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cauliflowercounty · 28 days

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Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape. He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days? No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything. Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had. Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter.

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you. Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now. Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor.

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape. He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment.

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft. Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad.

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him.

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset. Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him. “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?”

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want.

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory. I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab.

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings.

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings.

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?”

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love. It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses.

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses. Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering. As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall.

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky. Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar. The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood. “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind. Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity. The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process. “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more. The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture. Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker.

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals.

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.”

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd. “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood.

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes. “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine. “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his. You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment.

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.”

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff. A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!”

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis. We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each. The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes. You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go. The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body. He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more. As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis.

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants. This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis. Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off.

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in.

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride. Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen. As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep.

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag.

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning. What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back. Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth. “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar. “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now. I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!”

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you. The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips. “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror. Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet. Now.”

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt.

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss. “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk.. “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought. “I do not know, my love.”

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return. “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him. Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads. Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out.

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins. “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?” Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information. We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes. They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not.

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge. The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected. “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.”

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter.

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room. You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners. You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive.

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies.

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky. The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene.

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small.

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning. The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing. Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill. The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal.

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still. However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen. Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife.

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight. The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks.

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though.

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind.

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage.

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany.

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief “It saved your life!”

“I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed. This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall. Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. Memories from the battle flash in his mind. He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear, I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of. Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek.

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist. Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything.

Thanks for reading! I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers @rougegenshin @itshype@woodland-mist @tian-monique @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @allthingsimagines @meetmeatyourworst @nyaaaaa008 @caroline334 @alana4610 @targaryen-madness

Tags that aren't working for some reason??? @roguegenshin @miaraises

#feyd rautha #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha x reader #dune #x reader

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7ndipity · 6 months

Text

Let Me Love You

Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: When your friend Jungkook confesses his feelings, you ghost him, despite your own feelings for him, fearing that the relationship will end in disaster. Can he convince you otherwise?

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of anxiety and body insecurities, swearing, suggestive, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I wanted to post this last night, but I was super tired and fell asleep(I’m still sick lol). Also, part of this is based on a dream I had and couldn’t get out of my head, so sorry if it feels a little random.

Masterlist

Requests are open

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The noise and lights of the party had been almost overwhelming, even around the pool, where some of you had separated off, a few even deciding to brave the cold water to swim.

“Wanna take a dip?” He’d asked as you sat tucked off to the side together, letting your feet hang over the water, leaning in close to hear each other.

“I don’t have a suit.” You’d replied.

“You won’t hear me complaining.” He’d smirked, making you roll your eyes before quickly dropping your attention to the drink in your hand, trying to hide the growing heat in your cheeks.

Jungkook had always been a notorious flirt, especially when it came to you, never missing an opportunity to make some sly comment that would have your face burning, much to his amusement, though you doubted he realized the full effect his words had on you. You’d never shared your feelings for him or your long standing crush, knowing he wouldn’t be into a plus size person like you, and had just focused on maintaining your friendship instead.

“Well, I’m going in.” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, glancing up just in time to see him yank his jacket off and slip in, allowing the water to come up over his head for a moment before resurfacing with a gasp, shaking his head at you like a dog.

“You’re insane.” You commented, laughing.

“You love it.” He said, catching hold of your arm to help pull him out of the water.

“You’re getting me wet!” You squealed, trying to skooch away from him, but he trailed after you, making you both laugh until you were stuck in the corner.

Jungkook’s laughter trailed off, expression suddenly turning serious as he looked up at you. “I wanna try something.” He said.

“What is it?” You asked warily.

Rather than answering, he braced his hands on either side of you, boosting himself up and pressing his mouth briefly to yours.

You froze, staring at him wide-eyed as he pulled away and sank back down.

“What was-?”

“I like you, y/n,” He said quickly. “I want to be with you.”

“I-I-” Your head felt like it was spinning as you stared at him, nearly nodding before reality suddenly began to seep back in, filling your veins like cement.

“I-I’m, I can’t, I’m sorry.” You were scrambling to your feet before you had fully gotten the words out, leaving him staring after you in confusion as you pushed your way through the crowd to escape.

That’d been three days ago, and since then, you hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to him.

You knew dodging his calls and texts was far from a proper solution to your current predicament, but you couldn’t come up with any better ideas, mind still in absolute chaos at the sudden revelation.

Despite your efforts to push it away, memories of the night kept playing on loop in your head, the way he’d looked at you, the feel of his lips on yours.

You couldn’t believe it, the guy of your dreams told you he was into you, and you ran away. Brillant.

You shook your head, slowly dragging yourself out of bed and making your way to the kitchen in search of coffee.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him, you did, more than you cared to admit to even yourself, but in the back of your mind, there were those same nagging voices that had held you back from confessing in the first place. As a bigger person, you’d experienced more than your share of mistreatment and let downs connecting to your size, only further feeding into your insecurities that you weren’t good enough. And although Jungkook had never given you a reason to feel that way with him, you still couldn’t shake that deep seeded fear that, if you said yes to him, one day he would wake up and realize that his feelings had changed, that the attraction he thought was there wasn’t really, not in the way he originally believed, and you would end up losing one of the most important people in your life. You couldn’t handle that, you couldn’t afford to lose him, it would kill you.

You were shook out of your thoughts by an insistent knock on your front door.

“Who is it?” You called, cautiously making your way over, glancing at the clock and noting that it was only 7:30 in the morning.

“Y/n?” Your stomach dropped at the sound of Jungkook’s voice.

You briefly considered not answering, but you knew from previous experience that he would wait on the other side of that door for as long as necessary just to see you, having stayed with you through more than one meltdown in the past.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door. “What do you want, Kookie?” You asked quietly, looking up at him. He looked almost as tired as you felt, faint shadows visible under his eyes.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, please?” He asked, keeping his voice soft, but you could see the tension in his eyes.

You nodded, not trusting your voice, stepping back to let him in.

He made his way to the living room out of habit, with you following behind, before finally turning to face you. You spotted your reflection in the mirror over his shoulder, showing you how small and nervous you looked, like a cornered animal.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He said simply. It wasn’t a question, but there was clearly one attached to the statement.

“I was just giving some time.” You said lamely, wincing at the feeble excuse.

“Time for what?”

“To make up for my stupid mistake at the party.”

“You mean when you ran out?” He asked. “That was my fault, I shouldn’t have dumped everything on you so suddenly like that.”

“It’s more than that.” You said, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“What is it?” He studied you for a moment before asking quietly. “Do you… not like me that way?”

“No!” You said quickly. “I do, fuck I do, but that’s the problem.”

“You’ve lost me.” He said.

“Koo, it’s just-” You sighed, struggling with your words. “It just doesn't make any sense, we’re too… different”

“No, we aren’t,” He argued. “You’ve said it yourself, if anything, we're too alike.”

“I meant, because I’m…” Your words died off.

“Because you’re bigger?” He finished, understanding crossing his expression before shifting to sadness as he saw your eyes drop. He knew about your struggles with your self image, but he’d never thought they’d be an issue between the two of you. He was always trying to compliment you and let you know how amazing he thought you were.

“Y/n, you know I love you for you right?” He said gently.

“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked “What if you just think you want me? What if you get tired of not being able to do cute coupley things with me because I’m too heavy? What if-?”

Jungkook suddenly moved forward, causing you to backpedal until you were pinned between him and the wall.

“Look at me.” He breathed, staring down at you, completely serious. “There is no universe where I wouldn’t find you fucking gorgeous, you hear me? I have always, and will always love and want you, and nothing will ever change that. Even when we’re super old and gray and wrinkly, I will still be fucking awestruck by you.”

You let out a weak laugh at that, despite the tears gathering in your eyes.

“So, will you let me love you?” He asked, looking at you tenderly.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He smashed his mouth to yours, holding onto you for dear life as he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss as he traced the shape of your lips with his, causing you to let out a tiny whine.

Wanting to further prove his point, his hands slipped down to the back of your thighs, catching behind your knees and hoisting you up so you were held up by him. You let out a squeak of shock, wrapping your arms and legs around him for support.

“See?” He asked, grinning at you proudly. “Don’t you dare say that you're too heavy for me.”

“You’re insane.” You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“You love it.” He grinned, letting you pull him back in for another kiss.

#jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x plus size reader #bts x plus size reader #bts plus size reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts scenarios #bts requests #7ndipity

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magics-neptunes-things · 6 months

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Hate and love

Hello!

This one is from a request, you still can ask me to write something if you want to :)

I have to say that I'm not really sure about this one, but here it is.

Enjoy ♥

TW : Angst, harassment, divorce, loneliness.

______________________________________________________________

Your arrival in Barcelona at the winter transfer almost a year ago has gone rather well. You quickly bonded with most of the players and you didn’t have any trouble becoming a part of the FC Barcelona family. You maybe wasn't in the Top 3 of the public favorite players, but you don't really mind. You were a bit sad about the departure of some of them this summer, especially Jenni and Ana who were kind of mentors for you during these few months. And even if you continue to exchange news with them, you must admit that it is not the same.

Playing previously in Seville, you already knew quite well some of the players of the team, usually staying on the pitch after the matches to chat a little. You were separated during the World Cup, your national team not being strong enough to pass the qualifications you were in the first to return to training in Barcelona. This did not prevent you from making the trip to Australia to support your friends and obviously the Spanish national team.

You celebrated their victory from the VIP party with friends and family before returning to Barcelona in your daily routine. The world champions have gradually returned to training and you have welcomed new players to the team, always in a good mood.

Everything seems perfect told like that, yet there is something that bothers you since your arrival in Barcelona.

Aitana Bonmati.

She never seemed very happy to see you arrive and you never understood why. At first you said to yourself that she was perhaps afraid that your arrival would cause an imbalance in the group, as can happen sometimes when an element has a too strong personality. Some are afraid of change and you have not asked yourself more questions than that, letting this information slip into a corner of your brain. She wasn’t necessarily part of the small group of girls you trained with regularly anyway since you don’t play in the same spot on the field.

But this summer, you could see that the new arrivals had the right to a big smile and other privileges to which you were not entitled. It’s not really a question of ego, but you don’t understand what you did to her to make her react this way with you. And that's hurt.

You have even noticed with the passing of time that she tends to be rather unpleasant with you, not responding to your hello when you arrive in the locker room for example. It happens to her to roll discreetly her eyes when you speak and you even surprised once Ona throwing her an elbow in the ribs while making the big eyes. It was a relief to see that you were not crazy and that your teammates were taking your side, but it also confirmed what you thought.

And gradually, it plunged you into a kind of constant anxiety, reminding you of some of your traumas during your childhood and adolescence. During which you were often mocked, the girl who preferred to play football rather than dance. Your father always supported you in your choices, unlike your mother, your big brother and your big sister. When they separated you went to live with him and he sacrificed a lot so that you would be where you are today, but you never had the heart to tell him about the harassment you were experiencing at school.

**********

"Can I talk to you?"

Alexia’s voice surprises you while you were focused on the laces of your Converse, making you jump a little. Lost in your thoughts, you were ruminating about the disaster you were during this training. You didn’t put a single ball in the net, you got so distracted that you got a remonstrance from Jona and you almost kill Mapi with a bad pass. Mapi preferred to laugh and quickly came to reassure you by giving you a friendly slap in the back and a hug, to your greatest relief. You would have been horrified to be hated by another of your teammates.

"Sure" you mumble without looking at her.

Alexia’s voice was sweet when she offered to follow her to one of the conference rooms and you complied after picking up your bag and stuff. All the other girls have already returned and the corridors now seem deserted.

When you arrive in the room, you watch Alexia open the blinds slightly as you stand against the wall, very close to the door. You’re anxious and just waiting to be scolded. It often happened like this, teachers taking you aside to say that you weighed on the morale or level of the class. That you had to work on it if you wanted to be accepted and have good results. But no one ever seemed to wonder why you didn’t get along with your classmates. No one ever noticed or understood the harassment you were experiencing. You never mentioned that either, but you would have given ten years of your life for someone to notice. Anyone.

So when Alexia turns to you with an almost maternal expression, it completely disarms you. Her eyes were soft and you can easily detect a form of concern in it.

"You can come closer, I won’t eat you" Alexia gently smiles before sitting on one of the tables, probably to make this conversation less formal.

