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simsiddy · 10 days
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this is now my favorite luke pairing hc, i love a moody gal and the way you wrote this is insane, it’s addicting 🫶
mdni! 18+ only
possessive luke if you squint. i am once again breaking canon.
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Luke Castellan vs Hades daughter.
she's a moody gal. she can easily come off as a brat but Like loves that. the way you'd literally ignore guys that weren't Luke always gave him a bit of a hard on. they way you'd just stare blankly at them before walking to Luke. Him smirking as you as you cuddle up into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. Kissing your forehead as you smile absentmindedly. "My good girl." he'll mumble to you.
i have a head canon about Luke dating stoner Hades daughter! reader (headcanon break don't come for me) where she has that cabin all to herself that Luke crashes at on occasion. shes got her little short that drive luke crazy and one of his shirts on. she's absolutely baked and she just smiles up at him lazily as he rests his hand on her chin.
"hi there." you whisper up a him with closed eyes and a pretty smile. his finger runs down your neck before tapping your nose as you giggle.
"hey pretty girl. you save some for me?" he asks as his hand holds your chin. you nod and roll onto your stomach. "i'm nice like that." you state. "oh yeah you are a nice girl aren't you?" he teases as he goes to light up. you're quick to sit up as you go to light it for him. he could moan at the gesture almost. "such a nice girl. why don't you go lay on the bed for me?" and as we've said. you're such a nice girl.
he takes one more hit before coming over to you. laying stomach down on the bed before slowly pulling off your shorts. "you know babe...i get the munchies when im high...and id like to eat my favorite meal. so be a good girl and wrap these thighs around my head,okay?"
GOD
anyway. so hades daughter who keeps to herself and doesn't like talking to any guy but luke. so when someone new arrives and tries to get in with you. you're quick to tell them who you're with. even going so far as introducing them to luke with a "this is my boyfriend, Luke Castellan," his name sounds so pretty in your mouth. you know what else makes pretty sounds, your mouth when you moan that name while he's laying absolutely pipe. fucking you sideways while your eyes roll back into your head, the little bit of makeup you wear running from when he borderline facefucked you because you decided you wanted to have an attitude because you were hungry. he's growling and groaning in your cabin yet again. "you're so pretty when you're being split open by my dick baby. this pussy is so warm. i never wanna pull out..."
(a/n would you believe me if i said i was ovulation rn. i'll probably discuss this more later.)
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simsiddy · 12 days
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i thought part 1 was perfect and then you bring this out??????? goddamn i’m going crazy. i love it. love the plot, love the relationships, love how you wrote the speeches and how great the action scenes are. you just really made this and it’s great
Knives Dance (Part II) [Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader]
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Word Count: 6.0k
Warnings: visceral imagery, more death, reader goes a little mental 
Summary: You and your father address your people to quell the seeds of unrest on Youra.  Realizing the resolute dedication of your people, Baron Vladimir begins to conspire against you and your homeworld, something you and Feyd will not take lying down when you put a plan of your own in motion.
Knives Dance Part 1
– 
Breaking your kiss reluctantly, Feyd looks around at the twenty some odd soldiers you’ve both just killed, exhilaration and admiration for you still coursing through his veins.   “I’m sorry to do this, but I must ask something of you, Feyd,” you say, looking down at both of your garments saturated in blood. 
“Anything,” he responds without a second thought. He knows he means it.  
“You must not let anyone know what I showed you or that I was fighting alongside you tonight.” You walk over and pick up your second blade that Feyd tossed away, strapping it back to your thigh along with the other one.  Next, you collect Ozran’s knife and hand it to Feyd. It’s light and flimsy in his grasp compared to your daggers, truly a laughable excuse for a murder weapon.  An animal being killed for supper deserves to be killed by a better blade than this. You fasten your cloak back onto your person, and it consumes your body again, making it seem as if you hadn’t just butchered half the dead around you. “These are my best kept secrets. You must say that it was you who killed all of our attackers.”
“Of course,” he replies, and you press a soft kiss on his lips in thanks.  As soon as he leans in to kiss you back, approaching footsteps become audible.  It’s your father, the baron, and a fleet of Youran guards with their weapons drawn.
“Let’s give them a little show, shall we?” you whisper against his lips. As soon as they come into view, Feyd feels you fall into his arms, spotting delicate tears collecting on lower lashes. He brings his arms around you, cradling your figure as you sink to the ground and begin quaking in his embrace, which makes his heart twinge. 
Your father calls out to you, aghast as he spots the dead bodies surrounding you and Feyd.  The look on your father’s face is as if he’s worried you might turn to dust. He kneels beside you, taking you out of Feyd’s arms and into his own. “We heard commotion from the castle and came as quickly as we could. Are you injured, my darling child?  What happened?” 
“F-Father, I am alright, ” you quiver, breath shaky as you lean into him.  “It was so scary, though! Na-Baron and I were on a nighttime stroll, and suddenly a poisoned dart flew out of nowhere and nearly hit me.  When we looked over to see where it came from, Ozran was approaching us with a wild look in his eyes.” You’re sobbing into your Father’s chest at this point, tear stains soaking into your father’s clothes, and Feyd cannot help but be impressed by your theatrics.  “Ozran said he was unhappy with our dealings with the Harkonnens. He meant to kill us to make a point, but Na-Baron courageously disarmed Ozran and struck him down. As soon as that happened, Ozran’s loyalists began to strike, but they were no match for Na-Baron.”
Hearing those words, Feyd sees his uncle lift his chin up in pride, delighting in the thought of Feyd emerging victorious over twenty, killing in cold blood. Your father lets out a sigh of relief, pulling you closer in his arms as he holds the back of your head.  “It’s alright, y/n. You are still alive, and Ozran cannot hurt you any longer,” he whispers before looking up to Feyd.  “Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. I am most grateful. Thank you for saving my daughter from those criminals.  I am in your debt.”
