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strawnarrries · 1 year

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We Fight, We Make Up

Summary: Harry gets turned on when you yell at him.

Requested: Nope

POV: 2nd

Word count: 3.4k

Warning(s): Unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight spanking

The argument happened before the night even started. You didn't even wanna go. You wanted to stay in the hotel with your husband. Alone. Without having to share him with anyone else. Recently, you have been missing him. Yes, you see him every day and fall asleep with him every night; but you felt like you had to share him with the entire world. When he wasn't on stage in front of his thousands of fans, he was either at the gym or working with his team, writing new songs, and talking about new plans.

Tonight was one of his rare nights off and of course, he and his team wanted to go out. He wanted you to go with him and you did, but you were grumpy from the moment he brought it up to the moment you're at with him now.

You were arguing while you got ready. Harry didn't understand where you were coming from. You were on tour with him. You were with him every day, went everywhere that he went, and got to sleep next to him every night. He thought you were being a bit needy and selfish. He didn't say that to you of course, but he definitely voiced that he thought you were being irrational.

Once you had met everyone in the hotel lobby, you both put on your brave faces, not wanting to draw any attention to your problems. You tried to forget about your current struggles and have fun while you could. Neither of you drank that much. You just were not in the mood and Harry had a show the next day. It was only occasional that he would drink while on tour, but never when he had a show the next day.

Once the night was over, the argument continued.

"Y/N, baby, I dunno what you want me to do. We're on tour, this is my work. I can't spend every second with you."

"Oh my god, Harry. You know I'm not asking you to spend every second with me. I just want some alone time with you. I told you I feel like I have to share you with everyone and never get any time just you and me."

"But we do get alone time. We got a whole room to ourselves. I give you a cuddle while we fall asleep every night. Why is that not enough?"

"It's not about being enough. It's about me feeling like you're not prioritizing me or wanting to spend any time with me."

"This is the first tour that you've been able to come with me for every show. This is what it's like. I don't get alone time. This is my job. I can't just drop it all to spend time with you."

You were starting to get angry, "You don't work every hour of the day! Tonight - I told you beforehand that I didn't wanna go and I wanted to stay here with you but you wanted to go out instead."

"Well, yeah because I've got a night off and wanted to have fun with everyone."

"Exactly! Everyone. You didn't wanna spend time with me. You spend time with them every fucking day and the one day you have off you choose to be with them."

"Y/N, you-" he started before you cut him off, your voice raising in frustration, "Harry, you're my fucking husband! I shouldn't have to beg you to spend time with just me!"

All of a sudden, a cheeky, slightly evil smirk arose on his lips and his eyes scanned your body up and down. It was very rare that you got angry when you argue with him, you usually just get really sad. Your disagreements are usually quiet and filled with tears. It was your least favorite thing to do. You hated having serious conversations with Harry and couldn't help but cry when they happened. Harry was a sympathetic cryer so when you cried, he cried. In the 10 years that you and Harry have been together, you only yelled at him in an argument probably 4 times. So, he found this moment quite amusing.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?"

"I'm not," he chuckled looking up at your angry eyes.

He kept that smirk on his lips as he stared at you deeply, your blood beginning to boil as a breathy giggle left his lips.

"Oh my god, I'm so sick of this," you snapped, turning around and getting ready to storm into the bathroom.

"Y/N, stop."

He was quick to grab your arm, pulling him into you and wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you from running from him. Placing both hands on his hips, you glared up at him, "What?"

He didn't reply, his eyes bore into yours while he was pushing your hips against his, jutting his out to show you exactly what he was feeling. You could feel his tight bulge straining in his slacks against your pelvis and you could not believe what was happening.

"You're hard?" you replied as your lips mindlessly curved up in amusement, "Why?"

"Dunno, you rarely yell at me when we argue. It's kinda sexy," he replied, his voice slow and deep.

"What?" You were the one laughing now, "You're not supposed to get turned on. You're supposed to get pissed at me."

"I am pissed at you. But you're fuckin' cute when you get angry." He looked you up and down once more before adding, "Might be this outfit too."

"Oh my gosh, I wanna be mad at you so bad because of this but I'm really amused."

"Are we about to have angry sex?"

You didn't even answer him. You immediately pulled him down by the back of his neck and attacked his lips with yours. He kissed you back, moving in sync with you. His tongue caressed your lips, tasting you as you backed him up against the edge of the bed. The backs of his knees hit the mattress and he immediately sat down, pulling you with him. Pulling your dress up past your hips so you could spread your legs, you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your ass, cupping and squeezing it.

You continued to kiss him, making out like you were teenagers. Your kisses were fast and sloppy, your panties dampening as you ground your hips against his center. You ran your fingers through his dark hair, tugging at the soft strands gently. You felt your clit throbbing in anticipation and you knew you couldn't wait too long before he filled you up.

Your hands frantically slid down his body, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You had been so upset with him, you had overlooked how good he looked tonight. He wore a white button-up, only having the bottom two buttons tied together to show off his tanned, tattooed chest. He paired it with a pair of black slack pants and white loafers that he had slipped off the moment you got back to your room. He had his famous cross and phallic banana necklaces on and had rings lined on almost every one of his fingers.

You slid his top off of his shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. His glistening skin and dark tattoos were now on full display for you. You ran your fingernails across his body, feeling every inch of his torso that you could reach. You continued to grind your center against his, circling your hips so his bulge rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit.

"I want you so bad," he breathed out and you hummed against his lips in agreement.

His fingertips grabbed onto the hem of your silky dress and pulled it up over your head, tossing it with his shirt. Your lips only parted to pull the dress off, immediately attaching again once you were exposed to him. His hands reached behind your back and unclasped your strapless bra with ease, letting it fall onto your lap. After grabbing it and tossing it, his hands cupped both breasts and kneaded them harshly.

His kisses trailed down your jaw to your neck, kissing, nipping, and sucking at all your sweet spots. You let your head fall to the side to give him more access and hummed in satisfaction. His lips trailed even further down until they latched onto your right breast. He sucked at your nipple, hand still kneading your left one. Flicking his tongue back and forth against your bud, your back arched into him. Nibbling on it, you whimpered and he pulled away, giving your other breast the same amount of attention.

Returning back to your lips, he tugged on the band of your panties, acknowledging that he wanted them off. You stood up in between his legs and pulled your panties down your legs, letting them pool at your feet. While you did that, he unbuttoned the button on his pants, lifted his hips, pushed them down his thighs, and pulled them off his legs.

Both of you were now completely naked and exposed to each other. You straddled his lap again and he reached down between your bodies, sliding his fingers between your folds to feel your wetness. He groaned softly as his middle finger and ring finger slipped past your opening with ease. You mimicked his moan when his fingers began to move in and out of you, the coldness of his peace ring and his pearl ring sending chills up your spine.

"Jesus, Y/N, I'm so fuckin' horny right now," he groaned desperately.

"I need you inside me," you whimpered into his ear, equally as desperate, "right now, Harry, please."

"C'mere," he hummed.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he wrapped his arms around you and stood up. Turning around, he laid you down on the sheets with your hips at the edge of the bed while standing in between your spread legs. He grasped onto both of your ankles and hooked them around his shoulders. Wrapping his right palm around his member, he wasted no time and immediately positioned his swollen tip at your entrance, sliding in while he hovered over you. You both let out moans at the euphoric feeling of him filling you up. He stilled inside of you, allowing you a minute to adjust to his size. His forehead rested against yours and he grunted softly when he felt you clench around him.

Leaning back up, he grabbed onto each of your thighs to ground you. Not holding anything back, he began thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace. He knew your body like the back of his hand. Knew every single one of your sweet spots and every single movement that made you putty in his hands.

His thighs slapped against yours and your breasts bobbed with each hard thrust of his hips. Your orgasm was quickly starting to grow closer and you found yourself clenching around him each time his tip brushed up against your good spot. Your face contorted with pleasure and you tightly gripped the sheets below you.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered softly, "Harry, yes!"

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted in between stagged breaths, "Just wanted me to fuck you like this?"

His fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs, most likely leaving marks for you to complain about the next morning. The bed squeaked under you and you knew the backs of your thighs were quickly turning bright red with the repetitive slapping. It was purely a pornographic scene and you were in complete and utter bliss.

"Answer me."

"Yes, yes," you chanted, "I needed this so bad. Needed you, Harry."

Lifting your head slightly, you looked down and watched as he disappeared in and out of you. He was slick with you, sparkling against the light in the room. You could physically hear how wet you are for him. His movements intensify that sound with each thrust. You let your head fall back down to the bed and look up at him. He's looking down between your bodies, watching what you were just watching. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his jaw hung slack as he breathed irregularly.

You watched as his muscles clenched with each thrust, a sheen layer of sweat beginning to form on his skin, glittering his tattoos. You let your eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure grew. You felt his left hand leave your thigh and immediately grasp onto your breast, squeezing it and allowing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch at your nipples.

Without warning, he wrapped his hands around your sides and flipped you over so you were on your belly. He tapped your hip gently, acknowledging you to sit up. Resting your elbows on the sheets to support your body, you stuck your ass up in the air for him, leaning back and pressing into him. He positioned at your entrance again and started back up where he had left off.

The sound of his skin slapping and your wetness continued to echo loudly throughout the room and if he wasn't making you feel so damn good right now, you would be worried about people outside the room hearing.

"Talk to me. This is exactly what you fuckin' wanted so tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"No," you whimpered, trying to get a rise out of him, "you don't love me anymore."

"Say that one more time and I'll spank you 'till you cry," he grunted.

You grinned at his words. You knew he wouldn't actually spank you until you cried, but you wanted to challenge him, "I'm not wrong."

His hand swatted at the fullest part of your ass and you squealed at the slight sting, his rings he never took off intensifying that sting. He never spanked you super hard, just enough to get you to straighten up when you were being sassy with him.

"Wanna try me again?"

"You never give me attention anymore."

Another spank landed across your ass and you moaned, his hand massaging the area to soothe the sting, "You're such a brat. You're asking for it now, aren't you?"

After one more smack against your skin, he grunted and his thrusts came to an abrupt stop. You were about to protest but then felt his big hands collecting your hair. He switched all of it to one hand, holding it up into a ponytail. He tugged on it, pulling your head back so that he could easily lean down to nip at your ear lobe and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips. Using his free hand, he grabbed onto your hip again and began thrusting.

"Want me all to yourself all the fuckin' time, huh?" he growled into your ear, sending shivers up your spine.

"You're mine," you moaned, "Don't like sharing you."

"Fuckin' selfish is what you are," he grunted in your ear, "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

You moaned in response, breath hitching in your throat before he continued, "Got people wanting my attention left and right and you only want me for yourself. I can see why though, with how good I make you feel. Not once have I ever failed to have you fuckin' trembling under me, babe."

"You're such a fucking narcissist," you grunted, words coming out strangled.

He chuckled deeply, biting on the shell of your ear, "It's the sole reason why you married me, innit? 'cause of how easy I can get you to scream my name?"

"Fuck off," you groaned and he chuckled again, loving how he got to you.

"Got the sexiest girl in the world to be my wife. How can I not be narcissistic?"

"Mmm," you whimpered, ignoring him, "Want more."

"More? Am I not giving you enough right now?"

"No, gimme more."

"Greedy, greedy girl. You're my greedy girl though, that right?"

You hummed in agreement as he let go of your hair, your head immediately hanging low. With both hands now on your hips, fingertips gripping your skin tightly, he changed his rhythm. Fast and hard. Exactly what you wanted right now.

"I'll give you whatever you want. Got me wrapped around your little finger."

"Obviously not, or else we wouldn't be in this situation right now," you grunted in sync with the smack of his hips against yours.

"Still mad at me, huh?"

"Just shut up and make me cum," you groaned.

You heard him chuckle behind you as he kept his rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm by the second. His thighs smacked against yours and the sound echoed throughout your hotel room. Your breath was hitched in your throat, your face contorted with pleasure and your jaw slack as moans occasionally escaped when your hitched breath allowed.

He got so deep inside you, hitting your special spot just underneath where your clit was located with each thrust of his powerful hips. His fingers were gripping your hips tightly, nails carving crescent moon shapes within your skin. Your clenched around him and you could feel every inch of him moving against your walls.

"Oh, Harry," you whimpered into the sheets and Harry's heart swelled as he noticed how much you needed this. How much you needed him.

With the length of his thrusts shortening and pace only slowing down slightly, he leaned down and pressed his back against yours, cupping your waist to pull him into you.

"Haven't been giving you the attention you deserve, have I, baby?" he grunted into your ear, words in sync with his thrusts.

"Mm mm," you whimpered, his lips against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

"Been neglecting my favorite person in the world. My beautiful wife, fuck, I love you so much."

You couldn't even reply. Your voice wouldn't let you, the only thing you could get out was moans of pure pleasure by not only him inside of you, but also him finally giving you exactly what he wanted. His hands slid up your torso and gripped your breasts, squeezing them as his thumbs flicked over your nipples. You could tell he was close by the way his member twitched inside of you, his strangled moans, and the feeling of his face contorting against your back.

"Need you to cum, baby." he breathed out, "I can't cum if you don't cum first."

"I need-" you began and it was like he read your mind, fingers heading straight for your throbbing clit and rubbing it side to side vigorously, causing you to breathe out, "Yeah."

It didn't take much longer before your body became numb with pleasure. You were trembling, screaming into the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white with how hard you were gripping the covers. Harry continued his movements to carry you through your orgasm, causing it to pulse through you in waves, euphoria completely clouding your mind.

You came down from your high with heavy breaths, the continued stimulation from his thrusts sending a new wave of pleasure over you. When it became too much, you whimpered and he pulled out, groaning painfully, "Where do you want me?"

"My back," you breathed out.

You laid down on your stomach and moved all your hair to your front, while he continued to pump himself to keep his orgasm from falling. Once you were in position, he pressed one knee to the bed to angle himself above you. It was only seconds before you felt the warm feeling of him painting your back with his creamy release, your jaw falling slack. Moans of pleasure fell from his lips as he worked himself through his orgasm, pleasure consuming his body just as it did you only seconds earlier.

Once he had milked the last of his orgasm, he immediately got up to grab a few tissues to clean you off.

"You okay, babe?" he asked while wiping the tissue across your skin.

"Mhm," you hummed in response, ready to just fall asleep in his arms.

Throwing away the soiled tissue, he stated, "All done."

You turned over onto your side and he laid down next to you, pulling you into him, breathing out, "Didn't lie when I said I always get you trembling under me, huh?"

You rolled your eyes teasingly at him, "You're so annoying."

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. We still need to talk though. The problem didn't just go away 'cause you're good in bed."

He chuckled deeply, "Can we talk tomorrow? Just wanna hold you right now."

"Yeah, lemme go to the bathroom then we can go to bed," you replied as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom.

"Love you, sexy," he teased, landing a soft smack across the curve of your ass as you got up.

You giggled, "I love you too."

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finelinefae · 7 months

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soft

synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.

word count: 2.1 k

contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend

A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘

. . .

My girls' in the audience tonight.

I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.

Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.

She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her.

She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine.

The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.

When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.

When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.

I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.

I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.

"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.

"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.

"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.

"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"

I laugh, "You always nearly cry."

"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.

We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.

We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.

She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."

I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."

She giggles, "love you."

I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.

The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.

She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?' I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.

I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.

Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.

"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.

It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.

"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.

She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.

"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"

She smiles and kisses me again.

We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.

I literally have a crush on this woman.

And she's my fucking girlfriend.

What did I do to get this lucky in life?

"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.

She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.

"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.

I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.

"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"You promise?" She pouts.

"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.

She gasps, "You have chub too!"

I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"

She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.

I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.

"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.

Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.

She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.

There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.

"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.

She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"

"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.

I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.

"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.

"I hope so," She whispers.

I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.

"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."

I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.

"Both," She says in between kisses.

This girl.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #writing #fic rec #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

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kamiversee · 7 months

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 31 || The Breakdown (continued)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO LEFT YOU WITH a lot to think about.

Before doing so, he dropped you off at your apartment after a passionate and almost final makeout session in the car lot just outside your apartment...

You knew it was your last time kissing Gojo.

It just felt like it. Like the final kiss of a romance film, Gojo's hands were so gentle against your body, his lips slipping and sliding over yours sensually and his tongue getting lost in your mouth. You'd hum into him and he'd moan lightly, the kiss lasting long enough to fog up his car windows.

Even then, it still took some time for the two of you to stop. It felt like another forty-minute make-out but in reality, the two of you sat outside kissing for an hour and a half.

He was so addicting, you felt so light and loved under his touch, allowing all your confliction to dissipate as he sucked and licked at your lips.

You don't even remember why you let him kiss you again but as soon as the car was parked, the soft sound of the radio quietly playing some R&B songs filled your ears and the two of you gave each other a look. Did he ask to kiss you or did you ask him? You have no clue.

All you know is that when your lips connected, they hardly ever parted. Gojo would whisper 'I love you' into your mouth every chance he got, refusing to let you forget that fact. You were still wondering why he sobbed earlier that night but the questions were forced into the back of your mind-- you'd get them answered in some years apparently.

When his lips finally peeled away from yours, a wet smack filled the car and Gojo had a bit of drool slipping out the corner of his mouth-- showing just how sloppy the kiss had been. You smiled and wiped his face off with your thumb, to which he grinned.

Gojo had this almost dazed and fucked out expression plastered across his handsome features. Meanwhile, you had a look of satisfaction.

The two of you stared deeply into each other's eyes, uncertainty, doubt, regret, love, passion, and a surplus of other emotions floating in the air between you two. It was easy for you to get lost in his eyes, easy for you to forget all he's done to you for a moment.

Hell, you could even picture what life would've been like for you if he'd stopped the list months ago. Perhaps the two of you would've dated, maybe you would've fallen for him and maybe the two of you would've lived happily ever after like some twisted fairytale.

But, instead, the two of you live in this twisted and awkward time where fate and reality have set all the pieces in place for you to hold nothing but hate in your heart for him. Even so, you reject holding only such an ill emotion-- never will you be able to look into Gojo Satoru's eyes the same after the day you've spent with him.

Something is wrong.

You don't know what it is and you probably won't ever find out but knowing that simple fact deters you from holding only ill intent.

"Can I uhm... say one last thing before you go up?" Gojo whispers, breaking you out of your thoughts.

Your faces are still close to one another and you nod your head.

"I cried like that because I've been feeling a lot of regret lately," He explains. Is he opening up to you right now? "I don't want you to pity me for it or feel sympathy for me because, trust me, I don't deserve it-, I don't deserve you."

"Satoru, how can you tell me not to sympathize with you after all that?" You ask, your voice filled with this sweetness and tenderness that he feels himself fall for even more, "I can't ignore-"

"I need you to." He says sternly, "Ignore it. I can't fix what I've done, sweets. A-And I'm not gonna try to. You're meant to be with someone who makes you unyieldingly happy and that will never be me." He sighs, brows tensing.

He looks so utterly distraught.

You can even tell he's trying to keep himself together, "Even if I explained it all to you and you were to somehow catch feelings for me and want to choose me over Choso, I-"

"Whatever you're about to say, you don't know that." You cut off, "You can't predict the future Satoru, any scenario you play out for me is nothing but an educated guess of what may happen but you truly don't know what'll occur if you just tell me the damn truth."

"The truth will undo everything I've worked for so far," Gojo claims.

You sigh heavily, "What does that even mean?"

"It won't make you happy, that's what I mean," He clarifies, "I can't make you happy, sweetheart. I wish I could but I can't. And the truth?" He scoffs a little, "Once I explain that all of hell will break loose."

"Satoru it can not be that bad, you're being dramatic-"

"I'm not." Gojo cuts off, his eyes deadly serious, "When you get the truth, I think you'll understand me but you definitely won't forgive me."