After hesitating for a second, you settle down in front of her playing nervously with your hair.

"What can I do for you?" you ask, instead of "How are you gonna let me know that I’m gonna heat up the backup bench over the next few weeks?"

"I just wanted to make sure that everything was fine. You seem a little out of place these last few days and it’s starting to worry us. I talked with Jona about it today"

She seems embarrassed to tell you that she told someone else about you without you knowing, making you frown. Your facial expression is probably misunderstood by your captain as she hastens to add

"Don’t take this the wrong way. we’re just worried about you"

"I... I'm fine"

You shrug before biting your lip. You are a bad liar, you know it. And it didn't fool Alexia.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable with it. But there are other people here who will listen to you with pleasure."

"Don’t worry about me. It was just a time like this, but I’ll be fine"

Because it's what you always did. Figuring and fighting things alone, even if you have now friends who you trust and who you know you can count on.

"You don't have to do that alone, you know"

"Why do you even care?"

You roll your eyes. Sur Alexia is a great captain, and you like her a lot. As a friend of course, but you can't denied that she deserve her title. Like most other girls she is sincerely kind and knows how to distinguish between competition and friendships in the locker room. This is an example for you, as it is for many other girls. And even if she knows all this, she remains modest and does not take the big head. Pretty impressive, in your opinion.

"Is that even a question Y/N?"

Alexia laughs, but it’s a surprise laugh. She seems surprised at the sincerity of your question. And, seeing that you don't answer, she gently shakes her head before answering you.

"Because we care, you're part of this family and even if half of us are totaly crazy, we care for each other. Whatever your problem is, you don't have to figure out alone."

And these sentences, even if it seems to be the most natural thing for Alexia, break down the barriers you have put up until now. You feel tears wet your cheeks without being able to do anything to stop them. As if the dam that you had formed all these years had broken and all the tears that you had retained until today finally decided to come out. And obviously, it bothers you terribly.

You mumble excuses between two sobs, but after more or less calling you an idiot, Alexia breaks the distance between you two to take you in her arms and rock you against her. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but you still stop crying.

So you tell her everything.

The harassment when you were little, from part of your family and the children in your classes. The divorce of your parents which you feel responsible despite everything, this feeling of loneliness that you have since you were born certainly. This feeling of never being fully understood by anyone, until you arrived here. And then you talk about your teammate who reminds you of that, without giving her name. You don’t want to be a problem and Alexia doesn’t ask you to name her. Maybe because she already knows who she is?

The blonde listens to you without saying a word, patiently wiping the tears that continue to roll on your cheeks. When you are silent, exhausted by these confessions and your tears, she speaks again in a calm and soothing voice.

"I’m not going to pretend that I understand you because I was lucky enough to have a family that always supported me. I wouldn’t be here without them, honestly."

The bond between Alexia and her mother, even her sister is know by anyone. You nod, still looking at her.

"But you, you made your way all by yourself. You're only 21 Y/N, you don't realise how strong you are. But being strong doesn't always mean you have to be alone. You have friends here, people who love you and care for you. You are not alone anymore."

With that you smile at her, feeling relieved. As if the weight of all these years were coming off your shoulders. You even feel like you can breathe better. So you thank Alexia, with simple words but you couldn’t explain how much you think about them. As she lays a kiss on your cheek, you put your arms around her neck to hug her and press your words. She gives you your hug back before training you out of the room. Tomorrow is another day and you promise to do better than that.

**********

The rest of the workouts of the week are much better and you decide to completely ignore Aitana. You remain polite nevertheless, but you act as if she's not there. And this seems to annoy her even more but you decided that's not your problem. Many times you feel her look burn your back and you have time to see her black look before she realizes that you are looking at her and she looks away.

But your morale and your game are back to normal and it’s a great relief for you. For Alexia and your coach too, the man simply slips you a short compliment at the end of a session. No need to make tons and that’s enough for you.

The last practice before the next game goes as usual. You do your warm-ups with your fellow defenders, then you are shuffled for courses and drills before a five-player mini-team tournament is organized. You feel a form of anxiety that makes your heart beat when your team is against Aitana, but you decide to focus on the game.

It goes pretty well until you are tackled a little too ferociously by someone from the opposing team. The pain in your ankle and instantaneous and you can’t hold a cry of pain as you collapse to the ground.

"What the fuck Aitana?" Mapi snaps, but you don't really care for now.

The second duel that took place next to you seems to have stopped too, but the tears of pain that fill your eyes prevent you from seeing it for the moment.

"You're ok?"

Irene has knelt beside you and you feel a compassionate hand behind your back. Long black hair obscuring part of the view informs you that it's Ingrid. You answer a simple no with a nod and a few minutes later you are transported to the infirmary. Ona offered to accompany you and you agreed, realizing that you didn't want to be alone.

**********

"Sprain" informs you the nurse and you let yourself go against the file of the infirmary bed on which you are. "It means rest for two weeks."

You pout, but turn your attention to Ona when she places a friendly hand on your arm. You are so used to spending this kind of time alone that you sometimes forget for a few seconds that she is with you. You must be able to easily win the worst friend award.

"At least it’s not the ligaments" Ona said softly.

"You’re right" you sigh.

She gives you a compassionate smile and you assure her that she can take a shower and change. You still have the prescription to wait and the nurse must come back with your brace and crutches. After making sure you weren’t going to go home with an Uber but with her and Lucy, she eventually left the room. She even offers to inform the rest of the team of your injury and you accept willingly, not wanting to go to put a show there downstairs.

A few minutes pass and you always wait when someone knocks on the door.

"I still haven’t finished Ona, but you can come in."

Except that it is not Ona who enters, but Aitana. The look fixed on her shoes and the air of someone who goes to the torture room. And this time, the anger you had not yet felt takes hold of you.

"I came to apologize" Aitana mumbles without turning her eyes towards you.

"Well, it's done" you answer coldly, turning your back on her.

You don’t want to look at her. You’re mad at her, at her behavior. That she doesn’t like you is one thing, but that she makes you unable to play for two weeks is another.

"It wasn't voluntary"

You hold a sarcastic laugh and slowly shake your head.

"Ok."

Aitana seems surprised at your reaction, but you don’t care. It's true that usually you are more the one who flees the conflict and who prefers to go with the idea of the person in front of you to please her. She stands there and it annoys you. So you suddenly turn your head in her direction and you talk to her dryly.

"All right, you can go now. Just leave me alone."

The tone of your voice seems to make her react since she frowns and steps in your direction.

"Don’t talk to me like that."

You feel your heart racing, you have never been very good at dealing with disputes and emotions. Until now you had managed to buried them deep inside when they became too powerful but it seems that since your confessions to Alexia you are no longer able to do so. She says it’s a pretty good things, but you're not really sure about that.

"Don’t tell me how to talk to you when you’ve been treating me like shit since I got here, Aitana."

Aitana is stunned. She never saw you angry and expected you to accept her apology so that she could get out of this room as quickly as she got in. Her lost look irritates you a little more, she knew very well what she was doing by behaving as she did since the beginning. And you gradually realized that you didn’t deserve this.

"Who made you come here? Mapi, Alexia, Jonatan?"

She blushs and it's enough for you to understand that you are right. If she had the choice, she would never had been here, begging for your forgiveness.

"Get out" you groan, turning your back at her once again.

She didn't and you sigh before getting up as you can. It may not be the most graceful way to do it and it may take some drama off the stage, but you don't care.

"I said get out" you say, raising your voice now. "You don't want to be here and I don't want you here."

But she’s still not moving and your patience is coming to an end. From now on there is nothing else that separates you, except the bed on which you were lying a few moments ago. The nurse still hasn’t come back, but this might be the time to do it please.

"I- " began Aitana, without saying anything more.

"What do you want? Two weeks without me aren't enough? Want to break my other leg too?"

The frustration you feel about not understanding Aitana’s reaction and behavior may be pushing you a little to say things you never had the courage to say before. But it was less positive to return the floor to your interlocutor, whose face and eyes finally come alive again.

"I told you I didn't mean it" she half-screams and you snort. "Maybe I was wrong for acting with you like I did but..."

"Maybe?!" you interrupt her coldly.

"You made my life a living hell! You came here with your damn smile and skills and all my life fell appart!" Aitana is clearly shooting now and you blink, surprised by her rage. "I was in an healthy relationship, happy in my life and with this team. And you came along and everything fell apart! I am straight ok, I am so fucking straight but all I can think about all the time is you! I hate you for the way you make me feel but I'm not fucking able to change it even if I tried since you are here"

It is your turn to remain silent, your brain analyzing each of the words that she just said. And all this has absolutely no meaning for you, except the part where she confesses her hatred to you perhaps. Aitana’s breathing is fast and noisy, you can’t tell if it’s that or your screams that didn’t allow you to realize that you were no longer alone in the room.

"Hmm."

You look over Aitana’s shoulder and you realize that Ona has returned to the room with Lucy holding your crutches and a sheet of paper while she herself carry your bag.

"Maybe it’s time to go home"

Lucy’s perfectly expressionless face keeps you from knowing how long she’s been here. Two steps behind her, Ona makes her look between you and Aitana without saying anything. You nod and pass in front of Aitana with a limp, Ona reacting by breaking the last meters to help you take your crutches in hand.

You follow them silently to Lucy’s car and after some arguments with Ona you finally agree to sit in the passenger seat. By taking your phone out of your pocket, you realize that you have received some messages from your teammates wishing you a good recovery. And you quickly understand that they have created a tournus between them so that you are not alone at home. There will apparently be only during the trip next weekend where you will not have peace. But it makes you smile and a little forget what just happened.

"You want to eat with us tonight?" Lucy asks.

"Nah I'm good thank you. I usually watch some crap TV show on friday night."

You see Lucy peeking at you to make sure you’re not playing superhero and you feel the way she’s measuring you. You look up and sigh.

"I assure you it’s okay. Enjoy your Friday night, I’ll probably go to bed early anyway."

This time it's Ona that Lucy looks through the rearview mirror but neither of them insists, to your relief. Being alone doesn't bother you. Once at home, Ona helps you get out of the vehicle and before she can open her mouth, you speak again.

"I promise, i'm fine Ona."

"All right. I’ll leave you alone on the condition that you swear on your cat’s head that you will write me if you're not okay."

"Leave the poor cat alone" you joke, making her smile. "I promise."

**********

The doorbell on your front door makes you frown. You’re sitting on your couch, a blanket on your legs and your cat on your stomach. Your sprain is better, it must be said that after a week and a half of rest it would be dramatic that this is not the case. You have resumed muscle training, but it is obviously out of the question that you start running again for now. You can now move without your crutches and it was a great relief to be able to get rid of them. Your ankle is still carefully immobilized but you are now doing quite well.

Salma left your apartment half an hour ago, and you’re supposed to stop receiving visitors. Your father phones you every day and hasn’t done it yet, but he has no reason to show up here unannounced. That’s really not his style.

The bell rings again, waking up your cat who is rustling a little before going to eat croquettes in the kitchen. So you get up from the couch and go to the door, opening it without removing the safety chain to see who it is. And almost immediately you close the door, but the fingers of Aitana who slip into the opening prevent you to do so.

"Don’t make me break your fingers"

"Just let me in"

"No? What the hell"

"Y/N, please…"

The despair of her voice makes you flinch and you press your forehead against the door. You’re too sensitive to people’s distress to leave someone with that feeling. Even if it was Aitana herself who put you in this emotion there a few weeks ago. You sigh and, already regretting your gesture, you open the door to let her in. You avoid looking at her when she enters your home, closing the door behind her.

"You have a cat?"

You refrain from pointing out that if she had been interested in you instead of making you regret your arrival, she would know. If you don’t talk about your cat several times during the day, there is a problem.

"How do you know where I live?"

Aitana stop looking at your cat who spread out on your plaid to turn to you. With your arms crossed, you wait for his answer with a certain hint of curiosity. Aitana has never set foot in your house and if you are not mistaken, she does not really live in the neighborhood.

"I asked Irene"

She shrugs and you signal her to settle down on the couch. You go back to your place, gently pushing your cat to be a little more comfortable. With a simple look he made you understand that you're annoying, making you smile gently. You caress him to apologize as he stretches, rolls into a ball and closes his eyes.