Feyd sees his Uncle’s eyes glimmer with excitement.  Your father shouldn’t have said that.  His uncle never passed up an opportunity to prey on those indebted to the Harkonnens. Before, Feyd also enjoyed the manipulation of other peoples, but now that his uncle has his sights set on you, a growing sense of unease begins to build and he can’t bring himself to look at his uncle. 
“It was my honor to fight for your daughter tonight,” Feyd replies. “I am glad I was here to protect her life, and I would do the same again.”
Your father brings you to your feet, your cloak still concealing your stained battle gear underneath.  You bring the back of your hand up to wipe away your tears, letting out a meek sniffle.  Feyd keeps trying to remind himself that what you’re doing is just and act, a way of protecting your secrets from his devious uncle, but Feyd’s chest continues to ache seeing you cry. If he had his way, nothing would make you shed a tear ever again.
“If there were this many attackers tonight, that means we have unrest on our hands. There are sure to be more of them.”  your father says, turning to one of the soldiers. “Call the citizens to the castle, and prepare the throne.”  
“Yes, My Lord,” the guard says, turning on his heel and hurrying away, and Feyd watches as he disappears.
“I do hope this does not mean the marriage will be called off,” Baron Vladimir interjects with a leading stare at your father.  Your father shakes his head straight away. 
“Of course not, Baron.  I value our alliance.  We will handle our people. I assure you, the marriage will happen on Giedi Prime,” your father assures as the sound of a horn reverberates across the island nation.  “Would you be present for the address tonight?”
His uncle obliges, and the guards guide everyone through the winding hallways.  After a few minutes, they exit the fortress through another set of doors, and the group emerges onto an enormous stone platform overlooking an open basin lined with towering columns. Two grand thrones stand in the middle of the platform: one for you and one for your father.  Instead of stone like their surroundings, they’re made of thick, twisty branches of a rich, dark wood that have grown into the shape of chairs.  It’s almost as if these chairs were borne out of the very nature on the island.
Feyd looks down to the land below the platform.  People are quickly gathering below at a remarkable rate.  He sees citizens emerging from all directions from the surrounding mountain range.  Multiple cable cars whose lines stretch from inside the forest to the basin approach. Light shines outward from the compartments, and Feyd sees they’re positively filled with people. When the cars meet the ground, the stained glass doors open and people flow out and into the crowd while others run across the wooden bridges out from under the trees. 
Your father beckons all of you forward once the crowd has amassed.  When you and your father come into the people’s view, there is a roar of cheers.  Feyd sees people start to raise their hands and clap for you as the crowd begins a melodic chanting of “House Ronen!  House Ronen!”  The way they rally for their leaders is earnest and true, a sight to behold. 
You take a seat at your throne as your father does.  You gesture to Feyd to come stand behind your chair and the baron floats beside your father’s throne.  When the crowd spots the Harkonnens, some of the cheers turn to murmurs, which rumble through the group as more people begin to whisper to one another.  Your father raises his palm to the people, and they fall silent.
“Thank you, my dear friends, for coming at this hour.  I would not have called you if I didn’t think it was important,” your father’s voice booms.  “We have something very important to tell you tonight."
He gestures over to you and you rise from your seat and step forward, once again holding your cape closed.  The armed guards advance on the sidelines, holding their weapons at their sides to protect you.  You pause and gaze out at your people before centering yourself, holding your head high with poise appropriate for a lady of your stature. 
“I would like to echo my father’s thanks for your time and presence,” you begin, your voice collected and commanding.  “Not an hour ago, there was an attempt at my life at the Pools of Ashora.” A wave of disbelief propagates through the crowd.  Some cup their hand to their mouths and others begin to whisper to their neighbors. A few let out roars of anger, but Feyd swears he sees a few snigger at the news.
 “Twenty men led by researcher Ozran Neyru ambushed me and Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen tonight.  As you can see, the endeavor to end my life was unsuccessful. During the attack, Ozran told me he and the others were motivated because of my upcoming marriage to Na-Baron Harkonnen, that their belief is I am betraying our ideals by allowing the House of Harkonnen into our circle.  I do not doubt there are others that feel the same as him, and I have come to offer you an explanation, which I feel you all deserve.”
There are nods through the crowd.  Some seem undeniably compelled with your speech while others cross their arms with skepticism. You glance over to your father, gestures with his hand for you to proceed. 
“I have lived on Youra all of my life.  It is my homeland, and a place I care deeply for. When I was seven, I drank from the sacred pool on top of our great mountain, and when I was sixteen, I had my own Rite like each of you.  I know what being Youran is because I have lived it from the moment I took my first breath. I’ve grown up knowing our stories and our traditions, and I love the society we’ve been able to build.
“Looking out upon you tonight under the glow of the lanterns, I think of the tale of Zeyred, who was the first to release lanterns at nighttime to guide the souls of our departed to their final destination amongst the stars after he mistook a shooting star for the soul of his dead mother.  Zeyred used what he thought was the truth and created a wonderful tradition in order to help loved ones on their final journey.  Since then, we have left behind the notion that souls go to the stars once life is over, but we still release lanterns every night to pay our respect for him and the Yourans of his time.  It reminds ourselves of where we come from.” 
Feyd sees an air of nostalgia wash over the crowd and a few clutch their hearts, admiration growing in their eyes as you recount the traditional Youran folktale. 
“This practice of using truth for the betterment of others is ancient, but it still remains the lifeblood of Youra today. By seeking truth in our collective research, we’ve developed elixirs that have eliminated diseases that have historically killed many. We’ve found ways to protect our crops from failure. We’ve made advances in engineering to improve our ships and travel around our planet and beyond, broadening our quest for knowledge. By following truth, our quality of life on Youra has improved because of the choices our predecessors have made more than any of us alive today will ever know or appreciate.  We’ve found countless ways of providing for and protecting others.”  Mumbles of agreement echo from below. Some nod their heads to one another. The citizenry is certainly taking to your argument, and Feyd is in awe of your eloquence and composure. 
