#it was all for nothing and the baron lied

[kasagia]

Right hand III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After Feyd learns the truth about your dark past, you do everything in your power to prove your loyalty to him. He has many ideas for this... but will your life be able to go back to normal after that? You will either die at his hands, be exiled, return to the Bene Gesseit, or live by his side. And you yourself don't even know which of these options is worse... Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

His dagger digs lightly into your neck, blood slowly trickling down it. You don't try to fight him, you don't push the blade away or try to rip it out of his hand. You know that if you did, you would have been killed by him long ago.

You had to play it smart… and fast—before he slit your throat, which was becoming a more likely scenario with every second.

"Feyd…" You choke out once more, trying to make him look you in the eyes and get him to listen to you. The blood is seeping out of you faster and faster as he presses the blade harder against your throat.

"Silience, witch! You little plague, bane of my existence, poisonous viper, how long have you been playing with me? How long have you been faking all this? Did you think you could outsmart me? That you can deceive me? Make fun of me? Humiliate me? I should fuck you raw, use you like a whore, and leave you in your ridiculous sisterhood to rot with those old hags!" He shouts, pressing his blade harder against your throat. The cool steel of the metal on your skin is becoming a more serious threat to your life. You shiver as you feel him taking more blood from you.

"Feyd, listen…" You try to speak again, placing your hand on his wrist. He pushes your hand away as if it posed a radioactive threat greater than anything floating in Giedi Prime's atmosphere and glares at you furiously.

"NO! You lied to me. You betrayed me. You know how I punish people for disloyalty. You're lucky that I won't throw you to my soldiers so they can play with you before I give you to my harpies. But don't worry, I will take very good care of you. You'll die like those cowardly rats you helped me kill a few hours ago…"

"You... you would... kill me... if I told you... at the beginning..." You gasp as he grabs your neck tightly and drags his blade down your body, creating a trail of blood leading to your collarbone.

"I will kill you now." He growls hoarsely, completely cutting off the air from your respiratory tract.

Your eyes widen as he lifts you off the ground so that only your toes touch the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to draw in air, but his hand is wrapped too tightly around your neck for the oxygen to reach your lungs.

When you realised that it was over and that he had decided on your death, the moment that Lady Jessica told him the whole truth about you, you relaxed. You let a blissful emptiness wash over you as you slowly waited for him to take your life away. You close your eyes, rest your head against the wall behind you, and let your body slowly go limp as the seconds pass without air.

You gasp, surprised, as the grip on your neck loosens so that you can take small, ragged breaths. You quickly take advantage of the opportunity and take a few shaky breaths. You open your eyes, staring into Feyd's icy blue and furious gaze in utter shock.

Was he going to play with you before he killed you? Torture, like many before you, until he finds in himself some mercy and takes your life? Because if you know one thing, it's that you won't beg him to let you go. About nothing. Never. You were too proud to do so.

"Fight." He growls, pressing you harder against the wall. He leans forward, bringing his face very close to yours. You shiver, feeling his breath on your cheek as he carefully observes your reaction to his intimidation. Like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What?" You ask stupidly, not understanding what he is doing. You've often watched him play with his victims, prolonging their suffering and giving them no hope of escaping his grip... so why does he want you to fight? Why does he want you to resist him? Was this another sick game of his?

"Fight! Scream! Struggle! Why are you not doing anything?! Why don't you beg for your miserable life, Bene Gesserit's spy?! Fight with me! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!!" He screams and throws you against the wall.

Completely unprepared for him to completely release you from his grip, you fall to the floor, too weak to keep your balance on your own. You place your hands on the black metal sheet beneath you and breathe quickly, trying to get as much air as possible before he wraps his hand around your throat again.

"I… I was always… loyal… to you…" You gasp, still trying to recover from what just happened. He walks slowly towards you. He presses the tip of his sword under your chin and forces you to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“You have five minutes before I treat you like I treat your mentor. Use this time well. I can always get bored and kill you faster.” He takes a step back and slowly slides the blade across your skin. He steps away from you to pour himself a drink, but he keeps watching you out of the corner of his eye. You take one brief glance at Lady Jessica's body before you can compose yourself enough to formulate any logical response.

"I... I have no idea what she told you. Where she lied and where it was convenient for her to tell the truth... but whatever she told you I did... she surely doesn't know the one, most important thing. She doesn't know the reason for my actions."

"Oh, but I do. You wanted to run away from them so you wouldn't have to breed with such a monster as me. You thought that as my right hand, you would be safe, that I wouldn't notice you in the shadows, that I wouldn't want you, and that I wouldn't touch you. But I did. And by doing so, I destroyed your plans. Tell me, how many times have you escaped from Giedi Prime in your fantasies? How many times have you wanted to leave for good?"

With each question he asks, he takes a step towards you, which makes him stand in front of you again. But you didn't get up from the floor. You didn't feel like it. Besides, you doubted he would let you stand up and be on an equal level with him. He needed to feel in control, to feel that he is still dominating over you—that he didn't lose control over you despite your... betrayal. Although you didn't think it was any kind of betrayal at all. A slight omission of a few facts. Nothing more.

"I... you can't blame me for that. Anyone with survival instincts would not willingly live on Giedi Prime. But I stayed." You decide to tell him some of the truth this time. For too long, you managed to play your cards well. You had to bend a little to his will without losing your claw and not behaving like an obedient concubine, wanting to fulfil all his orders and wishes, because that would make him more suspicious, and he would definitely kill you for trying to deceive him and lie to him again.

"You stayed out of fear." He questions your words, keeping his watchful, piercing gaze on you as he tries to find in you any trace of lying.

You almost shiver under the furious gaze of his icy blue eyes. Fortunately, you manage to refrain from showing him any reaction. The metallic scent of Lady Jessica's blood motivated you to survive like nothing had before. You somehow manage to recall some of your lessons and training sessions with her as you think about how to respond to Feyd's words. Maybe her methods and rules didn't keep her alive, but unlike her, you knew Feyda-Rautha too damn well. You could get out of this. You just had to play it smart and sacrifice a few things…

"Out of loyalty to you. Sense of duty and honor. Something I thought we both shared." You say confidently, meeting his gaze bravely.

However, your attitude does not impress him at all. He lazily turns the dagger in his hands, playing with the sharp blade. He doesn't take his eyes off you, even for a moment. He just stands there, maintaining a completely calm and unruffled demeanor. It's hard to imagine now that just a moment ago, this man was overcome with the greatest anger of his entire life. You've seen him in many states, but you have never seen him that mad. Rabban may have been called a beast by others, but the real threat was his younger brother. Especially when his first anger was over and it was time for the cold calculation of revenge.

“Was that loyalty and sense of duty also present in you when you chose to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be mine? That you are destined to give me an heir so strong that the whole world will kneel before him?” This time, you can't help but shudder. He notices this and chuckles darkly, shaking his head. In a split second, the tip of his blade is once again pressed on the thin and delicate skin of your throat. You swallow, and when you meet his gaze, you realise that you have to tell the truth if you don't want to die on your knees in front of him.

"If your uncle told you to marry me and have your offspring with me, would you do it?" A frown appears on his forehead at the mere mention of the baron. His hand trembles slightly as a new wave of rage washes over him.

"What does he have to do with this?" He asks hoarsely, as he suspects you of working with his uncle. After all, you were smart enough to play both sides.

Feyd wouldn't be surprised if you reported everything he was doing to his uncle behind his back. That's why he preferred having you—a cunning, beautiful witch who was now kneeling before him—by his side. Because you were drop-dead perfect. He never expected you to make such a stupid mistake. To ever let him gain even the slightest doubt about your loyalty.

"Nothing. But the Bene Gesserit were to me what your uncle is to you. And after running away from them, the last thing I wanted to do was follow the last sick order they gave me." The years you spent with him gave you enough information about the family relationship at House Harkonnen.

They are like predators waiting for the right moment to attack, always prepared to hurt the other one when he shows even a tiny glimmer of weakness. You also know Feyd's past... or rather, the history of scars on his back. Unfortunately, these were not the only marks the baron left on him.

You hold your breath as he grabs your hair and pulls you up. You get up on your feet, and, being on an equal level with him, you no longer hesitate to look him in the eye. He releases your hair with the other, only to move it to your cheek and neck. He rubs tiny droplets of blood across yours, shifting his attention to your skin. He caresses your jawline with his finger and suddenly tilts your head back, giving himself a better view of your reddened throat, which has begun to form bruises in the shape of his fingers from how he choked you just moments ago. You swallow, watching him closely.

"And yet you served me for many years. You stayed with me after they wanted to link your future with mine. Why?"

“I was hoping the last place they would look for me would be Giedi Prime by your side. And that… after all, you won't be interested in me.”

"But I was. This must have spoiled your plans, right?"

"A little." You confess, hoping to gain something from your honesty.

After your words, there is a long silence in the room. He removes his hand from you, staring intently at you as he considers your words. You wait in suspense and anticipation for his next decision.

One quick move was enough to take your life.

And from the look in his eyes, you know it must have been tempting for him to add your blood to Lady Jessica's, which was already staining the floor of the ship.

"On your knees." His command is so sudden that it takes you a moment for your brain to process what he said.

All you can do is stare at him blankly, your heart beating with excitement and terror at the thought of his words. He didn't want to… he couldn't now… You look down at his pants and swallow, seeing the slight bulge. You hold your breath as he takes a step towards you and presses his hard length against your thigh, which undoubtedly confirms your suspicions. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes as you blush and realise what he is asking you to do.

"I love your doe eyes, my pet, but there's a time and a place for everything. On your knees or your heart will become another decoration of my chambers." He says it huskily, caressing your chin before letting go. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your next move.

You swallow again, feeling a huge lump in your throat. Your mind is racing, but you know, as he does, that you have no escape. Your position is hopeless; you can either give him a blowjob or die, and you don't want to do any of it. Or touch him in any way after he disembowelled Lady Jessica in front of you. But the prospect of being his next victim reluctantly brings you to your knees before him.

"Good girl." He hums, tilting your chin slightly so you're looking at him and not the floor between you. He takes a step towards you and attaches the dagger to his arm. "Show me that your beautiful, deceptive, tempting lips, throat, and larynx can do more than feed me with sweet lies, and maybe I won't cut them out of you."

You hold your breath, your eyes trailing down to his pants. You hear him chuckle darkly before he takes your hands in his and places them on the fastenings of his pants, guiding your hands as you gradually free his length from his armour.

You swallow again at the sight of his full, hard length and curse him, as the rumours about him do not lie at all. He was enormous. Long and not too thick, but not thin either. You don't know if you'd rather he tried to cut your throat with a knife than pierce it with what stood proud between you.

"Rumours say you know how to do it. I don't remember how many soldiers I killed for the privilege of having your body before me. But each of them shared one opinion. Your fire burns as bright in battle as it does in the bedroom. Show me, my little witch, how much you care about continuing to be my right hand and having all the privileges you had." He encourages you mockingly when you stare at his slightly pre-cum-dripping cock for too long for his liking. But damn, his cum was black. You were sure as hell that the bastard was going to paint you with it.

You give him an angry, cold glare as you wrap your hand around his length. He lets out a soft moan, grabbing your jaw to make sure you keep your eyes on his. You swallow, stroking his length with slow movements of your hand as he gets even harder. Part of you is glad that he wants you to look at him. You doubt you could keep your composure if you had to look at what you had to fit in your mouth… and hopefully only in your mouth.

He growls when you drag out the inevitable too long, using only your hands on him. You can see that he likes what you're doing, but the impatience radiating from him makes you realise that it won't end with just a few caresses of your hands around his length.

Reluctantly, you lean down and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him gently—like candy. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue, surprisingly taking in its… not-so-horrible taste. It's bittersweet on your tongue and thick. You shudder at the thought of what he would feel like inside you.

He groans, burring his hands in your hair as he gently pushes you on him to make you take more of his cock into your mouth. You choke as his length suddenly hits the back of your throat. Surprisingly, he stops pushing you and just keeps his hands in your hair, letting you adjust to his full length.

"I've always liked your hair..." He starts tugging on them to correct your rhythm. "A natural leash for my beautiful, dangerous pet..."

You growl around him in anger at his words. He groans throatily, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth at the extra stimulation he got from you. You feel tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes as he allows himself to move his hips more and more, lazily thrusting into your throat. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum, staining the corners of your mouth.

It amazes you how gentle he is with you. How he doesn't push you too far so as not to cause you the pain you know he loves to enjoy. More than once, you had to call the medic to his concubines. Even his harpies occasionally got injured when he used them for his pleasure after a particularly exciting fight. You knew how… he could get lost in his pleasure. Yet he was extremely careful with you.

He starts thrusting into your throat faster and faster, guiding your head by your hair in time with his thrusts. You let your tears fall as he picked up a pace you couldn't keep up with. You close your eyes and feel a tear roll down your cheek. You open them, meeting his gaze, when you feel his thumb brush away your falling tear. He licked it off his finger, purring at its salty flavour.

You wrap your hands around his balls, massaging them in a circular motion, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. He laughs throatily, pounding stupidly into your mouth. Your jaw starts to hurt. You prop yourself up on his thigh with one hand, unable to stay on your knees for long on your own.

Seeing that you're having difficulty, he slows down a little, lazily digging into your throat. He luxuriated in the warmth of your mouth, and your tongue caressed his length. His gaze never falters, as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. He strokes your cheek with his hand, then moves to your throat as he gently uses his fingertips to feel the bulge in your throat caused by his cock.

"I'll take you. Fast and hard. You'll cry as beautifully as you do now and writhe beneath me desperately, trying to escape like always, but you'll be so impaled on my cock and wrapped in the tight embrace of my arms that you won't move a fucking millimetre without my permission. I will fuck into you our Kwisatz Haderach, so no one will ever doubt that it should have been otherwise, that you don't belong with me. And the best of all is that you will not know the damn day or hour when it will happen. You will learn how to be my whore and baroness, just like you learned how to be my right hand. You'll do great, my little witch. You prove very well with your mouth and hands what a wonderful right hand you are. Much better than my own fucking hand. Much better than any of the fantasies I had. My little witch, always attending to my every need. Only fucking mine."

He moans, speeding up drastically, chasing his peak. You feel him getting closer to his orgasm as he becomes impossibly harder in your mouth and his balls tighten, ready to release his black cum. He keeps making you look at him until he growls loudly, coming into your mouth.

Earlier, you were gagging with just his length in your mouth. Now you really choke as his seed spills down your throat. He presses you against him, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, making you swallow all of his cum until it's completely inside you. Its taste is pungent, reminding you of a spicy, bitter spice.

He stays in your mouth for a while after he finishes pouring into you. He massages your scalp with his hands, clearly not wanting to release you. His cock twitches slightly, and you fear he's about to give you a second round.

He sighs, reluctantly pulling out of your mouth. He grabs your hands and guides them to his pants. You cleaned him and put him back in his pants without saying a word. You are not even looking into his eyes, knowing full well that a satisfied smile will spread across his lips the moment you do.

He grabs your arms and lifts you off your knees. You shiver, unable to stay on your two feet after being on your knees for so long, and you fall into his arms, leaning completely against him. He laughs huskily, pulling you closer to his chest. He uses his fingertip to collect the last of your saliva and his cum from the corners of your mouth and pushes his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, meeting his eyes with your defiant, angry gaze.

He hums, smiling darkly as he watches with satisfaction as you lick his fingers. He leans forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he licks from your face and then from your neck the droplets of his black cum that leaked from your mouth as you tried to swallow everything he poured into you. You shiver as his tongue caresses the skin of your neck, tracing the small, sealed wound he inflicted on you with his dagger. He hums against your neck, disappointed at how quickly your blood clots.

Suddenly, he lets you completely go. You can barely keep your balance as he walks away from you.

"If that Atreides' bitch survived, so did her pathetic puppy. Send a message to our people in the desert. Paul Atredis is alive. We have to kill him before he and the rebels start a revolt and destroy our plans. Clean up here too. Tomorrow we have half a tribe of these rats to interrogate."

You nod dumbly, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just a few hours ago, you were afraid for your life, and now that you... have pleased him, he acts like nothing has happened. You come to the conclusion that it bothered you more than when he pressed his blade against your throat.

"Ah, and Y/N." He says, stopping at the door and turning to look at you one last time before leaving the room. You can tell by the mischievous smile on his lips that he has nothing good planned for you. "I want to see you in my chambers tonight."

He doesn't wait for your reaction or response. He just walks out with a springy, energetic step, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You shiver as you find yourself alone in the room with Lady Jessica's corpse. You look around, and, in a desperate attempt to find some positives, you decide that at least your blood isn't staining the floor of the ship... or at least not yet.

His chambers in the main base on Arrakis are not as... ornately terrifying as those he had in Giedi Prime. You wouldn't guess that someone important lived there. It was an ordinary room with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a bathroom. No amenities, just a commander's room; definitely too poor for a na-baron.

You shiver as you feel his hand on your hip. He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. He sighs, inhaling your scent. The warm air on your neck is tickling you gently. You think about how it's been too easy for him to sneak up on you lately. You've gone out of shape.

"Are you planning how to escape, little witch?" He whispers hoarsely, playing with the fabric of your nightgown.

"I didn't. And believe me, I had better opportunities in the past. So why would I escape now?" You answer his question with your own one, irritated by his suspicions.

"Because unlike me, you are very reluctant to welcome our Kwisatz Haderach into this world." You roll your eyes at his words and turn your head to give him an annoyed look. He shrugs with a smirk. He presses a kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder before resting his chin on it. "You're obviously trying to distance yourself from me, too." He adds, seeing the irritated frown on your forehead.

“Weren't you the one who thought the Bene Gesserit prophecies were just bullshit from stoned old women?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

"I did… but this particular one seems very convincing..." He purrs into your neck. He moves one hand from your hip so his finger can trace the red line of the wound he gave you with the dagger. He tilted your head back, forcing you to rest your head on his shoulder as he placed a trail of kisses on the small scar.

"Where are your harpies?" You ask when he starts showing too much interest in your neck, peppering it with kisses.

"Should I call them? Would you like them to join us?" You wrinkle your nose, at which he laughs, amused, tightening his hold on you.

"Of course not. You know that I have... no sympathy for them." You grumble, trying to break free from his grip, which, of course, he won't let you.

"The feeling is mutual. You know, they think you're stealing me from them. And that I will quickly get bored with you, like with other... oriental pets I had, and I will come back to them."

"What are you waiting for, then?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. His hand plays with the strap of your black sleep gown, gently stroking your bare skin. He leans down, nuzzling your temple, and whispers in your ear:

“The problem is, my dear little witch, that you have taken over every ounce of my thoughts. My dreams, my nights, my days… it seems only right that I get back the time I wasted dreaming about you, right?”

You shiver, both from his words and from the way his hand slides over your body like a snake. He strokes your breasts, taking a moment to focus on them before his hand rests on your hips again. He presses you against him, clinging to you like a second skin.

"Let's go to bed. It was a very long day. For both of us..." He says, directing you towards his bed. You resist him slightly by digging your heels into the floor, but he quickly counters this by lifting you up gently, leaving your feet dangling in the air.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep alone? It's pretty warm here." You try to get out of it one last time, feeling the soft silk of his black sheets beneath you as he gently places you on his bed. He laughs mockingly, amused by your poor attempt at escape.

"Not at night. You know that well. I'd rather keep an eye on you, little witch. We don't know what monsters may be lurking in the darkness of Arrakis after we killed the Reverend Mother of those rats." He purrs, laying down next to you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, knowing full well that your safety is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"If Paul Atreides survived, it is very likely that he could be Muad'Dib. He will come here. To avenge his mother and unborn sister." You warned him. You're trying to make this situation more… normal. Lying in his bed and in his arms wasn't the least bit normal for you, but making plans with him was. You needed to keep your mind occupied until you could fall asleep… if he let you fall asleep.

"You didn't stop me from killing her. You didn't say a word. Why? Were you afraid you'd be next?"

You shake your head. You're not going to tell him the whole truth about what you felt back then, but you know you can't lie to him. You have to tell him at least half the truth if you want to regain some of his trust... at least until you escape.

