thing? Can’t believe this is happening? Can’t leave without Feyd?

“Come with us. They’ll kill you if they find out you helped us,” you say instead.

Asha shakes her head. “There’s no room.”

“Asha —”

Your friend, her own tears in her eyes, pushes away your reaching hand. She ducks her head to check a watch-apparatus from her pocket. “The na-Baron should be here soon. If he’s not, he instructed me to force you to leave without him.”

You growl, “Nothing you can say will keep me from him.”

As if the universe felt personally challenged by this, the sounds of lasguns going off reverberate through the hangar. Asha and you both look towards the entrance, where Feyd can be seen sprinting from a group of guards. A scream climbs in your chest, bubbling with fear, as you watch him swerve and dodge to avoid the blasts.

“Feyd!” You cry.

His eyes lock on you and, seemingly emboldened, cycles his legs faster, outrunning the guards in their clumsy uniforms.

“Y/N, start the thopter!” Asha yells. She indicates a button on the mantle of the ship and you hastily press it, the bug-like wings snapping to life and kicking up sand in the hangar.

Feyd skids to a stop beside the thopter. A blast fires off, singing the mechanical flank of the ship. He uses his body as a shield for Asha. “Come with us,” he tells her, echoing you. Sweat and blood mingle on his face and his clothes.

“No. It’s too late. Go!” Asha all but shoves him into the thopter, crying out as another blast lands at her feet. With Feyd’s broad form next to yours, there’s truly no room for Asha unless she wanted to be smashed against the windshield. Feyd takes over the controls from you.

The thopter door closes right as the guards reach it, already jerking Asha into their grip.

You howl and scream in disbelief, pounding at the doors of the thopter from the inside as it launches into the air. Feyd hovers slightly before yanking on the throttle and piloting the thopter out of the hangar. “No, no, no!” Asha’s tiny frame is dwarfed by the guards, then by distance.

“Y/N, there’s nothing we can do now. She sacrificed herself for us. Let’s not put it to waste,” Feyd snarls at you.

You swipe tears and makeup from your face. Something inside you hardens, and you push down your anguish in order to focus on your escape. Feyd is a talented flyer, but it’s nothing compared to the league of thopters and ships encroaching in the distance. Worry clamps down on you like the jaws of a sandworm.

Arrakeen blurs beneath you as Feyd soars over it, the body of the thopter casting shadows over the buildings. You’ve nearly reached the shield wall when a shot collides with the thopter and sends it staggering to one side. Feyd curses. The Emperor’s ships have caught up with you. You grip your armrests, eyes widening as you watch the ships grow larger and larger in the rearview mirror. Feyd eases your ship through a small opening in the shimmering shield wall, effectively preventing any of the large ships from following.

More shots ring out, pinging off your thopter.

“What are we going to do?” Feyd’s dark gaze flickers behind you, then back to the desert unfolding before you. It’s then that you see it — a storm. “Feyd, did you get hit in the head? We can’t go into a sandstorm.”

“It’s our only option,” he grits out.

You want to protest, to persist that there’s another way, but you have no answer. Feyd forces the throttle of the ship down as far as it will go, the wings fluttering almost imperceptibly as he urges them to go as fast as possible. Pain explodes in your head when a blast hits the side of the thopter and you’re thrown against the inner wall; much like the pain, a fiery explosion erupts outside your window.

“Fuck! They shot off one of the engines,” Feyd yells over the clamor of the thopter stalling. Teeth gritting, he swoops it out of its downward spiral and back into the air. “We just have to make it to the storm. They won’t follow us.”

Giant columns of smoke billow from the decimated engine, the right wing also engulfed in flames. The thopters chugs along awkwardly, dipping and faltering as Feyd does his best to keep it in the air, relying on the gusts of wind from the oncoming storm. Your stomach churns.

And, quite literally jumping from one problem to the next, the storm seizes upon your thopter with furious force. From all sides you’re battered by wind and currents of sand and rocks, sounding like you were being pelted with boulders on all sides. You realize too late that the screaming you hear is from you. Feyd battles against the storm but at this point he’s at its terrible mercy, both of you being tossed around with no sense of control.

There’s a split second when you catch a glimpse of fear on Feyd’s face — the first time you’ve ever seen it — before another blast rockets into the thopter. One of the ships had followed you.