"I came to apologize"

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Aitana looks at you with the same suspicion as if she had been the last piece of meat in the middle of a horde of hungry lions.

"I’ve already heard that before" you answer by arching an eyebrow

"I know. But I just... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, really. My problems shouldn’t have affected you. I should have handled things differently, but I was confuse and scared."

She looks sincere and does not look away when you judge her with yours. Next to you your cat stretches lazily before turning around on the other side and continuing his nap.

"Ok. Apologizes accepted"

She looks at you so long it makes you uncomfortable. You have never been in her presence for so long and you find yourself nervously wrapping your hair around your finger.

"If I could, I would do things differently, you know? I understand it’s out of the question that something is happening between us now, but I would like to start all over again. Get to know you, possibly offer you a date and then two if things go well."

You’re slowly biting your lip looking at her. You’d be lying if you said that the words she said in the infirmary didn’t mark you. You were far from imagining that the reason for his behavior was related to an attraction to you. You think it’s pretty toxic, but you like to think people deserve a second chance. After biting your lip, you bend over and reach out to her.

"Well... Hi. I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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000marie198 · 1 month

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What were to happen if Sonic and Tails both became babies? Y'know, besides Knuckles and Amy having to wrangle their clingier than usual sibs.

Imagine two gremlin twin kittens who just got reunited staring at you with these faces:

:3 :3

Moments before disaster strikes

.....

But this happens after they are placed in the same space together and make friends.

The first instinct of baby Tails would be to pounce on his fellow age mate cuz he wanna play

The first instinct of Sonic would be to yip in terror and roll away from the fox and tremble while still curled up in a teeny ball. He won't know it but his action will make baby Tails pause and tilt his head in confusion and then curiously approach the still trembling ball to nudge it. It pricks him due to quills and he also yips and scuttles away, then whimpers and sniffs, holding his bleeding snout.

The hedgehog, recognizing the sounds as expressions of pain and fear and not sensing anything else for a full minute uncurls slightly to make a little peek at the kit, he's cautious but also curious.

They don't really have the memories of their lives but the general instincts and bonds are there and seeing the teary blue eyes and soft sad sniffles... Little hoglet is not able to handle it and uncurls completely and whimpers too.

He hurt the other. He doesn't want the other to be hurt. He's really sorry he hurt the other.

Little hoglet stumbles towards the sniffling kit and pats him with his little paws over and over till baby Tails stops tearing up with a hiccup and stares curiously at the hoglet.

Baby Sonic let's out an open mouthed smile. Tails gets curious and comes closer, which reactivates the hedgehog instincts and Sonic rolls away again.

Baby Tails realizes the other one can get scared if he comes close without warning or pounces so he doesn't do that. He just sits and waits, tails lightly swishing back and forth, watching baby Sonic till he calms down and uncurls, meeting the fox replicating his earlier smile.

Big wide eyes staring at each other and slowly they both become comfortable enough to actually start communicating, in babbles and gestures but it's still communication.

In a while, Sonic's stomach growls, he has always had higher metabolism okay. Baby Tails starts sniffing around to find him something to eat. He sniffs something he likes, FLIES OUT OF THE PEN, locates a cookie and brings it to Sonic. The hoglet muches on it and offers it to Tails after 3 or 4 bites. Tails also munches on cookie.

They start competing on who can munch louder, it's a miracle one of them hasn't choked on a crumb while giggling so much.

They bond over chocolate cookie :]

........

There's a lot more moments we can add afterwards, aka once the two have become friends. .

Both babies would literally have that package deal, Do Not Sperate level separation anxiety specifically and only when it comes to the other.

Knuckles would carry Tails away to feed him something and Sonic would start wailing and reaching, Tails doing the same. They are very loud and they won't shut up till you reunite them, which will end up in close hugs and sniffles

There was that one time Amy had to take Sonic away for a little bit to give him a bath and Knuckles had to fight to hold a frantic clawing fox kit away, especially when Sonic's cries of sorrow turned into screeches of fear. This was so not easy.

Tails bites both their older friends after that while Sonic naps in the background all freshened up and tidied.

........

You cannot leave the babies unsupervised anywhere! They will work together to escape one way or another no matter where and they will drive everyone nuts looking for them only to be found inside a barely ajar cupboard with cereal scattered all around them and blinking like deer caught in a headlight.

......

You give one of them a toy or teether or rattle and they'll fight over it and scream. Sighing, you take away the toys. Next time you make sure to give both of them identical toys. They still look at the other and try to snatch it, starting another fight.

.......

There are two gremlins rolling around and flying all over the house, getting into the craziest, unreachable places. Sonic just scuttled under the fridge, Tails is perched on a ceiling fan. Everything is scattered

.......

The next time baby Tails pounces on the hoglet to play with him, Sonic doesn't curl up in fear

#they are sooooo *holds them gently*#baby sonic #baby tails #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #miles tails prower #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #ask answered #anon ask

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crisiscutie · 2 months

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Dissidia Darling's Disaster Dates! Round 1: Sephiroth

In celebration of Rebirth's upcoming release, my blog's anniversary and the sad demise of Opera Omnia, I might just do a mini-dating series, set at the Gold Saucer. Let's see how it goes. Enjoy this scenario! Features slight Aerith/Darling.

Content Warning: Slightly NSFW. Yandere/toxic relationship. Blood. Some physical abuse. Emotional abuse and manipulation. Skinshipping. Lots of dialogue. Darling's POV is trippy and unreliable.

You looked around with worry, desperately searching for any sign of your allies. Somehow, you had become separated from Kadaj, Aerith and the others while exploring a haunted mansion. You looked all over this damn amusement park searching for them, but with no luck so far. Why the hell is everything so eerily quiet now? Everywhere you went, there didn't seem to be signs of life. But all the bright lights and machinery operated as normal, oddly enough. The round square is one of the last places you haven't checked, so you went there to see if they're around.

But the longer you walked, the hazier your vision became and your kimono felt constricted, causing you to readjust your obi. Maybe it's just your anxiety making you feel that way. But you hated being alone. You just need something, someone, to keep you from going mad. You didn't even notice a black feather landing on top of your head as you approached a gondola ride. Maybe this will lead you to the others? The reason you all came to this world was to hunt for crystals, but Aerith came up with the idea for everyone to take a break and enjoy themselves, which is why you opted to dress up. Kadaj and the others must be worried sick about you. You hoped that no monsters or summons had caused any trouble in your absence.

"...Are you lost?" a deep voice purred from behind you. Coming to a sudden stop, you turned hesitantly to face Sephiroth. His gaze was so intense that it practically rooted you to the earth, and your vision became clouded by a pink-purplish tint, blurring everything but him. The man who rescued when you first arrived in this universe, the one who masqueraded as your jaded, but caring mentor. He had treated you so well. But now, you knew the truth about him - he had used you for his own gain. What could he possibly offer you now that you knew his true nature? Yet, you're alone, with no one else by your side. The void was becoming unbearable. But the simple act of him offering his hand shattered your psychosis, bringing you back to reality. You couldn't resist the impulse to take his hand now, though it was against your judgment. When you took the final step into the gondola, your body stiffened, causing you to stumble and lose your balance, but Sephiroth acted swiftly. He caught you, wrapping his hand around your waist.

He pulled you close to him and your hands gravitated towards his chest as he leaned down to your level. And without warning, his luscious lips inched dangerously close to yours, making you gasped. He smirked, savoring the way you reacted and how you shifted uncomfortably. Then, he moved his lips to your ear, almost brushing against it, and spoke in a soft whisper.

"You know, you could thank me for catching you." He chuckled when you quickly took a step back, too flustered to respond. Though, he still kept his hold on your waist. With a heartfelt sigh, he reached out and took hold of your hand. His lips hovered above it as if he were about to kiss it, but instead, he lovingly nuzzled it against his cheek and closed his eyes. Your touch alone sent shocks of euphoria to his cold heart. Slowly, he guided your hand down his neck, collarbone, and chest, while wearing a euphoric smile that seared itself into your consciousness.

"I've missed you..." He then sat down on the seat, pulling you into his lap soon after. He gave your neck a small kiss before locking his slit eyes onto you. Even with all that transpired, every fiber of your being craved him. You wanted him to keep holding you, touching you, worshipping you. This had to be the reunion instincts Cloud and Vincent warned you about, it's a mix of unsettling rightness and wrongness that erupted goosebumps all over your body.

"Have you been keeping up with your sparring?" he asked, adopting the caring tone of a father checking on their child. You shyly mumbled a "yes," which earned you another sweet neck kiss from him.

"Good girl..."

"Why did you lie to me, Sephiroth?" you huffed out, as you tried to resist the reunion and the euphoria building up within you. Your face grew hot, and beads of sweat trickled down your forehead.

"I never lied to you, my darling. In fact, I played my role well. Guiding you in this realm was my duty. I was always there for you. And let's not forget, it was you who offered to help summon 'Mother' for me." As these words sunk in, your heart dropped.

"I... did.. But-"

"and you had to know that she didn't have a physical form," he interrupted you, still nuzzling into your neck. He had you cornered. What he said was certainly true, but there had to be some lie in there. Like the others told you, he's always lying... Right!?

"I NEVER AGREED TO BE ITS VESSEL!" you shouted, a surge of strength and anger flowed through you in that fleeting moment. In response, he erupted into a series of dark, eerie chuckles like a deranged maniac, almost as if he was emulating someone.

"Foolish girl," he hissed, his voice cutting through the gondola, making you feel like an unruly child being scolded. How else could she come into this realm without a beacon? You're the one who called her, so it's fitting she chose you. It is my duty to see this through, as her chosen son." His lips curled into a sneer as the horror and self-doubt washed over you like a wave. You had gotten yourself into this situation, but now you didn't know how to deal with it or even put an end to it. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, drawing him nearer to you. The expression on his face suddenly shifted from sadistic and smug to... almost comforting and warm?

"I know you're scared, darling," his voice was smooth and reassuring, almost hypnotic. "But I'm here for you, and we're in this together. Remember the good times we had? Do you really want to throw all of that away? We could rule this world, the entire cosmos, if you'd only come back to me." He finished his speech with a relaxed sigh. In one swift movement, he tore your kimono open, exposing your soft skin to the cool air. He then pressed his cheek against your upper chest, causing a sigh of pure bliss to escape your lips. He gave your collarbone a firm nip and left his mark, his slit eyes glowering at your belly with a solemn look when he's done.

"You are carrying our future within you," he whispered. "And soon, it will be born."

Afterwards, a blissful silence enveloped the gondola, as both of you became completely engrossed in each other's presence. You two just wanted to keep holding each other for eternity. Your trance started to end when you heard the familiar voice of Aerith calling out to you. You muttered her name in return and glanced out of the gondola's window to see her and the rest of the group waiting for you two at the final stop, weapons drawn and prepared.

"It seems like our time together has come to a close," he whispered, hissing softly in your ear. Your heart raced, and your vision blurred, focused on his alternating expressions, a sinister smirk, and a euphoric smile. His slit eyes widened, and his pupils dilated, fixated solely on you. As soon as you blinked, his Masamune blade was pressed against your neck, its icy touch leaving you paralyzed with fear. "If I take your head, darling, I can keep better track of you. No one will ever separate us." His velvety voice betrayed a glimmer of giddiness, revealing cracks in his composed demeanor.

"No! Don't do this! Nothing will come out of it!" you exclaimed. His blade barely moved, and already a small trickle of blood ran down your neck. You closed your eyes, hoping this nightmare would end soon.

"Nonsense, it will work just like last time, Mother," he whispered, his thumb gently caressing your left cheek. He slightly moved the blade again, the flow of blood increased. But then, his Masamune vanished, and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"The manifestation is not yet complete. Go on, my darling, continue filling your hollow heart with despair so that we may achieve the reunion we seek." After those words, he carefully and tenderly positioned your weakening body onto the seat, like a precious doll being prepared for exhibition. He kissed your foreheadbefore disappearing, leaving his dark feathers scattered around you. Your vision was clouded by that same pink-purplish tint from before as your body went completely limp, just as the gondola ride came to a hard stop.