"Lady Jessica believed that Paul was the real Kwisatz Haderach, since she gave Duke Leto a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserit resented her for this. She was supposed to give him a daughter. A daughter who was to marry you and give you a real Kwisatz Haderach. By disobeying their orders, she fell into their disfavour... until she gave them the idea that they might as well... fuse me with you to secure your bloodline. But the Bene Gesserit came up with the idea that I was going to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach. If I hadn't gone with you that night... I might as well have died at her hands. I… I guess I was glad that I survived her."

Not looking at his face helps you partially open up to him. You didn't like remembering your past. This was the one thing you had in common. You try your best to reveal as little to him as you have to, unconsciously tracing patterns in his hand as he keeps hugging you from behind. If you turned around, you would have seen his small smile at your gesture quickly disappear as he sensed the growing tension within you at the thought of Lady Jessica.

"If I had known, I would have made it more painful for her." He states, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You look down at your joined hands and frown as he slowly strokes the skin of your hand with his thumb.

"Why?" You ask in a whisper, not moving an inch when he buries his nose in your hair.

"Because no one hurts what's mine."You snort, knowing full well the true meaning of his words. If you were just a naive young girl, you would believe in the good intentions behind these words. However, you know Feyd Rautha too well to naively believe that he won't break his favourite toys. He grabs your chin in a tight grip and turns you to face him. You swallow thickly as his intense gaze meets yours. You've never had the chance to look so closely at his icy blue eyes... "I want you by my side all the time. I need to make sure you're not planning anything behind my back, little witch."

"Haven't I proven my loyalty enough?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest and pushing yourself away from him gently. He chuckles darkly, letting go of your chin in a split second to grab your wrists in a tight grip. He lifts your hands, pushing them away from him and twisting them so you can't move them.

"I believe you are capable of doing much more." He murmurs against your throat, pressing kisses there and lazily sucking at your skin, which was already irritated by his dagger.

You squirm in his arms, trying to somehow protect your neck from his wandering lips. Your attempts fail, as you only give him more fun by grinding against him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Eventually, he gets bored and decides to let you go. He lets you turn your back on him again, but you don't get far. His arms wrap around you, holding you in a cage as he takes on the role of the big spoon.

"I will bring you the head of Atreides on a golden plate. There is only one Kwisatz Haderach—our future son. I won't let some dog from Caladan tell people otherwise." He whispers in your ear. You shiver, half-wishing you were stupid enough to believe in his devotion. The fact that someone can do anything you want for you. But it wasn't love. It was just an obsession. You had to remember that.

"Maybe he really is the one… or maybe it's all just nonsense made up by those old hags? Maybe there will be no Kwisatz Haderach at all? What's then?" He doesn't answer your questions. However, you manage to get some reaction out of him.

He pulls away from you, the bed creaking beneath him as you hear him turn over to his other side. The sudden chill of not having his body close to yours makes you shiver.

You find yourself regretting for a moment that whatever you said made him distance himself from you. You shake your head and sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. You try to find the most comfortable position possible when settling down to sleep. But for some reason, you don't feel tired at all. Your eyes are wide open as you listen to his soft breathing, the only other sound in the empty room.

"How did you find out about… uncle?" His sudden question makes you turn towards him. He remains turned away from you, ignoring any movement from you. You think for a moment, staring at the scars scattered across his pale, muscular back, before answering him.

"I have eyes and ears. And enough brain cells to… deduce a few things." You whisper, tracing a particularly nasty-looking scar on his back with the pad of your thumb. "I also... I went through something similar. I've told you that before. Bene Gesserit was to me what your uncle is to you." He turns slowly to face you at your words. His eyes examine you so thoroughly that you feel another shiver run through your body.

This time, when he reaches out to cup your cheek, you don't fight him. You let him, trying to decipher the unreadable look in his eyes as he continues to consider your words.

"Tell me... how could I resist when you're like this? How could I ignore you and leave you in your shadows when everything you do fascinates me to a madness that only you can heal?" He asks, tracing the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You wanted to kill me today." You remind him in an accusatory tone. You bite the tip of his finger, which only brings a smirk to his face as he moves his hand away from your face. He places it on your hip, squeezing it in a silient warning.

"I wanted to scare you. You lied to me, so you needed some punishment. Besides, you know perfectly well that if I really wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"Not telling the whole truth is not a lie. Besides… your intentions don't make this situation any different to me." You huff, rolling your eyes. He laughs huskily, caressing your hip through the fabric of your nightgown as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest is pressed against his. Both of you are breathing steadily and slowly, staring intently into each other's eyes.

"Are you afraid of the little old me, my little witch?" He asks teasingly. You catch yourself watching the sparkle of amusement in his eyes shine surprisingly brightly under the light of the Arrakis moon. You can't make yourself turn your gaze off of him. And that's what terrifies you.

"Should I?" You ask in a whisper, trembling, not giving him an ounce of trust. Seeing your extremely distrustful and hostile attitude, he stops smiling. He looks at you more seriously, as he is deep into his thinking.

He doesn't respond to you. He places a kiss on your forehead and turns your back to him. He holds you tightly, buries his nose in your hair, and slowly falls asleep, wrapping himself in your warmth and scent. On your back, you feel his heart beating calmly in his strong, well-built chest. You allow yourself to sigh shakily, being finally 'alone' for the first time since this fateful day began.

And you realise that you're not afraid of him at all. The only person you are afraid of is yourself. That you would give in to your strange attraction to him one day and seal your fate. You didn't want to die. But you'd rather find yourself buried under the sands of Arrakis than let those Bene Gesserit witches control your life ever again.

"If you tear this, you'll be walking around with my hand around your throat." He warns you, seeing you struggling with the black leather choker around your neck he gave you. It looked like a fucking collar. And it was a bit too tight for you to feel comfortable in it.

"You give me so many options…" You snort sarcastically, leaving the damn choker around your neck. "I look like a fucking whore." You say and turn towards him to look at him carefully.

He wore his more formal black armour with a cape that was as dark as the rest of his outfit. He smiles sarcastically and walks over to you. He smoothes the fabric of your dress on your waist and places his hands on your hips.

"Whore? Not at all. More like my pet." He hums, trying to take in your form in a form-fitting black dress. The silver chains on your hips and chest connect into a spider's web that flows down with the fabric of the skirt of the dress, which surprisingly doesn't cling as tightly to your body as the bodice of the dress does.

It's... definitely a bolder outfit than you're used to wearing. And this time, your hair was loose. The maids put silver accessories and small diamond jewels into your hair. You were a nicely wrapped gift, especially prepared for the Na-Baron's birthday.

"What's the difference?" You ask, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Calm down, little witch. Rumours about your past spread quickly. We can't let people see me as a weak man who fell under the spell of a Bene Gesserit, can we?" He teases you. He leans towards you and nuzzles your cheek before his lips start to trace a path along your jaw to your neck. You sigh slightly and place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Please. Don't pretend you're not doing it for your own fucking satisfaction." You snap at him, still trying to push him away. He puts the dagger on your neck rather quickly and too suddenly, making you refrain from any form of protest for a moment as he decorates your neck with hickeys.

"I'm not even trying to deny it at all… you look stunning, by the way." He growls hoarsely. His blade moves from your neck to the top of your corset, pressing the tip against the valley between your breasts. You sigh, feeling the coolness of the blade against your chest.

"They are waiting for you." You whisper as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"We have a moment... besides, it's my birthday. Don't you want to celebrate my adulthood?" His low tone of voice sends shivers down your spine. Even after he tosses his blade aside, you make no move to try to walk away from him.

"You're still acting like the horny teenager I met. I doubt you will ever grow up."

"Watch what you say… I can always show you how hornier I became." His warning is not just lip service. He shows it to you... very clearly as his hard length rubs against your thigh.

You grab his jaw tightly and take a step away from him. He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms in one quick movement. You gasp in shock, falling into his chest. You struggle in his embrace until he slaps your ass. You glare at him furiously, at which he only tightens his grip on you.

"I want you to paint my body before the fight." He mumbles, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him.

Leading members of the high houses gathered on Arrakis to celebrate his birthday and the fact that he had managed to restore the mining and export of spices to extraordinary levels.

Feyd was to put on a spectacle, killing the most dangerous Fremen who managed to be kept alive during interrogations. However, you and Feyd have bigger worries to take care of right now. Like the baron and the emperor. Or Paul Atreides... or rather, their Muad'dib, who has not been found by you yet. Something Feyd decided to ignore for now in favor of groping you and trying to get into your pants.

Over the last few weeks, he has clung to you like a limpet. It made it very difficult for you to do any work or spy, as he was literally following you around. You felt like his favourite dog on a leash, taken for walks around the building before locking you in his chambers for the night, keeping you close to him. Even his harpies couldn't take his attention away from you. Something you really hoped would happen soon.

"It's always been… your harpies' privilege." You say as he tangles his hand in your hair.

"And now I want you to do it." He says it calmly, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him. "Do you mind?" You huff at his condescending question.

"Don't ask me questions like that; otherwise, I'll start thinking that I really have a choice here." He laughs, showing you a set of his freshly painted black teeth and shakes his head at you.

"We both know you're too smart for that, my shrewd little witch." He says this and leans in, gently brushing your lips with his. He keeps a tight grip on your hair as his kiss becomes more intense and possessive. He tightens his grip on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress, causing the silver chains on it to clang against each other with every move of his hand.

His hand reaches for the strings of your corset at the back, but before he can untie even one of them, there's a knock on the door.

"My Lord Na-Baron, the Baron, and your brother have just landed on Arrakis. The emperor should also be arriving soon."

You feel him tense slightly as he pulls away from you. His face hardens as he puts on his emotionless mask, staring out the window, where he could probably see the ship landing.

"Come on, little witch. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behaviour, right?" You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I think I can play your concubine for a day. Consider this my birthday gift to you, my Na-Baron." You say it sarcastically and sweetly, walking with him out of his room and towards the great hall where he would greet everyone gathered. If you were lucky enough, you might be able to escape from him for a moment or two...

"In my chambers as well?" He asks teasingly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying not to smile, but the corner of his lip twitches, giving him away (at least to you).

"Anywhere but there." You reply quickly, making him smile this time. At least for a second. After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

"That's okay. We don't need to do it there. There are so many other places…" He whispers hoarsely in your ear before you enter the room where the first party is to be held. You can't stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

Doors are opening for you. You wait for him to let go of your waist and move in front of you like he usually does at these types of parties with the concubines he brought for company, but he doesn't do that at all. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and holds you by his side as he navigates through the sea of people. You can't help but blush slightly.

If you had any doubts over the last few weeks that he was no longer interested in you, they were gone with his small gesture. He will indeed ruin you. As soon as he finds the opportunity suitable. You were afraid that the evening of his birthday might be considered in his eyes as a perfect time to do this.

But somehow you manage to get out of his sight. You position yourself against the wall, having a perfect view of the most important people in the room. The Baron and Feyd were talking about something with the Emperor and his daughter. You look at them curiously, especially since the Harkonnens have their backs turned to you. And looking at Princess Irulan in a silver dress that was constructed to resemble armour, you see in her your chance for freedom. If Feyd married her, he would probably get over his strange obsession with you.

"Lady Y/N." Feyd's older brother's mocking greeting reaches your ears. You turn to him, taking your eyes off Feyd for a moment, and nod to the man standing next to you.

"Count Rabban."

"I heard you and my brother dealt with the rats of Arrakis. My congratulations." You are quite wary of his civilised attitude. The last time you saw him, Feyd made him kiss his shoes. And yours. So you definitely didn't stay in... a neutral relationship after that.

"Na-Baron is a great commander." You reply with a polite smile. Your eyes involuntarily wander to Feyd. There's a knot in your stomach when you see him talking to the princess. You frown, wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"I have no doubt." He nods, also looking at Feyd. "He will destroy you. Like any toy he had before you. When you lose your usefulness, he will throw you to his harpies. He's more unpredictable than me or even my uncle. But you know that... so what are you still doing by his side?" He asks, turning his gaze on you.

"I am his right hand. I live to serve him." You answer automatically, shrugging your shoulders.

"If I had known that Bene Gesserit witches were so devoted, I might have appointed one to be my right hand."

"Believe me, count Rabban, the overwhelming majority would not serve him or anyone else so loyally as I do. They would probably prefer to poison themselves." He laughs at your words, taking two drinks from the passing servant. He hands you one, but you shake your head. "I don't drink if I don't have to. Old habits from my home planet. My mother would slap my sisters and me on the hands until she could see our bones as a punishment for stealing a drink or two." You're half lying when you remember how the Reverend Mothers made sure you were completely… untainted by any substances that could make you less healthy. All for breeding. Like farm animals.

"And they say the Harkonnens are monsters. At least you can get drunk with us… well, before we torture you to death or accidentally kill you."

"I've gotten used to it. Fortunately, I have fast reflexes." You reply with a smirk, knowing full well what he's trying to do. He wanted to ingratiate himself with you while you were still important in the Harkonnen court. His brother currently despised him, and his uncle probably did too. He saw an opportunity to increase his political influence when he spotted you alone.

Suddenly, you feel someone's intense gaze on you. You turned your face to notice that Feyd's eyes were on you and not on the princess, with whom he was still talking. Judging by the way your skin was burning from the look Feyd was giving you, you could tell he didn't like his brother being close to you at all.

And Feyd was incredibly pissed off and furious. In his eyes, Rabban wasn't worthy enough of your time, attention, or even being close to you to have the pleasure to smell the scent of your perfumes. But not only did his brother have the courage to talk to you; he even made you smile. Feyd was already planning in his mind how to tear his head off.

Na-Baron would have done just that if an arrow had not suddenly passed between him and Princess Irulan.

Panic filled the room when suddenly, a hail of arrows hit random people. You grabbed your blade and were about to move towards the first archer you noticed, but suddenly a cold steel was pressed against your neck. The Fremen woman holds you tight. You can only stand there calmly and watch as they overpower the more important representatives of the great families, leading the less important people out of the room. Feyd's blue irises are focused on you all the time, which surprisingly makes you feel a little better.

"Silience!" You freeze when you see Paul Atreides emerge from the crowd of Fremen.

Your informants haven't told you much about him. He had done well since he was forced to live on Arrakis among the Fremen. He became stronger, smarter, and more ruthless. He had no weaknesses… except one. You look around the room, your eyes locking on the woman who stood a few metres away from you. His lover.

If living among powerful men taught you anything, it was that they only had a few weaknesses. Fear for their lives, property, title, and, among those younger and less experienced in life, their loved ones. But Paul Atreides changed on Arrakis. He wasn't the little boy you knew during your training with his mother. You could only hope that he loved his woman enough to consider rescuing her. Maybe you will buy enough time before your trops, waiting on ships above Arrakis, come to rescue you.

"Let me go. Give me your blade. Keep your mouth shut and close your eyes for the next 30 minutes." You use your voice on the woman who holds you.

While she does what you told her, you try to get to Atreides' lover unnoticed. You ignore his speech; your heart is racing in your chest, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood flowing in your blood vessels.

When you reach the Fremen woman, you quickly disarm her and press your dagger to her neck. Atreides stops his speech. Before anyone can react, you take a deep breath and say loudly:

"Everyone ten steps back. Stay still, or slit your throat with the nearest weapon." Everyone in the room is listening to you. You have to take a few steps back with the woman you have in your iron grip. You tremble as you feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, especially Feyd's. However, your gaze is fixed only on Paul Atreides.

"This is impossible… what are you?" He asks in shock, not moving after you forced him and everyone else in the room to back away from you.

"It doesn't matter, Atreides. Take your men and get out of here. I advise you well." You growl furiously at him. You feel the blood start to pulsate in your veins. The old wound on your side is slowly starting to open up under the pressure your body is going through. You're glad you're wearing a black dress. At least not all of them will see the blood stain on your dress when it will be leaking out of you more and more by the second.

"You cannot keep them under your will forever. You'll soon get tired, faint, or bleed to death." He reasons, fully aware that your crowd control is time-limited.

"My men will be landing here soon. They'll take everyone who counts and fly away with us, raining nuclear bombs on your precious little desert. The spice from these areas may have been contaminated for several centuries, but we still have the opposite pole of Arrakis to exploit and extract it. So better choose wisely."

He frowns at your words, looking at you carefully and analysing your facial expressions carefully. You stare at him hard and unfazed, even though you feel the fabric of your dress sticking to your open wound. You have a staring fight with each other until you press your dagger a little more into the woman's throat and take her blood. He looks briefly at his girl before he opens his mouth to speak.

"We've met before, right?"

"You have one minute to make a decision before I make your woman bleed to death in front of you." You say hoarsely, feeling your muscles tremble slightly. But you hold on with all your might, maintaining your calm, dangerous, hostile attitude.

You all wait in suspense to see what he will do. He might as well attack and kill you, risking his men overpowering any reinforcements that come to your rescue. But you hope he's considerate enough to back off. If not because of the people who came after him, then because of his girlfriend or concubine, whose life now depends solely on you.

You almost sigh in fucking relief when he takes a step back. You let him get out of your control, looking at him carefully all the time. You swallowed and let go of his woman.

"Follow your Muad'Dib." You command the people of the desert. They stare at you for a moment before their eyes rest anxiously on their leader. He nods at them as he slowly leaves the room.

As quickly as they arrived, they left. You stand at attention for a long time—a minute, an hour, or hours—until you hear the ship approaching and the movement of the sands of Arrakis under the influence of sandworms.

They left. You realise this with relief. However, it is a very short-lived relief. It ends when your eyes meet the eyes of the reverend mothers, who are clearly communicating with each other. You fucked up. You revealed that you were a Bene Gesserit, or at least that you knew some of their tricks. Unconsciously, you completely let go of control over the gathered crowd.

"Why didn't you wait for your people so we could kill them? Kill him?" The emperor's voice reaches you vaguely. You raise your head and meet the gaze of an old man standing a few steps away from you.

"I bluffed, my emperor." You reply shakily, feeling blood start to flow from your nose as well.

"What?" He asks in shock, unable to believe that all your talk was a pure bluff. You don't have the strength to explain anything. You can stare blankly at the floor, feeling your strength slowly begin to drain away after you use the voice on the people gathered in the room.

"I bluffed." You repeat, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your vision becomes completely blurry; all you can hear is the buzzing in your ears, the pounding of your heart, and the slow dripping of your blood onto the floor.

"But… you…" Whatever he was about to say, he's interrupted by you falling to your knees. You don't register at all what's happening around you. The only thing you are sure of is that there are suddenly a lot of people around you.

You're clinging to what little consciousness you have when you suddenly feel something pull you against the hard wall of muscle. You lean against the unexpected support, slowly drifting into blissful unconsciousness as you no longer feel the pain from the open wound on your side. The hoarse call of your name makes you a little more aware, enough to distinguish Feyd's voice from the indistinct gibberish around you.

"Get a medic here!"

He whispers something else to you as he brushes your hair out of your face, but you don't hear anything anymore. You let yourself go into the blissful darkness, happy that you can rest, at least for a moment. And you feel surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of his arms and his scent being the last things you feel before passing out.

You're surprised that when you wake up in the hospital wing, there's no one at your bed, looking at you like a guard dog. Once you get used to the feeling of being fully aware, you rub your eyes. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a dark and empty room you found yourself in.

You ignore the strange twinge in your chest when you don't see your Na-Baron anywhere near you and slowly sit up on the bed. You check the status of your wound and are pleased to see that you are in a more stable condition than you were a few hours ago.

You place your feet on the floor and slowly stand up, testing your muscles. You're relieved to see that it's not as bad as it was in the past. You walk over to the chair where a black silk robe is hanging and put it on. You take a moment to search the room, smiling hugely when you find your daggers on the nightstand next to your bed. You attach one to your thigh and tuck the other inside the sleeve of your robe. Maintaining great silence, you tiptoe out of the room.

You sigh in relief as you wander the empty corridors again, hiding in their shadows. You feel like a newborn, like a fish that has returned to the current of a familiar river. You weren't aware of how therapeutic it was for you to wander the halls alone at night until Feyd trapped you in his arms and his bed practically every night. You missed it. Very much so.

However, today's attempted attack by Atreides made you realise that you were too focused on getting away from Harkonnen and trying to keep him at a distance. You had to take action. Otherwise, Paul Atreides will cut off your head, just like his mother once wanted to do.

You shudder as you remember the day you escaped from the Bene Gesserit sisters' sanctum.