Flames converge with the whipping sand and an alarm starts wailing as the thopter plummets to the ground. Well, logical leads you to believe that it’s the ground, there’s no way of telling which direction you’re going.

Feyd releases himself from his seat’s harness and crosses over the console, throwing his body over yours right as the ship collides with something solid and everything goes black.

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #these destined ends

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sysmedsaresexist · 2 days

Text

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

#syscourse #not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #anti endo #pro endo #anti plural #pro plural #debunk #endogenic safe #system safe #pro system

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babygirlbenji · 3 days

Text

Prince Charming - Mason Mount

a/n i feel like i've used this gif before but i do not care! i'm off to a wedding so wanted to get this out! enjoy mwah <3

summary: just some fluff with mason and reader who is sick!

You hated being sick.

The cough that had been racking your body for the last few days had reduced you to talking in croaky whispers, your whole body ached, you had no energy and all you could do if you weren’t sleeping was watching repeats of Friends.

What made it even worse was that Mason wasn’t there to look after you and give you the love you so desperately needed to heal. He was in Manchester and you were stuck in London. To add insult to injury, you had planned to take the train up to the north west to see him and watch his game against Liverpool. You’d had to message him the day before, saying you weren’t going to be able to come up. He wanted nothing more than to look after his girl, but Ten Hag had been adamant that Mason would at least be on the bench for the game, if not in the starting lineup.

It was just an all round bad situation. A long distance relationship was not necessarily what you signed up for, but you loved Mason more than anything in the world. You were both determined to make it work.

On Friday night, you were tapping through your Instagram stories, looking at all your friends going out and celebrating the end of the working week. You sighed, which obviously turned into a coughing fit. With nothing else to do, you turned off the lights and curled up in bed, hoping that by morning, you would feel better and be able to watch Mason play.

Or at least that was your plan. This plan was scuppered by your phone lighting up with Mason’s picture as he rang for a FaceTime. You shoved a hoodie on and ran your fingers through your hair in the hopes it would make you a little bit more presentable, before flicking the lamp by your bed on so you could speak to him.

‘H-Hello,’ you croaked. His face was slightly pixelated through the dodgy WiFi in the hotel he was staying in, but he still managed to look like he’d walked off a Vogue shoot. Damn him, you thought to yourself.

‘Hey sweet thing, how are you doing?’ Just the sound of his voice was enough to perk you up a bit, and you sat up.

‘I’m… I’m okay, just tired and got this stupid bloody cold that’s had me bed bound the last two days. How are you?’ You could barely stifle the yawn that crept out of your mouth without any warning.

‘Oh darling, I’m okay, just called because I’m worried about you, I’ve hardly heard from you the last couple of days and wanted to check in.’ Your heart swelled. You’d been together over two years, but he was still finding ways to make your dreams come true. He really was your Prince Charming. ‘I won’t keep you long as I know you’re sick, just wanted to say I love you and I miss you.’

The emotions you’d been feeling over the last couple of days boiled over, and your face crumpled as tears leaked from your eyes.

‘I really, really miss you, Mase,’ you sobbed. ‘I feel awful, I can’t do any work, I haven’t seen you in like a fortnight, everyone’s going out and enjoying the sun while I’m stuck here on my own with not even Ben or Reece to keep me company as they’re in Timbuktu or something.’ Mason couldn’t help but chuckle at your melodramatics; Ben and Reece were not in Timbuktu, they were in fact in Southampton for their away game. He didn’t have the heart to mention this, though.

‘I’m sorry, baby, I really am, I wish I could be there to help. Just focus on resting and getting better, okay? I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve finished this game, I promise.’ You sighed. You knew he couldn’t help being a professional footballer, and he loved playing with United, but you couldn’t help but feel like part of your soul went wherever he went.

You chatted a bit more, or rather, he chatted while you listened to him, before he bade you goodnight and you were once again left with nothing but the sound of your fan blowing cool air on you to stop your fever spiking too high. It wasn’t long before your cold and cough medication kicked in, and you were out like a light.

You awoke the next morning feeling like there was someone in your house. Ignoring the fact that your fever had gone and your airways felt clearer than they had in the last few days, you stepped out of bed and grabbed your phone from the bedside table. Fully prepared to call the police, you padded silently down the carpeted staircase and peeked into the kitchen.

What you saw made another sob fall out of your mouth.

Mason was stood by the stove, wearing a United hoodie and track pants, while stirring something in a pot on the hob which you could only guess to be chicken soup.