Your eyes narrow and you tip your head to the side, "Why don't you just tell me and find out, what's stopping you?"

"Fear." He claims.

For some reason, the slight shake in his voice brings that very emotion to you. Fear? What could Gojo Satoru have to fear?

You blink, "Of what-"

"Everything." Gojo says, his voice a tad bit louder, "I don't want to go down that path at all. I just want you to finish the list and go be with the man you love."

Do you even love that man? It's such a strong word... Maybe if Gojo had said what he just said a few weeks ago you would've said you loved Choso but now... Well, you haven't talked to him and even though he plagues your mind and heart often, you almost feel as though your feelings have faded.

That would probably change if Choso sent you even one text but the distance he's drawn between the two of you is solid. He made it very clear that unless you want a relationship, he doesn't want you around him. Choso feels so strongly around you that it hurts him to be in your presence and not be your boyfriend-- he explained that to you.

And naturally, you admire the way he avoided that toxic situation. But... it's also created some heafty dissipation of your feelings. Obviously, you think about him all the time but not talking to him does make you feel conflicted.

Do you love Choso? Do you like him? Is it just a crush? Has this one day with Gojo changed the way you think about everything and now you're sitting here confused about who you want and why you want them? Have you forgotten everything you've experienced with either man?

Choso made you happy beyond belief and Gojo has only brought you confusion.

But, Choso was also so much of a green flag that you were blind to his red ones. And Gojo was so much of a red flag that you didn't see the white one he held behind his back.

You remained quiet for too long and Gojo tilted his head at you, "Do you not?"

"H-Huh?" You stammer, breaking away from your mind.

"Do you not love Choso?" He asks.

"I don't know." You whisper.

The confusion of it all has officially gotten to you. You don't know anything anymore.

Gojo raises a curious brow, "Is it because you haven't seen him in a while?"

Your brows furrow, "N-No-"

"Winter break is just a month away," He tells you, "Maybe you should try to see him during that time."

A slight chuckle escapes your lips and you sigh, "It seems like you want me to get with Choso more than I want me to get with Choso."

"He makes you happy in ways I can't." Gojo points out, shrugging casually.

You scoff and words leave your lips faster than you intend them to, "That's not true."

"Sweetheart, I'm using you." Gojo emphasizes, "Stop forgetting that. Y-You..." He struggles to get this part out but he knows he has to. He has to create that distance between you and him, "You're nothing more than a t-"

"Don't." You cut off, shutting your eyes as your expression sours, "Don't you dare say something you know you'll regret even more, Satoru. C'mon now, we've been doing pretty good thus far but if you call me a fucking tool that's gonna fuck it all up-"

"That's what you are for me though." He cuts off. The claim didn't even sound right leaving his lips. His ability to be an asshole toward you has faded entirely.

"No, it's not." You argue back, opening your eyes and seeing his head turned away from you.

He swallows "Yes, it is-"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm nothing more than a tool for you, then." You challenge, your gaze unwavering, "If that's the truth, look at me and say it."

Gojo struggles, refusing to meet your gaze, "You're-"

"I said look at me, Satoru." You emphasize.

He does, very slowly. "You... are nothing more... than a..." Gojo trails off, staring so intently into your eyes, losing himself, his mind, his breath, all of it as he can't even finish his statement properly.

"That's what the hell I thought," You utter, "Stop trying to make me hate you when I don't have to."

"You're supposed to," Gojo claims.

You don't know what that means. You don't know what any of it means. When will the confusion end? When will it all make sense? When will you get the chance to have a clear and focused mind??

A simple and unrelaxed sigh leaves you, "Okay."

"That's it? Just okay-"

"I don't know how to feel right now, Satoru." You huff out, turning away, "I don't understand anything and I hate not understanding shit. I don't know why you do the things you do, I don't know if I love Choso, I don't know if I still hate you, I don't know anything!" You rant, "I have so many fucking questions. There's too much going on and too little being explained to me and I can't take it anymore."

"I'm sorry, I really am-"

"That's all you ever are. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry, when does it end Satoru?" You whine, so beyond tired of it all, "When do I get to understand? When are you going to stop keeping me in the dark so that I can help you?"

"You can't help me," Gojo claims.

You grit your teeth, "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." He argues.

"Earlier, you said we're the same. I didn't know what you meant, and I still don't but, if that's the case then the only person that can help you is me so, god damnit Satoru, let me in. Open up to me for fucks sake!"

He's like a damn wall, something that even you, his literal weakness, couldn't get through. Nothing you say will make him reveal the truth to you.

Gojo says your name in a chillingly calm tone, his eyes going all dull again, "I'll let you in when the time is right-"

"When?! When will the time be right?? When are you going to let me help you?"

"That's the fucking problem!" He snaps so suddenly that it almost frightens you. Just like that morning, it's another random outburst of anger, "That's why I'm in this damn mess, b-because of you. Y-You and your fucking kindness. You should hate me right now but here you are too busy trying to help me? To fucking understand me?"

"How can I not? This is your second time getting upset with me within the past twenty-four hours and you fucking cried into my arms! Am I really expected to ignore that?"

"Yes! About two months ago, you were hellbent on hating me but just because I shed some damn tears you're ready to fucking baby me? I don't need that from you, I don't need anything from you." He's so clearly rambling by this point, not even realizing what's coming out of his mouth, "I just want you to keep hating me like you always do." He continues, his voice angered to mask his hurt.

You go quiet for a minute and just listen to him.

"Stop trying to figure me out like I'm some damn puzzle. There's no problem for you to solve here; I need you to fuck people, not care about me. I need this list cleared, I need it to all just be over." He spits out, his voice wavering at the end, "T-That's all I need, sweetheart. Stop tryna' understand me, just finish the fucking list and let it be over-"

"Gojo Satoru," You cut him off, the use of his full name making him freeze. His mouth shuts like a trained dog and he feels as though his blood just ran still. "I'm not gonna stop trying to understand you because I'm in this mess with you, whether I like it or not. I've been paying attention to you all day, y'know that right?"

He simply shrugs, too frozen to even speak anymore.

You take a deep breath, calming your heightened nerves, "Even a blind man could see that something happened that triggered you recently. You've never blown up on me or broken down on me like today. And, dare I say, I think it was something from Sukuna's party that started all this."

He swallows, hard.

"Were you the one that called the cops?" You question.

"N-No," His voice is shaky but not because he's lying. He's nervous. "That uh, t-that was some guy who was pissed about getting knocked out, I think."

"Okay, so what happened while we separated, Satoru? Because you've been snappy and emotional ever since. First, you cursed me out about calling myself a whore, then you cried when I said I love the way you kiss me, and now you got mad at me because I want to understand and help you. So tell me, what happened?"

"...Nothing." He mumbles.

You stare at him with this look in your eyes, deciding to give him one last chance to tell you because you're so beyond tired of the stress his answers and mood swings are bringing you, "Are you sure? If you don't tell me now... I'm going upstairs. Then, I'm gonna finish the list and I'll go on with my life without caring anymore."

"I-I..." Gojo's heart sinks, the moment presented to him so perfect.

"This is your last, and final, chance to open up to me. Speak now," You sigh, "Or forever hold your peace."

His eyes soften, "I can't tell you."

You nod your head slowly, "Okay." You then turn away from him and look down to make sure you have all your things, "When you're ready to grow some balls and explain yourself, I'll be ready. But until then," You move to open the car door, "I'm done with this shit."

Your feet swing out the car and just as you're about to step out, he calls your name, making you freeze. Gojo can't tell you the truth but he means it honestly when he says, "I'm sorry for loving you."

You squeeze your eyes shut, "What does that apology do for me? Hm?"

"That's why you're in this mess." Gojo explains, just barely, "Because I stupidly fell for you, you're wrapped up in my bullshit."

"You're still confusing me." You point out.

"I'm not trying to explain it. I can only give you that as of right now. All of this is because I made the mistake of loving you and for that, I'm sorry."

"Okay." You hum, your voice small and exhausted, "Then," You turn around and meet his eyes one last time, "I forgive you."

"W-What-"

"For loving me, Satoru. It's not a crime," You say, mocking a comment he made to you earlier, "You're allowed to love me. So, for that, and that only, I forgive you."

Those words healed so many more wounds in his heart than you realized. It was like that was all he ever needed to hear. If Gojo's mistake was loving you and that's what caused this, then you forgive him.

If in some twisted way, his feelings started the list, you forgive him.

Deep down, you know the truth will be revealed someday but, you can't keep stressing yourself over it-- you're digging yourself into a hole and opening up doors that can't be closed. By some miracle, you could recognize that it was best you stopped asking all your questions and instead moved on.

That's all you can do; move on.

Complete the list.

Nothing else matters.

Free yourself from this cursed predicament and live your life.

That's what you want, that's what Gojo wants, that's what's needed.

Freedom.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

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alavestineneas · 6 months

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i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being seen made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors. ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,'' Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods. ''I'll take you,'' it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there. ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,'' she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister? Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

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tumb1rprincess · 8 months

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Okay, I just binged the rest of the Hazbin Hotel episodes.

Carmilla and Zestial are hot. And Carmilla is so interesting. I loved her and Vaggie's song. I actually didn't expect them to reveal who killed the angel so quickly. But I love how they're showing that even some of the top overlords in Hell care. The only question now is what Alastor is going to do with this information.

I love Vox. He has a great voice and his rivalry with Alastor is hilarious.

Sir Pentious is such a fucking loser and I adore him.

Nifty almost reminds me of Little My from the Moomins with her little gremlin energy. I don't know if we'll get any serious moments with her like we have with the other characters, but I guess we'll see.

I love how Alastor's room is a literal bayou/swamp. And him eating the whole fucking deer was hilarious.

I didn't expect for some of the others to find out about Angel and Val's toxic relationship so quickly, but I did like how it showed an uncommon angle: how trying to save someone from an abusive relationship can make things worse for the victim. I can't think of any other media off the top of my head that shows that kind of thing. But with Charlie and Husker knowing about this (and Cherri Bomb if we're counting Addict as canon), how long before everyone else finds out? And what are their reactions going to be?

I haven't been the biggest Angel/Husker shipper, but holy hell, am I on board now. Husker once being an overlord and pretty much implying that he sold his soul to Alastor much like how Angel did with Val was a development I didn't expect, as well as drawing parallels between his addiction to gambling and Angel's addiction to drugs. Hell, I really didn't except this angle they took with Husker. We only saw his bitter attitude in the pilot, and we still get plenty of that here, but I didn't expect him to also be a good people reader and being able to see how the other characters really are and what they're hiding. He's almost empathetic in a way.

All of the songs are fucking bangers, Poison especially. I listened to it once before the show and I liked it okay, but seeing it in context, it hits you ten times harder. I almost cried.

The show is so good at making the viewer feel so uncomfortable with how Val treats Angel, it's almost too hard to watch. I've seen shows tackle abuse before and they've done it well, but this was very raw and in your face and it makes your insides twist. And I love it.

Looking at the show's cast, Vivzi got so many people with Broadway experience and I love that. I feel like a lot of popular media nowadays just like to cast popular actors regardless of whether they can actually sing or not (I'm looking at you live action Disney remakes). But every actor who's sung so far is fucking good at it and it shows.

So far, I am in love, love, love with this show. I remember first watching the pilot when it was causing some controversy and I fell in love with it immediately. It almost became a comfort thing for me for a while. I was watching it over and over during 2020 when Covid was running rampant and everything was shit. I'm so proud of Vivzie and everyone else for their hard work and dedication and love. This show is so different from everything else out there. I hope now that it's out, even more people can fall in love with it.

#spoilers #carmilla #zestial #vaggie #alastor #vox #sir pentious #nifty #angel dust #valentino #charlie morningstar #husker #cherri bomb #vivziepop #hazbin hotel

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ruewrote · 10 months

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𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑑.

PAIRING: carl gallagher x gn!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lull by vraell [guitar version] WORD COUNT: 538 REQUESTED: yes

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leaning back in your chair, rubbing your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon you sat in front of your computer screen staring at the unfinished work.

a tired sigh leaving your lips as you swiped the piece of hair that didn't quite make it into the rushed ponytail that you created earlier.

starting to bite the skin around your nails as you watched the cursor blink, almost mimicking you. writing for hours hadn't gotten you anywhere, still having to do two other assignments too, fear started creeping up on you.

it had been the same fear that you had felt countless times before, the fear of failure. despite all of your hard work and preparation, you just couldn't escape the nagging feeling that you'd not be good enough.

maybe it’s because you're afraid of what your parents will think of you or maybe it’s simply because you are terrified of not living up to your own expectations. whatever the reason was, the fear was very real.

tears welled up in your eyes as the panic set in, well that was all until a knock was heard from your bedroom window. looking over confused made eye contact with a very excited carl holding up a bag of what looked like groceries?

letting out a faint chuckle as you stood up from your bed, opening the window and actually being face to face with him felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

"let me in i got the good shit," he grinned at you as he shook the plastic bag.

squeezing your eyes shut tightly, trying to stop the tears from flowing overwhelmed by the kind gesture. shoulders shaking as you slumped in on yourself.

carls smile dropped, throwing the bag on your bed behind you before jumping over your window. carefully pulling you into his arms as you cried into his shoulder. your tears wetting the material but he couldn't careless and neither could you.

"it's okay, im here. you're alright," one of his hands tangled in your hair and one on your lower back, tugging you closer to him.

that's how you stood for a good five minutes, carl giving you time and comfort. this was all that you needed over these past two weeks instead of stressing yourself out over pointless things.

the two of you now moved over to your bed binging on the sweet treats that he'd brought over, some christmas movie that you'd both seen a million times together playing in the background as you joked with each other.

explaining to him how everything just got to be too much.

"i mean i can't say too much since i've not got the best track record of doing my own school work nevermind worrying about it," that made you laugh, looking down and picking at the fuzzy material of your socks.

"but you've got a good head on your shoulders, almost perfect grades and you still make time for the people 'round you? dude i'd say you're living the life right now. a bit of a boring life but ya know!"

narrowing your eyes at him, playfully pinching his side making him yelp and jump away from you pouting.

"rude."

#carl gallagher #carl gallagher x reader #carl gallagher oneshots #carl gallagher imagines #carl gallagher fanfics #shameless #shameless x reader #shameless oneshots #shameless imagines #shameless fanfics #x reader #oneshots #imagines #fanfics #ruewrote

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dreamcubed · 7 months

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i don't wanna live forever | mattheo riddle x reader

song; i don't wanna live forever [taylor swift, zayn] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw!reader genre; ex2l, reconciliation, ex-lovers, angst, smut, hurt comfort(ish) word count; 2,8k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, toxic relationship, jealousy, controlling behaviour, mattheo is not a good person, neither is y/n, borderline cheating (not on y/n or mattheo), smoking, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, arguments, drunk sex, piv, fingering, degradation, ass-slapping summary; ever since you began dating, you and mattheo had been a fiery and toxic mess of breaking up and getting back together - only, when you finally try and date someone else, you realise that you miss and crave the unhealthy pattern that came with mattheo riddle

MINORS DNI! 18+ content.

i don't typically write smut but this oneshot felt incomplete without it. so, enjoy... 2 year anniversary & 1k celebration gift haha

masterlist

"wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life."

——————————————

"I mean, why did you even date him in the first place?" Cho asked you, chewing on a chip, "He's literally You-Know-Who's son."

You sighed, used to this conversation from every person you knew, "You can't judge someone by their parents."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Cho, his dad went MIA for thirteen years when he was one and his mum was in prison until last year. He hardly knows them."

"But," she said, "He was raised by the Malfoys and he was sorted into Slytherin."

You rolled your eyes.

She shrugged, "I'm just saying, the red flags were there."

You didn't reply, moving your gaze over to the group of Slytherin boys sat laughing with each other while they ate. Your ex-boyfriend, Mattheo Riddle, was sat among them.

It felt too definitive saying ex, however, since you two broke up and made up constantly, and had for the last year and a half, much to your friends' horror. You argued with him, you cried over him, you talked shit about him - but you loved him. And the love you had was a burning flame of passion, but it wasn't healthy. You had broken up a week ago, which was actually the longest you had gone without talking.

Normally, you would have caved by now, but you felt different this time. You felt immensely stubborn.

"It's time you stayed apart for good," Cho said, just as Mattheo's eyes locked on to yours, "He's bad for you."

You knew she was right, which was why you accepted when a nice Hufflepuff boy asked you to Hosmeade that weekend.

***

The bouquet of pink and red flowers being presented to you really should have given you butterflies, maybe even made you squeal, but they horrified you. Nonetheless, you smiled and said, "Awh, thank you. You shouldn't have," before taking Leon's extended arm and letting him lead you to the Three Broomsticks. He pulled the chair out for you, and you forced another smile on to your face.

"I've been wanting to ask you out for ages," he said excitedly, "But you were still on and off with Riddle."

You hummed.

"I'm glad you're done with him. He didn't treat you right."

It was mutual. You were just as toxic as Mattheo.

"But I will."

"Well, thank you, Leon," you said gently, "We'll see, won't we?"

He beamed at you, "You're so beautiful."

Surely such a comment should make you blush, right?

***

"How was the date?" Cho wiggled her eyebrows back in the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"It was... good," you said, placing the flowers on your desk haphazardly.

"Just good?"

"He's really nice, I- I just..."

Cho frowned, "He's boring?"

You shook your head, "No, he's funny and interesting."

"Then what's the issue?"

You shrugged, "I don't know."

"Give him a chance then, babe."

***

Leon wrote you poems, he took you on cute dates, he fed you, he walked you to classes, and he hung off your every word. But your eyes would always linger over to Mattheo - because despite everything Leon did for you, the only time you felt butterflies anymore was when you made eye contact with your ex-boyfriend. That glittery spark had never once burnt out in those long eighteen months you were on and off. Every argument and break up only seemed to make it burn stronger and brighter.

And the thing was, Leon was too healthy for you: too sane, too trusting, too normal. Mattheo had turned you into a raging jealous monster, as you had him, and it was part of the reason you were on and off. Neither of you had ever actually cheated, but if you got too close to a boy? He would start an argument and scream at you until you yelled back that you were over. Two days later, he would corner you, never truly apologising but kissing and making up, muttering how he loved you before fucking you until the sun came up.

And you had done the same thing to him.

That was the issue with Leon: he was friends with everyone. Some of his closest friends were girls. Were you jealous? No. But you knew if you began to develop feelings for him then you would become more jealous than an innocent boy like him could handle. You would ruin him the way Mattheo ruined you, fucking him up for any future romantic endeavours.

It drove you crazy how respectful he was, how he didn't bat an eye at you saying you were going to study with a male friend. You needed more push and pull than what he was giving you: you craved a fight, because you craved the crazed passion that came with it.

Yet, three weeks passed by and Mattheo had made no effort to do anything more than glare daggers at you and Leon from across the room.

Then the Christmas holidays hit.

***

A rich Hufflepuff in your year - not Leon - was hosting a house party at their gigantic home, and you had scored an invite. In fact, so had everyone in your year, including a few people from the year above and year below. Leon had immediately owled you to say that he would pick you up before heading there, but you knew that as you patted on concealer and highlight, you were thinking about Mattheo's reaction when he saw you. He had hated when you dressed too revealing, saying that he could see guys' eyes on you - and he wasn't wrong, you just didn't care.

You had purposefully dressed yourself in a tiny black miniskirt and matching bralette, which as a combination left very little to the imagination. With the fishnets you adorned as well, it was borderline lingerie.

Maybe Leon would finally argue with you and make you feel something.

"Y/N, you look gorgeous," he beamed, not a trace of anger on his perfect face when you opened the door to him.

"Thank you," you said, fighting the urge to sigh, "You don't look so shabby yourself."

"Shall we?" he held out his hand to you, which you accepted.

***

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, and you made a quick motion to catch up by downing two shots. Leon watched you in amazement.