“Tonight, I have witnessed an undeniable truth: the prowess of the House of Harkonnen. I have seen strength, valor, and loyalty in Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, without whom I would not be standing here in front of you. As a woman of Youra, I put my faith in what is real, which is why I am putting my faith in the House of Harkonnen.
“This union is not a departure from our ideals.  If anything, it is a commitment to them. It is my way of protecting you.  It will strengthen our society by putting us under the wing of the greatest major house and those we care for is simply getting a little larger. I have made this decision for the betterment of all of us. I ask you to join me in the celebration of this union when I depart for Giedi Prime in the coming days.” 
The crowd erupts in cheers as. You let out gasp in amazement at the overwhelming support by your people. Even the soldiers around you raise their weapons to the sky in support. You bow to your nation, thanking them for their time.  Some of the people in the crowd begin to chant Feyd’s name, thanking him for saving their beloved Lady, which catches him by surprise. Your father claps at your address, and Feyd joins him in applause, commending your efforts.
The people are dismissed and the Youran soldiers guide Feyd and the others back into the castle. As the group is safely indoors, you grasp one of Feyd’s hands on your own and press a kiss on his closest cheek and lean in to whisper “Thank you, Feyd.”  
As you pull back, you and your father bow to the Harkonnens before you return to your quarters, still encircled by guards.  Watching you disappear behind a corridor, Feyd notices his heart longing for your company. He thinks of the way you two moved in perfect sync during your fight.  The fiery look in your eyes during the battle was thrilling to behold. His mind lingers on you as he reminisces about the feeling he had of bolts of lightning shooting through his veins when you kiss him.  Just as soon as he's entranced, he’s ripped out of his fantasy by his uncle’s fingers clenched around his shoulder.
“Come,” his uncle orders, and Feyd follows as they return to the guest wing of the fortress.  The walk to the guest wing is eerily silent.  All that can be heard is footsteps and the gentle whirring and occasional clicks that come from his uncle’s medical contraptions.  His uncle beckons him into his own quarters after the guards bid them goodnight.  The baron floats into the room while instructing Feyd to close the door behind him.
This guest suite is an exact replica of the one Feyd is staying in. The walls are covered in painstakingly crafted tapestries and the furniture is made of a red-brown wood with a bold grain that looks like billows of smoke. An entire wall is a floor to ceiling window that leads to a balcony which overlooks the ocean.  The soft reflection of the moonlight from the water’s surface streams through the window, illuminating half of the baron’s face in a stark white light while the other is cast in a sinister shadow. His uncle calls Feyd closer, and he obeys. 
“Well done, Feyd,” is the first thing his uncle says to him in a low voice.  “The Yourans may still be outside, so we must be quiet.” Feyd nods to his uncle in understanding as he notices his uncle’s unbridled grin, the one he only has when he’s plotted something truly heinous.  “The Yourans are weaker than I ever imagined.  I knew they were a society of wisdom, but I never expected them to leave themselves so… vulnerable.” The baron’s eyes are now ablaze with savagery. Saying the words out loud has lit the flames of cruelty that burns in his soul. “The fact that you killed twenty of them in the time between us hearing the attack and arriving in the courtyard single handedly is a true testament to their sheer mediocrity.  I shall reward you when we are back on Giedi Prime.  How about another mistress this time? I will ensure she’s properly broken for you.”
I don’t want your praise. I don’t want your gifts, Old Man, Feyd thinks, resisting the urge to grab ahold of his uncle’s neck, strangle him, and feel his trachea shatter under his thumbs with all his might.
“I was originally frustrated at you, Feyd.  I wondered why you simply didn’t allow them to kill her, but you’ve done well, despite your lack of foresight. We will not have to take the planet by force. Now we have a way to win over the people of Youra, and they will soon be ours. Lady y/n is foolish.  She thinks their principles will keep them safe, but their dedication to their values will be their downfall.”
Feyd conceals his clenched fist from his uncle’s view as he collects himself.  He must not be rash.  Instead, he suppresses his emotions, and he asks his uncle “What are you proposing?” 
“We take her to Giedi Prime, and once the marriage is sealed, I want you to kill her.”  Those words make Feyd’s blood run cold. Kill you?  Ever everything that’s happened? After the fear of losing you had already struck his heart once today? Feyd will not allow it.  “We shall tell them it was natural.” The Baron continues with a venomous tone. “and  that it was her dying wish for her people to honor our alliance,” the baron grins, bearing his inky, black teeth.  Frightening images of your dead body crumpled on the glossy black floors of Giedi Prime flash in Feyd’s mind with your beautiful eyes blank and unseeing, which makes his head begin to spin. “You saw how they rallied around her tonight. They are so dedicated to her that they will honor her wishes even in death. The planet Youra will be ours, Feyd. We will take the bounty of their work to Arrakis where we will kill Muad'dib, and the House of Harkonnen will emerge victorious.”
With that, the baron shoos his nephew out of the room.  On the other side of the door, Feyd balls his fists and clenches his teeth so tightly it’s a wonder they haven’t cracked under the pressure.  Instead of returning to his quarters, he walks through the corridors of the palace straight to your quarters, trying to hold his breath steady as the bile within him threatens to pour over.  Outside of your room, there are armed guards keeping watch over the entrance.  One knocks at the door when he requests to see you and slips inside once you permit the guard entrance. 
Moments later, you emerge at the door. You’ve cleaned up since he last saw you and you’re no longer in your cloak and battle gear.  Instead, you wear a light, flowy nightdress that hugs your waist and reflects the moonlight exquisitely. You reach out to Feyd and bring his hands together near your chest.  Feyd’s heart skips and you raise yourself up on your toes to kiss him in earnest.  He sighs into the softness of your lips. Having you so close and being graced by your touch is one of the greatest privileges he has ever received. As you break away, there’s a look of concern on your face.