You ran barefoot through familiar corridors in the cold, dark night. You didn't need a torch or other light. You had lived within these walls long enough to know which corridors ended in dead ends and where to turn to reach each gate. But Lady Jessica knew them as well as you. You had to be a lot smarter if you were going to escape the woman who wanted you dead.

Yesterday there was a great meeting of Reverend Mothers after Lady Jessica failed to give birth to Leto Atreides' daughter at the right time. The Reverend Mothers had to find... a new breeding mare for Feyd Rauthy, from whose blood the Kwisatz Haderach was to be created. They chose you. And now, because of this honour that had been a death sentence for you from the very beginning—a curse, an evil fate that seemed to have stuck with you since your birth—Lady Jessica had tried to kill you in your sleep and was now trying to complete her work.

You decide to go to the ramp, hoping that you might be able to capture some small ship—something flying around—that would get you away from those damn Bene Gesserit.

You knew you were too weak to fight Lady Jessica. She taught you a lot, but not how to defeat someone stronger, like her. If you wanted to live, you needed to find a way to escape.

You speed up as you hear the click of her heels behind you. You run as fast as you can, reaching the door just as Lady Jessica appears at the end of the hall. You close the door behind you with a loud snap. You sigh, leaning against it for a moment. You freeze as you feel the blade against your throat.

"Step away." You order in panic before opening your eyes. A cold chill runs through you as you see Na-Baron Harkonnen's cold blue irises staring at you in shock as he obediently steps away from you.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at each other without saying anything. Na-Baron examines you carefully: your dishevelled state, rapid breathing, red cheeks, and bare feet. You have no idea what he deduced, but it was enough for him to not immediately slit your throat for using the voice on him.

"You should go back to your sisters, little witch. Unless you want to join me, I wouldn't say no to the company of... such a pretty mouse." He speaks hoarsely. He doesn't wait for your answer, though. He simply turns and walks slowly towards the ship his men are packing. You swallow and wonder: Is death at the hands of Lady Jessica or at the hands of Harkonnen? Your pride chooses for you.

"I'm not a mouse, I'm a warrior." You reply, gathering all your inner courage. Na-Baron stops in his way.

His raspy laugh sends another shiver down your spine as he slowly turns back to face you. He approaches you slowly, each step perfectly calculated as he stands a few millimeters in front of you, invading your personal space. You raise your head proudly and meet his gaze with your own, determined one.

Which impresses him.

So much so that he reaches for the dagger strapped to his hip. You don't flinch when he runs the tip of the dagger across his tongue. You watch him closely, waiting for him to either slit your throat or accept the challenge. Feyd is surprised. And very curious—too curious—to simply walk away and continue on his path. That's why he takes your hand in his and hands you the dagger he was just testing.

"So show me what you can do, little witch. Except for using that honeyed voice of yours." He says it mockingly and takes two steps back, drawing another hidden blade from his armour.

You don't remember the entire fight clearly. The adrenaline was pumping through you so much that you only remember snippets of that dance with him with daggers in your hands. Surprisingly, neither of you disarmed the other. You stopped as you both placed your blades against the other's flesh—at points that would guarantee instant death if either of you decided to press the blade against the skin a little harder.

"You fight well, little witch." He praises you, moving away from you. "You're wasting yourself here." He says, looking at you acutely for a long time, considering something. But finally, he nods at you and turns again to join his men and board the ship. You quickly grab his hand before he gets too far away from you. You feel him tense at your touch, but he doesn't make any moves.

"Let me go with you. My blade will be an extension of yours, Na-Baron. I'll be your spy from the shadows, just... get me out of here." He widens his eyes slightly, unprepared for such a request. He turns towards you and glares at you with his icy irises.

It could very well be a trick from those witches, but Feyd would be lying if he didn't say that you caught his attention the first day he saw you training. And he really wanted to see what you were really capable of doing. Few had the guts to challenge him. And he found it somehow charming—how your eyes shone with determination every time you held the blade in your hands.

"Your sisters won't be happy when they find out that I took one of them to Giedi Prime." He says, feigning hesitation. His people knew him well. If he wanted something, he took it. A group of old witches wouldn't stop him, not now that he saw... great potential in you. Maybe not only as one of his soldiers.

"With all due respect, your house is not known for following anyone's rules except those you set. I… I can't stay here any longer."

His heart beat faster, seeing the desperation and helplessness in your eyes. Normally, he would laugh at someone who showed him weakness and kill him on the spot without much thought. But you... when you stared at him with those pleading eyes of yours, flushed from fighting him... it did something to him.

Feyd knew the feeling of helplessness. His uncle loved making him feel this way. And Feyd himself finds great enjoyment in making others feel that way. Humiliated. Weak. Scared. Somehow he didn't like the fact that staying in the sisterhood made you... feel like that and do such desperate actions as coming with him to Giedi Prime.

However, he had no intention of letting go of such a valuable bird that was voluntarily pushing itself into his cage.

"Well, you fight better than most of my men... I will make you my right hand. And as for your Bene Gesserit sisters..." You sigh softly as he reaches for your hair and cuts it in half. He cuts your shoulder and dips the cut hair in your blood. You see him put a few strands in his pocket, before he handed them to his servant, growling something at him in his native language. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I told him to convey my thanks to the Reverend Mother for... sending me a delightful toy. He might also mention that my darlings liked your meat." You nod, swallowing. He laughs mockingly, patting your shoulder. "You have many things to learn, little witch. You better prove to me that I wasn't wrong about you, or you will suffer exactly the fate that my servant will pass on to your sisters. I don't like weakness and disappointment."

"I have no intention of disappointing you, Na-Baron."

"Good. Come with me. I'm fed up with this planet. Besides, you need to change your clothes if you don't want my men to think you're a whore they can enjoy while on our journey." He nods and walks towards the ship. You follow him like his shadow, casting cold, sinister glances at the people staring at you.

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself, my lord." You reply confidently as you walk with him up the ramp to the Harkonnen ship. You see a small smile appear on his face at your words.

"I don't doubt that. However, I wouldn't want to lose more people than necessary. It's supposed to be your job to clean up after me, not the other way around, little witch." He responds, testing you and carefully watching your reaction. You don't flinch, perfectly prepared and familiar with... the brutality of the Harkonnens.

"Duly noted. There's only one thing I don't understand." He doesn't stop in his steps, but he gives you a quick glance and hums, allowing you to continue and ask a question. "I appreciate it very much, but… why didn't you kill me at the entrance?"

He chuckles hoarsely at your question and stops at a specific door. He turns to look at you, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes as he studies you like a predator would its prey before deciding to answer you.

"You didn't apologise or beg for your life. I found it... very refreshing." He says, opening the door. The metallic smell of blood fills your nostrils. You look into the room and see several prisoners chained to the wall of the ship with some strange cuts on their chests—probably some words in Harkonnen."Your first task, little witch. My darlings are very hungry. They will need the meat of my enemies. Come back here in an hour... I should finish by then. And change that rag you wear. I want to see you only in black." He orders, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You stand in the hallway for a moment, blinking and staring at the door, as you are suddenly thrown into a new reality that you have to get used to. You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you go searching for... any clothes or shoes. The cold metal of the ship's floor and the dried blood in some places made walking around on your bare feet quite uncomfortable.

Feyd-Rautha was indeed psychopathic... but it was better for you to be the devil's right hand than his mistress. And it was certainly better to inhale the toxins of Giedi Prime than to smell the flowers from underneath your grave.

You find yourself in front of a door that you don't want to go through. But you know you have to do it if you want to remain free and independent of anyone. You couldn't escape now. Not before Feyd-Rautha. You had to pay the price of your freedom with someone else's freedom. And you were ruthless enough to do it without blinking an eye. Maybe the years of living with Harkonnen really made you one of them...

You knock and enter the cave of Feyd's three harpies.

As you might expect, they don't welcome you very warmly. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear their hisses. They stop feasting on some Fremen and glare at you, slowly approaching you.

"Relax, ladies. I'm here... to make a small agreement." You announce, taking a seat in the only chair that, surprisingly, isn't covered in anyone's blood. The women look at each other distrustfully and approach the table where you are sitting.

"Agreement?"

"With a little witch?"

"We don't make any agreements with our meals; we simply eat them."

You don't flinch at their words. Instead, you nod and draw your dagger when they get too close to you. Two of them move away automatically, but one—the oldest of them—continues to look at you. You give her a cold and dispassionate glare as you play with the blade in your fingers.

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about. About... a food. A great meal. A feast you will remember for a long time, ladies." You try your best to sound encouraging.

Their eyes light up, interested as you meet a fresh meal. You know perfectly well that they haven't eaten anything... desirable for a long time. They probably had to drag the body of this miserable man to their chamber themselves since you didn't have time to... make sure they were fed. And if there's one thing you can get on Giedi Prime with something other than power and sex, it's food.

"The little witch is planning something…"

"The little witch is up to something interesting…"

"The little witch wants to do something against our master…"

You look at them unfazed as they read that you have no clear intentions at all when it comes to working with them. But anyone who managed to survive on Giedi Prime and Arrakis was surely a man whose conscience had gone a long time ago.

And maybe your plan wasn't good for everyone... but it was definitely good for you. And Feyd. He'll agree with you... or at least you hope so. You're still not sure if his obsession with you was just a passing whim or if he really wanted to keep you with him. But you didn't want to end up like his concubines and pets.

"Possibly... but isn't that what you want? For your master to give you his attention again instead of taking care of me?" This seems to interest them even more than the promise of food.

"What do you want, little witch?" The oldest harpy asks you, looking at you carefully. You give her a mischievous, sinister smirk.

'"Have you ever thought of feasting on the Baron?" Your question hangs in the room. The harpies watch you carefully, smiling slowly and showing a row of black teeth.

Nothing united women like a common enemy.

To be continued... Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #house harkonnen #dune part 2 #oneshot #feyd supremacy #feyd smut #feyd rautha x bene gesserit reader #feyd imagine #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen x you #smut #dark romance #toxic behavior

[sansaorgana]

— THE FAVOURITE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — As Feyd-Rautha's favourite concubine, your position is threatened after his affair with Lady Margot.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Once again I couldn't help myself and created some twisted & toxic dynamic between Feyd and The Reader full of mind games and scheming lol 😏 Thank you @little-diable for "letting me" to write this story. 🌹 I reached out to her after getting this request since she has a similar (and amazing) fanfic – "Guilt".

WARNINGS — Reader is some sort of a slave/servant, harm to Lady Margot and her child mentioned, mentions of sexual activities including non/dub-con (no actual smut)

WORD COUNT — 3,520

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE FAVOURITE

Being Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine made your position on Giedi Prime secure. Coming from nothing and having no drop of noble blood flowing in your veins, you ended up with a luxurious bedroom and your own team of servants. Baron Harkonnen allowed this arrangement only because of the little agreement between you and him – you were to spy on his nephew and your servants were doing the job when you personally could not. The stench of schemes and lies surrounded the fortress like a thick fog.

So, when your lover didn’t come to you after his own birthday party – even though you were waiting for him all dressed up and prepared – you wanted to know why. Your servants came back to you quickly, bringing you the news of Feyd-Rautha spending the night in a guest wing. In the bedroom of Lady Margot Fenring, to be exact. A known Bene Gesserit sister.

Concubines had no right to be jealous. They knew their place. Noblemen couldn’t marry a random woman they favoured just because of some sort of affection or sentiment. They had to keep their options open in case a political union would be proposed. And apart from that, noblemen had their responsibilities when it came to the Bene Gesserit order and their own plans and schemes. You knew enough to have a feeling what Lady Margot wanted from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. To secure his bloodline.

Concubines didn’t exist to secure bloodlines – unless the circumstances were desperate. But usually, concubines existed to bear bastards.

You tore your dress off of your body, removed the jewellery and let it fall down on the cold, black marble as it shattered. The servants watched with terror in their eyes as tiny pieces of gemstones scattered all over the floor. You told them all to leave but they were petrified. So you yelled, you gave an order. And only when you were left alone, you allowed yourself to lay on your bed and cry.

You had sacrificed nearly everything to be in this position. Losing the title of Feyd-Rautha’s favourite concubine meant death to you. You knew what he was doing to the toys he was getting bored of. In fact, you often encouraged those acts. Now, you had to face a threat of becoming the next tossed aside pet.

You were finishing your breakfast when Feyd entered your chambers without a word or a knock upon the doors. He was the only person allowed such entrance and all your servants stiffened at the sight of him, bowing their heads and taking a few steps back. You decided to ignore him as you were sipping on your beverage and staring at the large painting on the wall in front of you. It was a landscape from your homeplanet. Or rather, how it had used to look like before The Harkonnen invasion and occupation.

As a little girl, you had been taken with others to Giedi Prime and forced to become a servant. Your hair had been shaved, the back of your neck tattooed with a Harkonnen sigil like you were a slave. Slaves died like flies on this court. Befriending the young na-baron had been your only chance of survival. And once you both had been old enough, the friendship developed into a romance. But sometimes, when you were forgetting yourself – too drunk on your own influence these days – you would touch the back of your neck and trace the tattooed mark. You had long hair again, covering it from the world. But you knew it was there. You were only a servant that had been promoted because of a spoiled boy’s whim.

“I have news for you, pet,” Feyd-Rautha stood above you with a proud smirk, showing off his black teeth.

You continued to ignore him and it made the smile turn into a frown.

“What is it?” He asked but you still refused to lay your eyes on him.

“I know where you were last night,” you finally decided to address the matter as you lazily leaned back on the chair and looked up at his face. He snorted at you.

“Not the first time I spent a night with another woman. Having a title of my favourite whore means that you are one of many – not the only one,” he reminded you and your jaw clenched at his choice of words.

“Not every night is your birthday. And not every woman is a Bene Gesserit witch,” you stood up angrily. “And I am not a whore.”

“Concubine is only a nicer way to put it but you’re big enough to handle the truth, pet,” Feyd was angered, you could sense that. But he was still amused by your little tantrum.

“Leave us,” you ordered to the servants and they bowed down before walking out of the chambers as fast as possible.

“What do you expect me to say? That I’m sorry?” Feyd’s voice was full of contempt as he observed your pacing around with squinted eyes. “I am not tied to you by any word nor oath.”

“What did she want?” You asked him and he shut his mouth. “She wanted to secure the bloodline, did she not?”

Feyd did not say anything and that was an answer for you. You nodded and walked away to stand by the window and gaze upon the cityscape of Giedi Prime. 

“I didn’t have a choice. And I probably will never even see that child. They mean nothing to me and will never be recognised as my heir. What does it matter to you?” Feyd tried to explain himself awkwardly as he sat by the table and put his feet up on the surface in a careless manner.

“Did she use The Voice on you?” You turned around to look at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yes,” Feyd nodded, looking away. “Does it change anything?”

“It changes everything to me,” you approached him to stand behind and put your hands on his tense shoulders. “They keep using you. Your uncle all this time, now her. And you just shake it off and pretend it’s no big deal but it is, Feyd-Rautha. Have you ever been able to make your own decision? Even choosing me as your favourite had to be accepted by The Baron.”

“Don’t pretend to suddenly care about me,” Feyd barked at you. “You’re spying on me for him.”

“Because I have to,” you whispered.

“And I have to do some things, too, which makes us fair,” he shrugged his arms and you let your hands fall to your sides again. You watched him reach for an orange as he began to peel it slowly in silence.

He was right but it was not enough for you to know that he was right. You were still raging inside; filled with jealousy and betrayal even though you had no right to feel these things. Swiftly, you reached out for a short knife that Feyd always carried by his waist. He was so relaxed and trustful around you that his reflexes didn’t catch on your actions. 

You pressed the tip of the blade to the back of his neck, the exact same spot where your tattoo was.

“I wish I could mark you as my own, too,” you whispered and he only chuckled, not fearing the knife at all.

“Do it then, pet. If that brings you relief, that is,” he dared you. “The pain will be welcomed.”

“I can’t do it,” your hand shivered as you lowered it.

“Then don’t threaten me with empty promises,” Feyd barked as he turned around rapidly and grabbed your wrist. He twisted it painfully, making you drop the knife as you hissed out of pain. “I don’t belong to you,” he reminded, his voice cold and sharp. You winced at the pain shooting up your arm but refused to show weakness.

“And I don't belong to you either,” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and hurt you had been suppressing. “If I am to live here my whole life like a slave, kill me then.”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at each other with hatred and passion as the tension crackled between you two like electricity. Finally, Feyd released your wrist with a dismissive shove, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Fine," he spat. "I am to inherit Arrakis and you are not coming with me. Stay here and rot, find yourself a new Master or leave, I do not care," he informed you and left your chambers just like that.

You were still standing there, petrified, as you blinked a few times before the meaning of his words made sense to you. He was abandoning you… but you couldn’t blame him. You showed weakness of your jealousy and that was something concubines were not supposed to do. Instead of playing your cards right, you snapped. And now there was no turning back from that mistake.

Your privileges were not gone overnight but everyone could see that something was wrong. While Feyd-Rautha was preparing to leave for Arrakis, you were not preparing at all. Your servants were nervous since their position depended on your own. And you were trying to work on a plan to be back in your lover’s good favours.

But The Baron was quicker than that. He requested your presence a few days before his nephew’s departure. You expected a punishment but, surprisingly, he was not as angry as you thought him to be.

“You lost the grip,” he informed you in his raspy voice, taking a puff of his pipe.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” you bowed down, nervously; humiliated.

“I should get rid of you. I’ve heard my nephew granted you freedom but we both know you have nowhere to go anyway,” The Baron pointed out and you swallowed thickly at his words.

“If I was only given one more chance…” You dared to look up.

“That is what I want to grant you,” he nodded as your eyes widened. Baron Harkonnen was not known for being generous or forgiving. “You see, on Arrakis I will need a spy next to Feyd-Rautha. Someone I trust. And you… We’ve worked for quite a long time now. You have never disappointed me nor showed any sign of disloyalty towards me. Looking for someone new, especially for such an important task… It would not be advised. I need you on Arrakis with Feyd-Rautha,” The Baron pointed his chubby hand at you.

“I understand, my Lord. But… He does not want me there. Not as his concubine at least,” you looked down, ashamed that you had to admit it out loud.

“That boy will soon start missing you. But we can’t wait until then,” The Baron agreed. “Since he has carelessly given you freedom already and you’re no longer a servant, I can promote you, child,” The Baron hummed to himself as you tilted your head out of curiosity – Feyd-Rautha’s habit you had picked up from him a long time ago.

Because your whole life had been about being his companion. It was about mimicking his behaviour and learning how to make him happy. Now, when he was somehow gone from your daily life routine, it felt oddly empty and pointless. It was painful to realise that Feyd-Rautha was your reason to live and your position as his concubine defined not only your position on Giedi Prime but also your whole life and personality.

“You will be sent to Arrakis as The Fremen Expert,” The Baron informed you and you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh.

“The Fremen Expert, my Lord? I do know nothing of them and their customs,” you reminded him.

“And we do not care about them nor their customs. We want nothing but annihilation of their race. But what we also want… What we need… Is your presence on Arrakis. Feyd-Rautha will be informed that you must take part in every council, in every meeting; making decisions alongside his generals,” The Baron whispered and you straightened yourself, suddenly feeling a bolt of electricity going through your veins. From feeling like a beaten dog, you began to feel confidence and pride in your new role, even if the title was made up for The Baron’s scheming plan.

“Yes, my Lord,” you bowed down with all respect.

“Now, go, prepare yourself for the trip,” he dismissed you and you turned around to walk away with your head held high.

Feyd-Rautha kept avoiding you but those few times you saw him in the corridor, he was giving you hateful looks. He had to be not very pleased with his uncle’s decision. You gained the courage to finally talk to him in private when you were on the ship to Arrakis, locked together in space with nowhere to run. Forced to spend time together since the ship was not as huge as the Giedi Prime fortress.

You chose the nighttime for this. In the evenings he was more vulnerable – you had learnt that over the years spent by his side. You entered his room on the ship without any guard stopping you as they knew your role in this mission. The Baron had given them direct orders to never stop you when you were about to spy on the na-baron.

Feyd was not in the room yet, so you waited, sitting on the armchair and nervously playing with the rings on your fingers.

“What are you doing here?” You finally heard his raspy voice after the doors opened. Feyd walked inside, visibly irritated at the sight of you. “Congratulations, you’re a full-time spy now. What a promotion,” he sneered. “Still his puppet.”