"You want one?" you asked, going to pour another drink.

He shook his head, "I don't drink."

"No?" you paused in your movements, thinking that maybe this would be the time you finally argued, "I drink a lot."

"Each to their own," he shrugged, "I'll look out for you."

"Thanks, then," you said awkwardly, "I'm gonna go for a smoke, you coming?" Had you partially said that as another attempt at angering him? Yes. But you also were craving nicotine.

He shook his head, "I'm good, we'll catch up in a bit, yeah?"

You nodded absently, pouring a third shot for yourself before creating a mixed drink and heading outside to the smokers' area. And, there he was, Mattheo Riddle stood with a cigarette between his lips and a drink in his hand.

Pulling out a cigarette that you had tucked in your bralette, you boldly walked up to the group of Slytherin boys and asked, "Anyone got a light?"

Nott, who was right next you, passed you his, but you never took your eyes off Mattheo. His eyes glided up and down your exposed body as you lit your cigarette and took a long drag, relishing in the taste. You watched his jaw clench.

"You and Duggard official yet?" Berkshire asked, referring to Leon. At his question, a borderline growl erupted from Mattheo.

You shrugged vaguely, "We'll see."

"Will you?" Mattheo asked coldly.

You exhaled some smoke, "Well, he's handsome, smart, funny and attentive to my every need."

"Oh, is he?" Mattheo stepped closer to you.

Chuckling, you said, "He's a very kind man."

Mattheo scoffed, pushing past you with a mutter of, "That's not what you need."

He was right, of course, but he didn't need to know that.

You turned your focus to your cigarette.

"He's not the same without you," Nott said casually, dropping his finished cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

"No?" you murmured, a smile tugging on your lips.

"He hardly sleeps, hardly eats, is angry all the time," he continued, "So, please, stop your little charade with Duggard and get back with him already."

"Who says it's a charade?"

You heard Berkshire scoff, "C'mon, L/N, everyone sees you stare at Matt all the time. Everyone except Duggard, that is."

Biting your lip, you ashed your cigarette, "Well, maybe Riddle should man up and apologise."

***

The party raged on, and as the alcohol flowed through your system, so did the music. Leon didn't seem that keen on the party atmosphere, so you resorted to dancing with Cho and other Ravenclaw girls. That was until you felt a guy come up behind you and begin dancing with you.

You turned around to see a Gryffindor boy from the year above, and he wasn't half-bad looking, so in your drunken state you allowed it to happen. Cho gave you a sceptical look, but didn't intervene.

A hand tugged on your wrist, and you looked up to see Leon.

"Can we talk?" he mouthed, and you nodded absently, following him to the quieter room that was the kitchen.

"What?" you said a little harshly.

"I'd appreciate if you wouldn't dance with other guys," he said, his tone completely without malice.

Your instinct in these situations was to get aggravated, so you snapped, "Well, if you actually knew how to party, I wouldn't have to."

Leon stared at you blankly, "I'm sorry."

For fuck's sake, why did he have to sound so genuine?

"I'll try and come out on the dancefloor if that's what you want."

"Fucking hell," you cursed.

"What? What is it?" he sounded worried.

"Why don't you argue with me?" you exasperated, tugging at your scalp.

Leon frowned, "That's no way to resolve things."

"It's not about resolving things," you snapped, "It's about passion, it's about the spark, it's- it's..." you trailed off, "Rowena, I feel crazy."

"I understand your relationship with Riddle wasn't the easiest one, but I want to help you learn what a calm and healthy relationship is," Leon said gently, "Because you deserve better."

"Are you even listening to me?" you pulled your hands down your face, "I don't want peace. I want passion. I want twin flame bruises. I want a push and pull."

"I-"

You cut him off, "Mattheo would have beat the shit out of that guy for dancing with me."

"That guy probably didn't know you were taken-"

"Mattheo made sure that everybody knew I was his," you said firmly, feeling tears prick at your eyes, "I just need to argue, Leon - I crave it."

"Well, I can't give that to you."

"Y/N," a voice spoke in a growl behind you.

You span around, being faced with the one man who could make you feel electric. And that was when your emotions crashed all over you: upset and anger expressed through tears and yelling.

"Why are you taking so fucking long?" you screamed.

But he wasn't looking at you - no, he was glaring at Leon. "I think you've had long enough with my girl, Duggard," he drawled.

"She's not your girl anymore," you heard Leon reply, before he said to you, "What did you mean when you asked him why he's taking so long?"

You saw Mattheo clench his fist, and you grabbed his wrist to halt him, "Fucking talk to me, Riddle."

His eyes snapped to yours, "I will never be Riddle��to you, princess."

"Considering we've hardly spoken the last few weeks, I'd say you are."

"Guess I'll have to remind you who you are to me, then," he chuckled darkly, pulling you away from Leon. The Hufflepuff boy went to follow you worriedly, but you glared at him and he stayed put. Part of you felt bad: a tiny, sober part.

You found yourself in an upstairs bathroom, pressed against a cool tile wall.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I can't promise I'll be a good person about it."

"You're never a good person about anything," you muttered, relishing in his hot breath fanning on to your face.

He smirked, "We both know that's the way you like me."

You hummed, "Fuck me, Mattheo."

"I'm not sure you deserve a good fuck after everything you've done."

"I never fucked him."

"No?" he chuckled, "Good."

And then his lips were on yours, tasting, sucking, nibbling every centimetre. His hand quickly trailed to underneath your skirt, rubbing your clit through your scandalously thin panties.

He pulled away from the kiss, "Don't ever wear anything like this again," he kissed you again, "At least not in public."

"Whatever you want."

He hummed his approval, pushing your panties aside to push two fingers inside of you.

"Please, I just want your dick."

"Yeah?" he murmured, "How bad?"

"So bad, please," you begged, your tear and mascara stained cheeks enhancing the puppy dog eyes you gave him. Mattheo had to admit, he loved seeing you so desperate for him.

"You really don't deserve this," he sighed, unzipping his trousers.

You licked your lips as you watched him pull his rock hard dick out.

"I can't wait to feel your mouth on it again," he muttered, "But I'm feeling nice, so I'll just give you what you want."

Mattheo bent you over the sink countertop, lifting up your skirt and slapping your ass in the process. He pulled your panties further aside.

"Don't act like you don't just miss being inside me," you forced out, making him slap your ass harder.

To your surprise, he said, "Of course I fucking did."

And then he pushed inside you, quickly and without warning, causing you to gasp loudly.

"So fucking wet."

You arched your ass up to him, moaning.

"I don't think I'm gonna last long."

You were hardly able to reply, as he had begun to run circles on your clit as well. But, you agreed with him, as the absence of this feeling had made your body hypersensitive to Mattheo's every touch.

"Fuck, you're such a whore," he murmured, picking up the pace relentlessly.

"Your whore," you managed to say, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt your orgasm build up.

"I bloody well hope so," he chuckled.

And then, as you both came closer to ecstasy, things went silent - the only noise being his groans, your moans, and the sound of skin slapping.

"Matty, I'm gonna co- fuck!" you cursed, feeling your release wash over you in red hot passion, your vision going white as your every limb shook. You didn't normally orgasm so easily.

He continued to fuck your overstimulated pussy, gripping your hips so hard it would probably leave bruises. "Gonna fill you up," he choked out, his breathing growing heavier as you finally felt his dick throb inside you, signifying his release.

Mattheo stilled, staying inside you for a moment as you both processed the situation. Eventually, he pulled out, helping you turn over so you were sat on the counter facing him. You were both panting.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, and your eyes widened.

He had never outright apologised before.

"I'm sorry too," you mumbled back.

"I love you so much," he pressed his forehead against yours, "I just I-"

"I love you too. So much."

He hummed, "I just- I don't understand my father. I don't want to live forever."

You frowned, "Why not?"

"Because," he took your hands in his, "Without you, I'd just be living in vain."

A smile stretched widely on your face, "Want to leave this stupid party?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

And as you left the party, hand in hand and evidently in a post-sex haze, Mattheo said - loud enough for a few close people to hear - "I'm gonna marry you, you know that?"

And you did.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 25/02/2024 —> 09/03/2024 published; 09/03/2024 edited; —/—/——

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cemeteryspider · 6 months

Text

Dearie~

Alastor x Singer! Reader

Summary: Why the Radio Demon left and what happened to his lovely girlfriend

Trigger Warnings: Violence, gore, blood, injury, manipulation, emotional distress

Word Count: 1350

The day you appeared in Hell, literally nothing changed. Everyone was still dealing in souls, threatening others, and everything worked as it had.

However, your life had turned upside down, quite literally. Minding your business, walking to work, you were killed in a robbery gone wrong. Then an instant later you were in Hell, your soul judged without mercy.

You scratched your neck where you remembered the knife sliding across, and took in your surroundings from your seat on the concrete pavement.

Everything was red and the people walking around barely resemble people anymore. Some were openly fighting, drawing weapons in the street. Others were, less than discreetly, doing drug deals. Some even had their teeth bared, and were ripping flesh off of decaying corpses.

Inhaling deeply, you continued your stride through the crimson streets of Hell, mirroring the casual walk you'd taken on Earth just moments before.

As you passed by a store, your reflection in the glass revealed the haunting beauty of Hell's transformation — the scar on your neck, the flapper-esque dress, and the crimson-hooved heels, each detail etched in infernal elegance. A huge coat with a fluffy fur collar and wrist cuffs. In your hair a single red feather.

It was a departure from your usual stage outfit but somehow it felt right in every single way possible.

With large eyes and a massive fur coat, you resembled a doe, the details carefully chosen to accentuate this striking similarity in the infernal surroundings.

With each step through the demonic streets, you couldn't shake the innate grace and vulnerability that now adorned you — reminiscent of a doe navigating the perilous woods.

As the crimson night descended, you graced the stage of an infernal club, your voice weaving sweet melodies and your body moving to the haunting rhythm, a living echo of your former life.

~~~

This went on for quite some time until your manager said they had someone you would want to meet. They wrung their wrists leaving you in an empty room.

In an instant a shadow turned into a smiling man with a microphone as a cane.

As his clawed fingers extended to meet yours, he greeted, "Hello, Miss, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I've been a fan of your performances for quite some time."

His voice sounded like it was straight out of the radio you used to listen to as a kid with your mother. You stood from your seat and met his hand with your pristine gloved ones.

"Likewise"

This marked the inception of a perfect union, and the palpable electricity between you and Alastor sparked a connection that transcended the realms of Hell and Earth.

Later that week you quit your job at the club and began singing on his radio show. Sometimes a couple songs a day and others you would sing for hours into the microphone, and Alastor, as you would come to know him, kept you busy. Meetings and lunches were a daily occurance. Running around the Pride Ring with him might just have been the highlight of your afterlife.

Soon the talk of the town was Alastor and his new "girlfriend". The Overlord who took Hell by storm was now bringing a new face into his empire, despite many listeners not knowing what they looked like.

~~~

"Lucifer, Rosie, I can't believe you would bring that up"

"What dear, it was just lovely when we heard your voice for the first time"

"Yeah and I cried after because I was so afraid everyone hated the performance"

"Everyone loved you dear not to mention the encore! Cannibal Town has never heard cheers so loud"

Alastor stormed into the Emporium where you and Rosie were enjoying cups of tea.

"Hello Rosie, Dearie, may I sit"

You gestured to the open seat next to you and he sat down, smile never faltering.

"What's wrong darling" You tentatively put your hand over his clawed one.

"Vox asked me to take part in his atrocious video service to aid him in acquiring new viewers" His smile darkened as he said this. "He wanted to use us for his monetary gain"

"We just won't do it then darling, it has always been us against the world, has it not", Your eyelashes batted against your cheeks and a calming hum emanated from your throat.

Finally, his fingers intertwined with yours, a subtle relaxation spreading across his stern features as a small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips

"We were just about to talk about Susan and her latest stunt" Rosie said, attempting to lighten the mood, and successfully Alastor's mind was off of Vox.

~~~

Still time passed and Vox could not seem to let the rejection go.

"So Sugar how's about a deal" Vox caught up to you after leaving Cannibal Town with the Venison that Alastor asked you to grab for dinner that night.

"Vox, neither him nor I will be taking a deal from you, and I would appreciate it if you stopped asking" Your pace quickened but he sped up to match you.

"But Doll think of the good things we could do together" The TV stood in front of you and grabbed your shoulders to keep you in place.

"I would suggest removing your hands before I remove them myself" Alastor appeared behind me, and Vox immediately let go and started his defense.

You just kept walking as the two started to argue in the streets.

~~~

Alastor paced the studio in the minutes after the broadcast ended. Finally you had enough of it.

"Alastor, what is the matter"

The deer in the headlights look would have made you chuckle in any other scenario. He stopped pacing and looked into your eyes.

"Vox has had the thought that he only needs one of us to make a success story for him"

Your brows scrunched and reached out to him.

"Darling we always have been a package deal"

"Yes, Dearie, but it seems that Vox will turn to violence in his child-like way of solving problems"

You embraced Alastor and inhaled his scent. A metallic musky scent that you have related to him the moment you were in a room alone together.

"I promise we will find a way to win, Darling"