The others were geared and ready for a fight when the gondola's doors automatically opened, but they were surprised to see Sephiroth gone already. Aerith was the first to rush inside, making a beeline for you. As she examined your body for injuries, she noticed something peculiar when she looked into your dull eyes - a brief, faint pink glow. Her gasp was followed by her gaze drifting downward, where she spotted a strange dark feather resting on your swollen collarbone, covering Sephiroth's lovebite. With a grimace, she gently removed the feather, watching it disintegrate in her hand. It was undoubtedly his twisted way of asserting ownership over you, a taunt to her and the others about your impending "destiny". Despite her efforts to lift you to your feet, your body remained dead weight, making it impossible to get you up.

"Zack, I need your help!" she yelled. He nodded, quickly rushing over and utilizing his SOLDIER strength to carry you out of the gondola.

Your last thought before fully losing consciousness in Zack's arms was whether there was time to enjoy the fun night with other dates. Got those priorities straight, don't you darling?

Date rating: 2/10.

Sephy tried, but he just couldn't help himself after being separated from darling for far too long. 😔 As I said, I might make a mini-dating series with other FF characters.

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orangepeetals · 5 months

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YOU BELONG WITH ME ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ (pt2)

(playlist for a star series)

peeta mellark x f.reader !!

pt1. / next part

Summary: Peeta and Katniss have kept their history of lovers during the games, your heart has been going through constant suffering when seeing them together but you are more worried about Peeta’s survival.

a/n: i speak Spanish so the story was originally written in Spanish and then I translated it into English, plz don’t be rude if there is a mistake !! 😞

The following days were torture, you didn’t take off the TV and you couldn’t close an eye, you were alert at all times, you were a total disaster every time Peeta was on the screen, you were scared. You were grateful that Haymitch in his drunkenness was the most sane at the time, you couldn’t think correctly. The girl who was with Katniss had died, it had been so sad that for a few seconds you forgot about Peeta, you admired how noble ‘the girl on fire’ could be, you didn’t think she had such a kind heart.

“Everything is solved, y/n” Haymitch’s voice took you out of your thoughts, feeling the anxiety eat you again, you didn’t understand anything he was talking about.

“What do you mean?” You watched him with confusion, he simply raised his glass of alcohol in the direction of the TV and you just watched, a few minutes later the change of rules was reported, there could be two winners if they were from the same district, you couldn’t explain how happy you were, you knew that Katniss Everdeen wouldn’t be so bad to just do nothing, you weren’t wrong, because when Katniss finally found him, she helped him with his wounds and they found a shelter. You and Haymitch were in charge of sending them things so that they could be cured, although they could not send enough, Katniss risked her life to get the medicine and now you were indebted to her. You tried to ignore the kisses and the displays of affection that they had to show on camera because thanks to that they could both be winners. The rest of the games were still just as bad but you were calmer now that Peeta was not alone, your heart stopped when they wanted to eat the berries, you knew they wouldn’t take this well.

Time passed quickly, all that experience had left you in shock, you were able to return to reality when you felt Peeta’s arms enveloping you tightly, you looked at him as if you were afraid that he was going to break and you overflowed in tears again, he was there, with you, hugging you with love, it was incredible, the warmth of his body against yours made you feel hopeful, his arms were a perfect place to live forever.

“It’s good that you’re alive, Peeta, I was scared” Your voice was weak and choppy, you saw him eyes full of tears and filled him face with kisses, caressed him hair and listened to him heartbeat, as strong as whenever he was near you, you let out a sigh and separated from him. You saw Katniss talking to Haymitch and you just hugged her, you took her off guard but she reciprocated your hug, maybe she didn’t hate you so much, it was a silent hug until you decided to talk. “Thank you Katniss, I will really be indebted to you forever, thank you for taking care of him, you are a good girl, I am happy to know that you will return home”

——————————

The return to district 12 was quiet, you could talk more with Katniss and know a little more about her, even though it was closed, at least you were sure that everything about the romance with Peeta was only for the cameras, it’s not that you doubted him love for you but naturally felt insecurities to see your boyfriend swearing love for another girl in front of all Panem.

You hated having to relive what it meant to win some games, being one of the mentors you had to accompany the winners in various public activities, although as always, you did your best to avoid being exposed, you hated participating in anything that had to do with the capitol.

You were at the party for the winners, you were uncomfortable having to socialize and act as if you were happy to be there, the only thing that gave you joy was to see him, to see his charm every time he talked to someone, the outfit he had made him look a thousand times more handsome than he was, you were holding back by throwing yourself on him. You drank from your glass and your eyes met his while he danced next to Katniss, they just smiled and you felt like vomiting, you didn’t know if it was because of alcohol, stress or jealousy, you tried to act calmly and got out of there quickly, going to a balcony that was somewhat away from the people. The moon kept you company in your anguish, you watched the starry sky as you thought, you thought what a life would be like far from all this, you thought about what it would have been like if you had died in that arena, maybe it would not have changed Peeta’s destiny and he would still be with Katniss Everdeen now, he looked happy next to her, even if you knew that it was all a farce, you couldn’t help but feel bad, you wanted to be in Peeta’s arms all the time as it was before, before everything was ruined by the hunger games. She was a thousand times better than you, you were just smart but too cowardly, she is too brave, skillful and determined, you were nothing next to her.

Thoughts were driving you crazy, you wanted to cry now, you felt bad about yourself, you wished you had died in the hunger games, maybe now you would be free, free from Snow’s hands, free of everything that could harm you. Some hands hugging your waist brought you back, you could recognize its smell from miles, you smiled slightly and turned around, finding a rather worried Peeta, you were not good at hiding this kind of thing, at least never with him.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere, are you okay, beautiful?” His voice was a caress to your sad heart, you nodded and hugged him, hiding your face in his neck and leaving some soft kiss in the area, you felt how his grip became stronger, he caressed your waist and you wanted to freeze that moment, finally it was you and him under the moon, even if it was for an ephemeral time. “You look so beautiful that I could tear off your dress right now, if you allow it” You let out a laugh at the bottom when you heard his words, you messed up her hair a little and kissed her lips repeatedly, you knew that they didn’t have long before they had to come back with the crowd, so you appreciated every second by their side, since Peeta had left the arena they had not had so much time to be together, they were too exposed to the public eye, so they had to take care of their actions at all times and everywhere, anywhere outside their Intimacy, you and he were nothing, that broke your heart but there was no turning back.

——————————————

The uprisings were getting worse and worse, the act of the berries had really left more consequences than you imagined, Snow had them in his sights, he did not believe the facade of the lovers and you knew that very bad things could happen if the situation in the districts did not improve, there were strikes, riots and destruction, people were revealing themselves, they were opening their eyes.

“They should get married” You muttered between your teeth but loud enough for them to hear you, your eyes were glued to the ground while you thought about your words, if they publicly sealed their eternal love, perhaps they could divert attention from the rebellion.

“What?” You found Peeta’s look confused, you could see the sadness in his eyes when he said those words, you loved him with every part of your being but you need him to be safe.

“She’s right, maybe with that Snow will stay calm for a while” Haymitch’s voice confirmed your idea, you felt your heart beating hard, everything wasn��t supposed to go on like this. Peeta nodded and got up, heading to another lane, your eyes filled with tears.

“I understand that this is painful for you, I want you to know that we will do everything possible to take care of Peeta, he has protected me too” Katniss took your hand and stroked your back, you knew that this was also painful for her, she had to marry someone she did not love even having a person who was waiting for her at home, Peeta had the purest soul, he was always going to do him best to take care of him environment, even if he had to do things that would harm him.

“Thank you Katniss, I know it’s difficult for you but you count on us” You hugged her for a few seconds before you got up, you had to talk to Peeta. “I’ll go talk to him, I’ll be back in a while.”

You knocked on the door of his room, you didn’t want to have this conversation, after a few seconds that seemed to be hours, he opened his door, his eyes were red and crystallized, you could notice that he had cried, his face looked sad and tired, you pushed him into the room and closed the door behind you. You hugged him tightly and in a matter of seconds he collapsed in your arms, he was as vulnerable as that time you had to say goodbye to him and enter the arena by yourself, you wanted to end the world and that it was just you and him forever. “I’m so sorry, Peeta, my love, I just want you to be fine, we’ll be fine”

“I will do it, I will marry Katniss, we will do it as public as possible, we will smile at the cameras and when everything calms down, you and I will return to our normal lives, anyway, I don’t care what I have to do, I will not be a piece of his game” Although the blond made efforts to talk without the tears beating him, you knew that he was serious, you knew that he was clever and that he knew that he would always manage to cause some impact on the masses, as you were also clear that there would never be a normality again and that anyone could ever Respect their relationship. “Let’s enjoy this moment, now you are the only thing that belongs to me, you are the only thing I can keep secret without anyone wanting to take it and expose it to the world, my little star, you are mine and I will always be yours.”

His words were so soft and promising, you were his and he was yours, you were willing to leave everything behind to achieve the life you both needed.

———————————————

Here is the part 2!! i really want to keep writting this fic so if u like it, i’ll give u more parts!! :D

#Spotify #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #peeta mellark fluff

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nardos-primetime · 25 days

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Drawing requests you say?????

How about some disaster twins angst? For something more specific, what about some separation anxiety/reassuring one another that they're ok?

(U might have to zoom in for some text idk tumblr fucks quality sometimes)

They share a lot of issues but they keep each other grounded I think. I also like the concept of the twins comfort falling under a "this sucks" "Yeah dude this sucks" solidarity type thing, especially bc neither of these boys have gone to therapy n share so much trauma and both still have ego issues they would NOT know proper tactics to calm down they just try to cope in ways that hopefully won't kill them

And Doodle for a Potential upcoming comic (or fic, hopefully a comic though) with Disaster Twins Angst. I just wanna practice a bit more n relearn come comic shit before I make it lol. This will probably fall under separation anxiety more than any of the doodles above.

Donnie is mean sometimes. He doesn't know why. He can only guess, but Donnie doesn't like guessing.

Leo guesses all the time, though.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie #rottmnt donnie #rise leo #rottmnt leo #rottmnt fanart #disaster twins #rottmnt disaster twins #turtle doodles

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dirtytransmasc · 8 months

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helaegond raising the twins + maelor but it's just helaegon being sleep deprived parents and Aemond stepping in before they accidentally kill themselves or their kids.

like, Aemond walking in on Aegon rocking a bundle of blankets and having to put his own brother down for a nap, who quickly begs him to stay, cause he can't fall asleep on his own anymore.

Helaena trying to feed the children while fighting off sleep and just making Aemond anxious so he says he'll do it himself (how he will do that, he doesn't know, he's just got a lot of will and a lot of love for his sister, so he'll manage)

Aemond taking the kids out for the day so Aegon and Helaena can enjoy a day in bed, without a worry in the world (they have separation anxiety with their kids and don't stop worrying the entire time). similarly, Aemond being the one to settle the kids for bed; getting them dinner, a bath, a bed time story, actually getting them to fall asleep.

family cuddle piles; Aemond being sassy and pretending he doesn't like it, but he's got one arm around Helaena, Aegons latched onto his middle, 'laenas holding Maelor, the twins are tangled up in their legs, they're all currently considering getting a bigger bed, all is well.

I just want them to be a disaster co-parenting throuple

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barnesbabee · 1 year

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[O]rgasm Denial || J.W

[ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴇɴᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ O]

Summary: A classic enemies to lovers quarrel, except this time you get to discipline them.

Pairing: sub!Wooyoung x reader

Words: Eminem - Without me (0:31 - 0:50)

Genre: Smut; Angst; Fluff

⚠️If you need warnings don't read my stuff you never know⚠️

A partner being jealous of his lover's closest friend isn't unheard of, it is quite common, actually. The problem is, you weren't San's partner, and neither was Wooyoung, but the jealousy you had of each other's friendships made it seem like the three of you were in some weird love triangle.

San didn't understand why there was so much tension, he considered Wooyoung to be pretty similar to himself so the reason why you seemed to dislike Wooyoung was beyond him.

To be fair, if asked, neither of you had a good response as to why you hated each other so much, it was just small issues (like San telling you he couldn't pick up because he was face-timing Wooyoung, or him telling his other best friend he couldn't hang out because he had plans with you), that went unresolved and started piling on top of each other until it reached a point where you couldn't stand to hear each others' names.

San had given up on trying to get you to be civil with each other, and he would just make time to hang out with you both separately unless it was absolutely impossible to get that to happen, which would often lead to a disaster. The one time you saw him truly mad was when you and Wooyoung caused a scene on his birthday, the last time you had to be in the same building together, so when San decided to put together a small get-together in his house for friends that were coming to visit him, he lectured the both of you for a long time.