“And you’re not? His puppet?” You sneered back. “How does it feel to not be able to get rid of your own concubine just because The Baron does not approve? I told you. You can’t even choose the whores for yourselves,” you stood up to approach him but he walked away.

“You’ve sealed your fate, pet. Once I become The Baron myself, I am going to kill you,” he ignored your presence and began undressing to change into his nighttime attire. As if you were only an air in the room but it also meant that he still felt comfortable around you and allowed himself to be vulnerable enough to step out of his armour and expose. He trusted you, still.

“It’s not like I’m that valuable to your uncle. If you killed me now, he would be frustrated. But he wouldn’t even punish you for that,” you shrugged your arms. “So why won’t you kill me now?” You teased as you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Come here,” Feyd ordered as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

You walked up to him, a little scared of what was inside his head at that moment but you tried not to show it. You had mastered the act of not showing fear around him already. He hated cowardice and vulnerability only inspired him to be even more cruel.

“Since I can’t get rid of you, there’s still use of you, is it not?” He smirked as he looked up at you. “Please me, pet,” he ordered.

“I am no longer your concubine,” you pointed out, trying to keep a poker face on and a straight back. The truth was, you missed him. You missed his touch, you missed the intimacy, you missed how safe you felt with his arms around you. You missed the nights when he would fall asleep in your bed. But you couldn’t fall back so easily. He liked to chase, he liked to play. And you had gotten the title of his favourite because you knew how to provide it. “You dismissed me. I am The Fremen Expert now,” you added and he laughed contemptuously.

“The Fremen Expert, and what is that exactly, my little one?” He teased, pulling you closer by your waist. “And what do you know of these savages? You’ve been trained in different arts.”

“What sort of arts, na-baron?” You asked, placing your fingers on his muscular shoulders to keep steady on your feet.

“Pleasure,” he sat you down on his lap and you joined your hands together behind his neck. “I missed your cunt,” he whispered into your ear, his fingers pulled on the fabric of your dress around your hips, exposing your thighs.

“You forget yourself, my Lord,” you teased with a smirk as he looked up, questioningly. “You see, in your anger, you set me free. You released me and I am no longer your servant. I am my own person now,” you reminded him.

“I am still your lord na-baron,” he reminded you. “And I shall do as I please with you.”

“But having me back in your bed will cost you. I am not free of charge anymore,” you stopped his hands and watched his expression carefully. His jaw clenched and his gaze hardened with anger and curiosity.

“What do you want?” He asked harshly.

“Depends on how much you are willing to pay to feel my sweet cunt again,” you tilted your head.

You knew that it was just a game and he knew it, too. Because he didn’t need your permission. Feyd-Rautha didn’t care if you were his servant or a free woman now. He didn’t care if you gave him your permission or not. He was free to take what he wanted. Because that was his nature and that was the harsh reality of The Harkonnens.

“You want money?” Feyd could not hide the sheer disappointment in his voice. He had thought better of you. But you only laughed at his accusation.

You needed to take a deep breath in to say out loud what you wanted. It required lots of bravery for a woman in your position to say.

“I want to bear your heir,” you told him.

“Impossible,” Feyd pushed you aside on the mattress as he moved away from you. “Is it part of his plan?”

“He doesn’t know. He would kill me if he knew,” you assured him, truthfully. “He wants you for Princess Irulan, I think.”

“He mentioned to me he would make me an Emperor. But he didn’t mention how. I don’t think I have to marry her. We are strong enough to just take the throne with force,” Feyd told you. “I don't want her. But you cannot bear me heirs. Only bastards. Is that what you want? To push out my bastards?” He asked as he hovered over you to intimidate you, looking intensely into your eyes.

“Bastards, then. Let it be,” you nodded, swallowing thickly, confusing him. “I’d rather give you bastards and live on crumbs than to be dismissed like in the past few weeks.”

Suddenly, his face softened, confusing you as much as you were confusing him. Feyd caressed your cheek with gentleness that was unusual for him.

“Do you know why you are my favourite?” He asked in a whisper.

“Because I know how to play the way you like it,” you answered.

“No,” he shook his head. “Because you actually like me.”

You didn’t know what to say to this confession. It caught you off guard, surely. And Feyd leaning in to place a kiss upon your lips – a soft, delicate kiss that you had only shared a few times before – that only intensified the feeling of confusion.

“It’s cute to see you jealous, pet,” he breathed out after breaking the unusual kiss. “I swore to myself a long time ago I would never marry even if he forced me to. And my only heirs will be the bastards you bear me.”

You felt warmth in your cheeks at his words. Realising that what you had been asking for did not have to be said out loud. For him it had been obvious for a long time. It was the only way for Feyd-Rautha and you were a fool to ever feel jealous.

“All you have to do,” he added in a mysterious whisper, leaning in to steal another kiss, “is to help me with bringing him down.”

“You fool,” you giggled and cupped his face delicately, confusing him. “It has always been my plan,” you assured him. “And once I have the power of The Emperor’s Concubine, I will hunt down the Bene Gesserit witch and her spawn for I am the only one who shall bear your bastards.”

“You were such an innocent child when you came to Giedi Prime,” Feyd sighed but not without an excited sparkle in his cold eyes. “And look what a monster I have made of you, pet.”

You chuckled at that, relieved to have him back and much more than that – already planning out a future that was even more promising than in your most secret daydreams.

“You taught me well, Master,” you only said and pulled him back down. “But next time you put a child in another woman, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to father any more,” you threatened sweetly before a passionate kiss.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - VIII - MONSTERS & MUSES

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.6K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Separated by a twist of fate, Feyd-Rautha searches for his betrothed across the wide expanses of Arrakis. He uses his cunning and brutality to inspire cooperation and to track his lady. While in the desert familiar characters Paul Atreides and Chani make an appearance.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: NSFW, minors do not engage, sexually explicit content and violence.

______

VIII - Monsters & Muses

Grinning Feyd tilts his head looking at the man before him.

It's no laughing matter.

His smile is deceptive in nature

Like any predator, a visible smirk

The showing of teeth means danger.

Rotating his wrists Feyd feels the weight of his blades as blood drips around him. Most high lords had people for torture or executions but Feyd-Rautha never strayed from seeing what the men who tried him were made of. Down to the sinew. There was an intimacy to using his blades and a ferocity that couldn’t be undermined by his slightly amused persona. Feyd’s viciousness and vitriol lies in his relentlessness, his patience, his commitment to seeing everything through. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, no stone he wouldn't turn in the pursuit of your retrieval.

Feyd enjoyed an audience. He hadn't built his reputation on kindness. He needed people to tell of what they'd witnessed. He hoped word would travel fast that the Harkonnen heir flayed two men for their participation in your abduction. Word would travel that he had done it with a smile, without mercy, or hesitation. They would tell tales about his unsightly appearance. Crimson blood against his alabaster complexion, guts all over his clothes. About the other men he’d killed violently before freeing these two of their skin. People would recall how he’d stood up for hours, how he hadn't stopped looking for you, how he hadn't tired of doling out grave punishments. There would be no quick deaths, only long drawn out painful ones. He could hear the whispers declaring him to be someone monstrous. He could see his staff trembling as they brought his refreshments. He could feel the fear dripping from every person around him. He didn't want to feel any kindness if it wasn't from you, there was no warmth or light in his world in your absence and everyone would feel the darkness your absence brings. 

Fear went a far way further than respect, so Feyd used that to his advantage. It’s a vulnerability to be exploited. He has taken note of everything, tracking the men who scurried off like rats. They would fall into his traps or lead him right to you. He noted that the Fremen were more angry than anything else about his decrees but so long as you were gone every man within his control would suffer his same fate. He’d cleared the city of Arrakeen of the women and children, he’d even managed ambushes in several neighbouring cities in the hope of your retrieval but it had been unsuccessful thus far. Instead of executing the most vulnerable, he did far worse by placing them in a harem to give their men hope of getting them back. Then Feyd pointed missiles at the structures filled with the vulnerable. His methods were malevolent but so was your abduction.

His woman and unborn child taken right under his nose. Just several feet away within his palace without commotion or any major resistance. Your abduction has the Baron’s stench all over it. Feyd makes a promise to himself that the Baron’s punishment will be the worst of them all. Leaving the torture chambers he heads to rid himself of the matter and blood. Feyd’s thoughts are on you as he tries to tune into the connection he’d felt that led him to you. He tries to focus on that connection hoping for a miracle. He wants you to be alright, he wants you to feel safe, to know he’s coming, that no further harm will come to you.  There was nothing Feyd-Rautha wouldn’t do for you, he needed you to know that, needs you to know how hard he’s trying, he feels so close and yet so powerless. Looking up at the mirror in front of him Feyd slams a fist breaking the glass out of anger, shattering his reflection. He didn’t want to see himself without seeing you. Blood drips from his knuckles into the sink and Feyd turns on the water to wash it down with him. Staring into the drain he watches the water flow into an abyss, unseen and unheard of again. Shutting the water off he looks at his hands. He’d spent far too much time training to be a killer and far too little being a protector. His exhaustion has been stretched far beyond what is capable for the average man but there had never been anything average about Feyd. Looking at the blood pooling on his knuckles he turns on the water again watching it wash away the blood. Unclenching his fists he wraps a bandage on his hand to stop the bleeding and swelling. He looks at himself in a shard of glass when an idea settles his nerves. In his torture of a holy man he found out the secret to killing sadworms. As sacred fixtures of Fremen culture it would be an ace in his pocket. Without the fear of sandworms the Fremen’s remote hideaways could be easily accessed.

Swallowing hard Feyd nods to himself as the plan's conception grows. A slow smile creeps onto his face, he now had his terms and they would be met. Rushing to his war council Feyd looks at the live maps of the planet settling  on the view of the most fortified Fremen city. The stronghold was undoubtedly where you would be held. Grabbing a pen and parchment he prepares a scroll and then has a Mentat prepare a translation with his terms to be dropped. He would not go begging. He would not jeopardise your safety with perceived weakness but what he will do is exploit the people who would keep you from him by all means. 

——

You squirm trying to worm yourself free of the through restraints binding you to a stone pillar, the heat is relentless and your still suit can’t seem to produce enough water. You’re alone, echoes and the odd person coming to check on you are the only signs of life in your vicinity. It had been a gruelling trek, then you were sitting in a cool room when a battle ensued. Then after it was all said and done you were being passed off from Harkonnen traitors to Fremen soldiers. The Fremen soldiers had done the right thing with their murder of the Harkonnen. Kill or be killed. Instead of killing you the Fremen were gentle, allowing you time to maintain a slower pace and even going underground when the sun peaked, stifling you. Your concept of time is blurred as you sit in this subterranean cavern. The heavy concentration of Spice has your abilities and senses out of whack disabling your abilities' potency around Fremen. The whispers tell you that Feyd is wreaking havoc  but you don’t fully understand the thick accents and complicated dialects being used. 

“Let me go” you demand and a tall man that seems to be in charge turns to face you.

“Not until Usul arrives” he responds.

“You don’t look like a Harkonnen concubine” he muses. “You’re not ugly enough or bald” he mocks. Your abduction had been a coup. Harkonnen men disguised as Fremen. There was only one culprit, the baron who wanted you disposed of along with the Fremen people, what better way to get it done then to have you killed by the Fremen and Feyd end their race in one fell swoop. Then the spice would flow with such abundance House Harkonnen would be uncontested leaders within the imperium and favourites of the emperor.

“We’re being played I want to speak to your leader” you snap squiring more.

“Harkonnen whores are highly trained in seduction, black eyes steal the souls of men. You will make no demands until you see Usul” he says, reciting folklore that couldn't be further than the truth.

“Feyd-Rautha will cause more destruction the longer I’m gone” you warn and his eyes show emotion. His reaction tells you Feyd has already caused considerable damage. You watch as he makes calculations weighing his options.

“We wait for Usul” he concludes.

“Usul had better hurry” you comment and the man pauses looking at you over.

“You’re unarmed, bound and captured but you have no fear - you must be Fremen'' he scoffs. But it’s not the case, you just don't fear them for fear's sake. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant their vengeance aside from your allegiance to Feyd-Rautha. Feyd who makes all of their darkness look light. You hold his blue eyes and before you can conjure the voice the mans smile blurs your vision again causing a sting. “Perhaps not” he mocks, taking off one of his scarves and putting it around your mouth. The gesture is a charity and not an attempt to gag you. Here in the desert, strength honours strength. Swallowing you feel sympathy for what must be done.

“Have you ever known peace? Freedom?” You ask.

“No” he says regretfully.

“If Arrakis were no longer at war what would you be other than a soldier?” You ask and he pauses, unable to conceive that reality. It’s an awful truth and reflection of the horrors of house Harkonnen and the Emperor have caused the people of this planet. How could they subject people to this for generations? How could you be surprised by how the Baron treats his own citizens subjecting many of them to slave like conditions. When you look back to the man his eyes seem different, the effects of the spice take root causing you confusion.

“Your eyes understand hardship” he comments with wisdom despite his youth. “There are whispers that you are kind, generous and gave people water and aid to a mother with her sick child. Why would you be with a Harkonnen?” the man asks. There’s no honest answer, there’s no logical reason for why. Why had your father had chosen Feyd-Rautha above all other eligible sons with status? Why had your mother agreed and encouraged it the union? There was nothing to explain the magnetism and attraction you felt to him. The quiet reassurance that he was yours, the electricity, the child gestating in your womb.

“Reasons beyond reason or logic, matters of the heart and destiny are not easily understood” you admit unable to deny him even in the face of his enemies.

“Then why would his people give you up?” the man asks.

“To be a detriment to yours” you explain and the man sits. You see understanding before you see recognition.

“I know your face” he says looking at you and it echoes into your subconscious. Your vision blurs again and it takes work to focus on the man in front of you. He closes the space between you and cuts your bonds before stepping back. You hear gasps and realize for the first time you're not alone as angry blue eyes emerge from the shadows. You feel unnerved until the man removes his face coverings. The picture of him comes together as a puzzle. A familiar one. Your jaw drops as you make out a ghost from a past life. Overcome with emotion you hug him grateful for the twist of fate.

“You’re alive” you smile standing face to face with Paul Atreides.

“You’re alive” he repeats, hugging you tight. Angry Fremen comments erupt in a flurry as you take in his face, his new height, his eyes, his hair.

“You survived” you smile.

“And you did too. My father looked for you until he was killed. There were rumours but …” Paul says and you swallow hard realizing how deep the conspiracy flows.

“What?” Paul asks and your heart races, you go to walk out but bump into a soldier, the spice is affecting you tremendously. You look up and see the man who’d been caring for you. Paul emerges with a syringe. “It’s an antidote” he says and you withdraw.

“I can’t” you tell him to be cautious of your child. It’s as though Paul senses it as another soldier runs in.

“Chani, take her to guest chambers,” Paul says, receiving scrolls. Looking up at the woman from your visions emerges. She’s tall, striking and angry. Her strides are powerful, she gets bows of respect from everyone you pass. When you arrive in a room she scowls as you sit. She’s skeptical.

“How do you know Usul?” She asks. Her tone speaks volumes to who she is to Paul.

“Paul Atreides?” You ask.

“Usul” she corrects and you swallow because names don’t matter.

“His father the Duke and my mother were childhood friends. I spent countless holidays on Caladan. Paul and I were friends” you explain.

“Now you’re carrying a Harkonnen” she says with a tone laced in judgement. “Your suits reservoirs are low for an outsider the Harkonnen way is excess so there’s no wonder there isn’t much water left. It’s why you’re so susceptible to the spice. Slight dehydration” she explains without kindness, warmth or affinity. “He’s a monster, Feyd-Rautha” she says.

“He is” you acknowledge. “But he’s not your enemy” you speak truthfully. You know better than most that you’re all victims of the machinations of men blinded by their pursuits.

“The things he’s done …” she trails, shaking her head. She’s so angry her body trembles.

“There’s far more at play then we know, isolation will only further the objective of our enemies. I was taken by Harkonnen and it was made to look like I was taken by the Fremen. Feyd will listen to me, he will not do as I say but returning me will put an end to whatever madness he’s conceived as punishment for my abduction.” You explain.

It had been death by a thousand cuts for your assault.

An inconceivable amount of violence that didn’t seem to shock or surprise anyone. The cruelty of Giedi Prime was unmatched. On Arrakis the climate was brutal as is the subjugation of the people by their reigning overlords. However, life among the people is easy and loving. In stark contrast to the Harkonnen planet. While the Rabban had excelled in cruelty, Feyd-Rautha enjoyed breaking down the minds of men, toying with them, bringing them to the brink and then unrelenting slowly making them lose their minds. He had patience he would start slow, he was methodical, precise and deliberate in each act. He was the ideal weapon of choice, and now all his efforts were concentrated on the wrong place.

Looking up you swallow at Chani who turns her back to you in the thick silence. Her hand slowly palms her own stomach. It’s an unconscious gesture in a moment of deep thought. It lasts only a second before she turns back to face you. You recognize the concern in her eyes. The wavering commitment to her cause.

“He has villages worth of women and children in one of the forgotten palaces. Explosives are pointed at them” she snaps. “He’s desecrated our temples and two cities and now he threatens to tell the guild how to kill the sandworms” Chani says. You swallow hard knowing it isn’t the half of what he’s done. You know the sandworts are consecrated entities to the Fremen and close your eyes as you imagine what Feyd had to do to get that information - likely from a priest.

“Have him clear out the women and children from the palace. Paul won’t let you go back to him. The war will rage on and too many innocents will lose.” She says adjusting the still suit. She begins listing off exit instructions and although you're skeptical you feel drawn to her. It’s not until your final goodbyes that you realize what’s happened. You feel it but it’s not quite you. The alarm in her eyes says she feels it too. The feeling is a kin tothe magnetism between you and Feyd. There’s a fierce level of protection you feel for the woman and you see its mutual. Her hand rests over her stomach as she tries to make sense of it. 

Destiny.

You smile at the thought of your child and Pauls finding each other one day. Nodding in her direction the future is promise enough to keep you moving, you follow Chani’s direction hoping against all hope you make it to Feyd.

——

Feyd looks around your room, in your absence and in his rage he had found a way to occupy Leia and his staff. He would not release you, he would not yield to his enemies or the desert. You would return to him. He believed it the same way he had when he searched for you relentlessly. Feys stands looking out into the expanse, the extent of his commitment to your return is all around him. Traitors hang off the city wall and heads line it’s base. It’s unsightly and grotesque and an example of how all life will be until for everyone so long as you are kept from Feyd. Looking at the sun he sighs having waited long enough for word. Every person on Arrakis should be looking for you, the search party should be infinite, you should be in his care. He should be apologizing on his knees. He should be making up for all the love lost. Atoning for his actions, for his shunning, his reaction to your devotion and inability to keep him safe. He needed to feel you in his arms, against his skin, he needed to lay his hand over your stomach. He needed to see your smile, the swell of your breasts, your scent, your touch, the satisfied moans that come from your deep pleasure.

He loves you so much it’s taking everything in him not to crack under the weight of your absence. The humiliation of his failure, his inability to enact your return. It was like Feyd had been castrated and cuckold. No amount of violence could erase that simple fact, no amount of fear he placed in others could remedy what he feels inside. A piece of his heart was alone in the vast desert of Arrakis. In his heart he senses you. Deep down Feyd knows you’re alive but every time he goes to follow the sensations its scrambles ad leaves him disoriented and spinning. He hoped that knowing he was fighting was enough to get you to do the same. To fight for him and your child. Marriage would be his first order of business and then he would not let you out of his sights. People would believe there was an invisible tether keeping the two of you connected. There would be whispers of your witchcraft and strong effects on him.

Heading to his council room he looks at the live map of Arrakis again, there was a line outside the palace with people coming to confess information on your abduction. Feyd’s hand hovers over the missile detonator, the weight of not having you with him mounting. Horrible intrusive thoughts come to him, tempting him to act out of rage prematurely.. Static begins on the iradio, Feyd rotates the dial to tune it. The static continues until Feyd is able to pick up Fremen. Focusing on clarity Feyd tunes it to the very moment he makes out two words in the foreign dialect.

Harkonnen escaped.

It’s all Feyd needs. 