“Would you like to come inside?” you ask him softly and he nods.  As soon as he enters, you close the door and lock it behind you.  He lets out a frustrated hiss, finally able to express his frustration as he sits down in an armchair chair and rests his elbows on his thighs, holding his head in his hands. “What’s wrong, Feyd?”
“My uncle is plotting.  He wishes for me to murder you after we wed. He thinks you weak and your people impressionable,” Feyd seethes, closing his eyes and running his hands along the back of his neck.  “I couldn’t ever bring myself to do that to you, but I know my uncle.  If I don’t do it, he will have someone who doesn't care for you like I do carry out the deed instead. He plans to take control of your planet and your people when you are dead.”
For the first time in years, Feyd feels like he’s on the verge of tears, something that the baron had him beaten for until his bones shattered when Feyd was a child.  He has only just found you.  You’ve begun to heal his heart and put the light back in his eyes.  You’ve shown him unwarranted kindness and given him let him bask in your affections.  Just as soon as he’s found his salvation in you, it’s about to be taken from him.  Bringing your thumb up to his cheek, you wipe the small droplet that threatens to spill over away.
“Do not worry, my love,” you whisper to him, taking the opportunity to gently nuzzle his neck, and he sinks into your embrace.  “Please dry your eyes.”
“We have to get rid of him. We need a plan,” Feyd says with conviction, and you nod. As he looks up at you, his worries seem to fade when he senses your fortitude.  You support his cheek with your delicate touch and stare into his eyes.  Behind your irises he sees a glint of devilishness.  “I know of a way, Feyd.  We’ll silence Baron Vladimir, and in the end, we will install you as the ruler of Giedi Prime. You will be Feyd-Rautha, Baron of the House of Harkonnen.”
The people of Youra come to see you off in droves as you depart for the wedding. Everyone is dressed in their very best as they watch you precess toward the Harkonnen vessel accompanied by your father, the baron, and your bodyguards.  Some parents have brought their children to see you off, the young Yourans perched on their parents’ shoulders to get a better view of you.  You wave to them, and the children smile excitedly when you acknowledge them. Feyd marvels at your people's love and affection for you as he offers his arm to you. The Baron glances over to Feyd as the citizens cheer for you, nearly drooling at the prospect of dominating this society. Feyd looks away from his uncle, his determination rising. He will not permit his uncle’s scheme to go to fruition.
Under Giedi Prime’s black sun, the wedding proceeds as planned by Baron Vladimir.  The entirety of Giedi Prime’s populace gathers to watch the union of Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha and the Lady of the House Ronen. You wed each other in front of the crowd for all to see wearing Harkonnen garb next to the baron and your father. Feyd cannot look away from you.  You are ethereal in every way.  The dress seems to hang delightfully on every curve of your physique. The long sleeves that extend just beyond your wrists conform to the shape of your arms perfectly. The rectangular cutout filled with sheer mesh placed perfectly over your breastbone is something Feyd cannot help but stare at.  The splendor is so befitting of your stature, and all he can think of is him and his Baroness ruling Giedi Prime together. 
You and Feyd each receive a necklace of dark stone plates from his uncle, marking your marriage.  Feyd grasps your body firmly as he kisses you, his mind consumed with you and you alone as he crups your waist. You are finally his to have and to hold, and how wonderful that is to him. The crowd chants for Feyd as he raises your intertwined fingers for the crowd to see.  The people exalt him, and the baron smiles from the sidelines as the alliance is sealed. 
During the celebratory banquet, you and Feyd make careful effort to keep you away from the baron, lest he has other plans for you.  The night goes on, the fireworks inky in the air and Harkonnen music playing to the late hours.  As the lights fade and the diplomats go home, you bid your father goodbye, promising you will return to Youra soon. As his ship disappears into the night, Feyd comes to stand next to you. It’s almost time. You’ve been summoned to the baron’s personal chambers. You and Feyd walk in silence to the baron’s room through the empty halls.  Outside the door to the baron's chambers, there are no guards. 
“It’s a trap,” you mouth to Feyd, careful to not make any noise.  He gives you the smallest nod in agreement.  Luring his victims into a false sense of security is something the baron always loved to do.  Once they thought they were safe, the baron would turn their relief into agony and despair, relishing the emotional differential, torturing them until they begged for death and he would oblige. Luckily, you and Feyd both know better, and you’ve come prepared.
Together, you both press one of your palms on one of the double doors and push them open. The room is inky black inside, only lit by horizontal strops of lighting .  In the center sits the baron in a tub of viscous black sludge. Proceeding slowly, Feyd sees you mark every object in the room, creating a mental log for yourself.  Nobody else is in the room.  It’s just the baron in his tub. 
“Welcome Feyd and Na-Baroness,” the baron says, taking a puff from his pipe as he leans backward in his tub. You both approach him, but are careful to distance yourself from the tub. “I wanted to congratulate you both on your marriage.  Our people seem quite enthralled with you,” the baron comments before clicking his tongue and taking another huff. “I- We wanted to present you with a gift to welcome you to our House.”
The Baron gestures for Feyd to come closer, and he obeys as the baron extends his arm to gesture at a black box that sits near the edge of his tub. The Baron raps his fingers on the box once as his eyes maliciously dart between it and Feyd. Feyd knows what this box is.  Inside are his poisoned knives.  As he looks at the box, he can hear his uncle’s voice from the night on Youra in his mind: “Kill her!”  
Looking back toward the doorway, two Harkonnen soldiers, armed with the barbs they use to subdue slaves in gladiatorial fights, have silently entered the room with their weapons drawn.  Their stances are wide.  When they step, they shift side to side, using the outside edge of their feet to make their footsteps barely audible. They approach you from behind, but Feyd knows you’ve already sensed them when your eyes narrow and your spine straightening. 