The long long lecture didn't stop San from getting anxious though, and the anxiety grew when his friends called him, telling him their car had broken down because by that time you had both arrived and the tension in the room was palpable.

San ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, looking at the two people sitting on opposite ends of the couch.

"Right guys, the car my friends were driving in broke down and I need to go pick them up, I am begging you to not behave like animals for once."

"They're the one who-"

"Wooyoung I just asked."

Upon hearing his friend's pleas Wooyoung stopped talking and just sank on the couch, pretending not to be bothered by the fact that he was apprehended in front of his "arch nemesis".

San grabbed his coat and keys and pointed at the both of you.

"I will beat the shit out of both of you, not joking."

You and Wooyoung raised your arms up in defense as if saying "I have done nothing!", and the man left.

The silence was heavy and the pressure in the room felt somehow dense. You could hear every single sound around you, even the faint sounds of the refrigerator, and neither of you dared move, afraid to spark a reaction that would lead to San giving you the beating of your life.

That was until Wooyoung grew tired of your mere presence as if your person made him physically uncomfortable.

"Right I don't need to be here with you, I'm grabbing a beer." He said, as he placed his hands on the couch for support and stood up, before stopping and glancing over his shoulder "That is if you'll allow me."

Allow him? That was a weird, confusing joke...

You heard him trash around in the kitchen, opening the freezer, then the fridge, and then opening and closing the several drawers inside the fridge.

"Where did you put the beers? Are they up your ass? Must be nice and cold since you're a frigid bitch."

You glanced at the doorway to shoot him a threatening look only to find that he was not there.

"I must look like a bartender to you."

"You look like many things to me, none of them pleasing, but I just wanna know where you put the damn beers."

"I put them nowhere why the fuck would I bring beers."

You heard the refrigerator door close, and a couple seconds of silence. You then heard steps come your way, and soon enough Wooyoung's phone was plastered in your face, specifically a text San had sent to the party's group chat "Y/N you're in charge of the beer, okay?".

"You are so fucking useless oh my God! One thing you had to do and you fucked it up! It wasn't even that hard!" He semi-yelled, holding up one finger in front of your face.

He was right, you did fuck it up, but you weren't about to let Wooyoung think he was right, let alone reprehend you for it.

"Maybe it's for the best that there's no beer because you're unable to just shut the fuck up when you drink and I can't stand to listen to that window-wiper laugh of yours." You said, slowly standing up and walking towards him.

"Oh, you can't stand my voice, really?" He asked, pouting and with fake pity dripping from every word "Maybe you should fucking leave then, problem solved."

"You're so fucking unbearably annoying I can see why San would need me, must be nice to get a break from you."

You definitely struck a nerve with that comment, Wooyoung gripped your arms and brought you closer, your faces just inches apart.

"You're fucking delusional if you think for a second that San prefers hanging out with you. You're the most fucking dull and boring person I've ever met!"

You pushed him away from you. Wooyoung's back hit the wall and his eyebrows furrowed in pain. You walked towards him, cheeks red and eyes teary with anger.

"At least I don't bitch about my problems at every given second!" You yelled.

"At least I'm not a fucking bitch!"

"Oh, you're not? Are you sure?"

Wooyoung took back control of the situation, grabbing your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure, I'm not the idiot who ruined a party by not bringing the fucking alcohol, you're so useless."

The tension in the room had slightly changed. Your breaths were heavy, there was barely no part of your body that wasn't touching and you were looking into each other's eyes with pure hatred and fury, but somehow there was a hint of sexual desire between the two of you. It wasn't that you ever desired each other, but there was this... need to be rough with one another, to punish the other.

It was spontaneous, and if asked "did you mean to do that?" Wooyoung would deny it to the end of his days, but he gripped your neck and brought your face closer until your lips smashed together.

His hands moved to your hips, steadily keeping you in place, while yours were tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it (which Wooyoung enjoyed, but he wouldn't let you know you were doing something right).

You pushed him away slightly, enough to part the kiss and leave a little distance between your bodies, and gripped his throat. He didn't say it, but you could tell he was into it from the way he leaned his head back to give you more access. His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath.

"I knew you were into some kinky shit, I bet you'll love it if I call you a slut too." You said, pushing him backward by the neck until he felt the couch hit the back of his knees.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it." Wooyoung said, as he sat down and pulled you to sit on his lap.

You slapped his cheek, hard enough for him to feel something, but not too hard as to not actually hurt him.

"I can tell what you like from a mile away," you paused, gripping his throat a little harder and grinding down on a (definitely) growing boner "and if you keep acting like that I will be having a lot more fun than you, I promise that."

Wooyoung chuckled.

"Let's hope you keep promises, bitch."

One of your hands worked on undoing Wooyoung's belt and zipper, as you kissed him harshly. There was no passion, no romance, or any trace of mutual tolerance in the kiss: it was pure tension and hate.

Once you managed to get everything out of the way, your hand slipped in between the jeans and his thin boxers. You could feel every curve and every vein of his cock on the palm of your hand, and this time Wooyoung didn't hold back any noises, knowing fully well that his moans and groans would work towards teasing you.

Wooyoung could be insecure at times, but if there was something he was sure of is that he sounded good. Really good.

You felt yourself getting warmer and warmer, and your stomach started clenching. Your hand slowly pulled Wooyoung's cock out of the confinement of his underwear, and as you did so, you climbed down from his lap and knelt between his legs.

You avoided his gaze. You had no intention of seeing him looking down at you sucking his cock with his shit-eating grin.

You took his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat as you slowly moved your head. Wooyoung groaned and bucked his hips into your mouth.

As a consequence, you slapped his thigh and looked up at him.

"You're so gonna regret that."

"Oh am- shit." His sentence was cut off by your mouth on his cock again, sucking him off at a faster pace.

He stared down at you, eyebrows furrowed and mouth agape. He could feel something bubbling in the pit of his stomach, and his chest started moving up and down quicker.

When his voice started becoming whiny and his moans became more drowsy as he came close to a state of bliss, you pulled your mouth away and began pumping him with your hand. You met his glossy eyes and from your devious look, he could tell what you were about to do.

"Fuck, don't you dare."

Your hand sped up, the sound of skin slapping becoming more frequent.

"Don't dare, what?"

Wooyoung groaned and hissed.

"Please Y/N, fuck- please don't do this."

You smirked, bit your lip, and, just as Wooyoung's hips bucked, ready to cum on your hand, you pulled away.

The tip of his cock hit his stomach, still covered by his shirt.

Wooyoung watched as you removed your pants and underwear, but he didn't dare touch his cock as you did so. The man didn't want you to know how badly he needed to fuck you right then and there.

You straddled him once more, making sure to rub your crotch against his in the process, earning a breathy moan.

"Are you still going to act like a little bitch? Hm?" You asked as you teased his cock with your entrance.

He pretended to think, letting out a "hmm", as he pretended to consider the question, and, when he felt his tip right at your entrance, Wooyoung grabbed your waist, bucked his hips, and smashed you down on his cock.

"Fuck!" You yelled, gripping his shoulders tightly, shocked by the sudden contact.

Wooyoung bit your jawline and smirked.

"Yes, I am." He finally replied.

You gripped his throat, tightly this time, and with your free hand, your kept gripping his shoulder for stability, as you began to ride him.

"You're such an annoying asshole."

His eyes were locked with yours, and his hands gripped your ass.

"Sticks and stones baby." He said, tongue poking against his cheek.

You kissed him to shut him up, and secretly because he was a fucking good kisser. Wooyoung helped you by bucking his hips up against yours and slightly propping you up and down.

Neither of you held back any noises, you knew it wasn't worth the effort, and it didn't take long for Wooyoung to get close again, as he was already pretty sensitive.

"Y/N let me cum." He demanded, almost.

You stared at him sweetly and you caressed his cheek with fake pity, Your hand then descended to his neck as your lips approached his ear.

"No." You whispered.

"C'mon- fuck. Let me cum."

You smirked and stared right into his glossy eyes.

"Beg."

"Shit- what?"

"You heard me, I want you to beg." You said, between breaths.

Wooyoung's jaw tightened.

"Fuck you."

You moaned his name loudly and gripped his throat tighter, knowing the outcome would be the one you desired.

"Shit I give up, Y/N please please let me cum!"

His whiny voice was music to your ears.

"You can- you can cum."

Wooyoung's hands gripped your ass with full strength as he trusted deep in you and came.

His hands fell down to your thighs and he rested his head on the couch, as the both of you tried to regain your breaths.

From the corner of your eye, you two noticed a wide figure: San, that had entered through the back door.

"You know what? I don't care to know what happened, I don't even care to know if you used protection or that you're doing it in my couch, just clean up this mess and get fucking dressed while I stall the other guests so no one sees you fucking. If this makes you stop twisting my balls about each other's presence then it's fucking worth it."

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez reader smut #wooyoung reader #wooyoung reader smut #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #kpop smut #sub!ateez #sub ateez #sub!wooyoung #sub wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader smut

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cultofdixon · 1 year

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I Found Yea, Bunny

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Never did he think he’d find anyone to love him, then when someone did. The world ended • ANGST/SFW/NSFW • TW: Canon Violence / PTSD / Anxiety Attacks / Injuries

Note

“You still moping baby brother?” Merle kicked Daryl’s leg to get him to say anything. “What? Ain’t gonna talk when you’ve convinced me to stay at this pig’s camp? Come on Darylina, you’re killing me here”

“Fuck off Merle. Ain’t you going on that run?”

“Yeah, but the second I come back. No survivors” Merle jokes for the most part as he picks up his hunting rifle. “Seriously. If you’re still moping and being a lil bitch because of Y/N you just gotta get over it. She’s gone”

Hearing that last part for probably the millionth time, only started to trigger him. She can’t be gone kept him standing.

________

“See that chick over there? The short one”

“I don’t care about your next catch of the week, Merle.” Daryl scoffs taking another sip of his beer when a waiter walks by setting now another set of beers without either of them asking. “Hey wait I ain’t—“

“Curtesy of the two lovely ladies over there” They state before taking Merle’s empty one and heading back behind the bar.

Merle instantly wraps his arm around his brother staring at the two with him seeing obviously the more confident one wave at them as the other was more shy.

“I’ll take the taller one with the nice rack, and you take the shy one” Merle whispers patting his back making Daryl choke on his beer quickly wiping at his face as the two made their way over. “Heya ladies”

“Hey yourself, mind if we join you?” The one Merle was eyeing inches closer to his person making the smirk grow on his face.

“This is going to be a disaster” Daryl whispers to himself only for the other woman to giggle to his words.

“Wanna bet who’s going to ruin it? She’s not the steadiest drunk” She whispers back smiling when one started to crack out on his face.

“Bet it’s my brother and…?”

“I’ll bet on my friend Rachael. But I will most likely win”

“And why is tha—“ Daryl stops talking when Racheal suddenly jumped Merle’s bones right then and there. Knocking off her glass and his beer resulting in the broken glass. “Shit.”

“Nights still young I guess” the woman laughs watching the two roll on the dirty bar ground making one of the bar keeps come over to smack them with the broom to get up. “Didn’t catch your name by the way…didn’t get his either but he’s busy”

“Daryl…you?”

“Y/N”

________

“Why did you…not give up? Like the others did…yeah me askin’ shouldn’t matter anymore because..” Carol still couldn’t believe the whole barn situation, let alone what happened to her daughter.

“I’ve lost enough.”

And with that Carol knew more about Daryl than anybody else. He didn’t go into the grand details about it, all that before he and Merle met the quarry group…Daryl was looking for his other half. Not giving a damn of what Merle had to say about it. They hunted, stayed alive, and searched. That was it until something secure came along.

But seeing Rick be with his family, after being separated for months…Daryl wanted that same feeling. That same joy of being reconnected with the one you love.

Now the second good thing after the CDC, the farm was up in flames as Daryl got him and Carol out of there on his bike.

________

“Hey stranger” Y/N smiles letting Daryl into her studio as he was already looking around the place.

“You took these?” Daryl points to the still of the wildlife on one of the many tables as Y/N walks up beside him smiling.

“Yeah, cool right?”

“How’d yea manage to get them to stay still?”