Standing he leaves suiting up. He’d always been a renegade soldier and now would be no different. Soldiers straighten as he enters the room storming through the halls with purpose. Feyd cannot jeopardize your well being when he knows there’s a possibility he hadn’t rooted out all treachery. In the event that his uncle had found a motivator more powerful than fear, he had to be decisive and quick. Feyd-Rautha knows it’s a game of chance, that the stakes are stacked against him. Should you end up in the hands of the Baron, Feyd would become no better than the other slaves on Geidi Prime. It would be the final straw. That could not be his fate or yours. Rabban, the Baron and anyone else who dreamed of separating you from Feyd would die. He would create his own family with you. Putting on his helmet as he the aircraft, Feyd allows his senses to set the coordinates. Arrakis seldom reveals its secrets; there were countless settlements, tunnels and forts that only the Fremen could locate. To foreigners all there is, is sand as far as the eye can see with the dunes shifting hour by hour, day by day. He could not depend on anything external any longer, he would follow the pull in his chest. Quieting his mind Feyd-Rautha feels the magnetism in his chest grow as he charts a course in accordance with it.

“Where is the nearest building?” He asks and a few soldiers pull up a map passing over ruins. Feyd stops at the ruins zooming in. He sees heat signals outlining men. Technology had been outlawed by the imperium, especially certain weaponry but the Harkonnen seldom followed the rules. Programming his pets he tosses redesigned hunter seekers from a hatch. The poison will disable a person in seconds and the weapon is undetectable, no more different in size and appearance than a large beetle. “Drop me here” Feyd says adjusting his gun, he preferred knives but getting close enough for combat with Fremen was unwise. “No one shoots” he warns as his boots hit the ground. Feyd feels you close and doesn't want a shootout to scare you into hiding.

“Yes my lord” his men repeat as he drops. The rubble of the building ruins is littered with disabled Fremen.

“Bring them back to the ship for questioning” he commands storming into the caverns alone.  There’s an odd sense of deja-vu and symmetry to it. Feyd-Rautha alone searching through caverns and rooms looking for you, while you are acutely aware of how close he is but unsure of how or where he will finally appear. The heat is stifling and as much as you want to remove your still suit you know it's keeping you alive, keeping your child hydrated. Pausing, you hear footsteps and move quietly. The footsteps slow as well. You make sure your face is wrapped hoping the dim lighting won’t highlight the absence of Fremen eyes. 

Backing off the path you deviate to hide your heart racing so fast you try to find a weapon in the absence of your own abilities. You try to move quietly but seize when your back hits into a person. Alarms go off in your head as you tense out of fear and regret. Your ears ring, you feel tension in your heart and throat.  Behind you Feyd-Rautha smiles as you walk back into him, your body fitting perfectly against his. Even dressed as a Fremen with no skin showing he knows it’s you and places one arm across you pulling you into him. Your iciness thaws in moments. Turning to face him he rests his head against your forehead in relief. There are no words exchanged as he pulls down the scarves covering your mouth. His lips find yours and you kiss him showing him all the love you can muster. Your regret for rejecting him is deep seeded. You pull him close as he stands there reveling in the relief of your return. He could feel the fight in you, feel how much you wanted him back. Feel your need for him. He’d almost lost you. 

“Come, let’s go home” Feyd says, picking you up bridal style. He knows you’re weary, he doesn’t need to ask, he takes the lead relieving you. As he emerges from the caves his men watch in shock.

“Kill” he says into his watch and the insect assassins do just that to everyone but either of you. He needed you, he needed silence, to let his guard down for there to be no interruptions. No recounts or recollections of the moment. He didn’t need it getting back to the Baron or the Fremen he just needed you. Walking up the plank Feyd sets you down lifting the hatch and going into orbit while shielded. The absence of life on board is eerie, so is the overwhelming feeling of hope you feel now that you’re with Feyd. The relief is overwhelming, if you had tears to spear they would fall but no water spills from your eyes as Feyd cups your face.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” He asks.

“No” you respond and he takes your hand sitting you down as he pours you a glass of water. You drink it greedily and his eyes are all over you. After days in the desert you grow self conscious.

“Don’t do that” he warns with his soft lips against yours. “You're beautiful, always,” he says gently. His hand covers your stomach and he stands behind you removing the still suit. He bends helping you step out of it and kisses your stomach, you hold him there against you. The feeling is incomparable. The three of you are safe together and at ease.

“Free the Fremen women and children Feyd. Give this moment to them. They did not abduct me” you confess. Feyd looks at you, his eyes brimming with anger now.

“Who was it?” He asks only to have his suspicions confirmed.

“The Baron” you respond.

With that Feyd walks over to the table disengaging all security measures, letting the vulnerable go. Watching him you feel seized by surprise at his compliance. Unphased by his mercy he hands you another glass of water. You put it to your lips surprised by his lack of resistance. He tips the glass making sure you hydrate. The feelings you have for him are so strong they overwhelm you.

“Feyd, I love you” you whisper, finishing the water and setting the glass aside. He looks you over feeling the very same way. The shock of the past few days hit him hard and all at once.

.

“I love you … I” he stops turning to back you and you place a hand on his back. You rub circles as he takes his time.

“Show me” you whisper, needing him but he shakes his head in refusal. It stings and you withdraw only for Feyd to watch your wrists.

“Not until the spice is out of your system or it could hurt you and our child. I’ve put you at risk enough” he says choosing your well being over an overdue sexual reunion. The silence is thick and you decide to give him a moment changing the subject to other pressing matters.

“Paul Atriedes is alive, he’s the Fremen prophet you’re at war with” you inform but there is no smirk. No delight in a potential cat and mouse game, nothing behind his eyes aside from a quiet relief for you.

“I don’t care.” he swallows, clicking his jaw. You watch as Feyd fights against his inner animal. “I don’t care about any of it” he snaps with a thumb under your chin. His eyes narrow in on your lips as he sits bringing you closer. “I almost lost you, again” he snaps. His reaction is delayed but the clouds roll in all the same. He cared for the things that belonged to him, he was a protector and you’d been out in the desert because of his uncle's jealousy and pathetic pursuit of power. Sitting across his lap you wrap your arms around him relaxing your aching limbs in their safe place. Feyd watches you intently thanking all forces that you were back to him. He wouldn’t know how to control himself. He slides his hand under the hem of your top placing it on your stomach. One fell swoop and mother and child could’ve been gone. 

“I’m here” you say, drawing his eyes. “We’re okay” you add and he kisses your forehead again as the depths of his uncle's treason reveals itself to him.

“I'm sorry for everything I haven’t been able to protect you from” Feyd says out of frustration. Machinations of a mad man swimming around his mind. He’s ready to end it all, if he could the entire planet would be nothing but a memory, everything the Baron worked for. Reaching for the pitcher he pours you another glass watching you drink the water. Smiling, you rest your head in his chest.

“What?” He asks, raising his brow bone.

“I can almost hear the screams your thoughts are going to capture. I can feel the fear from your retribution” you comment honestly. Feyd turns his head to you, he’d been a witness to you being good, merciful and tolerant too many times for it not to be in your nature.

“That makes you smile?” He asks

.

“Anything that makes our lives together easier makes me smile,” you confess. “I’m with you, always” you promise. Feyd stands heading into living chambers, his hand guides you along with him. You realize he handles stress with silence, and kiss his hand. It’s an improvement from him requiring distance in his anger. He sets a bath filling the black tub with water, salts and oils. He undresses you slowly helping you in. He sits at the edge admiring you like a doll in his state of quiet anger. Dissociating his reflections run rampant. He’d lost and found you before. Only then as far as he knew you were safe in the care of the Bene Gesserit and not in the great expanse of Arrakis. Only then, you hadn’t yet been his. He’d never seen the beauty in your adult eyes. He’d never seen them smile. Never seen the fullness of your lips, or how they thin out when you smile. He didn’t yet know what it was like to crave you. Your presence, your body, your touch, your scent, your taste, your love. He’d never craved love before. You are and will always be the very best of him, his heart in human form and no one would ever take that from him and live to breathe or laugh about it. Looking at you in the tub is a physical reminder of the anguish the possibilities of a life without you would bring. 

Looking into your eyes he stands opting to cherish every moment. Unfastening his gear he removes his combat suit making sure his blades are tucked in the right compartments. You watch intently for the first time as Feyd-Rautha disrobes before you. Usually he removed your clothes during frenzied kissing and strong lust. Sitting back you admire his full physicality from his broad shoulders to his well endowed manhood. A lifetime isn’t long enough to appreciate him. Stepping into the tub Feyd takes his time getting in your gaze filling him with pride and confidence.

Spice vulnerability or not you need him.

“Don’t look at me like that” Feyd warns.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Makes me want to fuck you hard” Feyd confesses sitting opposite you. He takes your foot massaging it for you. 

“I'd probably like that” you confess embracing the here and now. You’d nearly lost him. 

“Every inch of me is yours” Feyd says and you wade through the water to him. “Feel this? It’s just for you” he whispers in your ear as you sit beside him he takes your hand placing over his dick. Leaning in for a kiss Feyd comes alive in your hand when he breaks the kiss, you steady your stroke taking care of the man who would do anything for you.

“Only me?” You ask, watching him and he nods

.

“Only you” he affirms, closing his eyes as you tighten your hand around his manhood stroking more deliberately. Instinct kicks in and his groans are an indicator of his arousal. You share a kiss speeding up just as he’s close and he grabs your hand standing up abruptly. It’s startling until you realize what he wants. Looking up you smile at the weight of him in your hands, his pretty cherry shaped head. Never breaking eye contact you kiss his tip, a naughty streak coursing through you.

“You’re perfect” he says through rugged breaths. You take him in your mouth sucking hard. Feyd’s eyes close as you handle him with care knowing instinctively exactly what he likes. The intimate kiss gives him a head rush, he steadies himself by placing a hand on your shoulders as you suck harder, bobbing your head faster. You revel in his body reaction, to feel the power you get from Feyd’s pleasure. In making him feel close to how good he makes you feel. He guided your head to his desired depth and pace singing you the filthiest praises as he teaches you how he likes to be pleased. You pool at his words of affirmation, his attentiveness and his size. He makes an impressive mess leaving remnants of his orgasm all over you and in the tub.

Standing slowly you watch his signature smirk emerge onto his lips. Slowly but surely Feyd returns from his despondence fully. Smiling, you file his reaction away in your memory. Breathing life into his cock could bring him back to himself, to the present, to loving you. “Good girl,” he whispers, helping you out of the tub. “My na-baroness” he says, pushing you into the shower. “When it’s safe, I’m gonna give it to you rough, make it fun for you” he whispers. 

“Hope that’s a promise” you remind and he nods, smirking in agreement.

“I can promise you that” Feyd smiles. “I can also promise you that this is the last time anyone separates us without our consent. I can promise it’ll all be over swiftly. I can promise after this I’m done with war because I’m just getting started with you” Feyd says, giving you the perfect bedroom eyes. 

“I’ll be right at your side” you promise and  the look in his eyes says he needs you right now. The air between you is electric and so is everything that is to come.

_______

As always thanks for reading & your support 🩶🩶🩶🩶 comment, like & reblog if you enjoyed!

_______

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[adeliniel]

SFW alphabet | Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

It's been 2 years since I wrote anything! Such a long pause for me. But Dune brought me back. Happy to write again!

Please, enjoy and let me know what you think^^

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

As a surprise for you he’s not that affectionate in public. Feyd might hold your hand or touch your shoulder, just to remind everyone who you belong to, but he doesn’t really need to prove anything to anyone. Things change dramatically when you two are in private. Feyd doesn’t talk much, he prefers to express himself through touching. Depending on the mood, it doesn’t always mean a nice, gentle touch. It can be rough and demanding, or light, almost teasing as well. But he tries to make sure that you’re on the same page and he’s not hurting you deliberately. 

B = Body (Their favorite body part of their partner, why? Do they like touch?)

Eyes. He likes how you look away, your cheeks red, when he stares you right in the eyes. He likes your tender gaze when he looks back at you with so much desire to be intimate, to share something only you two can understand.

Feyd is more into touching than talking. He knows his body well and he can express more with just a simple touch. He has an opinion that talking is just a wasted effort and that the body never lies, so why waste precious time when he can show you his true feelings right there simply using the body language.     

C = Courtship (What do they do to take your attention?)

Na Baron has such a famous and intriguing personality, he doesn't have to do much to attract your attention. People either want to know him, or prefer to stay as far away as possible to not get into trouble.

It’s you who one day caught yourself thinking about him more than usual. Wanting to have at least one more look at him, you started taking longer ways to your chambers, just in case Feyd is wandering around the station sometime late at night.  

D = Domestic (Are they the type to settle down with you? Are they willing to help with chores? What is your daily routine with them?)

Wherever he goes - you go with him. You are his family and Feyd has no intentions to leave you behind. You’re his wife and he wants you right beside him.

E = Espousal (Do they want to marry you eventually? Who proposes to who?)

Of course. That’s the only way he sees your future together. Not just tradition, not just necessity, but a way of confirming how serious and precious this relationship is. It was kind of mutual decision, Feyd did a proper proposal anyway.

(Although forget about kneeling, sweet words and typical "Will you marry me?", cause it wasn't even a question.

F = Fragile (How protective are they of you? If they are, how do they show this?)

Absolutely knows that you’re fully capable of defending yourself if needed, knows that you can stand up for yourself and would never interfere unless he senses a real danger. Feyd gets a great pleasure out of watching how independent and confident his darling is. And even more when he sees you putting his brother to his place (below you).

G = Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they like receiving gifts?)

Feyd is not big on gifts. You already have so many things, everything you want is there, he feels like whatever he chooses, it won't be worth it. If only he could give you, say, a planet, that would make a great gift. Just enough to show you the depth of his feelings.

Nor is he huge on receiving presents. In fact, there’s nothing you can give him that he doesn’t already have. Wealth, power, glory and love - Feyd is blessed to have it all. The best gift you can give him - your full presence and loyalty. And an heir.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He didn’t really understand what’s so special about hugs at the start, but grew to kinda like them as the time passed. Although he likes physical touch and that’s how he usually shows affection, Feyd thinks that hugs are just a substitute for something more significant. He’d rather hold your hands or grip his hands around your neck. He will also definitely choose stroking, petting and/or choking over hugs.   

I = Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?) 

Not that Feyd has particular problems with intimacy, he just doesn’t know what to do. Playing with you is easy, but being present and real is challenging. It took a lot of time before he could put his smirk down and look you straight in the eyes with his heart wide open, showing his naked insecurities.  

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealousy is, probably, his biggest insecurity. He knows that he’s good, but sometimes he questions himself whether you find him good enough. Despite his power and status, Feyd knows that there are other men and he can’t help but compare himself to them.

Noone knows about it, even you for a long time, because he never talks about it. He never shows when he’s really jealous. He does play with you sometimes, pretending to punish you out of jealousy, but it is never the case of his real feelings. He keeps it all to himself.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

All that you can and can’t imagine. He starts slowly and then ends up biting your lips and tongue. He likes the power it gives him over you, likes the taste of your blood, he likes to dominate and to use his opportunities.

And more than that he loves that you reciprocate it, that you show your passion, you express your love and loyalty to him. He does like that it goes both ways. He likes to feel that both of you are alive and feeling.

Recently Feyd has discovered that pleasant feeling when you kiss the back of his neck. it gives him goosebumps and he can’t get over it.     

L = Love language (What’s their love language?)

Touch. He doesn’t need words to express his feelings when he can just touch you. Feyd uses his hands, mouth, tongue to love and punish you, to express his worries, anger, to be gentle or to be rude. Years of training made him a great master of his body and he’s convinced that his body language is way better than him talking.   

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s usually awake and gone long before you get up. But on those rare occasions when he doesn’t need to be anywhere early, he’d wake you up just because he’s bored.

N = Nicknames (What do they call you? What do you call them?)

Was happy when you moved from calling him Na-Baron to just simply calling him by his name. He finds it intimate enough and doesn’t see a point in creating nicknames. 

He tried to say “My love” a couple of times, but didn’t really feel into it, so he stopped.

O = Overture (How did everything start?)

Slowly and way less serious. Feyd mocked around quite a bit before actually growing feelings towards you. You didn’t expect much, considering the difference between your social positions, but the man of his power can do whatever he wants and choose whoever he desires. You felt you were lucky enough to fall in love with him before he approached you with his confession.

“Possessive” you thought, accepting Feyd’s invitation to visit him in his room that night.

(To your biggest surprise nothing sexual happened. Instead you met a deadly serious Na-Baron telling you about his plans to build a long-term relationship with you.)  

P = Pace (Are they fast-paced in a relationship? Or do they like to take things slow?)

Feyd is unexpectedly chill in the relationship. Apart from all the passion and desire, he smells a sense of security, he knows that you’re not playing around, that you’re not going anywhere, so there’s no need for drama. No need to rush when you have the eternity ahead to enjoy each other. 

Q = Queen/King (Who takes the initiative in relationships?)

Absolutely, 99%, he’s the lead. Even though he likes to play games, where he pretends to give you control over him and lets you dominate, it never goes beyond the bedroom door.

R = Remembrance (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The night when you first had sex. That tingling feeling of something completely new happening, so expected and desired. Exciting moment of mutual trust. Feyd’s fascination, seeing you wanting him just as much, feeling that you’re not afraid, even knowing who and how he is. Holding and having you all for himself, and even more than that - belonging.

 It was no vanilla, rather a night full of passion, a bit rough, but definitely long and enormously pleasant.

S = Salvage (What issues does this relationship help him to cope with?)

Feyd doesn’t have many insecurities, but for a long time he felt like he can’t find a suitable partner, and it made him feel like he’s lacking something significant in his power. A partner that’d be strong enough to put up with his character. Someone not just for breeding, but to show the world that he has it all.

Marrying you gave him more control over his social status and made his life complete. Love is a nice addition to it, but it also cured him from feeling not good enough.

T = Tiny (How are they around children?)

Children are not an option, they are an obligation, you knew it from the very beginning. But it doesn’t necessarily feel like a burden. It has to happen sooner or later, so Feyd is generally looking forward to it.

The idea of being able to create something all by himself, without his uncle’s or brother’s influence or power, makes him feel really proud of himself. And you.

U = Ulterior (What’s their secret?)

Quite rare, but he feels tired. Feyd doesn’t want anyone to know or see him like it. He’s afraid that it will affect the way others perceive him. And so he disappears. Sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.

It scared the shit out of you when it happened for the first time. You genuinely thought he died in a battle. But you got used to it with time, and learnt not to disturb him in moments like these.    

V = Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

No surprise it takes quite a while. He’s longing to be seen and heard, but it also takes a lot out of him to start sharing. Not that he’s afraid of being ridiculed or betrayed (he’d simply kill you, if this happens). He worries that if he starts talking, he might not want to stop. Having someone loving and caring listening to him with no judgment is something completely new in Feyd’s experience. And for a long time he doesn't know how to address it. 

W = Wound (How do they feel about exposing their scars/injuries?)

Feyd is proud of his wounds and scars. His masochistic side induces him to mutilate himself, and the sadist inside of him prefers to do it right in front of you. Just to enjoy that look of confusion and disgust on your face. It really turns him on.

As much as that he likes when after this little play you take care of his wounds and cause him some more pain.      

X = Xtra (A random headcanon about your relationship)

Feyd LOVES to be spoiled and to have your undivided attention. Something he never had before. He wants it all, all the time. Whether he’s bragging about how good he’s at fighting, or just quietly lies on his stomach while you gently stroke his back, or complaining to you how hard it is to be a Baron, he wants your full attention to his persona right there, right now.

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when their SO isn’t with them?)

It is a really rare occasion that you are apart from each other for more than a couple of hours. Usually you just don’t have anywhere else to be. Feyd is so used to having you around, he doesn’t even think that it can be different or that you’ll disappear. And if it ever happens, he’ll set the whole universe on fire just to get you back.     

Z = Zzz (How are nights spent with them?)

Feyd is actually a nice quiet sleeper. He doesn't snore or steal the blanket, doesn’t even take your side of the bed, even though he’s used to sleeping alone. Although being busy in his new role, he spends more and more time managing tasks and goes to sleep really late, so you do get lonely nights sometimes.   

Thank you for reading!

You can find more of my writings right here

#feyd rautha #feyd oneshot #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #house harkonnen #dune pt 2 #feyd imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune 2 #dune x reader #dune x you #feyd rautha imagine

[belladonnadawn]

My Tears Ricochet

“And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want; just not home. And you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.”