“Now!” the baron bellows to the soldiers, who throw their hooks at you, aiming for your shoulders.  With the greatest of ease, you duck downward, allowing the prongs to soar over your head and clatter on the floor at the base of the tub.  You grasp the lines the soldiers are holding in their hands.  Standing back up, you twirl around, wrapping the lines around one of your legs before using your foot to force the lines downward.  The men topple over in their place, yelling out in shock.
Feyd sees his uncle’s face contort in horror as he is frozen in shock. Clearly none of the three were expecting any resistance from you. You yank the ends of the lines with the barbs toward you. Dashing forward, you make contact with one of them, killing them with a single blow before they had a change to react.  The other one whimpers in fear, watching his comrade fall before attempting to scramble back towards the doors on his knees.  
“FEYD, DO SOMETHING!” the baron hisses as you strike down the other who only makes it a few feet before your weapon collides with the back of his neck.  The second barbman falls to the ground motionless. Feyd opens up the case and takes his knives out, holding them steady at his side.  As he approaches you, Feyd’s eyes flicker to the side toward where the baron lays in his vat of ooze, directing you to bring the fight closer to his Uncle.  Your gaze intensifies, and you lower your stance, using the sharp edge of each barb to cut the lines away.
“Let’s dance, my dear husband,” you coo at him as you raise your weapons and rush at each other. The shrill sound of metal clashing fills the air.  You both know each other’s moves now.  As one attacks, the other easily parries, neither one of you coming close to inflicting real harm. Feyd feels the tingling of excitement in his soul.  Fighting with you before was exhilarating on Youra, but this is something else. He can finally see your beauty in all its glory.  The way your body contorts like an acrobat as you dodge and counter flawlessly. How your brow furrows when you take on one of his blows with impeccable form is a sight to behold. You are nothing short of a miracle. 
From the tub, the baron bellows, “Kill her, NOW!”  You and Feyd continue, circling around the tub so that you come closer to the baron.  With a signal to Feyd and one swift move, you knock baron’s hand closest to his control panel away, preventing him from calling for help.  The Baron gasps in surprise. You couldn’t have known that’s where the controls are unless you were told. The realization dawns on him too late; he feels the metal of Feyd’s blade on his neck, and he looks up at his nephew in horror.  
Feyd drops his other knife and uses his free hand to force his uncle’s mouth open. The Baron chokes and gasps as the nephew he has groomed into a ruthless monster turns on him. The Baron tries to tell Feyd to unhand him as a desperate last effort as he struggles in the tub, but Feyd’s grip on his uncle is unwavering and only gets rougher. Feyd’s mind is ablaze.  This is his revenge for plotting to kill you and for a lifetime of abuse at his hand. 
In the past, Feyd revered his uncle, admiring his iron grip on Giedi Prime, thought that the baron was what he should aspire to be, but Feyd sees the truth now, looking down at his uncle writing in his grasp to no avail.  His uncle is and always has been pathetic.  It takes all the strength Feyd has in himself not to crack his Uncle’s neck right there. Feyd quells his impulsiveness. The plan must proceed as you arranged.
You approach from behind and stick two fingers in the baron’s mouth, stretching his cheek out as far as it will go.  The baron whimpers as he spies something stirring under your sleeves.  It circles down your arms and out from under the black fabric.  It’s a black centipede with thick, glossy armor.  It must be half the length of your arm, and the baron’s eyes quiver as it crawls onto the back of your hand and into his gaping maw. He chokes as the legs scuttle and scratch at his tongue.  The creature forces itself down his esophagus. The baron feels the creature thrash, and he can almost hear the chitin armor clicking against itself from within him.  
“Don’t move,” you tell the baron with a dark smile.  The baron’s fear is thick and palatable in the air.  “It won’t like it if its host moves too much.” You remove your fingers from his mouth and recoil at his saliva. “What shall I have it do first?  Maybe I’ll have it paralyze your vocal chords so you don’t go blabbing to anyone?” Your victim looks at you in desperation, but you tisk at him before letting out a rhythmic series of clicks through your teeth. The Baron feels the head of the creature wriggle inside of him back up into his throat.  The Baron coughs.  Gasping out in pain, he feels a searing pinch. Then the inside of his throat begins to burn. The centipede has clenched its jagged pincers around the inside of his throat. “It’s she so well trained, Baron?”
You lean down to the baron and hold his head in your hands so that you’re looking directly into his eyes, which are bloodshot bloodshot and tearful.  “You pitiful man, you thought you could kill me?” you whisper to him as he tries to call for help, but no comprehensible sound comes out. “Let me tell you a secret: I am more than the damsel in distress you think I am. I fought alongside Feyd that night.  I even killed half of them. You shouldn’t have underestimated me, or my people.  We may be caretakers for one another, but once those we love are threatened, we will not rest until we have our revenge.  Now, you shall die a slow, painful, unceremonious death in a hot vat of black slime for your arrogance.”
You and Feyd release the baron from your grip. Allowing his body to sink against the edge of the tub.  The baron sputters, as he begins to convulse.  The venom is beginning to take hold.  Soon it will affect his whole nervous system and shut down his body entirely.  You and Feyd leave him there to rot as you deal with the bodies of the barbmen.  In the early morning before anyone is awake, you collect the centipede from the baron in his tub. His body is twitching ever so slightly, but there is no hope for him.  You hide the creature in your dress again, whispering small praises for a job well done and leave the room. 
By midday, the Harkonnen attendants are growing concerned that they have not heard from the baron, a servant opens up the doors to the baron’s chambers, finding him lifeless in his tub with empty eyes staring up at the ceiling, a single tear stain on his cheek.  The top doctors on Giedi Prime are brought in to perform an autopsy. They say he died of natural causes, unable to identify any trace of the centipede's presence.
The news spreads quickly about the baron’s passing, and you and Feyd put on a brave face for the House of Harkonnen.  The funeral procession is quickly organized. The people of Giedi Prime hang their heads, mourning the loss of their dear leader as you and Feyd process through the city alongside the coffin to put the baron in his final resting place. Feyd makes a speech, praising his uncle for his leadership, secretly relishing the death of his uncle.