“You said you hunt right? With your brother?” Y/N tilts her head waiting for Daryl’s confirmation which was a nod and a grunt. “Imagine without your weapon and bright orange vests…a camera and a bit more camouflage”

“You…being careful right?”

“Oh I don’t do this in hunting grounds, or well. Forests that have been reported to have people hunt in them before.” Y/N reassures hun with her always shining smile, letting him continue to go through the photos. “I have been asked to document hunters for a catalog. Going to get a few new hunting rifles and a couple compound bows, if you and your brother are interested”

Daryl thought about it as he couldn’t help the joy bubbling in him to hang out with her again. That night at the bar lead to coffee in the morning while his brother and her best friend were still occupying Daryl’s shitty apartment, and another night for drinks but just the two of them to get to know one another without taking care of somebody other than themselves, which brought them to Y/N’s studio that she was also living in.

“Yeah, why not”

Y/N squeals happily and hugging on Daryl as he instantly wrapped his arm around her. “You’re going to look great”

“Maybe bring Racheal to occupy Merle”

“Oh totally, or nothing will get done”

________

Daryl lays uncomfortably on the rocks after rolling down it from when the horse bucked him off and from using what little energy he had to try and scale the steep mountain to get back to the farm. He was in and out of consciousness when he perked up hearing her laugh.

“You’ve got yourself in a pickle, baby” Y/N knelt down beside Daryl’s body gently caressing his face. “Did Merle do this?”

“Nah baby….H-Horse…”

“Now you never learn from that one time, and you weren’t even the one bucked off that horse” She laughs and he couldn’t help the painful smile he wore listening to her. He was willing to die just listening. But he couldn’t. “Stay awake D. Once you find that sweet girl, you gotta find me.”

And with that. He did his best. His best got him back to the farm, walker looking and all, next thing you know.

Fire

Thud

Pain. A whole lot of fucking pain.

Once they questioned Daryl about what he found and Hershel having his priorities confirmed, he was finally left alone to recover in the safety of the house. Letting him get some much needed sleep.

________

Daryl watches her sleep peacefully beside him listening to her cute little snores and watching her curl up inching closer to his person. He couldn’t help himself by closing the space and gently wrapping his arm around her sleep form feeling her do the same pulling herself into his chest. He smiles listening her satisfied sigh when she finally got comfortable in his embrace.

“Stop watching me and sleep…” Y/N mumbles in a sleepy daze, smiling feeling him shift to cage her in his embrace. “Goodnight baby”

“Sweet dreams bunny”

________

He couldn’t help the tears that spilled waking up the next morning.

•

The prison became their home after they lost so much and fought for their safety.

Daryl wishes that the bus of Woodbury folk held his other half in it. But as he came to disappointment once again, he went back to it. Taking daily runs just to search for her and would always come back empty handed on that front. At least he doesn’t have to watch his found family starve or freeze to death given he’s been bringing back everything he could find. Feeling a little bit of joy in their happy faces when his runs were never focused on that to begin with. But just as important.

“Hey Daryl, hold up a sec” Glenn calls out to him right as Carl and Rick were about to open the gates for him.

“Need somethin’?”

“Yes and no…” He sighs. “We need to save up on gas for the run to that mega store. Don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing is helpful. But we really need to be more careful with our limited supplies”

Daryl knew he was using the supply they’ve had to do these runs and it was going to be brought up eventually. Guess his spontaneous runs at any hour, every day, have come to an end.

“Hey pookie” Carol smiles, enjoying the fact that that nickname annoys Daryl, watching him sit down beside her at one of the tables outside. “Couldn’t go on the run?”

“Got told not to. It’s whatever”

“Mmm. Is it though?” Carol nudges Daryl for more of what’s on his mind. More of why he does these runs. “You’ve always been looking for something and every time you come back with much needed supplies…but the look of disappointment rest in your eyes. Daryl what are you looking for out there?”

Carol is one of the few that Daryl trusts with his life and part of him didn’t want to talk about it. Or it brings the thought of loss back in his mind. The same thought that has him laying wide awake at night or waking to the anxiety inducing nightmare that his other half was ripped apart from the undead and or tortured by the monsters of men that litter the new world. But he couldn’t keep it a secret for much longer…

“My girl”

________

“Hey! You made it” Y/N smiles removing herself from the small group surrounding one of her photos displayed so that Daryl could happily bring her into his embrace. “Surprised Merle released you from whatever devilish act he had planned”

“A six pack did it”

“Figures” Y/N smiles parting from Daryl just enough to take his hand and walk with him through the whole exhibit. It was more than her art on display but Daryl could care less about the rest. Only hers was the best.

Daryl waited for the showcase to be over and he hung back to help take down what wasn’t sold of Y/N’s work. But also for him to have a more intimate moment with her.

“I’ve got somethin’”

“Yeah?”

“And I don’t wanna scare yea off, or think I’m moving too quick” Daryl sets down the once hanging piece to lean up against the wall before reaching into his pocket to take out a ring. Y/N was about to drop the pieces she was holding if Daryl didn’t explain himself right away. “It ain’t engagement. Even if I’m sure yer it for me, more a promise. Until the real deal”

“D, this isnt like…the blood money from Merle—-“

“Nah I stopped doing his crazy shit a bit ago. Have been doing commission for bikes and got a gig at a garage…you’ve…made me better and just wanted to do somethin’. Showed me love without consequence or pain…I just. Gotta know—-“

“I love you” Y/N cuts him off, setting everything in her hand down so that she could let him put the ring on her finger before taking his face gently in her hands. “You don’t have to say it back immedieatly. Timing is different for everyone…but I love you, and I know I want you in my life for the rest of it. Even after”

Daryl instantly pulled her flush against him feeling her arms find their spot around his neck as his around her waist. Taking in everything about her in that moment.

She was his other half

________

And he was hers

“Aaron, I don’t think these people will take our offering like it’s nothing. It just randomly appears”

“What do you suggest then?”

“We’re talking suggestions now?”

“Yeah, cuz Deanna saw potential with you in recruitment so thought I’d ask” Aaron whispers to Y/N beside him as the two were tracking a group for some time now.

“Our community isn’t the only one. That’s the feeling I get. These people, we don’t know if they got screwed over or not. They will be hostile and we can’t take that like it’s nothing”

“So…give up or what”

“I didn’t say that. Just if we get caught. Or Eric. Stand your ground but not with your weapon.” She frowns not liking the sound of the commotion coming from this group she couldn’t get a clear look of. “We need these people to trust us. And the element of surprise, is awful in this hell” she takes the binoculars from Aaron to get a look but were caught off guard by a walker approaching that he took care of. “Never was much a fan of surprises in the old world…”

“Didn’t you say your husband surprised you with that ring you’re wearing?”

“Yeah but that’s different”

“How so?”

“He was my other half” Y/N stored the binoculars in her back when the rain started. “We should head back to Eric, and discuss our next course of action”

“I agree with that notion” Aaron covered her back as they made their way to the cars they brought out from their community.

________

“One of my buyers, thought I got married because of my ring” Y/N fiddles with one of Daryl’s many wrenches from his work station in her garage as he was working on her car.

“What’d yea say?”

“Played along. I like the thought of you as my husband. My big strong protective sweetheart husband” She smiles watching the tips of Daryl’s ears turn a bright red when he said such as he tried to cover them for a moment.

“Told the guys at the garage yer my wife anyway”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, so they know if they fuck with yea. I’m knocking their teeth in” Daryl held his hand out for her to place the wrench she was messing with in such.

“But they can get the hint just from girlfriend”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the idea”

“Is that you asking me Daryl Dixon?”

“Yea want it to be?” He stops working to look at his girl who became a blushing mess at the thought, especially when he smirked at her knowing damn well she’d like that.

“I’d like some display. Nothing too public. Just us still” Y/N smiles spreading her legs from her seat on his bench for him to slot himself perfectly between them. Leaning into her, resting his hands on the table. “What?”

“I’ve got somethin’ but for now, yer my wife to everybody who asks”

“Unless it’s Merle and Racheal”

“Motherfuckers would be like “took yea long enough” let’s be real”

“Very true Dixon” She smiles pressing her lips against his shortly after as he quickly picks her up holding her up by the thighs. “Baby!”

“Think I need a break with my bunny” He smirks kissing her once more before carrying her inside.

________

“I’m not alone”

“Really now?” Rick glares into Aaron’s soul as he quickly drops everything in his person to avoid getting hurt even further if that was bound to happening. “Who else is with you?”

“My partner and my best friend. Except my friend is closer to this location”

“And y’all didn’t find her?” Rick questions Maggie and Sasha as the two looked at each other confused before watching the retired sheriff take Aaron by the collar. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Her husband was a t-tracker. Hunter—-she knows how to hide. Says it’s what saved her from outbreak day to now” Aaron was close to shaking but what he said perked the attention of the archer who stopped aiming his crossbow at him. “I can call her but you have to let go of me…”

“Rick” Daryl interrupts whatever thought he was having about such as Rick gave him a confused look. “Trust it. Let him. Now.”

The confused look stuck as he lets go of Aaron for him to reach into his bag keeping eye contact with Rick as he took his radio out.

“Dixon, come out.”

The name caused the group to look at Daryl confused but then suddenly ready their weapons to the ceiling of the barn when they heard a loud thud, then a roll, and finally footsteps outside the building. Daryl brought himself past Aaron to the door when they opened to reveal exactly who he’s been looking for.

“I told him he was only going to trigger y’all too—-“ Y/N stops speaking when she locked eyes with Daryl who hesitantly inched closer to her.

Daryl couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to grab her and pull her into his embrace as he brought himself right up to her.

“So, Dixon huh?”

“Like you’d want my last name…” Y/N tried, and failed to keep the tears from falling as she drops everything on her latching onto Daryl feeling his arms tighten firmly around her. “Hey baby”

“I found yea, bunny. I knew I would”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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deth-of-a-junkie · 4 months

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i have a lot of postal dude headcanons, so ive split them up.

so heres my postal 1 dude headcanons

p1 dude has a special interest on the jets and weaponry used in ww2 and the vietnam war, but also the U.S military as a whole. he specifically likes to collect vintage U.S military memorabilia and propaganda. he can go on for hours about the faults of the government and government greed and corruption, he hates the system. he also knows a lot about JFK assassination theories and will go on for hours about them.

oh yeah. postal 1 dude is autistic.

he also has a spin on guns. he knows them all by name and loves to learn about different manufacturers and how each one are built. he knows how to deconstruct them and put them back together. he even has some guns he's made himself. legal? probably not. he doesnt care.

p1 dude also prefers reading in books for information instead of searching the web for them, so amongst the mess of his house is just piles upon piles of books.

p1 dude also is great at poetry. he loves writing too, which is why i think he started his diaries.

he also loves drawing! he loves going out and drawing scenery the most, he also likes drawing nude figures. he finds the human body to be interesting.

p1 dude is religious. im divided on if i see him as someone whos spiritually aligned closer to catholics (though i wouldnt call him a straight up catholic, he doesn't like the church.) or pagen.

talking about pagen dude, correct me if im wrong, i dont know much about pagenism (but ive been trying to learn more as of recent), but he specifically worships greek gods. out of the gods, his favorite is ares.

he hangs around poostall dude a lot. they arent really friends, they're kinda opposites of each other, but poostall looks up to him as a mentor in philosophy among other things.

he used to be active in his local punk scene when he was younger. he has a lot of cds and tapes of obscure bands that almost no one has heard of.

he loves metal more then anything though, and he also has a large collection of horror films (all on vhs, a few of dvd. he doesnt have his dvd player plugged in so he only uses it if he has too. also refused to buy blueray. if its the only option he burns it onto a disk himself.).

his favorite genres of metal are melodic death metal and prog metal. i would also say dsbm but i feel like thats too corny. he loves opeth. also death.

he's non-speaking most of the time by choice. the older he's gotten the more he started to isolate himself, and he usually chooses to ignore people when theyre talking and not respond at all, mainly just people who ask for directions and stuff on the street he'll just ignore. he just doesnt feel the need too, he likes to stay invisible.

talking about that, he hates leaving his house. it used to be because of anxiety but it slowly became due to his other mental health issues getting worse, especially his fear of everyone being out to get him/everyone else being demons/whatever your interpretation of his reasonings behind postal 1 is.