"We shall, mon cherie"

~~~

Things got worse and worse from there. The two competitors just kept fighting and ruining the other's broadcasts. With the tension rising, something had to break.

A fight that left everyone with bruises and cuts, was finally over with Vox towering above you. The Vees stood victorious surrounding you and Alastor.

Vox made a deal with you, after the gruesome fight between the TV Demon and Alastor. For just two small things he would let the Radio Demon live and walk away. Just that Alastor had to leave town and that you stayed with Vox and became something of a co-host.

This was the deal. Everything you worked for had led to this moment. Alastor was on the ground bleeding heavily with Vox's new friends towering over him ready to end him with specially made angelic weapons.

As Valentino's blade pierced through Alastor's side, the Radio Demon didn't even flinch, his gaze fixed on you, the anchor in his tumultuous world. He tried to crawl closer to your spot on the ground. Vox's sinister smile loomed over you, and as you exhaled the breath you'd been holding, the realization settled in — he had won. Vox had you both right where he wanted you.

"Yes, Vox, just release him" A cold, blue flame materialized, casting an eerie glow on the contract before you. Your hands trembled as you reluctantly etched your signature at the bottom, sealing a fate you never anticipated. With the curly writing set in stone, your soul belonged to the Vees.

"Perfect, quite a lovely signature beautiful, I can't wait to see your pretty face light up all the screens in this city" Alastor tried to reach for you just as Vox zapped you into V-Tower.

"Wait just let me say good-bye"

Vox just chuckled.

"Sorry Babe, not in the contract"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hellaverse #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor #hazbin #valentino #vox #hazbin hotel vees #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #alastor x reader

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writingwithciara · 7 months

Text

He Never Will ~Jack Hughes~

summary: jack loves his best friend and only wants to protect her from the worlds shittiest boyfriend

word count: 3.6k

pairing: jack hughes x reader, reader x shitty boyfriend

notes: based off the song by alexander stewart (my birthday twin 💕). i've recently become obsessed with this song & haven't put anything out for jack yet so i figured i'd write this for him [TW: toxic relationship with abuse]

masterlist

jack was in love with his best friend. it was cliche and he knew it but he didn’t care. the only thing he cared about was making sure she didn’t find out.

her boyfriend could tell though. he saw the way jack looked at y/n & he hated hearing him talk about her to other people as if he was the one dating her.

it was like a game to hunter though. well, more of a test really.

he had suspicions that y/n was into jack so every once in a while, he would pick a fight with her just to see if she ran crying to jack. and most of the time, she did.

when she didn’t run to her best friend, she would run to his brother or the captain of his hockey team. but to hunter, it didn't matter who she ran to. The point was that she ran to another guy and he didn't like it.

but she always went back to him, no matter how bad he treated her and jack hated that. he knew she deserved better and he wanted to be the one she chose. jack wanted her to stay on one of the many nights she ran to him.

but she never did.

if he don't know what he's got now, he never will

it was the night before jack was supposed to head up to toronto for the all-star game when y/n came back to his place.

the tears were pouring down her face as jack let her into his apartment without a word. he could never bring himself to say i told you so, especially not when she was in such a vulnerable state.

a few minutes of silence passed as they sat on the end of his bed before jack spoke up.

"so what happened tonight?"

"i don't even really know. i got home from work and he was in the middle of trashing my apartment. he said something about me not being faithful to him, which is total bullshit. and i know we have our fights and shit on a daily basis, and that's alright. but tonight felt different. like if i had stayed any longer, maybe he would've hit me or something."

jack looked at her face for any sign of a mark, fearing that she may have been hiding something from him. but there was nothing so he let it slide.

"i'm gonna take you home and i want you to pack a bag as quickly as you possibly can."

"why?" she wiped her eyes and looked at jack.

"you're coming with me to toronto."

"are you nuts? that's only going to make this worse, jack."

"i'm going to be gone for a week and there's no way in hell that i'm leaving you alone with him for that long with no guarantee of safety."

"i'll still have nico. and luke even."

"please just do this for me? i'm worried about leaving you with hunter. i swear the kid's just begging to get his ass beat."

"jack, if i promise to go with you to toronto, will you promise to try to get along with hunter when we get back?"

"y/n, i've already tried. he's a lost cause honestly."

"can we not have this conversation again? i'm tired of hearing it." y/n sighed with frustration and stood up. she began to pace around jack's room.

"until you see how much better you are than hunter, i'm gonna keep bringing it up. and the fact that you've heard it more than once should be enough to tell you something!" jack raised his voice but regretted it immediately when y/n started to cry. "please just listen to me okay? look, i care about you and i only want what's best for you. i'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything. i'm sorry if i upset you." jack pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back as she sobbed.

y/n cried for a good 10 minutes before she finally spoke again.

"i'm not upset with you, jack. i could never be. i'm upset with myself because i know i shouldn't be with someone like hunter but i love him so much and i can't just walk away from that." she looked up at jack and smiled when he wiped her tears away. "please don't hate me for staying with him."

"i could never ever hate you. i hope you know that." he rubbed her back soothingly. "and although i don't support you staying with him, i'm always here if you need me and i'm never ever leaving your side, okay?"

"okay." y/n nodded with a shy smile.

"so, will you please come to toronto with me?"

jack and y/n ended up meeting up with luke and nico before the boys took y/n back o her apartment to get her stuff. luckily for them, hunter was nowhere to be found.

y/n packed a bag quickly and left a little note for hunter. jack didn't agree with that idea, fearing hunter would come find her and do something terrible. but luke and nico assured him that y/n would be safe with them while at the game.

the 4 of them got in the car and were on the plane in no time. y/n took the window seat and jack sat next to her.

"what's going on in your mind?"

"part of me just...i don't know...i feel a little bad for hunter. maybe he's only like this because he didn't get a whole lot of positive attention growing up."

"don't feel bad for that piece of shit, y/n. he doesn't deserve you. and his lack of positive attention is no excuse for the way he treats you. i really hope you understand that someday." jack sighed and changed the topic.

for the rest of the flight, nico did most of the talking while luke did everything he could to keep a smile on y/n's face, even if it was only a small one. he accepted it either way.

when they got to the hotel they were staying at, the lady at the front desk gave them 2 keys. jack handed one to y/n and the group went up to their rooms. y/n wasn't a fan of being alone but at least the boys were just next door if she needed them.

the first night in toronto was not great. y/n woke up from a nightmare screaming and she couldn't bring herself to stop crying. jack heard her scream and was in her room in seconds. his heart broke when he saw the state she was in so he stayed with her for the next two nights.

on draft day, y/n was sitting with nico and luke as they watched the event unfold. she excused herself to use the bathroom and while she was gone, her phone buzzed in her seat.

it was a series of texts from hunter. nico and luke took it upon themselves to respond.

the two boys shared a look before y/n returned. she noticed their weird behavior and raised an eyebrow.

"you weirdos doing alright?"

"yeah. never better." nico lied and turned his attention back to the draft.

"hunter texted you while you were in the bathroom and we answered him."

"luke!" nico shot his teammate a look before looking over at y/n beside him.

"what did you guys do that for?" y/n opened her phone and went through the messages. "i could've handled it, you guys."

"we're all tired of him treating you like you mean nothing to him. that's not how you deserve to be treated." luke sighed.

"we're sorry, y/n." nico sighed. "we just love you so much."

"i'm not sorry."

"luke!" nico shot him another glare and rolled his eyes.

"i'm sorry, okay? but it had to be said. y/n deserves better than what she has and if you guys want to tell me different, then go right ahead. but we all know the truth." luke sighed. y/n placed her hand on his shoulder and hugged him.

"i know you guys are looking out for me, and i love you for it. so much." y/n looked over at nico. "can you guys let jack know that i'm gonna head back to new jersey before hunter gets here? i need to go pack my stuff."

"are you leaving him?"

"yeah." she stood up and sighed. "i don't know where i'm gonna go though."

"crash at jack's. you know he won't mind."

"yeah because he's in love with her." luke chuckled, earning another glare and a wide-eyed expression from y/n.

"that's supposed to be a secret, luke."

"oh, my bad. i thought she knew."

"that's a conversation for another day. i got something to focus on right now. but i won't forget you told me." y/n kissed luke's head and gave nico a hug before heading back to the hotel to pack. she left a note for jack because she knew the boys would forget to tell him.

when everything was done, y/n found herself back on the plane to new jersey.

the flight wasn't long but it gave her some time to think about what luke told her. she was shocke but everything was hitting her all at once.

had jack always felt this way?

when the plane landed, y/n got in the first cab she could find and headed to her apartment. as the car approached the building, y/n was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread. she didn't want to end up running into hunter on the off chance he hadn't actually gone to toronto.

she slowly unlocked the front door and made her way inside. when there was no sign of hunter, y/n let out a sigh of relief before making her way to the bedroom.

she grabbed her suitcase and started throwing all her clothes into it. unfortunately, she only made it through half her clothes before she heard the door open and close. she tried to hide the fact that she was leaving but hunter entered the room before she could do anything.

"why would you feel the need to lie about where you were going?"

"you wouldn't have let me go support my best friends, hunter. i had no other choice. lying was my only option. plus i needed a damn break."

"what could you have possibly needed a break from?"

"from you. you're constantly keeping track of my whereabouts and you won't let me spend any time with my friends. the only time i get to see jack is whenever you start some pointless argument and drive me away for a night. it's getting to the point where i need to put my own mental health above everything."

"what the fuck are you trying to say?"

"i'm leaving, hunter. this is too much." y/n went to grab her bag but hunter gripped her wrist firmly.

"you're not going anywhere."

"let me go!"

"you're not going anywhere." he repeated, this time with emphasis on each word.

"i swear to god, if you don't let me go, i'll-"

"you'll what? call jack to come rescue you like always? well you can't. he's in toronto and i-"

at this point, y/n was tired of him and his comments about jack. she reached for the nearest object and swung it at his arm. hunter released his grip on her and before he could grab her again, she grabbed her suitcase and used it to keep some distance between them.

"i'll be back for my other stuff later."

"whatever, bitch."

y/n rolled her eyes and hurried out of the apartment. when she got in her car, she broke down and facetimed jack.

he picked up with a smile but it disappeared when he saw her tears.

"what happened? why did you go back to jersey?"

"i thought hunter was gonna be in toronto...and i figured i'd take that opportunity to come home and pack my stuff & leave the apartment. but he came home and...." y/n began to sob harder. "he hurt me, jack. hs grabbed my arm and it hurts so much. i don't know why i'm calling you when there's nothing you can do about it now."

"bullshit. i'm getting on the next flight home and i'm going to kick that douchebag's ass."

"jack, you're a captain of an all star team. you can't leave. quinn needs you there."

"but you need me there more." jack moved around the hotel room to pack his bag. "besides, quinn has elias and if he really needs another hughes, luke is here too. plus, i can't even compete in the all-star game so there's really no point in me being here."

"but this is important to you, jack."

"y/n, you are more important than any hockey game, all-star or not. you are my best friend and i'm going to be there for you when you need me to be." he looked at his laptop. "i'll be home in about 5 hours, okay?"

"okay." y/n sniffled and wiped her eyes. "is it alright if i-"

"of course you can stay with me. you don't even have to ask." jack smiled softly at the girl on his screen. "want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"please? i mean, if you don't mind." y/n propped her phone in the holder and began driving to jack's apartment.

"anything for you. you know that." jack kept y/n on the phone while he knocked on luke and nico's door. luke answered and smiled at his brother.

"hey. what's up?"

"i'm heading home. y/n needs me."

"just how in love with her are you?" luke smirked, not even realizing that y/n's face was on jack's screen and she could hear everything.

"dude, she's on the phone." jack's eyes darted down to his phone and back to luke's, whose eyes only widened when he realized.

"cat's out of the bag. oops." luke went to shut the door. "good luck, jack."

luke shut the door completely and jack looked back at his phone.

"for the record, luke is an idiot and i wouldn't listen to anything he says ever."

"never do." y/n smiled. jack returned the smile and couldn't help but stare at her as he headed down to the lobby to hail a cab.

"i won't be able to talk to you while i'm on the flight but i'll call you when i land, okay?"

"okay." y/n pulled into the parking lot of jack's building and got out. as she made her way into the apartment, part of her felt relieved. it felt like she was home.

"alright. the flight is boarding but i'll make sure to call you when i land. help yourself to anything in the apartment. there's some bath bombs and bubble bath at the back of my closet in case you want to take a nice, relaxing bath."

"thanks again, jack. for everything. i really appreciate you. have a safe flight."

"i will. love you."

"love you too." y/n smiled and hung up. she made her way into jack's room and pulled the bath stuff out from his closet. she ran the water for her bath and put on some calming music while also lighting a few candles. she put the cotton candy bath bomb in the water and when it was filled, she got in.

she hadn't even been paying attention to the time when jack got home. he stumbled in through the door with a busted lip and a shiny black eye.

"jesus christ. what the hell happened to you?"

"i'm sorry. i know you don't like it when i get violent off the ice, but i had to stop at hunter's before i came home. he hurt you so i hurt him. tit for tat i guess."

"how bad did you hurt him?"

"pretty bad. he's like 10 times worse than me right now."

"you didn't have to do that for me, jack." y/n looked at the cut on his lip. "now let's go clean up your lip and see if we can do something about that eye." y/n grabbed his hand and brought him to the bathroom. she sat him on the edge of the tub and grabbed a rag from the bin, running it under some warm water.

jack watched her every move intently, afraid that if he looked away, she would fade into a memory.

y/n wiped the dried blood from his face and started looking through her own bag for something to heal the black eye faster.

"you know, i don't hate it when you get violent off the ice, especially when it's to defend me. kinda think it's hot that you would put yourself in the way of violence if you're protecting me." she applied a cream to his left eye and placed a gentle kiss just below the bruise. when she pulled away from his face, she made eye contact with him. "i love you but can you please stop getting into fights?"

"thought you found it hot when i did." jack smirked.

"i do. but i also don't like seeing you get hurt." y/n ran her hands through his hair slowly while his hands held her waist. he tugged her closer and hugged her tightly.

"you're truly a blessing and i hate that hunter could never realize what he had."

"hopefully he realizes what he had now that he's lost it."

"you would never go back to him again, would you?" jack moved his had from his resting spot on her stomach and looked up at her.

"and leave you? no chance in hell will that ever happen." y/n knelt down to be at eye level with him.

there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel like they were alone in the world.

jack looked at her and he swore his heart began to beat faster. her gaze was focused on his lips and she tried to look away but she couldn't.

when jack's thumb reached up to draw delicate circles on her cheek, she knew she was screwed.

for years she was telling herself that she didn't have feelings for jack but here they were now, in the bathroom, sharing an intimate moment.

the feelings hit her hard and before she knew it, she was pulling jack in for a gentle kiss. when she tried to pull away, jack held her cheeks and poured everything into the kiss.

by the time the kiss ended, they were both out of breath and their faces were red. jack had a playful smirk on his face as he admired y/n's features.

"you are so incredibly beautiful, y/n. can't believe hunter would treat you so badly."

"how about we stop talking about that asshole & instead focus on this?" she gestured between them and smirked. "i love you and i'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

"i'm sorry i never told you how i felt." jack continued to hold onto her face while y/n held his arms. "in case it's not obvious now, i do actually love you. but how could i not? i mean you are the most incredible human being & definitely the most precious person i've ever known. you are perfect in every way and i will spend the rest of my life showing you how you deserve to be loved. i-if that's alright with you."

"you are all i want and all i need jack. forever and always, since forever." she wrapped her pinky around his and smiled. a simple gesture that's been part of their lives since they were 9 but they loved it because it meant more to them than anyone could ever know.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #new jersey devils #jh86

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starstruckmoony · 1 year

Text

style.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x fem!reader

summary - you and sirius start dating after accidentally running into each other at a concert but confirm nothing, just to watch everyone lose their shit online.

trope/tags - band/celeb!au, instagram/social media!au, modern!au, fluff, terrible humour

word count - 991

warnings - language

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

yourusername added to their story

starmanblack

❤ liked by yourusername, bartyyy, bellatrixieb and 674,333 others

starmanblack mv leak?? 😱😱

tagged prongsyboy, rjlupin, pete__, maraudersofficial

3,942 comments

prongsyboy last time i did that they threatened to fire me

starmanblack lol i wouldn't worry, i'm irreplaceable

prongsyboy OI NOT FUNNY

rjlupin you're bold af for tagging all of us

starmanblack it's so you can take half the blame

mmmckinnon looks cheap

starmanblack get out

marymacdonald my serotonin levels rose a bit

pete__ are we still your favourite band?

marymacdonald forever and always pete 😚

user728288 did y/n like his post or am i trippin?

user862945 i already cried to the album don't make me cry again

user001991 boyfriend

user446622 you signed my shirt yesterday

yourusername

❤ liked by starmanblack, vance_emm, cissy_blck and 689,672 others

yourusername studiocore

tagged mmmckinnon

3,784 comments

starmanblack the amount of times i've tripped on those wires is bloody ridiculous

yourusername gotta love being a singer

starmanblack you're good at it

yourusername 😳

vance_emm seems like a cool aesthetic tbh

yourusername it's a lifestyle at this point

mmmckinnon we should write some songs together next time

prongsyboy and they can all be about how amazing sirius' hair is

yourusername i've got a few in the chamber already

starmanblack i'm blushing

user272720 does this mean y/n x marlene duet?

user647372 WHAT I THOUGHT U WERE ON TOUR

user327776 she's multitasking

user001911 are we all just gonna ignore y/n saying she's got songs about sirius' damn hair?

user338288 NO BUT I SAW THAT AND CRIED THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING GOING ON

user133543 uhhhh new album? pls say yes

user382809 OMG???

starmanblack added to their story

yourusername

❤ liked by starmanblack, lily_evans, vance_emm and 713,944 others

yourusername thank you for those three beautiful shows edinburgh! i shall be going home with lots of wonderful memories and a bag of gummy bears 💕 (special thanks to whoever gave those to my favourite security lady (alice ily 💓))

tagged ev.rosier

4,409 comments

starmanblack so when are you coming to london?

yourusername when are you free?

starmanblack can i slide into your dms?

yourusername you're free to try 😚

mmmckinnon my throat is so sore i can barely speak

casmeadowes i CAN'T speak

yourusername that means i was good 🤪

pete__ can i come for free next show?

yourusername we can negotiate

prongsyboy i volunteer to spectate from the first row

yourusername pay up prongsy boy

user055251 best experience of my life

user293929 I GOT A GUITAR PICK QUDOQIDJQJDJQDJQJSJ

user456268 can you fight?

user288882 SIRIUS LMFAOOO

user564400 i love him XHADJJAJSJA he's lowkey flirting

user919292 doesn't he have a gf though?

user444447 naw they broke up

user667634 I WAS THERE I WAS THERE

user709111 COME TO GERMANY PLS

starmanblack

❤ liked by yourusername, r.a.black, pandorasbox and 701,232 others

starmanblack unmatched unspoken w rizz

tagged rjlupin

4,111 comments

yourusername you look like you're about freestyle it

starmanblack rapping is my hidden talent

yourusername 😲😲😲😲

marymacdonald HOW did you make remus agree to that?

rjlupin i was bullied please come help me

xeno_lovegood is there context behind this?

ev.rosier there's never context with them

prongsyboy evan is right

user029390 someone make green screen edits i'm begging

user372919 are you and y/n dating?

user644211 ffs y'all are annoying af 💀

user747373 early halloween party?

user327372 HELP ME WHAT

user654553 sirius you're famous 😭

celeb_gossip

♡ 32,982 likes

celeb_gossip not long after his split with actress emma vanity, sirius black has been pulled into some unexpected dating rumours with fellow rockstar, y/n l/n. the two singers have been leaving some interesting comments under one another's posts recently, and fans claim to have seen them together at marlene mckinnon's shows and several other occasions. the alleged couple, however, has not been photographed together yet. what do you think? 🤔 is this just another senseless rumour? 🤨 or is there something more going on? 👀 drop a comment and let us know your thoughts 😘💋

1,063 comments

user709111 never thought i'd see pictures of those two side by side

user900012 wouldn't be surprised if they were together actually

user915624 why does it even matter? 💀

user362625 they're just friends lmfao you all need to get a life

user422224 i thought y/n was dating evan 😭😭

user374848 HELPPP NO HE'S JUST HER PHOTOGRAPHER

user929397 honestly y/n should date me

user113231 PLS BE TRUE DHAHDJAJSHW

user800001 THIS WOULD BE MY DREAM

yourusername

❤ liked by starmanblack, pete__, casmeadowes and 700,512 others

yourusername one day i'm gonna release a song about this little demon and you lot better make it my most streamed track

4,995 comments

starmanblack ooo threats?

yourusername i need everyone to appreciate my pets

starmanblack i have a photo of him looking guilty after he peed on my carpet