After the war, Lawrence (Xanthus) went back to his home, only to be a witness of his own wake.

Dark clouds enveloped the skies as the rain continued to pour. Lawrence’s clothes soaked and wet, he shivered at the cold breeze that came along with the weather. But that was the least of his concerns. 

Standing by the tree, he watched it all– a witness to his own wake. Lawrence observed intently, still unable to wrap his head on the absurdity of it all. Everytime he asks himself what has happened and what occurred, he was answered by the spear that pierced his chest. The memory was fresh, the torment won’t seem to end sooner. 

To rub the wound with salt, his heightened senses made him hear everything: the sobs, the quiet utterances filled with condolences, and the heartbeats. It was overwhelmingly painful, as if he was being punished for a sin he could never atone for. He wanted to tell himself that it was a dream, but it's hard to lie to himself when the truth was right in front of him, rubbing it in his face. 

Audric was one of the guests, muttering condolences and wearing a sympathetic look on his face. Lawrence could laugh at the situation, as if it was a sick and twisted joke hurled to him. Nevertheless, he was amused at how Audric got along with the crowd, blending in perfectly and concealing their lies. Any questions about his corpse or casket, Audric would answer it swiftly: “I found the poor young man’s body in a ghastly manner…. in a way that’s beyond me. Even so, we all know that he died with honor, let us leave it at that.”

His eyes scanned the crowd, some faces were familiar, some faces weren't. Baron, count, viscountess, duchess; his ear picked up their titles. Lawrence wasn't surprised, his father was a noble before he was a father. That didn't stop the disappointment and hurt knowing where his priorities truly lies. He went with his orders, he obliged to his commands no matter how much he opposed it just to be in his favors. But even in death, he was just a mean to the end.

“Oh, Lawrence! My son! My poor son!” 

His eyes widened recognizing the voice. “Mother…” Lawrence spoke gently, his voice cracked hearing his mother’s wail. He watched through the open windows how his young brother came to her aid. Nathaniel tried to console their grief-stricken mother while he cried with her– but to no avail. He understood her grief, to know that someone that you deeply love was taken away in a gruesome manner– in a fight that he never chose to be in. There was a deep regret in her heart, she wished she stood up against her husband’s order, she wished she had stopped her son from leaving, she wished she hugged him a little longer. Now, their Lawrence was nothing but a memory. 

Nathaniel tried his best to act tough, but his facade was not strong enough. Lawrence’s heart ached further at his brother’s situation, knowing the pressure and challenges he might experience– but his brother’s concern was far from that. Nathaniel reminisces at the times where he’d talk about his dreams and adventures, how his brother listened to his stories and rambles no matter how nonsensical it is. He’d remember the times where he’d go along with his newfound hobbies, encouraging him to explore and be whoever he desired to be. 

And now that his brother was gone, who was going to listen to his stories? Who will join him in his make believes? Who is he going to run to when the horrors of reality come after him? Nathaniel wiped his tears, a bitter feeling on his mouth as his brother’s absence left an empty hole in his heart. 

So long to the adventures that Nathaniel and Lawrence tried to make, it was merely a dream never bound to come true.

The weight of his death slowly engulfs him, he finds himself in a state of turmoil. Was it grief? Was it anger? Was it regret? Lawrence felt his emotions crash into him, it resonated to his heart, his body, everywhere. He was just a young man, a son, a plebe. Forced to face the atrocities of war to fight for his honor– his father's honor. Only to be met with fate worse than death. He choked on his sobs, begging to God to bring his life back, to wake him from this nightmare. But would God listen to a mere vampire like him– does God even consider him as their child?

He could only pray– pray that the path he was led to was worth the suffering, that at the end he won’t look back filled with regrets. Lawrence felt a small tap on his shoulder, interrupting him from his thoughts. He composed himself, wiping the tears as he faced him. 

“If you’re going to stay here, you’d blow your cover.” Audric spoke. It was time to go. 

He only nodded as he began to walk towards his new residence. Lawrence left the wake, with a heavy feeling in his heart. In the casket was the body that was never his– along with the life that he has left behind. The tomb will be etched in a name that he’d soon abandon. 

Farewell Lawrence Claiborne, you were a doting brother and a loving son.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #xanthus claiborne #xanthus #my tears ricochet

[fulcrumwrites]

Trial and Error

Summary: After a failed escape attempt, a patient is punished treated with solitary confinement and a new method.

CW: Asylum/psychiatric hospital, medical malpractice, isolation, sensory deprivation, restraints, blindfold, muzzle, chains, straitjacket, mentioned kidnapping, gaslighting

“You can’t keep me here! Let me go!”

Dragged through the vacant hallways, the young man’s cries bounced off the walls unheeded. The grips on his arms were iron-clad as he struggled every step of the way. Digging his heels proved futile; his paper shoes slipping on the vinyl floor.

“As a matter of fact, we can, Mr. Doe,” Dr. Malcom threw over his shoulder. His professional tone only added to the fire that was Luca’s rage. “Your family admitted you into our care. That makes us responsible for your health and wellbeing, even if you disagree with our methods.”

“My family?” Luca laughed incredulously. “You have no right to bring them into this. You kidnapped me! You stole me away from them to satisfy your… your sick little experiments!” He yanked his right arm in hopes of breaking the large orderly’s hold. The desperate attempt resulted in nothing more than a deeper bruise. “And my name’s not Doe. Not ‘Mr. Doe’ not ‘John Doe’… My name’s Luca. Luca Barone.”

“I see your delusions still have a hold on you, Mr. Doe. We’ll have to adjust your treatment and boost your medication.”

Luca rolled his eyes. “Please. The only delusion here is that I’d believe my name is ‘John Doe’. You could have at least tried to come up with a convincing name.”

He was walking at their pace now, submitting to whatever punishment awaited him. This was not his first attempt escaping Mayfield Psychiatric Institution, and it won’t be the last. He wasn’t even sure where Mayfield was. It could be a fake place. A fake name. A fake asylum. All lies.

Dr. Malcom paused at a familiar door. The man shook his head and looked at Luca with those mournful gray eyes that he wanted to punch since he was first brought to this hell-hole.

“I had high hopes for you, John. You were improving. This escape attempt will only set you back. I’m disappointed.”

Luca barked out a laugh in the doctor’s face. “I couldn’t care less about your approval, old man. Do your worst.”

“And what of your family? They sent you to us to get better. Do you want to disappoint your mother, John? Your sisters? Valentina, Contessa, little Mia–”

The glob of spit splattering on his face cut the doctor off, and that’s all Luca could do as the two orderlies held him back.

“You keep their names out of your mouth!” the boy hissed with venom. “And my name is Luca Barone.”

Dr. Malcom removed his glasses and wiped off the spittle with a cloth. Then he pushed them back onto his nose before dabbing away the spit on his skin. His actions were calm, but Luca could see the flush in his cheeks and how his hands shook in contained anger. What once made him afraid now brought a rush of victory.

He held onto that triumph as the old doctor snatched Luca’s jaw and forced him to look him in the eye.

“I’m your psychiatrist with more years of practice than you’ve been alive, boy,” he seethed. “You will show me some respect.”

Luca grinned around the hand squeezing his face. “Only my mama deserves my respect.”

His jaw was released only for his head to whip to the side, cheek smarting. The boy’s impertinent smile only grew.

Fuming, Dr. Malcom turned to the door and jammed his key in the lock. His movements were clumsy with anger, but after a moment, he unlocked the heavy door and swung it open with a bang.

Luca braced himself for what he knew was next. The orderlies would stop in the doorway and shove him in. He would land on the floor on his hands and knees as the door shut behind him, locking him in the dark and silence. They would leave him there for a few days, maybe a week. Then they would let him out, he would try to escape again, and the cycle continues–if he’s caught.

“No,” Dr. Malcom says suddenly, stopping the hands on his back before the final push. Luca and the orderlies look at him expectantly, curious as to the change in routine. Dr. Malcom nods into the dark room. “I think the patient requires a firmer hand. Use the maximum security protocol, if you please.”

The orderlies’ grips tighten once more as they personally drag him into the room. Forcefully, they turn him around with his back to the wall as Dr. Malcom passes a folded white bundle as if summoned from thin air.

“Are you serious?” Luca groans when it’s unfolded to reveal a straitjacket. “Come on. How can you think I can escape this place? The door doesn’t even have a handle on the inside!”

“Your numerous attempts has made me cautious, Mr. Doe,” Dr Malcom replied dryly. “Additionally, this will be part of the upgrade to your treatment plan as other methods have proved inconclusive.”

Luca scowled but managed to not resist as they wrangled his arms into the stiff sleeves. As each strap was pulled snug and fastened behind his back, he felt smaller and more cramped as if the walls of the cell were closing in on him. Luca focused on his breathing as they finished buckling him in. His arms stretched securely around his torso and the final, uncomfortable strap between his legs prevented pulling the suit over his head to freedom.

“Happy now, Doc?” demanded Luca sarcastically.

“We have one more new method to try, Mr. Doe. It may be uncomfortable, but remember this is all for your benefit.”

“Can’t wait.”

As if on cue, a timid nurse stepped into the cell just long enough to deliver a box into the doctor’s hands. With great care, Dr. Malcom removed the lid and slowly lifted the contents into the air for all to see.

A mass of leather and metal dangled limply in his hand. Luca squinted at it in the dim light.

“What the hell is that?”

“This, Mr. Doe, is a device I had specially ordered for my new therapy. Since you were admitted into my care, I’ve been researching and experimenting new psychiatric treatments for your unique case.”

As he spoke, Dr. Malcom set aside the box to hold the contraption with both hands. He examined it from all angles, his eyes never leaving it as he addressed Luca.

“I had heard of an incarceration method where prisoners are deprived of their senses in a white room. I know that sounds inappropriate for a medical institution, but I wondered of the psychological effects as a temporary treatment. My hopes is that this method will help reset the brain and reduce mental ailments.”

Luca stared at him. “‘Reset the brain’? Do you even hear yourself, Doc?”

Dr. Malcom finally tore his eyes off of his new toy to glare daggers at his patient. “You dare question me, boy? What do you know of medical science?”

“Enough to know you shouldn’t get ideas from actual torture methods. And you all say I’m the sick one. You don’t even know if this will do anything.”

“Trial and error, Mr. Doe,” said Dr. Malcom as he lifted the device to Luca’s face. “Thank you for your involvement in the advancement of science.”

Luca instinctively stepped back and was once again trapped by the silent orderlies. They held him still as the leather straps and metal buckles inched closer.

“Don’t touch me! Get that thing away from me!”

He twisted and pulled against the straitjacket in vain. His hands itched to be free to push the offending device away from him.

“No! Stop, you bastar–”

Rubber was shoved between his teeth and over his tongue, cutting off the insult. Leather encased his face from beneath his chin to over the bridge of his nose.

The doctor breathed a sigh of bliss. “At last. I don’t have to listen to your insolence another moment.”

A strap at the base of his skull was tugged tight and buckled, followed by another above his ears at the middle of his head. The final strip of leather ran from his nose over his dark hair all the way down his cranium.

Once fastened, Luca’s teeth clenched over the bit, unable to open his mouth. Already his teeth and jaw began to ache from the strain. He inhaled sharply through his nose and smelled overpowering new leather.

Gently, Dr. Malcom took his chin in his hand again, tilting his head to admire his contraption.

“Excellent so far.”

Luca swallowed a moan of despair. If he could not speak, he would not give Dr. Malcom the satisfaction of hearing nonverbal sounds from him.

Metal flaps swung over his eyes, perfectly cupped to block out any light. He felt the doctor’s hands securing the blindfold. If he could talk, he would inform the overeager therapist that a blindfold was not necessary in a dark room.

“Perfect,” the old man breathed, sending a shiver down Luca’s spine. “I had this made with you in mind, you know.” The remark was casual as if he expected Luca to be grateful. “Used your measurements to ensure it would fit perfectly.”

He hardly had time to processes that information when his ears picked up the rustle of the doctor’s coat and his footsteps. He circled his patient, no doubt taking mental notes.

“You won’t hear me after the final step, so I’ll tell you now that this cell is to be your permanent residence since the normal rooms can’t hold you.”

Horror plummeted to his stomach. Protests lingered restlessly on his tongue, unable to be freed. Now he couldn’t resist a muffled whine, regretting it too late to take it back.

“Try to remember this experience. I’ll be interviewing you on it after I deem this first session complete.”

Hands groped the sides of his head and buttoned down leather flaps over his ears. Plugs precisely measured fitted into his ears. If the doctor was still speaking, he couldn’t hear him over the silence and the roar of his own blood pumping.

In his dark, silent world, Luca had no idea if he was alone. He stood exactly where the orderlies had placed him for what felt like hours, trembling. When his legs began to ache, he built up the courage to walk around his cell.

He only managed two steps when an unexpected pull at his waist brought him to his knees. Without sight, sound, or his hands, Luca twisted and pulled to deduce what had ensnared him. It was strong and unyielding. Possibly a rope, but more likely a chain. They chained him to the wall like some misbehaving dog. Not only must they deprive him of his senses and lock him away, they couldn’t even let him walk more than two paces in any direction.

A scream of frustration tore at his throat. In a surge of mad desperation, Luca thrashed against the excessive restraints. He flexed his muscles, pulled his arms, strained his jaw, and shook his head like the rabid dog they thought he was. For all his efforts, they many buckles and straps and links refused to budge.

At last, Luca collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion. Sweat beaded his skin as the exertion made him hot in the jacket. He took as deep of breaths as he could through the muzzle.

Hopelessness took hold and all the fight drained out of him. The faces of his mother and sisters flashed in his mind; a memory to treasure rather than a reason to rebel.

So long as Dr. Malcom had control over him, Luca had no hope of seeing them again.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #whump #tw restraints #asylum whump #psychiatric whump #tw straitjacket #tw muzzle #sensory deprivation whump #whump community #defiant whumpee #I love defiant whumpees #creepy whumper #solitary confinement whump #this image wouldn’t leave my brain #might do more with Luca #Luca Barone OC #failed escape

[lokislittlemidgardian]

Just saw ur Daddy!Zemo and I knew I had to send in a request. Could u please do Zemo x little!reader where they just want cuddles and kisses all the time. I’m sorry if that’s a little vague but I hope u can u something with it. Thank u✨

Cuddly engel

Content - age regression, cg!zemo, cuddles, soft toys, paperwork, fluff, not proofread, don't like don't read.

Summary - when you can’t fight regression one night when zemo is working you desperately need him to help you.

Authors note - there was just something inside me that had to make the reader zemos wife he just gives off such good husband vibes, a bit shorter I was a bit tired, reblogs are greatly appreciated, I hope you enjoy!<3

Translations - my love - meine Liebe, beautiful - schön, darling - liebling,

You knew you shouldn’t have taken a nap this afternoon, you knew you were going to wake up small but you decided to do it anyway.

Oh did you regret it now.

You knew that you were safe to regress of course you did but it was just a bit tricky today, helmut had been working constantly for the past few weeks and while you knew he would drop everything in a heartbeat to take care of you you didn’t want to bother him.

So for for the next half an hour you lied there on your back staring up at the ceiling trying to get your older mindset back, but nothing would work it was completely pointless.

Eventually you decided to swallow your pride and go and find your husband.

Going over to your wardrobe you pulled down the wooden box that sat on the top shelf, opening it you pulled out a blue soft rabbit and placed it under your arm before moving the box onto the hardwood flooring.

Tiptoeing out of your bedroom you made your way down the oak stairs.

You looked around trying to find helmut knowing he hadn’t been to a meeting so he must be at home.

This was the only problem about your house, there were to many rooms to remember when you were little.

Making your way back up the stairs you wandered over to the only other room you could think of, helmut’s study.

You peaked through the crack in the door making sure he wasn’t on the phone before gently pushing it open making the old hinges creek making you cringe.

Looking up from his paperwork the barons eyes softened when they saw it was you, “hello meine Liebe” he smiled pushing out his rolley chair from his desk “hi papa” you said softly paddeling your way over to him.

“Ahh has my little lamb come out to play?” He chuckled reaching his hand out to reach your own “mhm” you mumbled “I’m not disrupting you am I?” “Of course not schön you could never interrupt me” he said softly knowing you were sensitive to noise in this state of mind.

“Papa can I come up please?” You whispered you gestured to his desk chair “of course you can my darling” he cooed helping guide you into a cradling position in his lap.

After placing a kiss to your forehead he rolled the chair in and went back to his work occasionally looking down to make sure you were sound.

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

After a while of working he looked down to see your head resting on his left shoulder, your hand clutching onto his sleeve struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Is my liebling sleepy?” He chuckled bringing his hand down too stroke your palm.

You were too far gone to speak so you just let out a light grumble and nuzzled your face into his soft chest.

Smiling down at you Zemo brushed away a strand of hair that had called down across your face before placing a kiss to your hairline.

“Go to sleep then my love, I’ve got you”

───── ⋆⋅◇⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist - @bootlegmothman420 @littlephia @whippedforhongjoong @youngstarfishdinosaur @patchesofwork @buggyateabug @autisticbeauty @friendlyneighborhoodkillerbunny @sparklybuck @2-gay-possums-in-a-trench-coat @hopelesswritergall @stuckysgirl27 @sleepyprinc3ss @chaotic-little-witch @looksthatkilledd @teddybearsgrr

#daddy!zemo #papa!zemo #little!reader #cg!zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x wife!reader #helmut zemo x fem!reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo #ria answers #sfw age regression #caregiver #age regression reader #sfw littlespace #little reader #agere sfw

[angel-tsugikuni-kamukura]

Manhwa's I have read this year

Pink means it's my favourite ones.

The remarried empress

Men of harem

Lady and the beast.

Royal Shop of Young Lady.

Forget My Husband I'Il Go Make Money.

I Want To Become The Emperor, So I Need A Divorce.

I tamed my ex husband's madog.

The Villainess Debuts Gorgeously.

I Will Fall With The Emperor.

I Failed To Throw The Villain Away.

your regrets mean nothing to me.

Bastian.

my in-laws are obsessed with me.

A Divorce evil lady bakes cake.

The price of braking up.

The tree are living a married life.

Dangerous Fiancée.

My Husband is a antisocial count.

Baked by the barones.

Who kidnapped the empress.

the villainess tames the beast.

if you desire my despair.

the abandoned princess secret Bedroom.

The Mistress Runs away.

It's not your child.

The monstrous dukes adopted daughter.

The Saintes returns as a vilian.

Regina Rena.

You never meet a villainess like me.

Tru education.

As the Villainess I rejected these happy bad endings.

The archduke gorgeous wedding was a fraud.

I will take the dutchy from today.

Isn't being a wicked woman much better.

Flirting with the villain's dad.

Goddess emila wants to escape.

My goal is to achieve success on my own

I refuse to be executed a second time.

Romance is dead.

I'm devorsed but I'm a chaebol.

I'm in trouble because my husband is so cute.

I'm the queen in this life.

Go away romeo.

Janice.

If you want a fake sister.

I'm being raised by villain's.

I'm the fake saintess but the gods are obsessed with me.

The heat of the reincarnated villainess.

Attic princess.

The older sister of a maniac.

I thought it was a common Isekai story.

The abandoned bachelorette enjoys her simple life.

Love doesn't matter.

I've become the villainous emperor.

The way to protect the female leads older brother.

I have become the heroes rival.

Death is The only ending for the villainess.

Who made me a princess.

Marriage of Convenience:95

Royal marriage.

Aidin.

The Obsessive second male lead has gone wild.

I am the real one.

I don't love you anymore.

I'm ingaged to the Obsessive male lead.

Lies become you.

You go marry my husband.

How to get my husband on my side.

Empress simulation.

I'll be the matriarch in this life.

The dukes dark lady.

In to the light once again.

My body has been possessed by someone.

Depths of malice

Becoming the villain's family.

My destiny to be the hero's saviour.

The real daughter is back.

A noble pirate.

The world without my sister.

I'm devorseing my tyrant husband.

Even if I'm the villainess I'll become the heroine.

Beast's Flower.

Once Wicked always wicked.

Ashtarte.

Crownless queen.

I thought I didn't have long to live.

I tamed a Tyrant and Ran Away.

Beloved in-laws.

The villainess revenge.

Your Majesty please don't kill me again.

And Unseemly lady.

Baby tryant.

The tyrant wants to be good.