‘Mase?!’ He whirled around and grinned.

‘Hey babe!’ You summoned the energy to run over to him and throw your arms around his neck, relishing the contact of your bodies having been apart for nearly two weeks.

‘What the hell are you doing here? I thought they wanted you to play?’ He kissed your temple and shrugged.

‘But I wanted to be here with you more. It wasn’t easy but I managed to negotiate it off. After our FaceTime last night I couldn’t be apart from you any longer. I couldn’t have you suffering here by yourself while Ben and Reece are in Timbuktu.’ You giggled at the reference to what you’d said the previous night, and hugged him harder, your head finding its usual spot just under his neck. He wrapped you up in his arms and rubbed your back.

‘I can’t thank you enough, Masey, it means the world.’ You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head.

‘It’s the least I can do for my princess.’ And in that moment, with you curled up against his chest while he stirred chunks of chicken and vegetables in a thick broth, breathing in his glorious scent that could only the scent of home, you had absolutely no doubt in your mind that you really had found your Prince Charming.

#mason mount #mason mount fic #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #manchester united #football #football imagines #football imagine

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captain-mj · 2 days

Note

"Werewolf Price being hit with pheromones and they expect him to go feral or be evil but really he just herds everyone up and bumps heads with Ghost and grooms Gaz and fucks Graves until he can’t take it anymore safely outside of the sights of everyone else"

I love it, I want it, I expect it. Please!!! I've been good I SWEAR!! Never sent a ask so fast!

Well i got to write it now, i got you <3

Price suffered from lycanthropy. Some people preferred to say they had it or even blessed with it. But no. He suffered from it. It was a rather big weakness to have in war, even if his advanced senses were sometimes helpful.

Pheromones. The smoke bombs were laced with them. His rational thoughts were slowly slipping away, leaving just bare instincts.

Ghost grabbed him. He could tell by the smell. The ease he had in lifting him up. His grip felt very tight though, with Price able to feel each and every fingertip digging deep into his skin. It was confusing why his pack member would hurt him, but it must be for a good reason.

Price went limp to allow Ghost to carry him easier. He could hear Ghost telling him he was being good as he moved him away from everything, holding him so tight Price was sure if he tried to yank away he'd either hurt himself or Ghost.

Everything was so loud. Every sound amplified and echoed. The sights. Different smells mixed together until he felt nauseous.

The floor is cold where he's being pressed against it. Ghost's hands were warm where they're against his face and Price tries and fails to jerk up off the floor. He's growling, trying to get someone to understand the floor is too cold for him to lay on. Everything is loud and everything is terrible and and and

Gaz pulls him to sit down, Price's body between his legs. He puts both hands firmly on his shoulders and Price relaxes. It doesn't occur to him that Gaz did this in case he needed to trap him. One of his pack members was there to reassure him everything was alright.

Price had no recollection on how they got to the safe house. He only knew that his sense had calmed enough to no longer overstimulate him, though he was no more rational than he had been when first hit. He pushed the three of them around until he got them all herded together in one room. Soap laughed a little and got a gentle headbutt for it.

Price relaxes once he had all of them, trying to groom Gaz after a minute. He was more like an actual wolf with his dynamics. There was his mate (not there) and his wards. He was not an 'alpha', just a pack leader. And his pack was very important to him. It was incomplete right now.

He focused on trying to get Gaz presentable. The rather tight grip on him relaxed so he could focus on keeping them in the room and safe.

Ghost got smart and made a place on the floor for them to be able to stay with their bedrolls.

Price relaxed and laid on the floor next to them, watching them.

Time ticks away strangely. He can tell he should go to sleep. But this is a Shadow safehouse they're using. The smell around him makes the ache of not having everyone together more apparent. His nose keeps twitching.

There's movement at the door and he bows up immediately, growling. He quickly gets to it and waits, ready to pounce.

Graves.

Price relaxed and grabbed him.

"John?" He sounded surprised, but didn't fight him. Price forced him away from the others who were all sleeping anyway.

"I'm glad to know you're safe. Was a bit worried when they said you were hit with something." Graves looked up and smiled before pausing when he saw how Price's eyes looked. "John?"

Price moved closer, his feet lightly kicking at Grave's so he'd keep moving back. Without him truly realizing it, Price had herded Graves into a different room. The lights were still off so Graves couldn't see very well. But Price could.