3 in one shampoo. also uses hand soap to shave instead of shaving cream. also uses hand soap to wash his face...

he needs glasses. his sunglasses also has his normal prescription lenses in them, his eyes are sensitive to light so he chose to make them sunglasses too (i believe this is possible. if its not, well it is now). he also has a 2nd pair that are just normal glasses, he uses them only to read or when he's walking around his house at night. (this is totally not me self reflecting with the realization that i just found out i need glasses..../s)

I DONT KNOW HOW I FORGOT TO MENTION but also has a special interest on nuclear disasters, nuclear power plants, and radiation. theyre not separate theyre all apart of one fixation that branches off the core idea of nuclear power. like he cant have one without the other. if that makes sense.

also uses he/they. he doesnt out right say it, he doesnt use social media so its not like, in a bio or anything. he just naturally picked it up. will also accept she being used to refer to himself, but is not something he states publicly or asks people to do. he was surrounded by the queer community growing up as most of his highschool friends were apart of the community so he just one day realized he wasnt opposed to it being used in reference to himself.

he is an ASSHOLE. he used to be more considerate in his youth but the older he got the grumpier he got. he is SCARY when he insults someone. like he will have an entire ass speech of him just degrading someone until they literally have nothing left to say for themselves.

doesnt get angry though. he's calm when hes upset and frustrated, or will straight up just make fun of and make harsh jokes about the situation (i mean that like. if he gets into a disagreement with someone on the street he will laugh at them and mock them by teasing them. thats what i mean.)

#sorry i love p1 dude so much. like so much.#i think about him way too much.#im so not normal about him #please correct any incorrect info in here crying emoji #postal #postal dude #postal headcanons #postal dude headcanons #postal 1 #rws #running with scissors #p1 dude #postal 1 dude

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tanadrin · 1 year

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[epistemic status: a bunch of semi-related thoughts I am trying to work out aloud] It has been noted countless times that reactionary politics rely on a feeling of threat: our enemies are strong and we are weak (but we are virtuous and they are not, which is why they’re our enemies!); we must defend ourselves, we must not be afraid of doing what needs to be done; we must not shie away from power generally, and violence specifically.

And there are lots of contexts--like when talking about the appeal of reactionary politics in the US before and at the beginning of Trump’s rise to prominence, or when talking about hard-on-crime policies that are a springboard to police militarization, or (the central example of all this in the 21st century) the post 9/11 PATRIOT-act terrorism paranoia that was a boon to authoritarians everywhere, and spurred a massive expansion of both control and surveillance in everyday life--where critics of reactionary rhetoric are chastised for their failure to appeal to the other side, because they come off as callous towards their concerns and their real fears and anxieties.

And while this might not be strategically correct, frankly, I think there’s a sense in which it is justified to be callous towards those concerns. Because those concerns are lies. They may be lies borne out of a seed of real experience (9/11 did happen, of course), but the way that seed is cultivated by focused paranoia, by contempt toward cultivating any sense of proportionality or any honest comparison of risk, the way it is dragooned into the service of completely orthogonal political goals (”the CIA/NSA/FBI must be able to monitor all private communications everywhere in the world, just in case it might prevent another 9/11″) chokes off any possible sympathy I might otherwise feel. American paranoia about another couple thousand lives being lost in a 9/11 like event resulted in a number of deaths literally multiple orders of magnitude larger in Iraq and Afghanistan. During the former, some years Iraq was suffering the equivalent of six or seven 9/11s a year.

So, any fear-driven policy must not (for example) say “to prevent disaster X happening again, we’re going to make it happen 270 times over to someone else.” That’s not reasonable. And “fear is a bad basis for crafting policy” is not exactly a revolutionary observation. There’s that probably-apocryphal story of a Chinese professor responding to Blackstone’s Ratio--you know, “better that ten guilty persons go free than one innocent person suffer”--with “better for whom?” Which is supposed to be this trenchant and penetrating question that makes you reexamine your assumptions. But it’s always struck me as idiotic. Better for society! For everyone! Because the law only functions well if it is seen as a source of order and justice, not as an authoritarian cudgel; because a society in which anxiety drives policymaking and legal responses to social ills is one that is in the process of actively devouring itself; because flooding the public discourse with language that dehumanizes criminals and makes it easy to separate the individual from universal principles like civil rights is an acid that destroys the social fabric.

Fear as a germ of reactionary politics manifests itself in lots of ways outside of both historical examples, like fascism, or more recent examples, like US foreign policy during the war on terror. Fear and its link to purity-attitudes, with a low level of scientific literacy in general, drives stuff like the organized anti-vaccine movement. In the Hertzsprung-Russel diagram of political tendencies, I’d argue it’s a big factor in the wellness-to-Qanon track. It’s a big part of tough-on-crime rhetoric, which in the American instance in particular also draws on an especially racialized form (cf. the “Willie Horton” ad). Fear and purity and anti-contamination anxieties are even big in opposition to nuclear power, because most of the public just has a really bad sense of what the comparative dangers of nuclear vs fossil fuel are; and because the former has been culturally salient since 1945 in a way the latter hasn’t, nuclear contamination feels much more threatening than fossil fuel waste, despite by any measurable harm the latter causing far worse problems, even before you factor in any risks from climate change.

I would like to argue in particular that true crime as an entertainment genre, and wellness culture, and fears about child abuse all contribute to reactionary politics--they are in themselves major reactionary political currents--in a way that cuts across the political spectrum because they are not strongly marked for political factionalism. A lot of the rhetoric both from and around true crime entertainment promotes the idea that violent crime exists, or at least can flourish, because of an insufficiently punitive attitude toward crime; one that can only be fixed by centering victims’ desire (or putative desire) for retribution in the legal process, by eroding the civil rights of the accused, and by giving the police and prosecutors more power. Obviously, this is just 80s and 90s tough on crime rhetoric repackaged for millennials; it centers individual experience a bit more and deemphasizes the racial component that made the “Willie Horton” ad so successful, but it posits that there is only one cause for crime, a spontaneous choice by criminals that has no causal relationship with the rest of the world, and only one solution, which is authoritarianism.

Wellness culture leverages purity concerns and scientific illiteracy in ways which are so grifty and so transparently stupid that it’s by far the least interesting thing on this list to me; its most direct harm is in giving an environment for the anti-vaccine movement to flourish, and I’m always incredibly annoyed when people talk about how the medical establishment needs to do more to reassure the public about vaccines’ safety and efficacy. Again, strategically, this may be correct; people dying of preventable disease is really bad. But doctors as a body didn’t promote Andrew Wakefield’s nonsense; doctors as a body didn’t run breathless article after breathless article about vaccines maybe causing autism; doctors as a body didn’t scare the bejezus out of folks in the 90s and then act all surprised when preventable childhood diseases started breaking out all over the place.

Although outside the whole anti-vax thing, I think there are lots of other harms that wellness culture creates. It tends to be fairly antiscientific; in order to sell people nonsense (because as a subculture it exists almost exclusively to sell people things) it has to discredit anything that might point out that it is selling nonsense. Whether the anti-intellectualism that flourishes in these quarters is a result of intentional deceit or just a kind of natural rhetorical evolution probably varies. But it is an important component of wellness culture to be able to play a shell game between “big pharma doesn’t have your best interests at heart,” “you don’t need your anti-depressants,” and “laetrile cures cancer.”

The way in which fears of child abuse are turned into a reactionary political cudgel probably actually annoys me the most; whether it’s Wayfair conspiracy theories, conservatives trying to turn “groomer” into an anti-queer slur, or just antis on tumblr, the portrayal of sadistic sexual threat aimed at children from an outside malevolent force is compelling only because the vast majority of child abuse and CSA comes from within families and within culturally privileged structures of authority like churches, and this fact makes everyone really uncomfortable, and no one wants to talk about it. I remember getting really annoyed during the Obama years when the White House wanted to talk about bullying and anti-LGBT bullying in particular, while studiously avoiding blaming parents and teachers in any way for it, despite the fact that all the coming out horror stories I know are from people’s parents turning on them.

Now, very conservative politics have always opposed dilution of a kind of privilege for the family structure; they envision a family structure which is patriarchal, and so dilution of this privilege is dilution of the status of patriarch. Very insular communities which cannot survive their members having many options or alternative viewpoints available to them, including controlling religions but also just abusive parents who want to retain control over their kids, also bristle at the idea of any kind of general society-wide capacity for people to notice how parents treat their children. But beyond that, I think our society still treats parents as having a right of possession over their children and their children’s identities, especially when they’re young, and bolsters that idea with an idea that the purity of children is constantly under threat from the outside world, and it is the parents’ job to safeguard that purity. The result is the nuclear family as a kind of sacred structure which the rest of society has no right to observe or pry open; and this is a massive engine of enabling the abuse of children. To no other relationship in our society do we apply this idea, that it should be free from “interference” (read: basic accountability) from the rest of society.

Moreover, the idea of childhood as a time of purity and innocence, which not only must be protected from but during which children must be actively lied to about major aspects of how the world works, is one of the last ways remaining to an increasingly secular culture to justify censorious and puritanical Victorian morality. It is hard to advocate for censorship to protect the Morals of the Christian Public, when nobody believes in the Morals of the Christian Public anymore; but “think of the children!” still works as a rallying cry, because of this nagging sense we have that age-appropriate conversations with children about adult topics will cause them to melt or explode.

In many ways, these anxieties on behalf of theoretical children are the ones I am most contemptuous of. Not because child abuse isn’t a serious problem--it is--but because the vector imagined for it is almost entirely opposite the one it actually tends to occur along. People who pretend that the primary danger to children is from strangers are usually woefully misinformed; people who pretend it is from media are either idiots or liars seeking a cover for their craving for censorship.

In conclusion: while it’s not possible to exorcise all our neuroses from our politics, anymore than we will ever exercise all our neuroses from our aesthetics, there are some we should be especially on guard against. A sense of threat, and anxieties which tie into concerns about purity and fears of contamination, are two big ones. These produce policies that are not only badly correlated with the outcomes they ostensibly want, but actually and severely destructive to them, in the same way that invading Iraq was actively destructive to any notion of preventing terrorism, saving American or Iraqi lives, or promoting political stability in the Middle East. And we should hold in healthy suspicion anybody whose politics seem to be driven by similar neuroses. Some merely believe very harmful things. Some are actually actively deceptive. None will achieve any of the higher aims they claim as justification for their beliefs.

#i'm not saying we *must* radically reshape society to destroy the nuclear family #but i am saying i think it would be good for child welfare

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infernalodie · 9 months

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𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐏𝐭.𝟐) || 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲

“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘰 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦“

Inspo: Sleep Token - Ascensionism Dominic Fike - 4x4

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: The sunset was on the bound...

Warnings: Angst. That’s it.

Part One

Words: 2981

“Miguel, we need to take this seriously!” Gwen followed behind the man, Hobie and Jessica in tow. All three of them share the same kind of anxiety revolving around your disappearance top priority. Along with the fact that across the spider-verse, there have been people plucked out which has been causing more trouble for Miguel than he thought he had before.

“And I told you before that we can’t just act blindly. Y/n hacked the watch and we can’t track her,” he reminded, stopping at the terminal Spider-Byte was working at. The screen displays multiple scenes of news outlets across the infinite universes covering the fact that many villains had simply up and vanished. Which in itself was creating problems that needed to be solved, fast. “If you and Hobie had done a better job apprehending her, then this wouldn’t have become my problem-”

“She did it because you told her she wasn’t allowed to save her sister, Miguel!” Gwen exclaimed, silencing the man. “What did you expect to happen?”

Gwen had played that night over and over the past few nights. Waking up in a feverish sweat, trying to piece together how things could’ve been done differently. But she knew the answer was simply, “I should’ve been there.” And she couldn’t change the past, but it didn’t change the pain that she felt knowing that things could’ve been different. That and maybe, somehow, saving your sister would’ve caused a revelation for not only herself but Miguel.

But what hurt just as much was her telling Miles the news. She’d been forced to see him crack. Left only knowing that she was the cause of the disaster and she wouldn’t be able to fix it.

“I trusted you to handle it,” Miguel barked. “You were reckless, foolish!”

“That’s rich coming from the man who wouldn’t go and deal with it himself,” Hobie commented. “You are the reason all of this is happening. You gave her hope by telling her when it would happen. So, don’t go tryin’ to pass the blame on one of us, mate.”