I will politely decline the male lead.

I'm the villainess but so famous.

Crazy princess renia.

The gangster baby of the dukes.

Surving as an illegitimate child.

It's useless to hang on.

Empress cesia wears shorts.

Of all things i became a crow.

No more turning a blind eye.

I became the Ugly lady.

A Stepmother's Marche.

While you are in love.

Devine inconvenience.

After I cured his insomnia, Tyrant became Obsessive.

Revenge is sweeter than honey.

My Unexpected Marriage.

From Duty to Devotion.

Hated It Even More.

I'm to lazy to be the villainess.

The tyrant princess wants to get married.

Stella the star princess.

Please support my revenge.

Reasons to Protect the Witch's son.

The Reason Why The Twin Lady Crossdresses.

Why Do You Love Me When Refuse Your Request.

Finding Camilla.

I Don't Want to Be Loved.

The Villainess has Fun.

Surviving as an Obsessed Servant.

A Saintess adopted by the grand Duke.

I Adopted a Villainous dad.

No Place for the Fake Princess.

Villainess need a Tyrant.

Tamed a blackened slave.

Princess hundreds ways of martyrdom.

A Perfect Ending of the Villain.

Beast within.

I will seduce the male lead for my older brother.

I've become the true villainess.

I became the obsessive villain's babysitter.

I'll change my fate to be executed.

The tyrants tranquillizer.

Crow dutchess.

The Male Leaď's Nephew Loves Me So Much.

Falling for a Dying Princess.

I Am the Villain.

Why Do You Love Me When Refuse Your Request.

The betrayed queen is devoted to by the beautiful baron.

Baby Pharmacist Princess.

The Runaway Lead Lives Next Door.

The villains life l'Il live it once.

La Dolce Vita de Adelaide.

Why Would a Villainess Have Virtue.

My Childhood Friend Became an Obsessive Husband.

10 ways to get rejected by the tyrant.

I Became the Villainess in an Anticlimactic Novel.

To Those Who Long for My Destruction.

Becoming the obsessive male lead's ex-wife.

How to survive as a maid in a horror game.

the fake saint waits to leave.

Obsidian Bride.

Rosalyn Vogart.

Let's take a bath Duke.

The Precious Girl Does Not Shed Tears.

Father i don't want to get married.

The Priest Dreaming of a Dragon.

She No Longer Wields Her Sword.

I am the Male Lead’s Ex-Girlfriend.

Red Laurel Flowers to My Emperor.

I Became The Male Lead’s Female Friend.

Please Don’t Come To The Villainess’ Stationery Store.

In This Life, I Will Raise You Well, Your Majesty.

Vengeance from a Saint Full of Wounds.

The Duke’s Daughter is Going on Strike.

The daughter of evil.

The Villainous grand Duke sister.

Beware the Villainess.

A wicked tale of Cinderella's step mom.

The devil raised a lady.

Reborn As a Character That Never Existed.

The Precious Sister of the Villainous Grand Duke.

I Didn't Save You To Get Proposed To.

I took away the tyrant's virginity.

The dutchess has a death wish.

Heaven official's blessing.

I'm being chased by my husband.

Why she lives as a villainess.

I'll just live on as a villainess.

I created a harm to avoid the male lead.

I became the sultans precious cat.

I'm a villain but I saved the female lead.

I will divorce the female leads brother.

Let's live together.

I became the greatest heiress of the empire.

I raised my younger sister beautyfully .

I Accidentally Saved the Male Lead’s Brother.

I Didn’t Mean to Seduce the Male Lead.

Here reigns the vengeful villainess.

I Am Selling the Main Character’s Shares.

The villainess reverse hourglass.

The price is your everything.

I became the mother of the bloody male lead.

I think it would be better for me to become king.

The Villainess is a Marionette.

As My Husband Said, I Brought in A Lover.

How a Villainess Survives as a Saint.

The Empress Wants To Avoid the Emperor.

The glamours life of the fake mistress.

The villainess reverse hourglass.

I Will Take Responsibility for the Welfare of the Male Lead.

Cinderella Wasn’t Me.

The Crown Prince’s Fiancée.

Not-Sew-Wicked Stepmom.

Marriage Alliance for Revenge.

To My Husband’s Mistress.

The reason why raeliana ended up in the Dukes mansion.

Ennead.

#manwah #manwha x reader #the remarried empress #remarried empress #ennead manhwa

[slycooperconfessions]

This isn't a confession, I just wanted to have a discussion about this because I'm curious to see if anyone else feels the same way. Does anyone else feel like Sly 4 sort of retroactively lowered your opinion of Sly 3? Because I've realized a lot of the poor writing decisions in Sly 4 stem directly from flaws in Sly 3's own writing. For example, I hated the villain twist with Penelope in Sly 4. But I've actually seen a few people defending it, saying that Penelope was always kind of sketchy with her whole Black Baron persona. And to be honest, they're kind of not wrong. Sly 3 never really did give us much of an explanation for why the hell Penelope acts so different as the Baron. Honestly, as the Baron she's fucking RUTHLESS. She's willing to cheat and kill to win, is capable of fist fighting Sly on the wing of a moving plane, etc. Yet afterwards she acts all sweet, helpless and innocent and gets used as a damsel in distress multiple times, despite us seeing her combat capabilities as the Baron? Begrudgingly, I can kind of see how Sanzaru (or anyone else) could get the impression that there's something "off" about her.

I also hated the Carmelita belly dancing bit in Sly 4 and thought it was fucking gross. But to be honest, Sly 3 itself sort of set a precedent for treating Carmelita this way. "Carmelargea" from the Rumble Down Under level was maybe less overtly sexual but no less gross. They literally had us climbing up her pants for that fight. You can't look at that and tell me someone on the Sly 3 dev team didn't have a giantess fetish. So them skimping on giving Rumble Down Under a proper antagonist just so that they could instead have the Mask of Dark Earth as an excuse to enlarge Carmelita is... pretty sleazy, actually.

Then there was the whole Sly faking amnesia thing. During Sly 4 I couldn't help but feel like Carmelita was being a little hypocritical for her anger at being lied to by Sly. She literally lied too. She lied to someone she thought was an amnesiac about his identity. Which just sort of highlights how bad the end of Sly 3 is. They decided to have Sly and Carmelita start off their new relationship based on lies? Ok then.

I'm not sure if I would go so far as to say that Sly 4 changed my opinion of Sly 3, but there are some valid points here.

As far as Penelope's huge personality shift from the Baron to her normal self, I think it was partly to throw people off of the reveal that the Baron IS Penelope. Hell, Penelope even helps the gang in Episode 3 by defending their hangar from goons looking to wreck their plane, whereas the Baron seems to have no issues with foul play and engages in it often. Thinking about it deeper, the Baron might have become a full-fledged alternate personality for Penelope since she was using the ruse so often and got pumped up by people treating him as a celebrity. When she gets some sense slapped into her after fighting Sly, I think it snapped her out of this pattern and she was able to let it go. As far has how strong the Baron is, there's theories that the Baron suit is actually a cybernetic situation that greatly enhances her physical abilities, which I think holds water because her natural abilities are more tailored to her technical know-how and inventions. Once she abandons the Baron suit, she abandons the raw strength and ruthlessness the Baron gave her. I've held the opinion that her turning more villainous in Sly 4 is not necessarily out of nowhere, it was just written horribly and abruptly IMO. There's nothing we see leading up to it that makes it make sense, it just happens. Had it been handled differently, I think it would have been received much better.

As far as giant Carmelita...yeah, I got nothing. Probably a case of the "writer's poorly disguised fetish" meme because I remember being 11 years old thinking "This is...odd." But by then I had also developed an attraction to both Sly and Carmelita, so I rolled with it lol.

What do y'all think?

#Sly Cooper #Thieves in Time #Penelope #Carmelita Fox #Gaming

[orionsangel86]

A Final Farewell

A short story about Death and Dream, set after the end of the comics. MAJOR comic spoilers for the canonical comic ending and what happens. This is pretty sad. But perhaps cathartic? Fair warning: I was a weeping mess whilst writing it, so maybe bear that in mind?

The way is long and hard. The baron lifeless landscape stretches to the horizon and beyond. The sky is a deep dark void. Starless, sunless, empty. You may wonder why you continue to trudge along the silent road into eternity, never truly knowing what lies ahead of you. But you are never alone. She walks beside you even now, never letting go of your hand. You do not fear her. You have known and loved her your entire life, and she has loved you just as long. The way is long and hard, but the sunless lands welcome you with open arms and a promise of eternal sleep in the dark.

Death sighs as she sinks her feet into the glittering sand of a sunless beach. Waves crash against the shore in a soothing melody that sings of peace, calm and contentment. a figure sits up ahead, gazing out towards the black ocean beyond. The wine-dark sea of ancient times that all beings dream of at some point, and all find themselves facing in the end. A sea that promises nothing within its depths but eternal blissful peace.

She sits beside him and catches a small smile on his lips. There is no light here, in her realm, but they can both see each other perfectly clearly.

“Hello, my sister.”

Death smiles sadly. “Technically, you can’t call me that anymore.”

He hums to himself in contemplation.

“Perhaps not. But then again you visited me, and I have never known you as anything else. So my sister you shall still be whilst you are here.”

Death turns to look at him. He is relaxed, smiling, and less rigid than he ever was in life.

“I can accept that. My dear brother.”

Morpheus, for we can no longer refer to him as Dream, grins at her. It is an expression he rarely ever displayed in his long life. She supposes he truly is happy to be here, in her realm, among the dead.

“So why are you here?” he asks her.

Death sighs. She doesn’t even really know the answer to that herself. Whilst she may always be within her realm, guiding the souls of the recently deceased to their final resting place (she is doing so even now as she sits at his side), she never really lingers once she drops them off. Her being here in her former brothers eternal peacetime is somewhat out of character.

“Perhaps I missed you?” she answers finally.

“You should not. Even now your brother sits on his throne, in his realm, watching over the dreamers. You should be there for him, at this difficult time.”

Death feels a tremble in her lip. She knows this. She does not need him to speak it.

“I will be there for him. As I was there for Despair. But you must know I was ever so fond of you, as you were, even at your most insufferable.” She nudges him gently and feels him sway and nudge her back. Morpheus was never a tactile creature, but he reaches for her now, and drapes a thin arm around her, pulling her into him. She goes willingly and sighs in his arms.

“Did you ever visit her?” He asks after a short silence.

She knows immediately who he refers to. The first Despair, whose death was violent, and sudden. “Once.” She replies thoughtfully.  “She asked after you. She told me she was worried. That you appeared in her mirror. Even then, all that time ago.”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “I expected as much.”

She sits there for a while, in the cradle of his arms, listening to the distant waves in the dark. When she finally sits up she realises her face is wet with tears. Morpheus reaches out and wipes them from her cheek with his thumb.

“You should not cry for me my sister. I am at peace.”

Death huffs out a small laugh. “Even I can suffer grief my brother.” She sobs.

He smiles sadly. “I would not see you distressed. But I am proud to have been loved by you.”

Morpheus leans forward, and kisses her brow. Then he lies back in the sand and closes his eyes.

“Farewell my sister. Go with my love, and look after Dream. He will need your guidance, and all the love you hold for me.”

She nods and stands up, shaking the glittering black sand off of her jeans. She turns away from Morpheus and wipes her eyes. When she looks back, he is gone.

Death takes in a deep breath and looks out again at the ocean, feeling the breeze in her hair, the sweet scent of salt and spray, and feels the weight of her grief deep within her. Grief, after all, is simply love in another form and she loved him so very much.

Even now she is everywhere, guiding the souls of the dying and dead, taking their hands and holding them through their pain. Even now she walks through her realm, and beyond, through the many worlds of the living across the universe, and she lets herself be soothed by all those lives that she has touched, who love her as she loves them. As always, she carries on.

#death of the endless #death appreciation week #dream of the endless #the sandman #sandman comic spoilers #my writing #sandman drabble #fanfiction #fanfics #I wrote this and burst into tears #and I haven't stopped crying yet #but I still wanted to write it anyway #I hope you like this? maybe like isn't the best word #But i hope it makes people feel something

[triviareads]

Why the Queen Charlotte Show's Take on Race is Dubious at Best and Harmful at Worst (Also, Was Queen Charlotte Actually Black? An Exploration)

As the promo for the Queen Charlotte show picks up, I'm starting to see a lot of genuinely harmful articles in the news, and they're compounded by Shondaland themselves and the material they've chosen to show the world.

Let's first talk about Shondaland, who decided it was a great idea to double down on the notion that love cured racism, and then proceeded to create a show about Queen Charlotte and King George III, a man who was historically pro-slavery politically, and did nothing about the issue even as abolition sentiment picked up during his reign. Their Valentine's Day event didn't inspire much confidence either; they showed multiple clips that describe this segregated society (their kind don't mix with our kind, or some variation of this, was said a thousand times in each promo clip) where the white people in power (the monarchy) apparently don't engage with the Black nobility until.... suddenly now, when Princess Charlotte is arriving to marry George. Oh also, Corey Mylchreest, the actor who plays George III recommended a book called, The Last King of America: The Misunderstood Reign of George III, written by Baron Roberts of Belgravia, a man who has apparently defended the Jallianwala Bagh massacre and mass internment in Northern Ireland. Lovely. Going back on topic, the clips themselves showed an embarrassingly white-washed portrayal of racism and segregation, and that too, we know it was all magically solved within a generation.

Look, I'm not asking for a tragic POC narrative. But if I'm watching a show where race is a focal point thematically, I want it treated with the respect and consideration it deserves. Not some post-racial-but-not-really fantasy bullshit they're spinning. As my friend @jeanvanjer said, racism isn't simply being "mean" or someone being given the cut-direct. Because here's the thing: Shondaland absolutely had the option of not creating this ridiculous narrative. They could have casted all the same, lovely actors and not explained why this regency fantasy world is diverse! Instead, they decided to bring in race, but then treat it as a fucking joke.

Which brings me to this article:

First of all, for an article that's titled race is "more central" to the Queen Charlotte show, it barely gives us any information as to how. Instead, it gives this quote from Adjoa Andoh:

First of all, "TRUE TO HISTORY"? I'm sorry, is Shondaland and its actors spinning the narrative that Queen Charlotte truly was a mixed-race woman in an effort to legitimize this show's need to create this simplistic racial narrative?

Fine. Lets examine that, shall we? How did Queen Charlotte come to allegedly have a Black ancestor? Let me tell you this: it was not due to love conquering racism. The answer lies in the 1200s. Literally 500 years before Charlotte's birth. Her name was likely Madragana Ben Aloandro, and she was a woman of possibly-Moorish ancestry and a Muslim. She was born in the Algarve when it was still ruled by the Moors, but it was conquered by King Afonso III, who made Madragana his mistress shortly after, had her converted to Christianity, and had her name changed. There are gaps in her story, but if I try to fill them in, I can very well imagine that based on the fact that this man conquered her home by use of military force, and she was around twenty years younger than him, there was... likely a significant lack of consent here along with erasure of identity. This is the woman Charlotte is likely descended from, a woman who was born some 500 years before her, and likely had a negligible contribution to Charlotte's gene pool. But somehow, the show and this article expects us to believe that historical assertions that Charlotte looked like a Black woman, or even counted as biracial, are not racist, but statements of fact.

Indeed, this article relied on disgusting, racist, and obviously biased descriptions from Charlotte's contemporaries including her personal physician Baron Stockmar and Sir Walter Scott as "proof" Charlotte was a mixed-race woman, and then proceeded to tie her to Meghan Markle in terms of the racism they experienced:

These false equivalencies and cherry-picking historical facts have become a hallmark of the Bridgerton show, and now the Queen Charlotte show as well, apparently.

What this show, and Shondaland as a whole, fails to understand is that its take on racial politics is embarrassing and ridiculous for an educated, modern audience. For those of us who are students of history, we cannot accept a narrative like "love cures racism" and simply fly with it, because we know that cheapens not only the romance of this alleged historical romance show, but also the hard-won battles people in history fought in order to freely love who they choose to love.

We cannot accept an even more dangerous potential narrative the show may try to sell us, that segregated societies can be equal by pointing to proof of Black aristocrats in the Queen Charlotte show as an example. Because if there's anything decades of precedent has taught us, a segregated society is inherently unequal.

We cannot accept this Queen Charlotte show than anything more than a thoughtlessly-done portrayal of a segregated society, waiting to magically be fixed by someone— the white man who was historically a racist pro-slaver? A Black woman who wasn't actually Black historically?

Who knows.

#lets talk about charlotte's ancestor Madragana Ben Aloandro #bridgerton #queen charlotte: a bridgerton story #queen charlotte #racism #george iii #shondaland

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

(Angst and fluff and smut)

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

or read Chapter Four below the cut

He spied the bride to be and her groom, and wondered if he could get away with neglecting to pay his respects to the host. Surely, the only people who would really mark his entrance were those who wanted to fuck him, or make a deal with him, or do him harm. As far as he knew, the Eltans didn’t number among any of them.

Some of their guests, however... He saw Baron De Cloyo—who had been all three at one point or another. The last time they spoke was when the Baron interrupted his solitude in the middle of the night to complain about Astarion not having murdered Isolde. As though he’d disobeyed a direct order. 

Astarion had actually been fascinated by how his investment in the relationship utterly vanished in that moment. 

“You know what they say about thine enemy’s enemy,” someone murmured to him, Astarion resisted the urge to tilt his head around and see who it was, waiting instead for the speaker to step around, bow, introduce himself like a civilized person. “Well met,” Baron Horrold eventually fell in line with public decorum and Astarion inclined his head in return.

“You’ll have to remind me,” Astarion knew it would be rude to immediately excuse himself, but Astarion and Horrold had never been officially introduced, so it would also be the kind of thing that could ensure they never did have any productive interaction.

“My take away was always that they present a fine opportunity—something I believe you know how to recognize?”

“Oh, I’ve some experience on the matter, but I do rather enjoy when it’s explained to me,” Astarion lied, but did so smoothly, inviting. Let Horrold show his hand first. There was nothing in particular that Astarion wanted from him, but like any powerful elite in the city, there were always things he could get from him, if he could make the relationship work.

Perhaps Horrold realized his approach had been too eager already, because his cheeks went a little pink. “I just wonder what you did to De Cloyo; seems he dislikes you even more than he dislikes me. Impressive.”

“Oh, I hurt him,” confessed Astarion. “Inadvertently, but there it is,” He caught a waiter and snatched up a glass, draining it more to have something to do than to quench an imaginary thirst. “It wasn’t even about him—but then again, would that make you feel better?”

“No,” Horrold raised an eyebrow at Astarion, expression pensive for a moment, “I’ve never known it to not be about me.”

He sounded so sincere that Astarion had to refrain from releasing a bark of genuine laughter. 

Obviously, he wasn’t depressed. If he was, he couldn’t possibly take so much amusement in the Baron’s complete lack of self-awareness.

“Is it still Baron then, or are we back to calling everyone by their family names only and referring to them as patriars? I rather fell asleep during the missive,” Astarion confessed.

“I like Baron,” Horrold smirked, “even if the Duke did want us to go back to the old ways, I think it would stick as a nickname, if nothing else.”

“Yes, true enough. Policies like that can lead some prick to calling himself ‘The Emperor’ and everyone following suit.”

“I suppose,” Horrold seemed rightly baffled by the comment, but recovered quickly by getting back to his own point, “And nothing can displace my family from the pedestal I’ve carved for them in the city elite. Baldur’s Gate needs us.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion was not sure.

“Your place is curious to me. I’d like to know more. I’d like to be involved.” Horrold kept his voice low, which in their present setting actually made him seem more conspicuous.

But Astarion wasn’t entirely put off. He could be a valuable ally. But he needed to be trained. Better to begin things in a more controlled setting. “Why don’t we arrange something later in the week? I don’t believe I’ve had you in my home before, seems a dreadful social oversight on my part.”

“You’re forgiven, and your invitation accepted,” the Baron gave a curt nod. “I’ll see what my man has on the schedule and arrange something with yours.”

“Excellent.” A bit of an exaggeration, but at least the evening was shaping up to be a productive one. Astarion released the Baron back to the party and forced himself to seek out a few others. Menotuous, tedious conversation followed in much the same vein as what had proceeded, and by the time midnight rolled around, he was drained by it all.