You put up large flags with the baron’s face on it throughout the land, shrouding the architecture in even more dark fabrics, hang a portrait of him next to the other past Harkonnen leaders in the hallway, and order a monument to be built in his honor and nobody suspects a thing.
A month after the death of Vladimir Harkonnen, you and Feyd stand in front of the citizens of Giedi Prime in your best clothes again as one of the Harkonnen advisors announce your new titles: Baron and Baroness of House Harkonnen. The crowd chants for the both of you with zeal, grateful to have leaders again.  
The next morning, Feyd smiles as he opens his eyes and sees you sleeping peacefully, your head resting on his chest as you unconsciously run your fingers over his muscles.  He hopes you’re dreaming of him because you were most certainly the subject of all of his fantasies last night.  He tilts his head down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.  He knows his next job is dealing with the Fremen attacks on Arrakis now that he is Baron Harkonnen.  Instead of concerning himself with that, he chooses to close his eyes again and pulls you in closer. That job can wait. For now, all his thoughts are consumed by you as they should be. 
--
Thanks for reading!
Part 3 is coming soon! Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist.
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simsiddy · 19 days
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HONEYYYYYY HONEYYYYYYYY THE FUCK????? i am rolling this is fucking incredible. what if i screamed?
this is SO GOOD. YOUR WRITING IS FANTASTIC AND THE characterization is incredible and it’s ALL just wow my mind is just im so happy and this writing is so good and this story is incredible and ur really good!!!!!!
Knives Dance
(Feyd-Rautha x fem!Reader)
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After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)
Life does wonderful things sometimes.  Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/
Reader: she/her pronouns 
Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders
Word Count: 4.2k
Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses.  When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…
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The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover. 
The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it.  As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns.  As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light. 
The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas.  The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue.  He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of it, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.
The Harkonnen endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage.  As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out. 
The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting and developing for centuries.  Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Emperor. 
With a low rumble, the double doors open to reveal your father and yourself.  Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground.  When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title.  To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you. 
“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him.  What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a glimmer of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence, so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings.  In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve. 
As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak, and he notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of the planet. 
Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy.  Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature. 
The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a mystery woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him.  You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally and entirely his.  
He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One.  I must say you look exquisite.  I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and swipes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss against them.  His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor.  He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you. 
Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.
All of dinner he’s watched you as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally drawn to you. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, his mind starts to wander.
He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately move your grasp your water goblet.  When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch. 
Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this enraptured with just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent. 
His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.  
Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.” 
As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.
You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing.  That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.
 “Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”
The next day, Feyd sees little of you.  In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day.  When he asks where you have gone, the soldier provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.
Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive.  It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory.  If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you. 
As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about to him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.
 A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there.  The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen and only a burning intrigue remains. 
“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon. 
Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you.  He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.  
“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”
“Not at all.”  He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrenders himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, knowing you enjoy it when he romances you.  
“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”
“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “..for when it truly matters.  Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”
You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors.  “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron?  I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”  
Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress.  He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp.  You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue. 
The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals.  The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid.  Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water.  Tall, half moon shaped walls cradles each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them. 
“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.
“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain.  “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”
He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying stone slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.
“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.
“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”
 “It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales.  My father doesn’t know any of this.  He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”
“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills. 
“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra.  Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest.  With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows their body to retain water.”
He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes. 
“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident.  Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so.  “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”
His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding.  The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways.  They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche. 
“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts.  “Say something, please.”
“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”
Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you.  “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”
Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp.  The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.
Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water.  You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down.  Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.
Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you.  Underneath your cloak, you’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.
As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side. 
“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”
“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.
Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them.  Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”
Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose.  Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets.  He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move.  Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.
“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”
“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor.  “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.”  With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade.  From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.
“Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon.  Your dagger is robust and expertly crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd think. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their back, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear.  It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.  
When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you.  He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes.  Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.   
Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another.  Your breaths are thick and heaving.  You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.
“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.
“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body.  He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day.  “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”
“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”
“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.
“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” you ask him. He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”
“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead. 
“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”
“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours.  What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better.  He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.
--
Thank you for reading!
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simsiddy · 30 days
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Happiness Will Come To You.
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simsiddy · 1 month
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second semester of college is starting to feel like i should listen to bo burnham
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simsiddy · 1 month
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If any of you ever feel like what you're doing for Palestine isn't helping anything, I'll tell you right now it's helping me. I know it is fortifying all of us who have been in this fight for years to see so many people willing to speak up. It has never been like this before.
The tide has already turned. The fact that #free palestine will have new posts everyday, that helps me. It helps my mental health knowing that Palestinians are less alone now than ever.
Yesterday I read some verses from the Quran talking about how "the blame" is not with those who wish to help but cannot, but with those who CAN help and do not.
Truly I do not care if all you do for Palestine is post in that #free palestine everyday, that is still more than many people with the means to do even more would do.
We see you. We see you standing in solidarity with us and with Palestinians. We love you. Thank you.
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simsiddy · 1 month
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simsiddy · 1 month
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missfalasteenia on X: "“Why are they bombing us??” “They told us this was a safe zone!” “They told us to come here, so why are they bombing us!?” This woman just like many Gazans went to seek safety in Rafah but Israel is carpet bombing it as we speak. https://t.co/bCkqnetKmr" / X (twitter.com)
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simsiddy · 1 month
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HYGIENE PRODUCTS FOR GAZA
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Organised by the Asad sisters, Leena, Amanda and Loren with Pious Projects.
— At $20 each, this kit will include - but is not limited to - sanitary pads, a hair brush, tooth brush, toothpaste, cotton swabs, wipes, tissues, and other hygienic items depending on availability!
You can donate as little as $5 if you just want to help out, or donate a bulk of kits for between $100 to $1,000!