The sudden blaring of alarms grabbed the team’s attention. Their eyes flickering to the door and spotting many people running and yelling. “What the-” Hobie froze as the ground shook with a loud crash heard far beyond the doorway. “That can’t be good.”

“Byte, put the facility on lockdown!” Miguel ordered, sprinting in the direction of the commotion. “The rest of you, with me!”

They followed, sprinting toward the door and stopping just outside the entrance to see the chaos in full effect. Many of the Spider-Men were fighting, but their force was matched with villains from all different universes. Much like Miguel had been seeing for the past few weeks. It had become full chaos and there was no telling the full-scale disruption of the multiverse that could occur the longer this kept on.

Plucking a villain out of a universe was one thing. But if a Spider-Man was to die from a separate one? There was no telling what could possibly happen.

But at the center, Gwen could see you. You were hanging from a web in the distance without your mask. A smirk on your lips as you watched onwards.

“I got Y/n!” She announced without so much as a warning, swinging forward. Leaving the other three to deal with any villain they could pick off.

Moving through the sky, dodging, punching, and kicking to get to you, Gwen kept a cautious eye on you. Doing her best to watch your movements as she dealt with Doctor Octavius before moving on to an Electro.

But as when she went through each villain with a certain finesse, her sense flared up. Causing her to turn and was kicked into the air. Her body met the concrete wall that ripped the air from her lungs. Barely able to catch her breath before her throat was grasped and she was tossed into the gym facility in the headquarters. It was silent and dark beside the glow of certain lights along the floor or walls.

She was quick to get to her feet, battle ready. Again, her sense flared and put her into action. Spinning on her heel and catching your wrists. Nails baring, ready to slice into her flesh and paralyze her.

A sickly-sweet smile pulled across your lips, eyes wide and crazy. “Long time no see, Gwen. Miss me, sweets?”

The look in your eyes wasn’t normal. Not by a long shot. There was something in them that was close to unhinged. Like all former switches that made your eyes shine had been turned off, revealing a darker side of you to her. And she didn’t know if she should be scared or hopeful that she could use this against you.

Gwen groaned, sweeping your feet out from under you and using her grip on your wrist to perform a hip toss, forcing your body to the ground. She straddled your waist with your hands pinned on either side of your head. “Y/n, stop this!”

Planting your feet on her chest, you kicked her away, sending her colliding into a beam. Flying to the floor, panting with a sharp erupt of pain followed up the lower part of her back. Rising to rest on her knees, finding you standing on your feet. “This could ruin everything, Y/n. Do you not realize the untrackable amount of problems you’ve just caused?” She spat. “The multiverse could collapse because of you!”

All you could do was laugh.

“You wanna take the moral high ground now? Fine. But I will not stand by and act like you all have a higher understanding of what you believe to be the truth,” you exclaimed, pacing side to side. “You sat by and let my world fall apart!

But it’s not too late to change that.” Gwen frowned, shifting back slightly as you approached her. “You allow the chains to bind you to rules that were never yours in the first place.” You crouched down in front of the girl, hands cupping her cheeks as you whispered, “Break free, Gwen. We can show them the truth. It could be beautiful.”

And there was a brief pause of compilation written on Gwen’s face. Lips parted and eyes relaxed as she weighed the options. The negatives and positives. She was fated to see the path you’ve been down and feel the pain you felt at this moment. And she had to decide if she would submit to algorithms Miguel had discovered or take a chance.

But she wasn’t given enough time to mull over it because she heard you gasp sharply, eyes widening in shock. Gwen watched for a few moments until she caught sight of Miguel approaching from behind. “She’s good, Y/n.” You coughed, blood dripping from your lips as you fell onto your side and let out hoarse breaths. But Miguel shed no sliver of emotion. A simple look in his eyes with a shrug as he said, “Thanks for the offer though.”

Gwen stood to her feet, holding her side with her gaze focused on you. Watching you exhale shakily, resting in a suto fetal position. Hand pressed to the ground as you tried to sit up. But the stab wound in your side prevented sudden movements that could affect the area.

“We need to contain this problem as soon as possible. Every single person in this building needs to help.” As Miguel continued to bark out orders, Gwen’s gaze was unwavering on your trembling figure. Finding your eyes lifting to hers, face tensed in pain as you tried to find your bearings.

She couldn’t understand it. How could you go from one extreme to another? The easiest answer was that you were angry. Anyone would think and do irrational things if their emotions were wildfire like yours. But Gwen knew that you were beyond reasoning or understanding. Because one thing she absolutely was certain about it was this…

Amelie wouldn’t want this from you.

“We’re going to be choked up for the next few hours, Miguel,” Peter B Parker spoke up, cradling Mayday in his arms. “It would be great to know if you have some sort of invention that could speed this up.”

“Miguel isn’t capable of that. And don’t expect much from him. He’s prone to leave people disappointed,” Gwen stated, turning from you and shoving a shoulder into Miguel as she walked past.

“She was a danger to everyone, Gwen. And as far as this goes, you should be thanking me that I saved your life,” Miguel spat at the young teen. “She was going to kill you and everyone in this facility if I didn’t stop her.”

A shaky and unnerving chuckle echoed in the training hall. It gaged everyone’s attention, turning to find you smiling, spitting blood onto the pristine floor. Nose twitching as you pursed your lips, jaw clenching as you exhaled heavily. Forcing yourself to your feet, growling, “You…”

You staggered, knees buckling beneath you where you placed a bloody hand to catch yourself. Strangling a groan as you clenched your jaw. Lifting your gaze to find the core four. The four that had been there to give you the news of your story. A dilemma that they knew you wouldn’t stand for, even if there had been nothing you could’ve done. And the pitiful look in their eyes made you sick. They didn’t say they were sorry, but you could see in their eyes. But they were too late. “You stand there, y-you, judging me, acting all high and mighty from your ivory tower. But you all are one bad day from being in my shoes. You just can’t see it yet.”

They didn’t move. Not a single person. All in their own collective headspaces, mulling over your words. But Miguel, he straightened his stance. Appearing bigger than he truly was as he said, “You have put everyone and everything at risk, Y/n-”

“You know nothing! You don’t know what it takes to wear this suit! You are nothing, Miguel!” You yelled, waving your hand with a pained grunt as you forced out, “Everyone knows it.”

The room was painfully silent with Miguel’s expression unchanging by your words. But you knew that in some way, your words struck him. He was a fragile human. And it only took a few buttons for you to press to finally receive the reaction you wanted so desperately from him.

And that’s when you smiled up at him, whispering, “Even your daughter knew it.”

His nose twitched and his teeth bared, anger being ripped from deep within his chest and put on display for everyone to see. He charged at you with his only intent being to pull your head off. But the other three were quick to stop him, restraining him quickly.

But you still laughed in amusement, stepping to your feet that wobbled beneath your weight. “I see I struck a nerve.” You sniffled, waving a hand toward Peter. “If you had to lose your daughter, would you listen to what Miguel had to tell you? That you had to allow her to be taken from you?”

His silence that followed answered your question. Making you let out a short laugh. “None of you understand the pain. But you will,” you whispered. “It’s just a matter of if you’ll allow him to dictate your choices.”

They all stood amongst one another silently as Jessica took the initiative to put the cuffs on your wrists. Forcing you to walk down the platforms that lead to the G.H.M. and left to look upon the chaos of your decisions had caused. Spider-Men were injured and the villains were all restrained. And you believed they got what they wanted. Hurting and attacking a thousand or more Spider-Men for them was like a birthday gift. But with how quickly it ended, you got no closer. All you wanted was to hurt Miguel and destroy everything he built.

But all this did was end with you being stabbed in the back and tossed in a holographic cage with blood dripping, pooling around you. A needle plunged into the side of your neck, forcing your muscles to relax. Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion as you stared at the open space in front of you.

Voices around you seemed to hollow out. Their figures morphed into melodies that further numbed your mind. All of it became meaningless the longer the drugs swam deeper and further into your bloodstream.

It took the tapping of a finger against the shield surrounding you to extract you from your thoughts. Tired eyes flickering to your left, finding Gwen crouched with soft eyes directed toward you.

“I’m sorry for what happened to Amelie, Y/n. If I was there, maybe we wouldn’t be here,” Gwen stated. But with your eyes flickering away from hers that was beginning to cloud up with tears, she moved closer to the cage wall. Her eyes squinted as she shook her head, muttering, “But you know this isn’t what she would’ve wanted, right? She saw you as a protector, not a destroyer.” Your nose began to burn, lips wobbling as you clenched your hands into tight fists. “And despite what she saw when you put on that suit, she saw her sister.”

You stayed silent for a few moments. Lips pursing faintly, parting to exhale shakily. And there was hesitance in meeting her gaze. Finding the pain in her eyes too much to bear and take accountability for. Because you didn’t regret what you did. But god dammit did her crystalized eyes hurt you knowing that you were the cause of her sadness. “You… Y-You ever wonder-” You coughed up blood, droplets wetting the back of your hand that dropped to your stomach. Slowing your breathing as you said, “Before the p-powers: would you go back? Go back to your childhood and just be young and unaware of everything?”

Gwen bowed her head, sniffling as you chuckled softly, glancing over at her. “I think I might have to find a way to get rid of these powers, you know?” Smiling through the tears, you shook your head. “I don’t deserve them after all of this.”

Your curled legs swayed slightly, the drugs slowly easing your mind from the pain. Or it could’ve been the blood loss that was slowly fracturing your attention span. The heaviness of your eyelids growing. The formulation of words drifted in brief pauses as you smiled at the girl, whimpering out gratefully, “I don’t have a chain on me, Gwen.”

The way you said it, the relief in your words, it pained her. And stroking your neck, as if a metal collar had been irritating the skin, made her realize how trapped you must’ve felt with all this knowledge. Because she knew the moment you found out about your canon event, a noose had been placed around your neck. It tightened each day that drew closer to your cataclysmic moment. But now, you seemed glad that it was over and that you went out how you wanted to.

And seeing her tears slide down her cheeks made you smile. “Hey.” Gwen sniffled, nodding, seeing your lips quiver as you said, “I’m free from all of this–my way. Not Miguel’s. Not theirs. Mine. And there isn’t a damn thing they can do about it now.”

Licking your lips, you stared off into open space. Eyes layered with deliriousness that mounted with each moment. Then, Gwen saw your lips curl slightly, tears brimming as a soft chortle slipped past your lips. “Amelie.”

Gwen felt her face twist, bowing her head–hearing you painfully crawl across the box and press your hand to the holographic wall blocking you from freedom. “Oh, I missed you so much, kiddo.”

“Can you finally come with me?” Amelie wept, pressing her hand to the wall where yours was.

Smiling, you nodded as a sob racked your body. Sniffling harshly, forcing yourself to swallow the lump stuck in your throat. “I think so, sweetheart,” you whispered. “We get to run off into the sunset. Just like I promised you.”

“Gwen.” You called for her, finding her shaking her head, wiping fearlessly at her eyes. “Hey, baby.” The pet name finally forced her to meet your broken gaze. Seeing your body glitch, yet, your expression still held a proud look despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Amelie forgives you.”

She let out a sob, covering her mouth as she nodded in understanding. “That’s good. I’m thankful,” she forced out. “I wish you had more time with her.”

“I will, Gwen. You will too when the time comes. We’ll be back together.” Reaching for her, sadly, your hand met the cage wall. Fingers curled slightly, hoping to break through it and feel her touch one more time. “And I forgive you.” Her face twisted again, tilting her head slightly, wiping her eyes frantically as you continued. “My soul mate. My best friend.”

Gwen was sobbing, pressing hers over yours. It made you smile. Vision beginning to blur with your thoughts slowly drifting and strength in your body dissipating. It was nice. The freedom that came with it. No worries in sight. Merely the warm touch of Amelie’s hand on your shoulder. Her eyes were bright with happiness and tears of relief. And the choice between another day or ascensionism. Ascension to a place where you knew was the only outcome. Somewhere you belonged.

And Gwen watched as your eyes stared at her softly, able to whisper out. “We will be waiting for you at the sunset.” Your bloodied hand fell with your body slumping against the wall. Leaving Gwen to sob, pleas falling from quivering lips.

And the sun fell with the darkness of night taking its place.

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