yourusername use it as your profile picture

starmanblack done

maraudersofficial THAT WAS THE OFFICAL ACCOUNT SIRIUS

pandorasbox put it on an album and include limited edition photocards of him

yourusername can i hire you?

r.a.black cats are better

marymacdonald as a cat mother, i agree

starmanblack wrong but okay

user433322 I MISSED HIS LITTLE PHOTOS

user111000 AAAAHHGDHSHD CUTE

user726261 I WILL STREAM ITTT

user939290 even your dog got to meet sirius before i did lmao i'm hurt

user937344 SIRIUS WAS TGERE? WTF

starmanblack

❤ liked by ev.rosier, marymacdonald, lily_evans and 722,188 others

starmanblack dog

6,122 comments

yourusername is this your only good angle?

starmanblack it's a representation of how you see me

yourusername i will be contacting my lawyers 😤

yourusername i'm telling him to bite you next time

starmanblack bold of you to assume he'll listen to you

yourusername we both know he likes me more

starmanblack let me be in denial for a bit

prongsyboy woof

starmanblack don't bark in my comment section

prongsyboy ☹

bartyyy has this one contaminated your carpet too?

starmanblack no i was 3 seconds faster this time

user999291 you own this angle

user172777 YOU AND Y/N WE NEED ANSWERS

user866622 I AGREE WITH THE COMMENT ABOVE ME

user232655 EVERYONE LEAVE HIM ALONE 😭😭

yourusername added to their story

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irishmammonagenda · 3 months

Note

Hii!! 🧚‍♀️It's Wee Emo anon 🍾

Really liked your last work, so here i am again

Can i request brothers reaction on MC who cry over small things?

Like they see little kitten on the street and - WHOOP! - they're bubbling sobbing mess

I'm kinda can't cry (sounds dramatic lol) and wanna MC to feel it instead of me 😬

Love your works, keep going bestie💐🏃‍♂️

HI WEE EMO <3 please ignore the fact you sent me this on april 27th and its now june i had gcses to prepare for 😔✊

anyway, who let you into my house 😧🤨

no seriously i've cried at multiple south park episodes. south park. sometimes i wanna cry when i see my dog i cannot be trusted i tear up so easily especially when im writing🙁

for not being able to cry that is not very good for you fr:

i used to not be able to cry + still only really tear up, some tears drip down and let out like 2 sobbing sounds before im good again, i dont even have to try and stop crying, two sobs and im done, but my biggest tip is, get tired like really sleepy to the point where your eyes water bc of tiredness then watch something really sad.

i ha to literally train myself to be able to cry again bro dw, i wish i could have a big long cry but like 3 mins of crying is better than none, trust me wee emo you'll feel better

#dontbottleupyouremotions

ANYWAY:

this was very hard to imagine their reactions to idk why, but i tried so 😔✊

grma wee emo for requesting <3 and grma everyone else for reading <3

Obey Me Brothers With a Sensitive MC <3

It was safe to say you were sensitive, back when Melanie Martinez's music was a lot better, you really could say that the song 'Crybaby' pretty much encapsulated your entire being, it still did, but you liked to think you were more mature in your music taste now. (You weren't)

Being suddenly catapulted into the Devildom did a number on your emotions, and you found yourself quite numb. But as you adjusted, and bonded with the others, you found that you were back to your usual self, which was a crybaby.

So then how do the brothers react?

LUCIFER

Great. Two Mammons.

At least Mammon No.2 (you) isnt a tsundere about it.

Lucifer does not like seeing you cry. Even if its because something is cute, (although he does find it quite adorable, not that he'd admit it)

This demon is of the opinion that tears should never disgrace your beautiful eyes.

He will invite you to listen to his records with him and purposely put on sad ones or really sweet ones so you grip onto him while you tear up,

He is a demon, after all. ;)

MAMMON

Finally. Someone who cries more than him!

It actually makes him feel safer around you, like you wont bully him for being more sensitive than his brothers.

Actually ends up dropping a lot of his tsundere act around you.

You watch movies together, but always have to check the Devildom version of 'doesthedogdie.com'

Idk, I feel like Mammon would give you a bit of bother for it at first but then slowly start to like, open up more, because he really does see himself in you like that.

LEVIATHAN

He blanks.

One day you start crying because of how cute the anime you both were watching was, Levi thought you were geniunely upset, so he tried to cheer you up.

You end up thinking that its really sweet and start crying harder.

Leviathan PANICKS.

Even now, he still gets really nervous when you start crying, and has popped into his demon form more times than he can count when you grab onto him and sniffle.

Please he's already so awkward he can't handle how cute you are.

You might make him start crying as well :(

SATAN

Satan 100% gets so angry he starts crying so he can kind of understand it.

He's just glad you cry over positive things :)

His favourite moment was definetly when you teared up over a small kitten. (He took several photos and also took the kitten home)

Like Lucifer he 100% invites you to read with him and picks the fluffiest most adorable romance he can find, or the saddest most heartbreaking romance he can find.

He likes when you cling onto him and look up at him with those big teary eyes.

He's a demon. What did you expect, ;)

ASMODEUS

He thinks you're adorable.

Any emotion on your face is adorable to him actually. <3

If you wear makeup he makes sure to get you waterproof mascara and other eye makeup so your beautiful tears dont ruin your beautiful makeup <3

If any of you remember that crying girl makeup trend? Yeah he deffo starts that up in the Devildom (a) to make you feel less embarrassed about it and (b) because he thinks youre so beautiful when you express yourself.

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't cry a lot, it's not exactly something that comes naturally to him at all.

Its not that he CANT cry or that he holds his tears back, its just that he doesn't normally process or reaction to things with tears.

Only in serious serious situations will he cry.

So when he sees you crying over one of those little onigiri things that are literally adorable, he thinks that you've somehow hurt yourself. (i nabbed this off of pinterest)

Beel panics, and mentally goes over the ingredients in his head, did he order something with an ingredient that was dangerous to humans?

He calms down when he realises that you're crying because it looks cute.

He feels you with that.

Makes an effort to take you to more places with food items displayed in cute ways.

Though you do have to look away while Beel cuts them up for you, otherwise you wouldnt be able to eat it.

BELPHEGOR

He laughs at you.

Point blank.

Originally when he's in the attic he uses your sensitivity as a way to manipulate you.

But post lesson 16, he really starts to appreciate it more.

This bastard will use his powers as the youngest sibling against you, he'll dress up in cute onesies and give you puppy eyes, all to coax you into taking naps with him.

Which you do.

I have no idea how half of these fuckheads would react tbh

#obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #omswd #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me mc #obey me fluff

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 15 🍒 "Shameless"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,469

Summary: secrets are revealed at Sarah's birthday party

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), takes place July 2003, (not-so) secret relationship, morning quickie, unprotected piv (reader is later mentioned to be on birth control), Joel being a grumpy protective dad, jealousy, oral (m receiving), someone walks in on you and Joel during an intimate moment, revelation of your relationship (at last!), no use of y/n. If I've left out any tags please let me know!

Author's Note: there was a lot I wanted to cram in here because the next chapter gets quite serious. Also, anyone interested in the "Shameless" song can find it here. Fun fact: it was written by Billy Joel about a decade before Garth Brooks covered it and quite honestly, Garth sings it better. I feel like it just perfectly captures Joel’s feelings about helplessly falling in love.

Series Masterlist

Your phone rings on your nightstand, the tinny Nokia ringtone interrupting your morning quickie with Joel.

"Don't answer it," he pants behind you, slamming into you as he grabs your hips.

"Wasn't going to," you gasp, closing your eyes when he leans down to kiss your neck.

The phone rings again.

"Who's calling at 5:30 in the morning?" he grumbles, lips grazing your ear, his breath hot on your skin. He pulls you upright, his movements slow and steady. He palms your breast in one hand and toys with your clit, enjoying your little cries of pleasure as you snake your arm around to bring him to you for a sloppy kiss.

It doesn't take long for you to come, Joel hitting that hidden spot inside you this way. He stills long enough to relish the sweet, strong pull of your walls seizing around him. "That's it, my beautiful darlin'," he whispers against your neck. The scent of your skin keeps him spellbound, your pulse pounding just beneath his lips. He's going to think about this moment all day at work.

The phone rings again and, frustrated, you reach out to shut off the noise. Joel doesn't part from you, flattening you to the bed as you scramble for the little silver phone. "Not gettin' away that easy," he grunts, his chest pressed to your back. You turn off the phone ringer, cutting the annoying ringtone in mid-play and toss it on the floor where your clothes from last night are discarded.

Joel sweeps your hair to the side, his thighs on either side of your legs as he pumps into you, hands on your waist. Trapped between his legs you feel him even more snugly inside you, the friction almost too much. "Joel!" you moan, half-muffled by the pillow against your cheek.

"That feel good? You gonna come on my cock again, babygirl?"

Just him mentioning it causes an automatic reaction, your body so acclimated to him by now that his pleasure is yours and vice versa. "Yes," you moan again, pushing yourself up slightly to be heard clearly. "Harder!" you eke out.

He rumbles low in his chest, pulse racing, heart feeling like it might just give out, but what a fucking wonderful way to go. Your pleas for more are answered as his thrusts become aggressive. "Fuck!" you whimper, your body on edge as he continues his hard work.

"I can feel ya grippin' me so tight, sweetheart.. Jesus, I never get tired of feelin' you this way."

"Joel.." you beg. "Don't stop, don't stop..."

He sustained his pace, beads of sweat starting to surface on his skin and yours, his hands on your shoulders for leverage. When you break apart, cunt throbbing, hips and ass arching up to get every inch of him soaked with your sweetness, he can't help but finally let go, slamming into you one final time as he spills every drop into you, staying still, keeping you at an angle so that you get all of it, all of him.

With Joel in the shower (it took a lot of willpower not to join him, but he was already late for work due to your morning fuckfest), you find your phone on the floor and see who called you.

Of course it was your mom.

Three calls, two voicemails, and plenty of texts.

Suppressing a groan, you dial her back, quickly wrapping a blanket around yourself and heading out to the hallway.

She answers with an annoyed tone. "What are you doing that's so important that you can't call back immediately?"

You roll your eyes. "Mom.. it's super early and it's my day off. Can't I sleep in?"

"You should start waking up early, go outside, get some exercise, it's good for you. Plus school is starting soon anyway. Don't you want to pursue good habits?"

"Yeah," you tell her, though it's honestly the last thing on your mind. This summer has distracted you from everything you hoped you'd do, and given you something even better, something you never thought you'd have.. love.. sex.. things most people took for granted but you'd been gifted with simply for being in the right place at the right time.

"Tell me why I have a bill from my insurance for a gynecologist visit."

A large lump forms in your throat, as if a natural instinct to block the truth from coming out. You'd rarely lied to your mom simply because she was good at hounding the truth from you.

"I had a UTI. Sofia recommended a good doctor." In truth you'd gone to get on the pill, a decision you'd been proud of, taking care of your sexual health. Not to mention it made Joel more excitable than ever, and almost every night had been spent with him filling you up.

"Okay.." your mom doesn't sound completely satisfied with that answer, but she lets it go. You talk a little about your summer so far, talk about her boyfriend and the road trips they take. You pray she never makes the trip out here to ruin the peacefulness of the newfound independence you've forged for yourself.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel asks, finding you leaning against the wall. He's freshly showered, dark hair slick, skin scented with Irish Spring soap. His dark red tee clings to every muscle, even the little belly you're so fond of that he sometimes feels insecure about.

"I had to make a call," you tell him, exhaling sharply as he removes the blanket hiding your body.

"Come on, lemme see."

Your heart thuds in your ears as you open your legs, the remnants of his cum leaving a sticky trail on your skin.

"God damn.. I never get tired of that sight.. gonna fill ya up again soon, babygirl. And don't forget about tomorrow."

Tomorrow.. Sarah's birthday barbecue..

"Sure thing, darlin'. Oh by the way, I put some air in your tire, it was lookin' a little flat. Don't want you runnin' off the road and gettin' hurt," he says.

"Thanks," you're genuinely touched by his gesture.

"Next weekend I'll change the oil," he says, putting the blanket back on you. "But only if you bring me some lemonade while wearin' a cute little skirt." He narrowly evades a swat from your hand as he ducks, laughing. "All right, all right, I'm goin'. Love you." He kisses your lips softly.

About to head out to the mall to get a birthday present for Sarah, you spot a CD on the console of your car. It's Garth Brooks' Ropin' the Wind. The blue-eyed country singer poses on the cover, clad in a black and blue dress shirt against a blue sky background. You had this poster when you were a kid. It's probably still in your room if your mom hasn't redecorated.

On the back of the CD there's a sticky note: play #6

You smile, seeing what track that is, and as you make yourself comfortable in the car, starting it and letting the AC cool your heated skin, you listen to 'Shameless'. The lyrics feel like they come from Joel himself, the passion and devotion, how you've transformed him, stripped away the person he used to be for someone better, happier.

A teardrop splashes onto your lap before you realize you're crying. No one has ever shown you this kind of love, this much love before. If Joel was here now you'd kiss him.

You put the song on repeat, the anthem of your love, the anthem of your last innocent summer.

"Ice cream cake? In this heat?"

"Do you have any extra towels? And sunscreen? I forgot mine."

"I think we're gonna need some more aluminum foil."

Your house is bustling with guests, mostly friends of the Millers, other people you know, and kids Sarah hangs out with. Not one for attention, she's still enjoying celebrating her day, even more so because Joel allowed (hesitantly at first) for her to invite boys.

"One boy," he said at first.

"A boy with a bunch of girls? At that age? He'll be scared shitless," you told him.

"Good. Then he'll leave early."

You and Sarah managed to sweet talk him into agreeing on inviting two boys.

Right now they're both in the water with Sarah and her friends, splashing, being kids.

"How's it feel to have a fourteen-year-old?" you ask him as he prepares the meat to put on the grill. The air is scented with seasoning as he expertly adds it to the chicken and ribs. Tommy's at the other counter making a margarita.

He shrugs a little, glances outside at the pool where the teens are shouting and diving. "Makes me feel old."

"You're not." You rest your head on his shoulder, and hear Tommy behind you saying, "Aww. When's the weddin'?"

"What?" you force a little laugh as you turn around, watching him watching you and Joel. Joel ignores him, face turning red as he prepares the food.

"I'm just sayin'.. y'all are cute together."

"I--" there's no other reaction you can think of on the fly except to act dumb, as you're woefully unprepared for his remark in the first place.

"Let her be," Joel grunts. "Babygirl, can you open the sliding door for me?"

Following you, Joel gives Tommy a look.

Hailey from the cafe shows up, bringing some Smirnoff Ice. You sit in the shade, sipping your drinks as you surreptitiously eye Joel at the grill, listening halfheartedly as she talks about the latest guy she dated, what a disaster he was in bed. Little could she possibly know the fun you've been getting into with your own man.

"He's so hot," she says suddenly.

"Yeah," you agree, still in your own daydreams. "Who?" you ask, alert.

"Joel Miller," she answers, eyes looking past you and at your boyfriend, at the grill, laughing at something Tommy's saying.

"Oh.. yeah.." Her assessment comes so suddenly that you aren't sure how to answer. What feels like jealousy starts to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Hailey's eyes don't leave him, and it starts to irk you. You feel a smidgen of what Joel must have felt when that idiot at the saloon had his hands on you without your permission.

"I'm fucking him."

The look on her face is priceless. "What? You're kidding.. I thought you were a virgin!"

"Was," you say with some smugness.

"Damn, girl!" Hailey looks impressed. "Is that why you asked me about what it's like with older guys?"

"Sort of. Well, yeah."

"What's he like?" she asks in a whisper.

Now this is the part you want to keep to yourself. Let the world know this man is yours, but you won't give any more details than that. It's private, it's sacred. But now Hailey thinks it's just physical.

"I'm not wearin' that," Joel chuckles at Tommy, averting his eyes from the navy blue apron his brother has produced from a shopping bag.

"At least try it on."

Sighing deeply, Joel removes his old, faded black apron and puts on the new one, unable to take himself seriously.

It reads, EAT MY MEAT on the front, with a picture of a perfectly placed hot dog.

"I ain't wearin' this," Joel repeats.

"You don't gotta. It was just a joke. That's supposed to be your birthday present by the way, so happy early birthday."

"Thanks." Joel rolls his eyes, stuffing the apron back into the bag and tending to the barbecue.

"So.." Tommy sips the margarita in his hand. "How'd an old sourpuss like you land a college girl?" He motions to you, walking back towards the house. "And don't tell me 'nothing' because that ain't true. She was leavin' your house that one mornin', you brought her home the other night, carryin' her though the front door like it was your honeymoon. You're with her all the time."

Joel shakes his head, purses his lips as he ignores his brother's look. He's tempted to say, 'She's just a cute, feisty eighteen-year-old who takes care of my daughter and gives great head.' But he doesn't have it in him to denigrate you to his own kin.

"Keep this between us," Joel warns him. Tommy nods. "But yeah, we've been seein' each other."

A little smile forms on his little brother's face. "I knew it! Sofia owes me twenty bucks."

"Don't tell her. Not yet."

Tommy nods. "Okay.. but you might not wanna wait too long, brother. Makes you look guilty."

"Sometimes I feel guilty," he mutters. "I'm twice her age. What's she doin' with someone like me?"

"I'm askin' myself the same thing," Tommy laughs. "You deserve to be happy," he adds.

"I appreciate that," Joel says warmly. "And she does.. she makes me happy."

Coming back outside from taking a break in the AC, the first thing you zone in on is Joel. And Hailey is next to him, flipping her blonde hair. Touching his shoulder. They're laughing together.

Jealousy is not an attractive trait in a woman, you can almost hear your mother say, but for the first time in your life you feel it, like a cold spike in your belly, altering your brain chemistry, blinding you to everything except them.

Before you realize what you're doing, you're marching over to them, looping your arm through Joel's, telling Hailey that you need to talk to him.

You're on autopilot, your brain screaming at you to be normal, to stop while you still can, but the green-eyed monster has taken over, and it's this monster that brings you to your room, closing the door behind you as you tear his stupid apron off him and unbutton his cargo shorts.

"Babygirl, what--"

"Why were you talking to her?" you ask, relieved that he's not hard because of Hailey and disappointed that he's not hard because he's alone with you.

"She was askin' me when the food was gonna be ready," he replies, a little exhalation of surprise when you get down on your knees before him and stroke him. "What's this about, baby? Are you.. are you jealous?"

"Of course not." You seem offended he would even suggest it, but there's a desperation to the way you're handling his cock, as if you're afraid if you stop touching it it'll go into someone else.

"Baby, it's okay. I don't like her. Don't even know 'er."

There's silence, a small grunt as you get him worked up for you, finally hard and pulsing in your hand.

"She knows." you tell him, licking the salty precum off his tip. "I told her."

His dark eyes narrow a moment before going wide as he thrusts against your touch, needing friction, either the softness of your hands or the wetness of your mouth. "I told Tommy," he admits.

There's a brief moment where the air is filled with a sense of harmony. It's a relief to you both.

With a heart full of warm, fuzzy feelings, you bring him to your mouth, cupping his ass with your hands.

"I want to do the cake!" Sarah announces, emerging from the pool and wrapping herself in a towel. Her friends follow suit, still kids at heart despite the fact that they're about to go into high school. Sofia brings out the ice cream cake, perfectly thawed out, and Tommy places the candles on - trick ones that don't extinguish - as everyone begins to gather around.

"Wait, where's Dad?" Sarah asks. "Wait, let me go find him."

The house is calm and cool inside, chilling her still-damp skin. Joel's nowhere to be seen, so she searches deeper into the house.

Getting closer to your bedroom, she hears something, a soft sound, a sigh or a moan. She doesn't think about what it could be, only who.

Your bedroom door swings open silently, and it's a long moment before Sarah can grasp what she sees: you, on the floor in front of her dad, the soft sighs coming from both of you.

It's just a second but it feels like an hour goes by as she leaves, closing the door behind her louder than she intends, walking back out to the party, a thousand-yard stare on her face.

She walked in on an intimate moment between you and her dad, and though she'd teased you about it, even predicted that something like this would happen, seeing it was very different. If she's walked in on you kissing it would've been different, but it's as if you've ruined her hopes, as if you've skipped the fairytale ending and shown a cruder, lewd side of being an adult.

When she returns, brushing the tears from her eyes, she simply says that she doesn't feel well, they can skip the birthday song, please serve her friends first, she's going home next door to lay down.

Joel's a little disappointed when he learns Sarah left early, attributing it to her burgeoning teenage attitude, which he'd rather not deal with at the moment.

Selfishly, you're more preoccupied with whoever it was who closed the door on you and Joel earlier. Obviously someone had seen you, accidentally, and left quickly. It could be anyone at this party. Walking back after your hookup feels like going in front of a firing squad. A glance from this person means one thing, a word from another person means something else.

As the day grows late you keep at Joel's side. He doesn't try to push you away. You make yourself comfortable, sitting next to him as you eat, letting your thigh brush his. You even lightly brush an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt, your hand lingering on his shoulder as you talk with the other guests.

You forget who's idea it is to tie knots into cherry stems. You've never heard of the challenge, and when a bowl of leftover cherries from the cocktails made earlier that day is brought to the table, you bite the sweet bulb of red fruit and easily tie a knot on one with your fingers. Joel teases you, telling you, "No, babygirl, with your tongue."