Access to the right hygeine products is essential for Palestinian people, as the Israeli blockade has left millions without access to proper hygeine that can lead to potentially fatal infections and diseases.
Do your part today:
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simsiddy · 1 month
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hi. go buy esims for gaza. go preorder a kufiya from hirbawi. buy insulin for palestinian diabetics who need that help. if you live in the states use this to email your reps (this takes maybe 5 seconds to do). check out this massive list of resources where you can educate yourself in a meaningful and actionable way even if you don't have the financial means right now. from the river to the sea palestine will be free. 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸
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simsiddy · 1 month
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I have seen posts on Palestine get thousands on thousands of notes. If each person who engaged with them donated one dollar—literally just one; no more, no less—thousands of dollars would be raised to humanitarian aid in Gaza just like that. I understand there’s the whole bystander effect going on. People are probably like “Well there’s likely someone out there donating right now, so they can probably do without my one puny dollar” wrong. One dollar makes a huge difference. Any amount you can afford can make a huge difference.
I’m not going to say every single person on here can afford to give up a dollar, because that’s absolutely insensitive to people’s individual situations—but if you can, please donate. So many of us on here aren’t swimming in money, but we still make it a point to donate, regardless of how little or how big a sum it is. I promise it adds up.
The PCRF could use every last penny. Don’t be a bystander in a world of bystanders. It matters.
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simsiddy · 1 month
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Instead of pointless back and forth about who is reacting to a literal genocide in the best way…
Donate:
http://www.pcrf.net
Contact politicians:
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simsiddy · 1 month
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Six years old! Not only murdered, but experienced unspeakable terror before being murdered! Do you remember being that age when everything was scary? When you ran to your bed after turning the lights off because the dark was too frightening? To have to see so much death, hear so much fire and screaming. A tank! A tank going after a six year old! Hours alone in the dark with dead bodies of people who were her comfort and safety! In what reality is this allowed??
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simsiddy · 1 month
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the amount of ways we have to qualify the geoncide in gaza in order to get people to care is actually sickening to me. “it’s a feminist issue!” “it’s a disabilities issue!” “it’s an environmental issue!” like i’m sorry but even if this was happening solely to able bodied men and was causing no harm to the environment, it would still be wrong because it’s a genocide and these people are being bombed and killed and starved every fucking day. you shouldn’t need an extra label to give you a reason to care about people that are dying.
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simsiddy · 2 months
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Oh, Hind. Hind. She was only six, and her mother was still waiting for her return! My God.
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simsiddy · 2 months
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via thezaynalarbi on IG
what must it have been like for hind???? to be trapped in her car with her dead family members, waiting for an ambulance, waiting to be rescued as the occupation continued to shoot at her????
rest in power to hind and her family murdered by the occupation
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simsiddy · 2 months
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burning feeling, f. castle | chapter one
frank castle x ex redroom!reader (aka “ace”)
word count: 2k
chapter summary: when you can’t shake the memories of your past, you go to let off a little steam, and you end up meeting your match in the form of an ex marine: frank castle.
warnings for the chapter: google translated russian (im sorry i did warn you guys), violence, ace my little violent baby, & murder
[series masterlist]
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it’s three in the morning, you’re staring at a blank notepad that rests on your knees, and a pink gel pen is gripped between your fingers. your therapist told you to write down your nightmares, see the theoretical aspect of them instead of the visual, that maybe you’d start to see them as the monsters they are instead of who you are.
it’s who you are as a person, not who you are from your reputation, she told you. she was right, but trauma wasn’t that easy to move on from.
you were with yelena during your time in the red room. same class, same missions, practically joint at the hip without having any actual form of emotions around each other. you knew of her sister, natasha, who was the prodigy of the red room after everyone they created.
that, was until you came along.
what a little surprise you were. so easy to train, to manipulate, to conquer. the red room had the whole world in their palm as long as they had you. top of the class, high kill count, the best thing the red room had ever created. and then, it all fell the day natasha and yelena blew the academy up. you could thank them, you would, but they will never understand how much they took from you.
the day the red room was destroyed, and the rest of the widows were reminded of their humanity, ever single one of them was made to come forward to s.h.i.e.l.d. to be put on a watchlist of sorts. but you never did. instead, you hid in the shadows and escaped, slipping away into the crevices of new york and starting a new life for yourself.
it was hard, starting a new life that differed from the one you knew. therapy, college, late night training because for as much as you tried, you could not move away from the violence you had grown accustomed to. the nightmares you had told you that without actually saying anything.
you slam your notepad on the bed, placing the cap of your pink gel pen back on and slipping out of your bed, walking to the kitchen and taking a seat at your clean and furnished kitchen counter. it was a nice apartment for someone who swore they didn’t want that murderous lifestyle anymore, but we all slip back into our old habits now and again.
a sigh escapes your mouth as you bury your head in your hands, and you let out a mumble of curses in a language you were forced to learn. there’s a pounding in your head, an itch in your skin and your fists are clenching as they intertwine in your hair, tugging at the roots but the pain doesn’t register, you’re accustomed to any hurt that could ever be inflicted on you, and you guess you had the red room to thank for that. you scoff to yourself at the thought, you would never thank them for anything.
tap, tap, tap, does your three fingers go against the kitchen counter, your shoulders slumped as you try to come up with any other solution to the violence you so badly crave. it’s a losing battle, but a part of you likes to convince yourself you can win every time. you’re delusional, you know, but there’s a deep crevice in your brain that knows you’ll be able to escape it one day.
but now? now you’re changing into a hoodie and sweats that entirely engulfs your form, hiding any inch of your face or anything that defines your physical character. your keys are grasped in your hands, a pocket knife kept at bay in your pocket, and you’re already out the front door before you can even register your decision. you walk down the streets of new york, faint chatter blurring into your ears as you rounded street corners and finally arrived at a dingy, beat up gym.