"Oh." Graves purred. "I get it. You been missing me?"

Price panted, walking forward. He buried his face in his mate's neck and took a deep breath. God he smells so good. His tongue flicked out to lick over his skin and Graves groaned.

Graves was smart enough to work himself out of his gear before Price tore it. He let Price pick him up and toss him on the bed before crawling on top of him.

This was perfect. Price nuzzled at his jugular and started to nip at him, hands running down his body.

Graves ran his fingers through Price's hair, feeling his ears. "Cute. Planning to rut against me, Captain?"

Price grabbed him and flipped him on to his stomach. He opened his pants and pressed his cock against Graves’s thighs, humming in pleasure at the warmth.

“John, you can’t. I’m not exactly prepared here, Soldier.” Graves straightened up. Well, tried to. Price pinned him back down and started to nose at his thighs. “John, I’m serious. You haven’t ev-“ He choked when Price fully pressed his face against him and licked at his hole. It wasn’t what Price wanted, but the visions of Graves being hurt were enough to get him to act right. His tongue dove into him and Graves made a soft groaning noise as he rocked back.

“Should’ve known you’d be smart enough for this. Even all feral, still taking care of your pack right?”

Price couldn’t decipher the tone used. It felt possibly teasing, but it didn’t matter. His mate said he was smart and took care of his pack. The tail he kept tucked between his legs started to wag happily.

Graves panted softly. “Alright. That’s enough. You deserve it.”

Price moved fast, getting on top of him and pinning him down. His cock was so hard it hurt but he needed more. Needed to be buried inside him. He pushed in nice and slow and Graves moaned into the pillows.

“Good boy. You make me feel so good.”

Price wagged his tail harder and started to thrust into him. He braced his hands above Grave's head and enjoyed his mate thoroughly.

Graves tried to stay quiet, pressing his face into the pillows and arching his back. His hole was so tight and willing. Squeezing around him every time he bottomed out.

Well, almost bottomed out.

His knot pressed against his hole with every thrust. He stared at it. The way it pressed right against Graves's rim, begging to be let in. Slowly, he started to grind against him with each thrust, trying to get Graves to take it.

"John, it won't fit." Graves moaned, eyes fluttering shut. He was still arching his back though and it only encouraged John to keep trying. His cock was pressing so tight against him. Carving through him. He put his thumb against his rim and pressed against him so his knot would slowly begin to slide him. When he got a very sweet moan instead of Graves telling him to stop, he kept going. His knot was a little smaller than a fist and it began to slide deeper and deeper in.

The widest part was about to go when Graves began to cry out. "Fuck, Price, darling, I don't think it's going to fit." He grabbed his arms and trembled, body clenching and squeezing around him so tight. "It's not... Fuck..." Tears ran down his face as he mumbled uselessly into his pillows. Drool mixed with the tears running down his face as Price finally finally got it all the way in.

Price wagged his tail happily and thrust in. His knot would push in a little deeper and then catch on Graves's rim when he pulled back, keeping them tied together as Price mated with him.

Graves dug his nails into Price's arm as he came on to the sheets. His legs twitched and shook as his orgasm tore through him. He leaned his head against Price's shoulder and moaned sweetly.

Price moved Graves so he was laying flat on the bed instead of on his hands and knees. He didn't stop or even falter but the changed angle made it feel even tighter and let his knot push just a little deeper into him.

Graves scrambled at the sheets and clawed at the edges. Struggling for some hand hold. He felt his cock start to fill with blood again as Price tried to make up for the weeks of not having him.

"John, john, john, john." He chanted only to be quieted when Price kissed him. Their liplock only encouraged him to thrust in faster.

Price pressed in tight and came inside him. "Breed you. Make you take it."

Graves nodded, smiling softly. He'd indulge him his fantasies. Especially when his poor lover was still so far gone.

Price laid on him, kissing his pretty face. "Love. Love."

"i see you can say words now. Come on, pull out."

Price shoved in deeper, grinding against Graves's prostate. He growled his refusal.

Graves had trouble thinking as the pleasure moved through him. "Price, fuck, alright. I'll stay underneath you, darling."

Price relaxed but kept abusing Graves's prostate. He ignored his pleas for mercy as he cuddled him, hips rocking away. He only stopped when he managed to drag another orgasm out of Graves.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #Captain John Price

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