A little moment passes between you, a shared look that is not lost on the others. You take another cherry and he bites off the fruit while you take the stem and place it in your mouth.

It's a hidden talent, one that impresses the table when you effortlessly tie a knot into the stem using only your mouth.

And that's how you get the nickname Cherry.

"You know what this is s'posed to imply, right, darlin'?" Joel rasps, twirling your tongue-tied knot in his thick fingers.

"No idea," you smile, lost in his eyes.

"It means you're good with your tongue," he murmurs.

It happens so quickly, so naturally that you don't realize it until it's happening. Your lips are on his cheek, loving the feel of his stubble against your soft skin, and everyone else is looking at you.

"What?" Joel asks, addressing the table, pink showing up on his cheeks. "My girlfriend can't give me a lil' kiss?"

Cleaning up the kitchen later on, Sofia comes next to you, busying herself with packaging leftovers and rinsing off dirty dishes. You can feel the tension between you.

"I don't approve," she says sternly, not looking at you.

"Of what?" you try to sound innocent, but you know she can see right through you, that it's pointless to lie.

"Of you and Mr. Miller," she says, using the formal surname you should have been using all along.

"You don't have to approve," you say, scrubbing particularly hard at a stubborn spot on the stove.

"He's twice your age, cousin," she says with concern. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you while you're staying with me. How's it gonna look, me letting you date someone older?"

"That's all you care about? How it's affecting you?" you shoot back. "Please. You sound like my mom."

Sofia sighs. "This kind of relationship can't be healthy. He's done more, he knows more.."

"I know."

"Please don't tell me you've-"

"We have." There's no pleasure in telling her this, but it's a massive relief to tell someone.

"God damn it," she mutters. "Are you at least being careful?"

"Of course!"

Sofia's at a loss, unsure of what to say, the warnings countless on her tongue, but unwilling to part from her lips.

"I love him," you tell her. It's whispered confession, as if your own truest feelings carry the worst sin of your life.

Another author's note: just wanted to clarify that Sarah didn't see anything too inappropriate, but she definitely understood what was going on.

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faeryblade · 1 month

Text

|| Scopophobia || A Jonathan Crane Fic ||

Synopsis: It's just another boring afternoon at the office for Dr. Jonathan Ulysses Crane. Although, testing out his latest fear toxin is yielding some...interesting results.

Word Count: 5,534

TW: Dead Dove: do not eat. 18+ content, minors DNI. NSFW, SMUT. Gaslighting and manipulation. Mention of EDs. Degradation. Non-con. Implication of suicide attempt. Forced oral, anal. Use of aphrodisiac and fear toxin. Hallucinations. Power imbalance, therapist/patient. Age difference. Monster fucking (Scarecrow). Corruption. Ahegao. Creampie. Rick roll near the end.

Note: Uh, hi there. I got bit by a highly infectious idea and quickly developed super terminal Jonathan Crane!rot...which I guess I'm making everyone's problem now. This is the first chapter of a long Jonathan X Reader fic called: "Please, don't tell my psychiatrist-he'd kill me!"

Song: "Careful What You Wish For" by Jack Harris

Taglist: @caesariawritesstuff @greeneyedshooter @enochtopus-the-pressed

"I-I don't even know what I'll do. It's not like I can cancel now..."

Subject 76 picked at the fibers of her knit sweater anxiously, brows furrowed. There's a hitch to her voice. Her shoulders are slightly hunched over as if she's trying to protect herself from the topic at hand. Dr. Crane makes a note of this with a quick flourish of his ballpoint pen. Besides him, safe in her black iron cage, his pet crow, Nightmare, stares keenly at Subject 76.

"Plus, my friend has been planning this wedding for MONTHS and I'm her bridesmaid! I can't just not go to the wedding! I-I'd feel like...I dunno, like a bad friend-"

Subject 76 reached for the glass of water placed on the coffee table in front of her. She took a sip from it to settle her nerves before continuing to speak:

"Just the thought of letting her down makes me feel some awful way. Like, I don't know. I'm just, uhh. I'm just..."

"...Afraid?" Dr. Crane's smooth voice offers, almost seeming to reverberate in the air.

Subject 76 looked at her psychologist with a wide, doe-eyed expression. Her bottom lip trembled. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement that had Crane's pen scribbling furiously in his notes once more.

"No," Subject 76 denied immediately, then falters a second later, "Yes. I-I don't know, maybe??? I'm just anxious, I guess??? It's just that this wedding will be the first time in six years that I've seen my high-school friends. And I wanna make the right impression. I don't want it to look like I don't have my life together."

Subject 76 went quiet for a moment. Her gaze drew down to her wrists where thick, pink scars crisscrossed her skin. While the sweater she was wearing did its best to conceal them from sight, a few still peaked out and were clearly visible to anyone who had a wandering eye. Shame settled upon her.

"I've even started to...uhm. I..."

Subject 76 fell silent again. The woman returned to picking the threads of her sweater, tugging on its cotton weave compulsively instead of talking.

Dr. Crane glanced up from his notepad, peering over the top of his glasses to assess his subject. "Miss. Bree?" He asked, raising a single eyebrow. He waited for her to speak.

But Subject 76 pursed her lips into a thin line and ignored him.

Sighing, Crane leaned back in his chair. An edge of annoyance laced his tone as he addressed his subject...

"I don't think I have to remind you that the court has mandated your cooperation in therapy, Miss Bree. And...with anything I see fit to hasten your rehabilitation. Now, I wouldn't want to be forced legally to report you to your probation officer for resisting treatment. However, if I must-"

"WAIT!" Subject 76 cried out, terror in her eyes.

The smallest smirk twitched at the edges of Dr. Crane's lips, "Oh?"

Splitting open like a rotten pumpkin, the woman confessed that she'd started throwing up. 'Just small meals,' she'd elaborate further, attempting to lessen the impact of her words, 'Just the bad carbs and fats, nothing serious.' Subject 76 went on to talk about the dress she was trying to "look slay" for. How the bride had chosen a type of cut that left little to the imagination. And most telling to Dr. Crane of all; that she was frightened about what everyone would think when she wore it.

Crane placed his notebook and pen down on the accent table at his side, then steepled his fingers together, peering at Subject 76 with intent.

With hunger.

"Do you think your frankly lackluster endeavor to lose weight will be enough to stop the whispers and the gossip?" He asked off-handedly, making Subject 76 flinch in response, "And all the secret shared laughter at your expense?"

"W-what?"

"Just an observation, really."

Subject 76 looked confused. She blinked several times and wondered if she was hearing the what the doctor had said right. Or if somehow she was hearing him wrong instead.

"In fact, I doubt fitting into anything will improve your standing," Crane stated with a casual wave of his hand, "How do you know that you weren't invited to this...grand affair...as a joke?"

Shock spread across Subject 76's face.

"I-"

"If they were judging you in high school, six years wouldn't change anything substantial. They're no different than they were back then. Tell me, have you changed?"

Dr. Crane answered the question for Subject 76, not allowing her to explain for herself what he'd already figured:

"According to your records, you've been purging since middle school... And here you are now, still continuing to follow the same, tired, destructive pattern."

"Dr. Crane, I-"

Crane held up an authoritative hand.

"I digress, Miss. Bree," He said, "We've become a bit sidetracked here. Any form of eating disorder is categorized as self-harm. I cannot allow this to continue. As a mandated reporter, I'll have to tell your case manager. Unfortunately, I can judge by your previous history, that it's quite likely you'll be put on a 72-hour hold in a psychiatric facility. Probably here at Arkham. Contrary to Gotham's popular belief, we do treat normal citizens, too."

A fresh, new wave of panic bloomed on Subject 76's face. Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes. She shook her head, both hands rising up to clasp over her mouth, muffling the words she spoke and making them harder to hear.

"Hmm? What was that?" Dr. Crane nearly purred, making a show of leaning in closer to listen better.

"I-I can't go back there," Subject 76 replied with a choked stammering breath, "I just can't, doctor. I c-can't-"

Such marvelous fear...

Dr. Crane drank it in, savored it like fine wine. He wished he could bottle this moment to treasure for himself and keep forever. This was a human at their most beautiful.

"There is an alternative solution," Crane offered, only after Subject 76 looked about to vomit on his rug, "But I don't offer it to just anyone I treat. You, however, would be a perfect candidate."

"Really, doctor? I would?"

He barely suppressed his disgust as the woman shifted from fear-torn to hopeful at just the mere suggestion of salvation.

"Yes, but you'd have to submit to a new regimen and administration of medicine," Dr. Crane said, "Plus, we would be exploring novel paths of therapy that we've yet to approach in session. If I deem it productive, then I can forget about this reporting nonsense-"

Not to mention all the paperwork he'd have to go through because of it.

"-Does that sound amenable to you, Miss. Bree?"

"Yes!" Subject 76 answered brightly, "Anything to keep probation away!"

As if commenting on the woman's statement, Nightmare let out a series of loud, raucous caws that sounded strangely like laughter. Subject 76 glanced at the crow with uncertainty before Dr. Crane redirected her attention back onto him.

"Anything, hmm?" Crane asked curiously, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket, "Well, that's good to know. It'll certainly make this next portion that much easier."

"Huh?"

Before Subject 76 knew what was happening, Dr. Crane was at her side; his hand gripping her ponytail and yanking her head back. She caught the sight of a spray bottle seconds prior to a strange, fine, orange mist enveloping her face. Crawling up the passages of her nose. Making her feel instantly dizzy and lightheaded. Sick.

"Yeeeah, that's right," Crane's voice cooed gently into her ear, "Breathe it all in, little lamb. Goood. Just like that..."

The effects of the toxin were instantaneous. With vested interest, Jonathan Crane watched as 76's pupils dilated until her irises nearly disappeared and her breaths came out in labored gasps that sounded painful. He grabbed the woman's wrist to check her pulse. His long fingers bit into soft flesh, leaving the crescent-shaped impressions of his nails in their wake.

"As expected," he spoke aloud, narrating more to himself than anyone else, "Patient is responsive to a 10 mg dose of K-series. BPM is at 125, within range of a common panic attack. Eyes dilated to 8 millimeters. Symptoms are much more evident than Batch 4. Most likely due to the introduction of fear prior to administration-"

A low, husky moan interrupted him:

"Mmmn, Doctor Crane. I feel so hot..."

Jonathan turned his attention back onto the test subject, who was trying to press her body to his in desperation. He felt his cock harden instantly. That spark of hunger he'd experienced moments before returned; but, it'd become ravenous now. Insistent. Snapping. It demanded to be fed. And this lost, little lamb was offering herself willingly to his opened maw. Who would refuse such a feast?

The darkness inside Jonathan took control.

Subject 76 gasped as his hand suddenly gripped her neck and pulled her closer. He grazed his lips along the woman's silky cheek, whispering softly into her ear-

"Hush now, child, your Shepherd God is here. All will be well."

-before blazing a trail of greedy kisses and bites down her shoulder, ripping off her sweater in the process. He threw it onto the carpet. Subject 76 hardly noticed. She was far too preoccupied with his explorations to care. Her eyes fluttered back into her skull as Doctor Crane teased the tender areas of her flesh with tongue and teeth. Searing heat coiled like a spring in the pit of her stomach. Another moan flew from her throat. Louder this time.

"Tell me how you feel?" Jonathan asked his prey with a commanding growl.

Subject 76 squirmed underneath his grasp.

"I-I need you," she replied, "Doctor, please! I need to feel you. I want your hands on me. I-I want you to touch me. Bite me. I need you-"

Jonathan Crane gripped her tighter.

"And how badly does that ail you, little lamb?" He crooned.

"I can't stand it!" 76 wailed out loud, tears rolling in cascades down her cheeks, "Everything's hot. I can't think straight! What's happening to me?!?"

A cruel smile curved along Jonathan's mouth. He could almost taste the woman's anguish. It was a delicious flavor. Irresistible, actually...

"You poor, suffering soul. Allow me to ease your troubled mind..."

Wrapping Subject 76's ponytail around his hand once more, Jonathan Crane seized control and dragged her face towards the bulge in his slacks. Surprisingly, she tried to resist. Visited by a brief minute of lucidity, the woman fought back on his grip, struggling (like hell) against the task he was setting her to. Jonathan scowled. He wondered if the toxin had worn off already? But another lusty moan from 76 indicated that it hadn't. It was just hitting her in symptomatic waves.

Whimpering as a new flood of heat overwhelmed her, Subject 76 wrestled with the metal buckle of Jonathan's belt and unzipped his pants. Her eyes widened upon seeing the monster that lay hiding in wait within his boxers. Huge, thick, and veined; the psychiatrist's dick eagerly sprang forth from its plaid, cotton bindings to greet her. It twitched with anticipation over what was about to happen. A sharp edge of panic sliced into her...

His cock was too big.

She wasn't given time to prepare herself. Crane's hand pressed down on the back of her head and forced his dick into her mouth. He slid his length as far as it could go, cockhead tapping the back of her throat before pulling out...then, slamming himself past her lips all over again. Each time, he pushed a little deeper, a little harder, until 76 was gagging and tears misted up her eyes. Jonathan let out a groan at the sight of it. The fear in those gorgeous, coffee brown depths made him want to fuck her harder and see how far he could push that mouth.

"Mmmff! Mmf-"

"Ahh, feels so good. Your pain is exquisite."

Subject 76 struggled as Doctor Crane increased his vicious pace and used her ponytail like a bar handle. He tugged, yanked, pulled, and directed every movement until she became nothing more than a living fleshlight. Forced to satisfy this tall, imposing beast until he was sated, 76 had never felt more helpless in her entire life. Despite that, a curious sensation was accompanying her loss of control; the enjoyment of his taste. A betrayal that she hadn't expected coming from her body! The doctor's musky flavor caused liquid heat to pool traitorously between her legs. As salty tang invaded her palate, a throb began pulsing upon her clit. Was she going mad!? How could any of this possibly feel good???

That's because you're a whore, sweetie.

The dulcet sound of her mother whispered softly into her ear. The tone was condescending, beset with mockery. Her father followed suit, his voice so clear (and vivid) that Subject 76 swore he was standing a few inches away:

We always knew you were a filthy pig, even as a child...

76 let loose a muted scream. Both her parents, in a unified chorus, continued their foul comments, prodding at every insecurity she owned while the only thing she could do was choke on Dr. Crane's dick and cry.

"Oh, you're in it now, aren't you?"

Suddenly, his movements halted. Subject 76 felt herself being hauled up by her hair to meet a pair of glowing eyes and a terrifying smile comprised of sharp, yellow fangs. She screamed again. This time, the sound was so loud it hurt her own ears. Gone was the famous psychiatrist, Dr. Jonathan Crane, and in his place...was a nightmare!

The monster seemed pleased by her horror. A dark chuckle rumbled from deep within its emaciated chest.

"My toxin has infiltrated your mind," It said with a relished growl, dragging 76 closer, "Past all your defenses. Can't you feel it tearing at your sanity? Breaking down your senses bit by bit? Reducing you to your most primal state?? Fascinating how a person can become so pliable with just a small amount of this in their system..."

Confusion washed over Subject 76. The monster was speaking eloquently. However, she could not understand any of it. Her brain had turned into a congealed soup-useless jelly-that sloshed inside her skull. Unable to make connections as it once had mere hours ago before she'd stepped foot in Doctor Crane's office. The ache between her legs was intensifying, the pulse tapping upon her clit less easy to ignore, and the sensitivity of her skin made even the smallest touch a torture. 76 cried out to God...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "Silence, lamb. Therapy is still in session."

One fluid motion was all it took for the terrifying beast to extract Subject 76 off the couch and up onto her feet. It dragged her across the confines of Dr. Crane's office, towards the gigantic curtain wall that overlooked Arkham Asylum's entrance courtyard. With a sharp and commanding tug, 76 was forced to stand before it, despite protest, so that she could see the goings-on down below. Another whimper fell out of her lips as her vision turned the gnarled trees and wrought iron fence outside into clawed hands. Five people suddenly stared up at the window from their spots on the benches near the Asylum's smoking zone. They looked so familiar. But, she could not remember why...

The monster slid behind her soundlessly. Its long talons crawled like many spiders up the sides of her arms. "This is who you really are inside, Miss Bree. Your truest self," It assured her, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice, making everything it said sound obvious and plain, "Just a trembling web of misfiring neurons in the amygdala attempting to rectify a reality too frightening to assimilate-"

The monster caressed her cheek.

"-I want to help you embrace your fear and truly understand it."

Those five people in the courtyard all raised their forefinger and, as one unit, pointed at Subject 76 with laughter twisting upon their lips. She shook her head. Averted her gaze. Took a step back to put distance between herself and the plexiglass window. Unfortunately, 76 was stopped by an unyielding wall of flesh. The beast's body was poised just a few inches away from her own and in response to her shame, it took a step forward, sandwiching her between itself and the tall, cold glass she sought to avoid. Subject 76 prayed to God again. This time, she promised Him that she would stop purging; that today was the last day she'd ever throw up her meals if He'd spare her life...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "What do you see, little lamb? What horrors keep you stuck in place?"

"I-I don't know!!"

Its spindly fingers roamed an idle path down her throat to settle upon her chest. She trembled as its razor-edged nails brushed against her nipples absentmindedly.

"I think you do," the monster insisted, "But you're resisting the awareness of it. We try to hide away from the shadows of our minds so we can live in peace during the day, don't we? It's only human. But you, little one, have nowhere left to scurry to. Nowhere you can run. The Scarecrow has come to show you the truth inside your fears..."

Allowing 76 no time to consider its words, it tore open her camisole top, exposing the bra that she wore underneath. The monster made quick work of the lace, discarding it into a pile on the carpet. Skeletal digits went seeking flesh. Subject 76 felt its boney hands grasp both her breasts and start to knead them roughly as panic washed over her. It pulled her nipples with hard pinches. First one, then the other. Then, both at the same time in a torturous rhythm that milked a lusty sigh from her throat.

76's eyes widened when she heard it. Had that perverted sound come out of her?

What a fucking slut!

That's the way she was in high school. We did it behind the bleachers, her ass was so fucking tight.

But she's so fat!!

So? The thicker they are, the thicker the juice.

Ugh, you're so gross, Mikey.

Voices from the courtyard outside intermingled with her litany of moans. The five smokers were talking, gossiping candidly amongst themselves, while they sneered at her from the benches they sat in. Subject 76 jerked away, tried to push off the monster so she could hide her naked chest and cover the shame that came with being seen. The monster didn't let her, though. Almost like it sensed her self-disgust, it pinned her up against the window glass and handled her boobs harder. Tugged and pulled them so that her rosy peaks stretched out. Pressed its throbbing, hard bulge into her ass so that she could feel it pulse. Licked a trail up the curve of her neck to taste the sweat on her skin.

The five spectators outside laughed in response to her struggles.

Pig!

Whore!

Slut!

Sudden recognition dawned upon 76. Those five, smirking people down in the courtyard were her high school friends. The ones that she would see at the wedding next week. The ones who hadn't seen her since graduation. Their blinkless stares drilled into soul her as if she were soft plywood. She could feel their scrutiny already. 76 let out a horrified scream:

"N-no! NO!!! Please! D-don't look at me!! Don't!!!"

Hot, fetid breath that smelled like decaying flesh tickled her ear when the beast spoke. "Ahhhh," It said with a sultry purr, "Scopophobia. The fear of being seen by others. Of having so many judging eyes on you. My, what a vain creature you are to think anyone would look at you? Well then, let's give your audience something...more substantial to gaze at-"

It yanked down her pleated skirt and pulled aside her thong.

"I want all of them to see and hear you sing hosannas of anguish to Scarecrow!"

Eagerly, the monster guided its cock to grind on the entrance of Subject 76's ass. And bit by bit, it pushed itself slowly into her tight, puckered hole. 76 clawed at the window as she felt this invasion begin to pump within her. Striking a curious spot inside her body that caused drool to trickle down her chin from the edges of her mouth. Each hard stroke that it gave Subject 76 made her cry, then moan, then scream, then beg the Scarecrow for forgiveness. But the monster continued to thrust (unempathetically) into her asshole without any regard. Bright stars exploded in rapid numbers behind her eyes. Building heat churned at the pit of her belly, threatening to combust. Her pussy became sopping wet as his busy hips smacked into her backside with more force, speed, and single-minded desperation than her mind could handle. 76 felt like she was going to go insane. If it kept pounding her like this, she would certainly die!

The beast let loose a satisfied groan as it tossed its burlap-shrouded head back, "Mmn, fuck, yes! Show everyone what a sick little dirty whore you are for the God of Fear. Let the many, many eyes witness your senseless fright, you pig!"

"N-nnnooo!! M'nuh a pig, d-daddy! I'm clean! I'm clean!!"

"You're as filthy as they come. There's no doubts about that," the monster growled low and darkly, clamping its taloned grip upon both sides of 76's hips to hold her steady while it readjusted inside of her ass.

Subject 76 squirmed.

"Be still, slut!"

This was the only warning she received before its cock went to work. Now, positioned at a different angle, the monster penetrated her ass deeper. A wave of euphoria and fear swept over Subject 76 as she felt sensation after sensation threatening to break her. In. Out. Faster and harder. Rougher. The sheer brutality with which it fucked her body senseless was quickly burning a giant hole in her psyche and rearranging her brain chemistry into a shape she didn't recognize...

A transformation, Subject 76 soon realized, that she was quite helpless to stop.

In fact, 76 found that she was starting to like this new state; moaning, panting, squirming, crying!! Begging for her life. Getting so thoroughly railed by the God of Terror that it forced her eyes to roll back and her mouth fall open and her mind to go completely blank with the only thought she had (or could adequately retain) being how amazing it was to have this monster's dick buried so deep inside her!! Subject 76 had even forgotten about the audience that was watching this.