pushing the door open, you saw the form of a man you had realised trained only at the darkest hours, much like yourself. francis castiglione, or frank castle, as he preferred to be called and is often most referred to. you feared the man at first. his large form and his face constantly resting at a high level of intimidation had lead you to do your research on him. you learned a lot more than you should, hacking skills that you had picked up, but you didn’t fear him.
it was funny. really funny, actually. being a female assassin would mean you do not fear anyone, but due to the nature of your skills, you learned to fear a lot.
men and their capabilities.
frank gave you a once over, before returning back to the punching bag. he never saw your face, no one did. no one but him knew you would even be here. you don’t doubt that due to his time in the marines he would’ve made a pitiful attempt to do a background check on you but would eventually fall short. you were in the system, but only as a high level iq college student.
you take your own time on the punching bag, not giving away even the slightest implication that you knew more than you let on. jabs, high kicks, shin kicks, uppercut, hooks, whatever you could to make yourself look like the average college student who knew basic self defense.
pausing, you take a glimpse over at frank who is going ham on the punching bag, causing you to lightly scoff to yourself. you pick up your empty water bottle, walking into a break room where a water fountain was. you stripped yourself of your hoodie, becoming too hot and sweaty, ready to put it back on when you leave.
as you fill up your bottle, you hear grunts. you know it could’ve just been frank on the bags, but you knew the sounds well enough to know that it was skin on skin contact. your head raises, ears practically perked up at the sound until you hear a faint voice that hits a certain part of your brain that makes you gulp. the hoodie and water bottle are long forgotten, the knife that was once in your pocket is now held in your hand as you slowly make your way out of the break room.
as you stalk closer, you hear the antagonising voice of a man you once knew. a target from your old days. it makes you grip the blade tighter. you creep back to the training area, light on your feet and you knew you wouldn’t be noticed. it was what you were trained to do. undetectable, unnoticeable, uncanny.
frank is fighting the man. vladimir mikhailov was his name. a russian arms dealer who you were forced to deal with years ago. you didn’t kill him, those weren’t your orders. you were simply supposed to know the ins and outs of his trade and report back to dreykov, letting him deal with the mess. but, mikhailov was an avid…user of the widows, so his presence only made you more rageful.
you throw the knife into his back, causing him to grunt. you slide, kicking his shins and knocking him onto his back, making the knife dig deeper into his skin. as vladimir locks his eyes onto you, he chuckles. “ah, ty zhiv, yunyy as.” he speaks in a mocking tone, pulling himself up and twisting his arm to remove the knife from his back. (translation: you live, young ace.)
you ignore his words, tilting your head to the side in a menacing manner, before your foot is in his face and his head hits the floor with a loud thud. you can feel frank’s burning gaze, but you’re too focused on the man who added to the trauma of your youth, watching as he get up off the floor, staggered in the way he walks because you know you damaged the bones in his shins with the harshness of your kick.
with his back turned to you, you wrap your arms on his left shoulder to pull your legs up, swinging them around his neck and choking him out with your thighs. your elbows hit his face. his eyes, his cheeks, his jaws. you’re here to do damage. the sight of him brought back too many memories, unlocked the violent tendencies you tried so hard to keep at bay because god damn you were damaged from the inside and out, and he planned a huge part in it.
mikhailov is growing weaker. every hit he throws at you becomes more slugged and it isn’t until you’ve grabbed the pocket knife from inside his blazer pocket and jammed it into the bullseye of his throat do you drop, landing on your feet.
frank makes eye contact with you. confusion is etched onto his features as you pant. but before he can make his way towards you, talk, whatever, you’re out the door, hoodie, bag and water bottle completely out of your mind.
__
the next day, you’re walking down the streets of new york. your noise cancelling headphones blast a song you’ve heard too many times. a cropped, skin tight grey long sleeve, and a pair of baggy blue denim jeans cover your form, your comfort jewellry complimenting your skin and a pair of black and white high top platform converse on your feet.
your class starts in twenty minutes, and you hated being late. but you have a feeling that the man who’s been following you this entire walk may intercept that hatred. it’s only when you turn a corner that leads into an alleyway, do you pull him into it. his back is pressed against the wall with another one of your pocket knives held up against his throat as a smirk decorates your lips.
“why are you following me, francis?” you ask.
“you know why.” his gruff voice speaks up, and the sound shocks something inside of you, though it is never expressed in your face. “mikhailov. how do you know him?”
“my business is none of your concern.”
“you just killed one of the biggest-”
“russian arms dealers. boohoo, cry about it.” you mock. “you don’t need to know anything.”
“you’re supposed to be an average college student and you pull out some high level fighting techniques on a well-known criminal.” frank replies, and he goes to move forward but you only push the blade of the knife deeper into his skin.
“i do not concern you, francis castiglione. now, go back to being a fucking mercenary and leave me alone.” your teeth grit together. you had done enough damage to yourself in one night, he had seen too much and you did not need to be involved in anything he was a part of.
“look,” he starts “mikhailov has been a target of mine for awhile. he knew i was coming for him and that’s why he came to me first. now, an average college student like yourself who only knows basic self defense should not be pulling out fighting techniques like that. it would be a real shame if the cameras in the gym got hacked into and someone had access to that video, ready to spread that video worldwide.”
you pull back a bit, eyes widened because you knew that if that video got out, you’d have nick fury and natasha romanoff on your ass in a matter of seconds. you drop the knife from his neck, tucking it back into your pocket before you sigh. “whatever you want from me, you’re gonna have to wait. i have a class i need to go to.”
he nods, and hands you a piece of paper with a remote address before walking off like the dusk meets dawn.
god, you think, what have you done, ace?
taglist: (if u want to be added dm me!!)
(if ur name is crossed out it’s because i couldn’t find ur account!!)
@theeblackmedusa @auroraslibrary @lunaticgurly @indec1sive @curio-rook @gloryekaterina @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon @smhnxdiii @liizzygrant @smile-child-13 @violetcyerce @andulina567
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