Maybe she even wanted the audience to watch?

If she was honest, perhaps she'd always wanted that...?

"M'gunna c-cum!! I gunna-"

Something mixed between a scream and a moan flew out of her mouth as the monster hilted itself fully into her ass, sparking an orgasm that shook her entire body to the core. A moment later, heat spread inside Subject 76. Thick and gooey, it ran down her thighs and joined the nectar of her own cum. The monster continued rocking its hips and unloaded spurt after spurt of sticky warmth that never seemed to end. Aftershocks accompanied every lazy, squelching thrust. More drool trickled down her chin, more moans were wrenched from her throat. 76 was less of a person now than she was a fuck sock; mindless and wet and perfectly submissive. The terrifying beast that called itself the "Scarecrow" had freed her from all the worry and pain she'd carried inside and replaced it with inner peace...

And obedience to the God of Fear.

Dr. Jonathan Crane sighed.

The "Kappa Psi" series toxin was a success. After countless days and sleepless nights and seventy six clinical trials on his unsuspecting patients, Dr. Crane had finally created something even he was afraid of. The K toxin was a potent combination that fused Doctor Isley's plant pheromones with carbogen and cortisol. When administered, it'd attack the pituitary gland first. Then, hurry itself onto the thalamus, amygdala and prefrontal cortex, where it'd flood the victim in mixed signals that twisted fear and pleasure together. With the right type of psychological stress applied, a subject under the effects of K Toxin would be highly susceptible to subliminal messages. Dr. Crane had found on the third clinical trial that sometimes a complete and utter dissociation would occur where the subject was...altered after the toxin wore off. Around the fifth clinical trial, Crane discovered that he didn't need to do much to invoke that dissociative state within his subjects. He started feeling like a God who crafted his own men and women alike from the soil of fear.

But, after seventy-five trials, each one a success, he'd started feeling unsatisfied. Bored, even. And now, on the seventy-sixth trial, Doctor Jonathan Crane was ready to concoct a new formula. This time, perhaps, he would experiment with a toxin that'd stimulate a timed, cardiac arrest? It'd be a great way to study Thanatophobia.

"I-I obey...I obey fear..."

Interrupting his musings, Subject 76 muttered to herself on his couch where she'd been since he'd dosed her. Crane rolled his eyes. It'd been half an hour (already) and without so much as a touch or a whisper in her ear, the young woman had come undone. He adjusted his glasses, then peered up at the clock hanging upon his wall. He'd give 76 a grace period of ten more minutes before he used an antidote. After all, she seemed to be enjoying herself even if he wasn't. Her fingers ground into her groin while she chanted hymns to horror with tears rolling from her glazed over eyes. Normally, Dr. Crane would be enchanted. The K Toxin made his job as a practitioner of fear too easy, though. The finesse involved in scaring someone seemed almost obsolete, comparatively. A ridiculous and foolish notion but one that bothered him greatly nonetheless.

While Crane waited for the K toxin to subside, he scrolled through his unread emails...

Dr. Leland was requesting any and all additional files on the Page Monroe case.

Jeremiah Arkham had CC'd the entire asylum on the rules and guidelines regarding the treatment of patients. It was obvious this message was just for Bolton, however.

Dr. Bartholomew was reminding everyone who'd used the staff refrigerator in the past 24 hours to label their food containers and lunches to "avoid any confusion."

Mike Browne, a senior orderly who worked in the Intensive Treatment Unit, was reporting theft. A concerning amount of Propofol had disappeared from the medical supply.

And a "Mister E" had messaged him at midnight (three whole days ago) with an email that was mysteriously entitled: "Question."

Just as Jonathan was about to open the mystery email, a timid voice interrupted him...

"D-Doctor Crane...?"

Subject 76 was (finally) shaking off the effects of the toxin and coming back to reality. The woman looked confused, a bit scared as well. And when he met her stare from his spot, perched at the desk, Crane saw terror blossoming inside those doe-like eyes. But, other than that little detail, 76 seemed to have recovered enough for Jonathan to talk to now. Turning away from his computer and clearing his throat, he began to weave a web of (plausible) deniability that reframed the past hour or so in a positive light...

"Don't alarm, Miss Bree. You seem to have fallen asleep during our guided breathing exercises. It's a common thing that happens with patients who hold onto too much stress. Rest assured, you're not the only one of my clients who've passed out on that couch...and I very much doubt that you'll be the last."

Subject 76 immediately reached up towards her mouth, wiping it clear of leftover drool. Then, the woman moved on to smooth her hair and fix any wrinkles that she saw in her sweater. As soon as 76 felt put together, the woman risked peeking a glimpse at the doctor. That beautiful fear which he loved so much still clung to the edges of her gaze.

"So, all that was just a nightmare?" she asked Dr. Crane with a voice that said she couldn't be more relieved, "All the things I saw...they weren't real?? Even you reporting me?"

Jonathan raised a single, curious brow. He made a show of taking off his glasses, wiping them on the material of a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, and returning them to his face before he answered the question:

"You had a nightmare, Miss. Bree? Well, that isn't all too uncommon, either. Guided breathing and meditation has been known to jog loose trauma from within our subconscious mind. That's why its use is so effective in a therapeutic setting," Dr. Crane said, then gestured casually over towards the wall clock, "But, I am afraid that will have to be a conversation for later. Our time today is up."

"Oh..."

"Let's schedule you for the same time next week. And perhaps this time, we can focus on staying awake throughout our session, hm?"

Embarrassment in the form of a rosy pink blush spread across Subject 76's cheeks at that small, wayward comment. She tried to hide it, though. Jonathan ignored this and led her over to the door, holding it open for the woman after she'd collected her things. As his patient walked by him, however, Crane froze her with an innocent question from out of left field...

"Before you go, Miss. Bree, I've been admittedly quite curious about something. It's my hope you can indulge me with an answer. What will you be wearing to your close friend's wedding, exactly? I'm not familiar nor particularly educated on the social formalities involved in such an occasion's dress wear."

76 paused, then replied as if commenting on the weather: "Oh, probably nothing. I want everyone to see my whore body. Wouldn't you, Dr. Crane?"

"Mm," Jonathan hummed in response before he closed the door behind her.

It'd started to rain outside. A light dusting of tiny water droplets were collecting themselves upon the glass of the curtain window beside his desk. Jonathan Crane could hear the pattering getting (progressively) louder by the second. He strolled over to his office chair, then sat in it. Watched as the storm rolled in from Gotham Bay and the icy Atlantic sea beyond it. Idly, he wondered if he'd ever meet a subject who could hold his interest? Or if The Batman, alone, would continue to keep that honor for himself?

Swiveling around to face his computer, Jonathan decided to open that "Mister E" email. He clicked once upon the subject line and was assaulted by bright green text almost instantly. A deep frown tugged on his lips as he squinted, trying to read the words despite wearing a pair of prescription glasses...

'Like a rhubarb, what also desperately searches for light in the darkest depths?

I'll give you a hint: It doesn't crack or pop, but it can scream just as loudly in Arkham's basement.'

Underneath this was a picture of himself in a lab coat, administering a lethal dose of fear toxin to an Arkham patient who was strapped down to a surgical table. Another photo, in addition to this, was timestamped for a few minutes later, and it featured Jonathan wearing a badly stitched-up, burlap, respirator mask. The patient who was screaming in the bottom right corner appeared to be bleeding around the mouth and eyes. The final one was a zoomed in shot of his name tag while he was disguised in the mask: Dr. Jonathan Crane, MD.

He stilled.

Everything in the world went absolutely quiet. He could've heard a single pin drop. But the silence was quickly shattered by the sound of electronic beeping. Jonathan peered down at his waist belt to see that the Motorola pager he wore strapped to it was flashing him a message...

'9229.'

All the muscles in his jaw tensed.

Immediately, Jonathan turned off his computer and using a brass key (that he always kept close on his person), opened up the bottom drawer to recover a briefcase hidden underneath the cover of an internal partition. As soon as his fingertips brushed against the leather item, Nightmare let out three loud, ear-splitting caws from her iron cage. She spread her wings, then flapped them several times in apparent aggravation. The crow pierced Jonathan with a look that seemed to warn him of something that he couldn't logically discern. But, fear was not logical, he reasoned to himself...

...And the only thing there was to fear in Gotham City was the Scarecrow.

"Hold the fort down while I'm gone, Nightmare," he said to his bird, hoping that his request would help to ease her worries, "This'll only take a bit. It usually does."

Jonathan Crane strode out of his office with an incredible sense of urgency and ire. His old, leather briefcase was gripped tightly in his hands like a gun. Nobody blackmailed the Scarecrow...

Or lived long enough to tell about it.

#faerybladefics #faeryblade is done with dr. crane #jonathan crane #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #the scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fanfic #dc universe #dr. jonathan crane #please don't tell my psychiatrist he'd kill me!

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 months

Note

Could you do a reader that’s ends up as a “functional” lycan after combining with the cadou? Functional in the sense of keeping the ability to communicate but with the body, instincts and mind of a Lycan with Donna adapting to the changes?

Yess!!! Thank you for your request!!! Well, I've changed the polt a bit, but I hope you like it anyway!!! Sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Not a human, not a wolf

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, Lycan! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Lycan stuff, but happy ending

Word count: 7,040

Summary: You want to kill, eat, you don't want to love...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :)) And if you're wondering about the song, is "Something Stupid" by Frank & Nancy Sinatra (1967) Totally a classic of love songs ;)

"You can’t do anything?"

A strange murmur enters your head as you open your eyes. It’s a voice distorted by the sound of blood flowing through your veins. Everything seems new to you, everything is confusing. You can't think, even if you try. You can't see even if there is light. The only thing you are capable of feeling is hunger, sleep, the desire to run.

It smells like stagnant water, humidity. You are able to perceive that, but you cannot see the figures in front of you. You try hard to calm down, but you can't. Your head only asks you for basic things, your instincts are your top priority.

Kill, eat, sleep

That was the mantra that your mind repeated, one that was confusing and at the same time very clear, very necessary. You move, but you can't walk, something prevents you. A chain surrounds your neck and jingles as you move. You are trapped, locked in, you can't run, you can't fight, you can't kill.

“I'm so sorry, Donna. I can’t,” another distorted voice forces your mind to turn your head. The sound of your heavy breathing is even louder than the jingle of the chains. Donna. For some reason that set of syllables produces a different, familiar effect on you.

Your vision becomes clear little by little. All you see are prey, prey that terrifies you, that makes you retreat against the stone wall of that strange place. You feel bad, you shouldn't be there.

You should be in the forest. You should be hunting, killing.

A pleasant sound, a cry reaches your tuned ears. The black figure in front of you cries. She cries uncontrollably, but you don't feel anything. You just think about the same words, over and over again.

“The best thing for (Y/N) is to spare her suffering,” the softer voice says. Two prisoners together and you tied with chains, what a waste. You weren't even interested in interpreting the words that came out of their mouth. You only wanted their flesh.

Kill, eat, sleep

“No! There has to be a way to…” The figure in black insists. In her desperation, you find pleasure. Just the way you like prey, defenseless. But no, you were the defenseless one, you were tied.

The hunger begins to be too much and your body moves on its own, lunging towards those two pieces of meat. The pain in your neck when stretching the chain is unbearable. You go back against the wall, crashing with the same force you launched yourself with.

“Come on, (Y/N), calm down, please,” the black figure says again. She was talking to you and you knew it, but you can't understand why, you can't know who or what is (Y/N). It’s probably prey, a delicious piece of meat that is going to satisfy your needs.

“Maybe she's hungry,” says another, higher-pitched voice, making you turn your head as you struggle against the chains. No, it’s not prey, it’s not meat.

“Is it true, (Y/N)?” The figure in black asks. Her features are familiar, her scent is different. It doesn't smell like prey, it smells like flowers. “Are you, are you hungry?”

That question was aimed directly at you. A female figure who was wearing a black dress. Her figure is clearly seen in your eyes, for some reason, you can't stop looking at her. Maybe it was that, or maybe it's just you're really hungry. Hungry, yes, you understand that.

You shake your head up and down, thinking that this way your plea for food would be heard. The figure further back approaches abruptly, looking you in the eyes.

“What did you just do?” That black and gold prey asks, keeping the distance, but watching you.

You can't know what she's talking about. Hunger yes, strange questions, no.

“Are you hungry?” the woman in gold asks, to which your head moves again. Her face now is curious. “Well, well…”

“What's wrong?” The prey with the black dress asks, holding that piece of talking non-meat.

“It's curious. Normally Lycans are not able to communicate, not even with such simple gestures,” the woman explains, you ignore it. You're not interested, you want to eat.

Lycans? What's that? More prey?

“What do you mean?” the flower lady asks. The noises they make when talking make you nervous, you are still hungry.

“Well, I don't want to give you false hope... But you may have a small chance of saving her,” the bird woman says. Yes, that mask is like a delicious bird.

The lady in black smiles, she is happy, you can tell. You would be too if you had someone to eat.

“Please, Mother Miranda, tell me what I have to do,” the lady begs, joining her hands. The more she moves, the more intense the floral scent. That calms you down, but it's not enough. You want to take off your chains and get out of that dark place, you want prey.

“I wish I could tell you, Donna,” that bird sighs. “The only thing you have to do is to hurry, or the Cadou will eliminate any trace of her consciousness, if is any left... Well, and I advise you to feed her, or she will become even more furious.”

The bird falls silent and moves, leaving your range of vision. You can't follow her, you're chained. You roar angrily, struggling with your restraints. The woman in black looks at you, water falling from her eye. She cries, you know she cries and you feel something, you feel... Pity.

Darkness reigns in that place. You are alone, you have no prey. You have nothing, only chains with you fight against to. You're hungry, you're starving.

You can hear footsteps in the distance, footsteps of a prey, which makes you lick your lips, drool anxiously. You can't see beyond that smell, an intense, appetizing smell. The flower lady brings you meat, a big piece of meat, and you fight to escape again. It was not necessary, that prey remained still, waiting to be devoured.

The pleasure you feel when sinking your fangs into that piece of meat is unmatched. You feel alive, euphoric, you want to grunt, you want to call your companions to share that feast. But no matter how loud you roar, no one was going to come with you, you were locked up.

“I will save you, I promise, (Y/N),” that woman says, sobbing, while you only focus on eating, on feeding yourself. You hadn't killed, but at least you had eaten.

Your breathing relaxes after the feast. You are sated, alone and chained. You can't do anything but drop to the ground. Your bloodlust calms little by little and your vision of your own body becomes clearer. You see claws, hair, blood. You feel uncomfortable, as if something doesn't fit, as if you weren't like that, as if you had once been something different.

Those thoughts hurt your head, they make you scream, but you can't do anything but growl. The efforts to escape had left you tired, your body asked you to rest, asked you to lie down and close your eyes.

Kill, eat, sleep...

“Hello, Lady Beneviento, I bring you the fabrics,” you said with a smile.

The day is sunny and there is no hair in your hands, there are no fangs in your mouth, only skin, only a smile on your face.

The lady in black opened the door for you, letting you pass suspiciously.

“Where is the Duke?” She asked, holding the doll in her arms.

You shrugged and shook your head.

“Hasn't he told you? He has hired me as his assistant,” you explained, spreading some cloths on the hall table. “Come on. Tell me which ones you like.”

“The Duke works alone,” the lady in black said, with that mysterious veil on her face. She didn't seem to trust you, and you couldn't blame her for that.

“Yeah, well... He worked,” you joked, cutting a piece of the fabric that she pointed out. “I guess we all need some help from time to time,” you said amused, marking another piece of gray fabric with a pencil.

“Not me,” the woman said, touching the soft texture of the product. You nodded with a smile.

“No? Well, how lucky you are,” you said, avoiding that doll, Angie, from bothering you while you were cutting. “But I understand you, people suck, right?”

“You're very talkative,” she said, annoyed, keeping her hands together in front of her body.

“Sorry, factory defect,” you commented jokingly. “If it bothers you, I'll keep quiet. I don't want you to send me traveling trough the traumas of my past.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Lady Beneviento asked, with an offended tone.

“Well, that's what you do, right?” You said, following her instructions, cutting more fabric.

“Only with people I don't like,” she explained. You couldn't tell if she was joking, she was quite a strange woman.

“Do you dislike me?” You asked with a mischievous look, carefully folding the fabrics.

“Are you hallucinating?” She asked, back. You shook your head, raising your eyebrows.

“Mmm, no, I don't think so.”

"Well, so this is the answer,” she finally said, handing you a bag of coins and turning to turn her back on you. “Tomorrow I want the white fabric lace that I asked for.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow I have to go to the factory to…” You said confused by that request. It wasn't on your list. “Could it be that you just want to see me again?” You asked jokingly, with that audacity typical of you.

“Maybe,” she whispered, disappearing from your field of vision like a ghost.

Maybe…

That voice reverberates in your head over and over again as you open your eyes again. Everything you had seen in your mind fades away when your instincts wake up, when you wake up. The chains are still attached to your neck and dried blood decorates your fur. Had you dreamed?

A terrible thirst makes you forget all those confusing images. You've woken up, it's just another day, or so you think. You have to kill.

Kill, eat, sleep...

The very sound of heels disturbs you, makes you alert, get up. The sound of the chains hurts your ears.

But it is not a piece of fresh meat that appears. It’s that woman in black, the same one you saw in your dreams. In her arms she carries what looks like a bucket of water. Water… Yes, yes, you are very thirsty.

The lady leaves it in front of you and you go for it, putting your head inside of it, eagerly drinking the liquid of life while she watches you. Her eye is red. You know how to recognize sadness when you see it, but you don't know why. You are not able to feel anything else, you cannot think about anything other than escaping, running, jumping through the forest, hunting. Yes, those are your only thoughts.

“It was my fault,” the woman in black murmurs, leaning against what looks like a small stone wall.

The smell of stagnant water comes from there. It looks like an old well. Little by little that place stops seeming strange to you.

You look at her, leaving the bucket empty, letting yourself fall to the ground. You're hungry, but not too hungry. That woman seems curious to you, she still smells like flowers. It's not meat, but it's nice, you feel good.

“Please, (Y/N), tell me you're there...” She says, looking into your eyes, eyes that stung, that were surely red, like hers. “Tell me it's not too late for you to recover.”

You don't understand her. You don't know what she wants. You only see her as the prey that brings you food and water. There is nothing else on your mind, not even that strange dream.

Your gaze is lost in her figure and your breathing is calm. The woman turns away from the well and walks slowly towards you. Your instincts become alert, but you don't move, you can't. The smell of flowers is pleasant.

“Remember me? Do you know who I am?” She asks, moving closer, reaching out her trembling hand toward your paws. You get nervous, the sound of blood returns to your ears.

Don't come any closer.

Her skin makes contact with your claw. You feel the need to tear her arms apart, to devour her, but you can't do it. You stay still, fighting your own anxiety. The woman looks at you pleadingly, waiting for an answer, something to tell her that someone is inside of you. No, no, no, no. There is nothing inside of you, only bloodlust, only death, only prey.

You get more nervous, you shake your head confused, not knowing what you are, who you are. Questions that your mind can't process, that doesn't want to process. You growl, menacingly, baring your teeth at that cheeky piece of meat. You want to devour her, kill her. You want the smell of flowers to disappear.

You move quickly, attacking the woman, managing to scratch her skin, tearing the black fabric of her dress. Blood, that prey bleeds, and you like blood. She screams and falls to the ground, looking at you in horror.

Why are you looking at me like that?

“Donna, Donna!” That shrill voice comes to her aid. It was the puppet of your dreams.

Donna… What a strange and familiar word.

The woman steps back and pulls something out of her dress, crying, her arm hurt. You have done that, you have caused her pain. You shouldn't feel bad, but you do. The doll takes the sharp object and fights against your spasms, against the desire you had to break that porcelain into a thousand pieces.

You feel a sting in your neck and you claw at the air. Your strength gradually decreases, as if you were sleepy, but you just slept, you shouldn't feel like that.

Your legs give out and you fall to the ground. You can't move, you can only see that woman bleeding, approaching you again and collecting your head in her arms.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, tesoro...” She whispers into your weak ears, unable to process nothing but her voice. Your sense of smell was saturated with the flowers and the tiredness is getting stronger, making you weak, making darkness loom over you.

“Checkmate, Donna, she's KO,” that insufferable doll murmured.

Checkmate…

“Checkmate,” the lady in black said, knocking down the last piece left on your board. You growled furiously, but amused, crossing your arms.

“You don't get tired of winning, huh?” You joked, sighing in defeat. She laughed through her veil.

“You don't think things through, (Y/N),” she said with a soft voice, rearranging the pieces on the board.

“I don’t? Well, I've always been told that,” you murmured, leaning your back on the couch. “Maybe if I thought things through, I wouldn't be here with you instead of neglecting my obligations.”

“Is it a bother for you to be with me?” She asked, offended. You shook your head hastily.

“What? No, no, it was just a joke,” you said confused, used to her insecurities. “Anyway, I think I should go home, before the Lycans devour me…”

“But it’s too soon,” she said, getting up from the couch, with a broken voice. “Could you, could you stay for dinner with me.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” You asked amused.

“No, I...” Donna said, fleeing from that accusation, a well-founded accusation.

“No? Well, then I guess I’ll leave and…” You whispered, standing up. A hand on your wrist stopped you from moving and you smiled victoriously.

“What would you tell me if I asked you on a date?” She asked nervously, keeping her hand on your skin.

“I would tell you why you haven't asked me before, Donna.”

I would say why you haven't asked me before, Donna...

Abruptly, you open your eyes. The pain in your head is unbearable, your temples throb and your hunger calls for help again. You growl, annoyed by that dizziness. So you can't hunt, you can't kill. You are weak and the black figure in front of you was responsible, that overwhelming perfume of flowers. Donna. That name spins around in your head. You can't help but relate it to the lady in black.

“She has woken up! Give me another syringe,” Angie doll squeals. You hadn't realized how close she was until she disappeared. You want to destroy that doll, you want your prey.

“No, Angie, it seems like she's calm,” Donna said, yes, Donna. You're sure that's her name. Since when do preys have names? Maybe it's not prey, maybe the prey is you.

The irrational fear of fainting again makes you recoil, teeth bared threateningly. The lady in black has a bandaged arm. You recognized the smell of your attack. You smile seeing how you managed to hurt her, but you didn't want to. You're hungry, you're hungry again.

“(Y/N), please, comes to your senses. I know you are there, somewhere,” the woman says, approaching her doom again. You don't feel like attacking, but you are hungry, very hungry.

You groan and shake your head. You have the need to respond, something inside you is dying to come out, but no, you can't, you have to kill, you have to hunt.

Kill, eat, sleep...

“Gods...” That Donna murmurs, her eye crying again. Preys don't cry. Preys flee, they scream, they bleed to death, but they don’t cry, they don’t smell like flowers.

The lady disappears and you scream, roar, flee. Hunger drives you crazy, loneliness is not a problem, but you need to eat, you need to take off those chains.

Fortunately, another piece of meat arrives just in time. Donna brings it, Donna feeds you. She is not your prey, she brings food, blood. She takes care of you. Does she take care of you?

You senselessly devour that raw meat, feeling how your body relaxes, how your instincts calm down. You don't care, you're eating. That's the most important thing.

When only the bone remains, you throw it with a grunt across the dark room. A grateful feeling settles in your mind, your eyes drift to the lady in black, who seemed focused on some kind of book. She gets scared when you throw the bone, she looks at you carefully again.

You sit, sated, drooling, dried blood matting your fur.

“Have you finished?” She asked kindly. No, preys are not kind, preys flee.

Your hand plays tricks on you. You extend one of your claws towards her, you don't really know why. You don't feel like killing, you want to reach your prey, but not devour it, just touch it.

She avoids you, but she can't seem to do it. She grabs your claw with her hand. Your eyes are lost, staring at the bandage on her arm. You did that, you hurt your prey, Donna.

“D…D…” Some clearer sounds come out of your mouth, tripping over the blood that was still between your jaws. Your throat struggled to pronounce a word, that word that had been floating around in your mind.

“Do you want to say something?” She asks, looking at you carefully, with curiosity, surprised by those strange noises.

“Do, Do... Donna,” you finally say, making a superhuman effort. No, you're not human, not anymore.

“Yes, tesoro, yes, I'm Donna, do you remember me?” She says with a broken voice, with her eye shining, excited.

You nod, not sure if you're telling the truth, you don't even know what telling the truth means. You once knew it, now you don't.

She cries excitedly, putting your claws on her face. You wanted to tear her apart, but you couldn't. Her name still echoed in your head, looking at her smile made you calm down.

But that's where your moment of lucidity ends. Your instincts attack again, causing the lady to flee from you, your prey to escape again.

The days go by and you remain the same, perhaps more hungry, more thirsty, perhaps more growling, more desperate attempts to escape. Donna is still with you, she is always with you, even at the risk of you killing her, of devouring her as your body asked. No, you didn't, you didn't speak again either.

“Come on, say something, I know you can,” the lady in black asks you, with her faithful squire Angie covering her. If by chance your desire to attack increased, she would stick that strange spike in you that made you fall asleep. You didn't want that. “I'm really trying, (Y/N), I'm trying to save you.”

You look at her confused, tilting your head, making her huff and pace from side to side. You were calm, you had just eaten.

Kill, eat, sleep, D…D…

Sighing, you laid down on the ground, feeling comfort in your fur. You didn't want to continue listening to that woman. To sleep was your next step.

“Please, say something, anything, (Y/N), please let me know that I haven't lost you,” Donna says, moving closer, knowing that when you were sleeping, you were almost defenseless. Her voice sounded very close, and her scent was intense. The flowers were pretty, they were not prey. She was pretty.

You growl in annoyance, pushing her hand away from your hair in an unpleasant manner. She backs away, but she doesn't seem to want to give up.

Don't bother me anymore, Donna. I don't want to devour you.

“Please, say something, I know you can... Please, (Y/N),” she insists, hurting your ears, making you squirm and the sound of the chains muffling her voice. “I don't care what you say, please, even if it's something stupid...”

Her words have no effect on you. You want to sleep, you need to sleep. Donna sobs and turns away from you, walking up the stairs, running away from you. You breathe a sigh of relief for having freed yourself from her annoying presence and curl up on yourself, sleeping.

Something stupid…

A strange music begins to play in your head, a familiar melody... A voice you didn't know...

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place

And have a drink or two

The music surrounds that strange atmosphere. A room, a song, a dance, two dresses moved by turns, two lovers.

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying something stupid like, "I love you"

Your hands rested on her shoulder while your eyes admired her smile. Donna danced with you, you danced with her. That romantic melody clouded your senses. Your hand in her waist, her hand in yours in soft movements, with looks of love.

The record was spinning in the player. The sun came in through the windows, making your shadows dance too. The smile on your face was impossible to look at, the smile when looking at hers, when seeing her beauty without that veil.

Your heart was pounding as you touched her dress, her skin. Donna smiled and rested her head on your shoulder. You wanted nothing but to keep dancing, even if the music ended. Your smile was camouflaged as you lean in to kiss her, to feel her lips on yours. Donna sighed, joining that kiss, running her hands over your waist, over your chest. The music continued playing, her hands wandered over your body, yours over hers.

“I love you, (Y/N)” her lips whispered. Yours smiled. “I want you to live with me, I want you to never leave.”

You nodded, playing with her hands, not missing a beat, giving her a spin before taking her firmly in your arms and bending her over slightly, holding her back.

“I love you, Donna,” you said, kissing her romantically. “I would love to live with you, spend my life with you.”

She kissed you again, cupping your face in her hands emphasizing the happiness those words brought her. The kisses became hot, her hand grabbing yours, saying nothing, dragging you towards the elevator, towards the bedroom.

The music was still playing. The song was ending, just like your dream.

I love you,

I love you…

Your eyes open again, it's another day. Thirst and hunger are no longer a problem. Donna made sure you had everything you needed. Your neck hurts. You have wounds, probably from having been trying to escape. Curious that you hadn't realized it until now. Your instincts scream for you to listen to them, but eating or sleeping are no longer the only things your body asks of you.

Kill, eat, sleep, Donna…

That melody of your dreams is still in your head, it continues sending images, memories to your heart, if you still had one. The piece of meat that you had in front of you calls you, but you are not able to pay attention to it, you are hungry, eat.

You extend your claws, but when you sink them into the flesh, you withdraw them in fear, why were you afraid? You don't want to eat, you're not hungry, or so you think. You're scared, you need Donna. You look for her.

She is there, far from you, far from your attacks, from your ferocity. You try to call her but you can't, you cry from helplessness, you put your claws on the metal collar, you feel the sting of your wounds.

“D, D... Do... Don,” you murmured, your voice hoarse, but clearer. You fight with your damaged vocal cords, but it's useless. You can't talk. You're a Lycan, now you know.

She doesn't listen to you. She's lost in her books. You have to roar, you have to scream, you have to make her listen to you.

“Do, Do, Donna!” You scream in a guttural, heartbreaking voice, one that scares the lady in black and makes Angie take out the usual syringe.

“(Y/N),” Donna murmurs, running towards you, crouching down to observe you, as she did lately, observe you, look at you.

Her eye goes from your face to the intact piece of meat. Her expression becomes confused, her brow furrows, and she looks back at you.

“You're not hungry?” She asks, nervously playing with her hands. Yes, she was afraid of you, she was your prey. She already was.

You shake your head sharply, putting your hands on your head, trying to make that strange pain go away. Donna doesn't come closer and you want her to, you need her smell of flowers on your fur, you need her hugs, the ones you dreamed of. But she fears you, you attacked her, you scratched her arm, you were going to devour her, she was your prey, she still is.

Your words are the only thing that seems to calm her, you had to speak, you had to try, but you couldn't pronounce anything, only that song played again in your head.

“I… Practice… Every… Day,” you murmur, the song guiding your actions. It was the only thing you could say, the only thing in your head. Donna looks at you confused, shaking her head, stepping closer. “To find some clever lines to say…”

The lady in black crouches next to you, looking at you strangely, looking for the hidden humanity in you, the one that made you sing that song that meant so much to her, and to you.

“But then I think I'll wait, until the evening gets late...” Donna sings, with a soft voice that numbs your senses. You try to smile, you really want to.

Kill, eat, sleep, Donna, I love you...

“And I'm alone with you,” you two whisper in unison.

Donna cries again, she smiles, brings her hand closer to your hairy, blood-stained face. She's not afraid of you, you don't disgust her, she loves you, you love her. Now you know, now you remember. You haven't died yet.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, throwing herself into your arms, hugging your beastly body. You are confused, you should want to kill her, devour her, but the only thing you can do is to hug her, is to feel the heat of her hug in your hair, in the worn parts that remained of your dress. You were not a Lycan. You were a woman, a human being. You once were the woman Donna loved, the one who made her happy, the one who made that smile.

Her tears should alert you, tell you that your prey was weak, but they didn't, they made you feel bad. No, she was no longer your lover, nor your prey, you were no longer her love, you were a monster.

“Gods…. (Y/N)...” She sobs again, without letting you go, letting you also seek comfort in her arms. The perfume of those flowers never seemed so pleasant to you.

“I... I love you...” You whispered with difficulty, with your fangs preventing you from speaking clearly, from appearing human, you weren't, you would never be again.

“My love, my tesoro...” The doll maker murmurs, broken with pain, letting herself be embraced by the weapons that were your arms, your claws, burying in your skin.

“Donna...” You say, rubbing your head on her body, wanting that comfort that only she could give to you. But no, you weren't going to say something nice. You are aware of what you are. The images of how you got to that situation became torture in your mind.

One night, cold, wolves, bite, you get sick, you die, you wolf now.

You knew Miranda had experimented on you when you were a little girl, but the Cadou didn't develop until that bite, until that unexpected attack from the Lycans. You were just like them. You would never be (Y/N) again.

“Kill me...” You ask with a hoarse voice, your decision clearer. She looks at you, pulling away from your chest, her eye shining, red with tears.

“What? No...” She sighs, those words hurt her, they hurt her and you don't know why. You weren't going to come back. If you couldn't love her, you didn't want to live. You didn't want to be a monster. You didn't want to see her as your prey. Either love, or death.

“Kill me,” you insisted, with an irrational rage beginning to build up in your guts. The hunger had returned, but you had to fight, take advantage of that small moment of humanity. You want it to end, you want the suffering to end. You want Donna to be safe, from you.

“No, no, (Y/N),” she says, shaking her head, holding your chin, cupping your jaws with her hands. The smell of the flowers is starting to be annoying again. “I'll save you, I, I'm working on a serum, I'll save you, (Y/N).”

“Kill me!” You roared, causing her to fall to the ground. The ferocity had returned and the smell of that intact piece of meat was becoming unbearable.

Pushing the lady in black again, you dive into your food, forgetting about that song, those desires to die. You wanted to eat, you needed to eat. Not even the desire to die was strong enough to make your hunger disappear.

“How is she going?” A strange voice wakes you up, that appetizing bird woman. Your hunger calls you, but, as always, you have your food in front of it, you go for it.

“She's better, or so I think,” Donna says, her voice breaking. Her appearance is pitiful, even a Lycan like you realizes that.

Kill, eat, sleep, Donna, I love you, I want to die...

Instincts speak for you. Your conscience is locked under bloodlust. You didn't speak again. You were no longer capable of even grunting something close to her name. Only sometimes, when your lucidity allowed it, you wanted to stop existing, stop being a monster.

“It doesn't seem like it,” Mother Miranda murmured, yes that was her name, she did that to you, but you don't hate her, you admire her, you owe her loyalty.

“She spoke a few weeks ago, she said my name,” Donna says, holding her guardian Angie, the prick doll, in her arms.

“Mm, that doesn't mean anything. The total transformation is different for each specimen,” the blonde says, looking at you out of the corner of her eye. “It's a lost cause, Donna, you should stop trying.”

“I can’t stop. I already have an almost ready serum, it could work,” the lady in black protests. You don't listen, you just eat. You just tear the meat from the bone. “She, she said that she wanted, that she wanted me to kill her.”

“Mm,” the witch murmurs again. She seemed to have no feelings, like you. “It could have been a cry for help, don't you think?”

“I know she is there, somewhere, I have, I have to help her...” Donna comments.

Don't insist, you are my prey.

“Maybe helping her is fulfilling her last wishes,” Miranda says, getting a little closer.

I can't kill you, you are my mistress, I owe you loyalty. My body says it, my hunger says it. I can't eat that bird.

“What do you mean?” Donna asks, approaching the bird.

“Donna, you're putting yourself in danger,” Miranda states, observing in disgust your voracious hunger and the constant drooling you made when eating. “I have given you a whole month to solve this. I can't let you.”

“But, but,” the doll maker protests, with a sad, scared look.

Yes, yes, you are scared. You are my flower-smelling prey.

“Enough, Donna. I’m very sorry that this has ended this way,” the bird interrupts, untouchable bird.

“Please, Mother Miranda, let me try, please,” Donna begs, kneeling before the bird. You look at her curiously, licking the bone that was left from your meal, grunting in satisfaction at your satiety.

“Mm, you said you had a serum,” the blonde comments, an omnipotent bird.

“Yes, but, but it's not finished,” Donna says, nodding, getting up from the ground. Her doll nodded as well. “I need more time, just a little more.”

Miranda shakes her head and you groan in confusion. They are talking about you and you didn't realize it.

“Give it to her,” the bird orders, to which the lady in black shakes her head again. “You've already wasted too much time. It's the last chance.”

“It's not finished,” Donna says, scared again.

Flowers…

“I don’t care! Obey, Donna,” the blonde screeches, echoing off the walls and causing an horrible damage to your ears. “You are lucky that I give you that opportunity. If your serum doesn't work, (Y/N) will die, I will end her suffering.”

Who is (Y/N)? Another prey? I'm thirsty.

The lady nods with a sad look, disappearing up the stairs.

When she returns, she is carrying something in her hand, a jar with a strange liquid. It's not blood, you can't smell blood.

Donna approaches you slowly, cautiously, uncovering the jar. The smell is horrible. You couldn't smell the flowers anymore. Frightened and helpless, you back away, shaking your chains.

“Please drink it, please,” Donna begs, extending the jar towards you. Miranda sighs listlessly.

“Do I drug her? Do I drug her?” Angie asks, shaking her usual syringe in her hand.

“No, Angie, if you do it it won't work. She has to be awake,” Donna explains, trying to get you to drink from that horrible jar. You squirm, you kick, you shake your claws, until you couldn't do it. Something prevents you to.

The bird looks at you, as if concentrated. You look at your claws, stuck to the wall, held by black roots.

“Obey, drink,” the bird whispers, something that makes you react. She is your master, you owe her loyalty.

The liquid burned your sore throat, the taste was horrible, you preferred blood, meat, you wanted prey.

Nothing happens, time stops, the two women look at you and your throat continues to hurt. You're angry. You can't defend yourself. The taste of that liquid was horrible, you wanted blood. You drool while you show your teeth at Donna, she was the culprit, not Miranda, she was your owner, you her servant.

You want to kill Donna, devour her, but before you could feel that fury, a burning pain begins to burn your insides. You run your hands through your fur, trying to get rid of that internal fire, the fire that consumed your skin from within.

You roar, roar like never before as you stand up, tightening the chains that keep you pinned to the wall.

The pain is unbearable, all your skin burns, your eyes hurt, your legs hurt, but you have to escape, you have to kill. You couldn't stop roaring, wailing, moving your claws erratically until they landed on the collar on your neck.

Screaming again, with all the strength you had, you managed to break that collar in two and you moved triumphantly, howling in a terrifying way. The women look at you scared. The bird narrows her eyes, as if wanting to give you some orders. Her lips are moving, she is talking but you can't hear her. The pain is stronger, the pain is your master now.

Locating the perfume of flowers, you run on all fours towards the lady in black, who tries to flee, in vain.

You grab her, push her against a wall. The pain is strong, but you lick your lips, she is yours, your prey. The voices in your head cry out for your attention. You have to kill, tear apart, she has caused that horrible pain. Donna has caused it.

You roar in her face, making her close her eye. She doesn't fight to get away from you, she knows she can't. You double over in pain, but you keep her against the wall, you have to kill.

Kill, eat, sleep, Donna, I love you, I want to die

Kill… Eat… Donna, I love you, I want…

Kill… Eat… Donna… I love you.

Ki… Ea… Donna… I love you.

K…E… Donna, I love you.

Donna, I love you.

Your pain becomes strong and voices confuse your mind. Something wants to come out and you must let it go. You let Donna go and clawed at your head, roaring, roaring until the sound coming out of your mouth was more like a scream.

You scream in pain, you scream in the burning. You're screaming, not roaring. Donna looks at you scared, but she doesn't run away from you, she is no longer your prey, she is no longer... She is... She is...

Your mind overflows and you become dizzy, letting yourself fall forward. Warm arms pick you up. You no longer see anything, only darkness.

Only darkness

Your whole body aches, you move slowly, waiting to feel the hard rock beneath your feet. No, it's not rock that you feel, it's comfort, it's a soft surface, you are comfortable.

You open your eyes. There is no more well, no more meat, no water. There is no hunger, no thirst, no prey, just that smell of flowers that came from the sheets you were under.

Frightened, you sit up and see your hand. It was a human hand, soft, without fur, without blood, without claws. You bring that hand to your face, to your body. There's nothing, just soft skin, just some wounds.

Run your tongue over your teeth, there are no fangs. There are no instincts, there is only you. (Y/N), that's your name, you're human again.

“She's awake, she's awake!” Angie screams, jumping on the bed. You can't help but smile. That whole atmosphere was so familiar. Despite the pain in your body, you are happy.

“A... Angie, is that you?” You ask, extending your sore arm towards the doll, which nods fervently. Yes, Angie, it's Angie.

“Hello, hello!” She squeals again, shaking your hand as if she just met you.

Hurried heels reached your ears. That noise no longer hurt you, it no longer sounded loud. It was no longer an approaching prey.

“Gods, (Y/N)!”Donna screams, smiles, cries, she throws herself into your arms. You, confused, but happy, hug her back, remembering how good her warmth felt on your body. “(Y/N), tesoro…”She sobs against your bare skin, grabbing your face with a look of pure happiness.

“What…? What happened?” You ask, having vague memories, something in your body that asked you to eat meat, although the part that prevented it was still stronger. “Have I died?”

Donna shakes her head, with a wide, sincere smile.

“No, no, my love, you're alive... I've saved you,” she says enthusiastically. You put your hands in hers and smile. Yes, it's Donna, your Donna. You are alive, she has saved you.

“I'm a bit... Dizzy,” you say, enjoying her caresses. “But I'm glad to see you.”

“You've been asleep for three days, I thought you wouldn't wake up,” she explains, lying down on the bed and placing your pillow. Her gaze darkens, you remember why.

“Well, I guess I'm back,” you comment, smiling at your love, at your everything, at your Donna. Yes, she saved you, in too many ways. “Maybe, maybe you don't believe me but... I haven't stopped thinking about you all this time.”

“I know,” the lady in black responds, nodding and leaning towards your lips, kissing them, making you hug her even tighter. You don't want to lose contact.

Laugh, cry, love, Donna…

You separate, as if it were a dream, you caress her pale skin, her black hair. You drown in her flower perfume. You were back, and you were happy. She cries and so do you. You were back, you would never leave again.

“Donna, I love you,” you say loud and clear with your human voice, one that spoke without problems, that said everything it wanted to say.

“I love you, my love...” Donna responds, burying herself in your aching body. You laugh, knowing that the previous month was nothing but a nightmare that you didn't want to remember again.

“Hey...” You sigh, with an amused look. You were always too much of a joker. “I'm hungry.”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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