This kind of thing used to be relaxing for him. Social gatherings of the more banal type didn’t give him energy the way a more raucous event might, but it hadn’t felt like work since… 

Since it hadn’t been his choice.

Was that the problem? Was that what had robbed him of his passion, his appetites?

He could do whatever he wanted now, so why did it feel like he was following directions from some unseen master? Someone very boring who he none-the-less had to take direction from?

The simplest answer was that it was because he was doing quite a lot, and none of it felt like his idea anymore. Maybe it never had been.

At one time, the prospect of finally having the freedom to find out what he wanted had kept him from total, intentional self-destruction. But, at some point, he’d taken it for granted. No one was telling him what to do any longer. He could do whatever he wanted.

And he still didn’t know what that was.

He was just doing what… he used to do, minus a few atrocities and diabolical schemes.

Old habits had him slipping into the seams of the party, finding the quiet, intimate places purposefully structured into the Eltan house to allow for tucking away with someone. Not even to make love just out of sight in a public place—though that had its appeal—but just to have them all to himself for a moment, to hold them and watch them watch him and savor every little interaction. All his.

Even when it was meaningless. Just a bit of fun, or even something more tragic. It was the part when he felt the pain and the pleasure heightened.

Assuming he felt anything.

The Eltans had opened their home to the great and the good of Baldur’s Gate, but that was apparently a broad category of persons because the manor house was overburdened with bodies. It took a hike into the next wing to find any isolation. Someone had clearly planned for and enabled the possibility that some of the guests might wander to find some privacy, because the candelabra were still lit, all the way into the more deserted halls.

The library seemed like a quiet place to find a comfortable lounge. He needed a moment to clear his head before he went back to that place that didn’t feel like home, though he’d lived there for centuries.

What did he want? 

When was the last time he was sure he’d done something he really wanted to do? It could be something small, he just needed to think.

Astarion wasn’t the only person who had been looking for a little privacy in the crowded party, however. He entered the softly lit library, only to find it occupied. The couple didn’t notice him come in, right away.

They were propped up on a writing desk that was a little too dainty for their purposes. The woman had her legs dangling on either side of her partner as he seemed to struggle with her bodice between them. They clearly hadn’t quite gotten to the act yet, but at this rate Astarion doubted that they would, and couldn’t help but evaluate the whole scene and find it wanting on a few levels. 

Gods, the man was doing it all wrong and the woman did nothing to help. Absolutely no support to any part of her body, she was just sitting there, trapped against the wall behind the desk, pinned in such a way so she couldn’t even use her hands. Then he saw the woman’s eyes over the man’s shoulders.

It was Isolde.

And, she wasn’t exactly fighting her partner off, but it was obvious in the stiff way she held her limbs that she didn’t want to be there.

He waited until she saw him, her gaze widened but she didn’t say anything, just stayed frozen and trapped where she was.

Astarion spared the immediate area a glance and noticed a crystal glass vase on display on its own shelf on the wall. Something to divide the otherwise relentless rows of dusty books. With an undisguised shove, he toppled it to the ground, expecting it to shatter on the polished wood floors.

To his disappointment, the vase bounced, ringing loudly from the impact, but it was fully intact still.

The man pawing at Isolde broke away from her with a yelp and whirled around.

“Gods, how embarrassing,” Astarion swanned along the nearest bookshelf, “had no idea anyone was in here.”

The man was quite good at buttoning up his own trousers quickly, even if his other movements could use some polish. He righted his waistcoat with a tug, but didn’t spare Isolde a look. His face was quite red, but aside from that, didn’t betray the slightest reaction. He eyed Astarion, but whatever judgment he passed on him didn’t reach his lips, instead he simply said, “No one is,” and quit the room.

Melodramatic, even for a patriar.

Astarion watched the man’s back as he slunk into the hallway, then turned to face Isolde, unsure if he’d be met with gratitude or wrath or relief or—

She looked distraught. So much so that it actually stopped him mid stride as he approached her. Isolde righted her skirts, and put her feet back on the ground, but was facing her shoes even as his shade fell on her. He was just about to ask her whatever was the matter, when she recovered. 

He blinked and the shame on her face was replaced entirely.

In its place she wore a placid mask. “You’ve saved me again, My Lord.”

“You didn’t appear to be enjoying yourself,” he remarked with what he hoped was a particularly casual version of his most elegant shrug. “I do hope the manner in which I interfered was the right choice for the situation. I suppose I could have offered to educate the poor fool  on his technique.”

“It didn’t break,” Isolde indicated the vase, still on the ground where Astarion left it.

“Ah, so it would seem,” Astarion returned to the discarded vase and picked it up, “no harm done, but then again—” he dropped it a second time, this time putting a little force into it. The Vase shattered in a satisfying rain of sparkling crystals that sprinkled across his fine boots. “There. A little wedding present for the Eltans. Nothing better than curiosity, is there? I wonder who they’ll blame?”

Isolde regarded him with eyebrows slightly raised. He thought it looked a little like she was resisting the urge to laugh. Why resist? He found he rather liked making her laugh. “Wicked of you,” she indulged in only a smirk, her attention briefly flitting back to the front of her bodice. She appeared to be wearing the same gray silk gown that she’d had on when he saw her at Wyrm’s rock. It was one of those items designed to be appropriate for day or night, and probably the nicest thing she owned, but all the same, suggested a certain level of neglect that her Lady let Isolde be seen in it twice in such quick succession.

“You seem a touch dour, or is it just the disappointment left by an inadequate lover?”

“I’m elated, honestly,” she said in a voice so unconvincing he half expected her to burst into tears the moment after she said it. “My Lady will be the one disappointed. But I think I can endure it better than I could endure him.”

“Your Lady? What’s it to do with her?”

“She was quite set on rewarding his aid to the family with whatever he wanted, and he wanted me,” she revealed simply.

Astarion felt an old pain, deep in his empty gut. 

Her expression changed when she looked at him, like she’d seen something unexpected. She checked her hair with her fingers, trying to tame where he’d kneaded at her carefully coiffed hair, bringing it down in messy curls where it was meant to be pinned back.

“Allow me?” Astarion motioned to her hair, waiting for her to allow him to touch her.

For a moment Isolde looked like she didn’t understand, but then she lowered her hands and nodded, straightening out her neck and leaning in so he could work with what she had left.

Isolde wore a thin band just above her hairline and tucked under the nap of her neck, mostly hidden as she’d braided and pinned the curls into it to create an elegant, gradually elongating fall of dark hair that flowed down the back of her neck. It was loose, which didn’t seem to be the original intent in the work. Astarion tried to find where it was fixed to her scalp, perhaps it simply needed to be tightened.

Being this close to her again caused him to reflect on the night they met, and how she’d clung to him. Her pulse was speeding up again, and he hoped she wasn’t thinking about that. Reflecting on the night one almost died couldn't be much better than reflecting on the night one did die. She didn’t seem upset though, and the way her heart raced didn’t suggest that she was thinking about running for her life, it was the familiar, nearly dancing rhythm of increasing body heat and arousal.

Her face was serene, her breathing even. He liked being close to her, liked feeling how she liked it too, but he didn’t want to find himself mistaken. He shouldn’t assume. Even if she did want him, which he was fairly certain she did, he was too well versed in these matters to dismiss the reality that surely, some part of her was waiting to be rescued from him.

 “Hywel won’t bother me again,” she exhaled slowly, but still he didn’t think her nerves were those of someone who wanted him to get as far away from her as possible. “You probably didn’t get a good look at his face when he realized we weren’t alone. He was furious. Like he suddenly remembered how worthless I am and—he’ll deny he ever wanted me. As I said. I’m saved.”

“Worthless?” That gave him a little pause and Astarion sighed. “Oh dear. This probably isn’t the kind of thing I can offer much of a counterpoint for, sweet one.” The band pulling her hair together wasn’t just loose, it was broken. The brute must have snapped it. Astarion realized if he tried to return even one more lock of hair back to its place, the whole thing would probably fall out, so he took a moment to assess the task.

“I’d ask for none,” but she said it with such a heavy sigh that it was clear she had been hoping for some soothing word. 

From Astarion, of all possible monsters.

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t have the highest regard for the sanctity of any life, nor for the individual.”

“I suppose you couldn’t,” Isolde observed, “that would interfere with…”

“Sustaining my existence by consuming others? Somewhat, yes,” Astarion straightened up and walked around the side of the writing desk, trying to get a better look at the back of her head. “We may need to rethink strategy on this, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh no, is it hopeless?” Isolde started to reach for her hair again, but the smart girl stopped before she made it worse, looking at Astarion out of the corner of her eye. “Help. Please.”

“All is not lost. Give me a moment.” Astarion rested his chin on his hand, taking in the whole image of her. The goal needed to be to find a way to style her hair that looked effortlessly elegant and not like she had just haphazardly attempted to restyle it without a mirror after being amorously groped in a dark library. “Permission to start anew?”

“I knew it. I’m hideous. Do what you must.”

“Oh, yes. Repulsive,” Astarion gave her a lecherous glance that he was quite pleased to see caused her face, neck and chest to all turn bright red. He slipped the tie from her hair and let the last of the curls fall. “Turn your neck. Good girl.”

Half-up would suit her, he just needed to decide on the height and the type of braid and how to plait it. 

Surely, Isolde didn’t really hold herself in such poor regard. She was just hoping to inspire some sympathy in him so he would pay her compliments. But then he thought back to that night again, and how she hadn’t fought for herself. 

It would have been so easy to despise her for such despair and cowardice. Maybe he ought to. 

Giving all the way up on herself like that, what could one expect? If she didn’t care about herself, why should anyone else?

“Worth is often measured in comparisons,” he mused, loosening the braid with deft fingers as he decided it was too tight, better to look soft with the rest of her curly mane. “But. I have seen gods, celestials, inscrutable fey, and devils fall as ignominiously as any poor mortal wretch. In the end, we’re all equally worthwhile, and all equally worthless.”

Isolde already looked better. He was quite good at this. 

“Take that for what comfort you can. You have just as much a right to live, and be a nuisance, and take others for your prey as anyone.”

She snorted, and he couldn’t tell for a moment if she was once again denying him the pleasure of hearing her laugh, or trying to hold something else back. 

“Apologies,” he smoothed out the fall of her hair, tucked the frame back behind her cute stubby human ears and admired the results. “Not for the hair, that looks incredible. I’m very good. But, I do apologize that nothing I have to say can be of particular comfort. Especially given the fact that I’m a reminder of the worst night of your life.”

She did laugh, finally. A sharp, nearly bitter sound. “My Lord, I testify, that night was not even the tenth worst of my life.” All humor gone, but she did look lovely.

“I’m genuinely distressed to hear it. But you're in good company, at least.”

“For the moment,” he wasn’t sure what sparked the feeling, it might have been the soft smile and evasive blush when she faced him and the way her entire body seemed to relax when their eyes met again. For the first time in a long while, he felt the stirring of hunger. It wasn’t so strong as to compel him to lean in and bite down, but warmth spread up from the pit of him into his jaws and he felt his mouth salivate. It was a pleasant feeling, actually. He used to agonize over the constant hum of hunger. He used to personify it as a second tormentor, but removed from his old fears and weaknesses, it transformed into something different, though no less dangerous.

He didn’t need to feed. His elevated state kept him strong even after long fasts, and spare feasts, but the sweet savor of strong blood was an intoxicating memory that he’d managed to connect with after a few dull years of dissatisfaction. He knew in that moment that if he did bite her, he would finally feel that rush that had eluded him. But, if he went too far, he’d regret it.

For a moment, Isolde regarded him with bemusement, but he saw understanding starting to light her face, and tension returned to her neck and shoulders. “You’re… thinking about killing me again, aren’t you?”

“No,” he insisted, partly honest—he’d only thought about it long enough to confirm that he wouldn’t. “No,” he put a hand on her forearm, letting his thumb caress the inside of her wrist. “No, but I was thinking of asking something rather impertinent.”

“Oh, I adore impertinence.” Isolde pressed into his touch, fingertips finding purchase on one of the fine silver buttons on the front of his waistcoat. Her knees began to part, shuffling the fabric of her dress and making space for him to wade into her touch.

She would have made such a fun spawn. Perhaps she still could.

He grabbed her jaw, more firmly than intended, but she didn’t flinch and he lightened his touch to ghost his fingers down her throat. That throbbing quickened, and he felt it glide to keep pace with his own rhythm. “You entice me. May I?” It wasn’t fair, probably, to wait until his lips were brushing the soft skin just beneath her eyes to ask. 

What chance did she have? Indeed, he felt her breath already coming in ragged. 

“Just a taste,” he punctuated with a light kiss over her racing artery. “And you can say no. Forget pertinence. the titles, the traditions of the Gate, the fine rooms in old houses. Some day, our Duke, your masters,  will be dead as any rat that drowns in the Chionthar and all with burn, and maybe while wandering the fugue plane they’ll realize they made it all up and it was pointless. What matters right now, is what you want, and what I want. So, tell me yes, or tell me no. Do you want to be tasted?”

“Astarion,” she said in a soft gasp, “please.”

“Say that again,” he purred into her throat, letting his teeth brush her flesh.

“Yes. Astarion, please.” Isolde pulled at him, encouraging him to press in more firmly against her, though it already felt like he was falling on top of her.

Astarion pinched the soft skin of her neck between his teeth, but didn’t break through just yet, he could smell the blood, but wouldn't drink yet. He enjoyed the sensation of her shivering anticipation under his breath. He cupped her head, to keep her from collapsing away from him, his other hand finding purchase at the very center of her neckline, gently brushing her flushed and heaving chest.

“Oh, God,” she whispered when he finally bit down. Her grip on him tightened, and he could feel blood and breath coursing through her, into him. The warmth of her spilled into his mouth. She tasted better than he’d imagined, but the yearning lust for her couldn’t be satisfied with a mouthful. He wanted more of her. Her blood, her body, and more of that voice crying his name.

If you take more, you could lose her. Just like you lost everything else. Astarion stopped, but kept his mouth pressed against the seeping marks as she rocked her hips against his, her legs straining to embrace him. The rush of warm blood seemed to flow straight to his cock. A sharper, more desperate gasp ripped from her throat. “Astarion, I—” she covered her mouth, falling to pieces in his arms as thousands had before. He held her close, hands pressing into her back and sliding downwards to her hips, encouraging her to grind into him, a titillating whine escaped her lips.

He forced himself to release her and leaned back. All things considered, the bite was clean and she barely seemed woozy. Instead, Isolde’s eyes were wide, sparkling, she shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe—tell me that’s normal, please?” The heat in her face had caused her to break out in glistening sweat in her hairline. “I’m mortified,” she confessed.

“Can’t say I’ve ever made anyone come just from biting them before,” Astarion wiped his mouth, with the blade of his thumb, not wanting to waste a drop. “At least not so enthusiastically. You’re delicious, my dear.”

Mortified accurately described how she looked. He tried not to betray a level of amusement that would embarrass her further, but Gods, it was funny. If she wouldn’t laugh, then he could make her cry out again. The moment of ebb had actually made him harder, and he started to gather her skirt up in his fists, but the look on her face gave him pause.

“Isolde. What’s the matter?” He heard the way concern sounded so sharp in his voice, and took a small breath, trying to tame it, trying to soften the words. “You’re all right.” He let go of her dress, letting it fall, and laid his hands over hers, cautious, and she managed a steady exhale that seemed to calm her. Though she still looked a little lost through her pretty face. 

“You’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no need to feel…” what Astarion wanted to say twisted in his throat. He realized he didn’t actually know how she felt. He knew how he used to feel. He knew why he used to feel that way. It was tempting to project onto her, but then he’d probably just end up being wrong. He hated being wrong. “Are you still afraid of me?” 

Was that all? Some conflict in her soul? Some distant voice of self preservation telling her to run from the predator?

Gradually she nodded, but then said, “It’s not what you think.”

“Tell me what I think,” he challenged.

“I don’t believe you’ll hurt me,” Isolde started, and the tender way her sparkling black eyes rested on him tugged at some buried moment. “Or, I don’t believe you want to hurt me. Rather… this is all just fun for you, isn’t it? It doesn’t mean anything.”

Well. Fuck. This again. He’d hoped she wasn’t so tender-hearted. It was easy enough to fane a little sincerity to preserve her feelings. He’d done it hundreds of times and had perfected the smile, the gentle delivery of exactly what she wanted to hear; “of course it means something. Of course I care for you. In my way.” But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, to wear the mask again, even if it was in an attempt to make her feel better.

“No, Isolde. It doesn’t mean anything.” Astarion didn’t know if he was being cruel or kind. He’d always struggled to evaluate such things in the first place. He’d simply landed on the understanding that he didn’t have to lie to her, and he didn’t want to. “At least, it doesn’t mean what you want it to.” 

She was looking down at their hands, folded over one another in her lap. Was she more disappointed in him or in herself?

“Precious few people have ever let me feed off them. Most of the time, my diet of strong blood comes from the very unwilling. When I do get the rare chance to share in a moment like that one… I realize it’s a gift, and I am grateful. But. I cannot give you what you want in return. No matter how much I might want to. I’m not sure I’m capable.”

“I know that,” Isolde sounded steady enough but still wouldn’t break her intense study of her own lap and their hands clasped together there. “I do. And, I didn’t expect otherwise. It’s not really a gift otherwise,” she shrugged. “I just… I also didn’t expect to like it so much,” her voice sharpened to a whisper, “and I think for a moment I got a little carried away. Forgive me.”

“You got rather carried away is what happened,” Astarion corrected her with one raised eyebrow, “And I too, liked it much more than I expected.” He didn’t want to let go of her hands just yet, but he did want her to look up at him. He leaned it to tease a kiss, letting the tip of his nose touch her cheek. It worked, and her head shot up, mouth listing for his own, eyes fluttering.

He pulled back, “As I said, you did nothing wrong. There’s nothing to forgive.” In this one way, he didn’t have to be measured, didn’t have to hold onto some part of himself for control. He captured her mouth with his own. His coaxing was effective, in that she seemed to forget her sadness, or maybe she was using it. She reciprocated, eager, sloppy even, she slipped her hands free from his, and her fingers found their way to the back of his neck, working into the hair at the nap of his neck.

She delved deeper with her tongue, her legs tightening around him again. If he let her take control, what would she do? Although there was something decidedly inexperienced about some of her smaller, flailing little movements, he was tempted for a moment to let her guide him, and see where she took them. She broke away with a gasp, short of breath already. 

Breath was something he didn’t actually need, which made certain acts so much easier for him. Her eyes were glassy, but alight, the rush of red through her face and chest intensified as she looked at him, seemingly unable to articulate her desire, or her question, or maybe any words at all as she swallowed and took another steadying breath.

He’d have to spare her again, it seemed. She was simply in no condition to be coherent.

Astarion slid to his knees between her spread legs, gathering the silk skirts up to her hips again with her latent, but eventually frantic help. In the low light, he couldn’t see much, but he slid one hand up the inside of her thigh, just ghosting the trembling flesh until his fingers pressed into her. Her underwear was soaked, her cunt throbbing just on the other side. He hooked his fingers through the fabric. She let out a small gasp, her legs instinctively coming together a moment as he pressed into her wet, sensitive clit before beginning to pull the underwear off.

She gasped again, but this one was different—Isolde shot up from the table, pushing her skirts back down, and Astarion released his grip on the underwear he’d managed to work down to the middle of her fat thighs. She was looking past him, eyes wide at the doorway.

This library must be cursed.

Astarion swiveled his head around, and wasn’t terribly surprised to see a pair of young ladies—he didn’t recognize them, but they were dressed fashionably enough that they could easily be the daughters of some patriar families. They looked surprised to see him in a way that suggested, that they did, in fact, know him.

He stole a sideways glance at Isolde, still as red in the face as ever, though the context was suddenly sheepish. Mortified. He remembered her saying just minutes ago.

Their encounter wouldn’t recover from this. He could probably carry on, but Isolde? She’d been caught in a compromising position for the second time in a single night. Maybe she’d had too much to drink. Maybe she was the source of the curse. Maybe, now was a good moment to rethink everything. 

He sighed internally and then released it, and approached the women at an angle, blocking his would-be partner from sight, to give Isolde another moment to pull herself together. “My apologies,” he gave a small bow. “Alas, you have indeed thwarted a terrible rake. The poor woman’s virtue remains intact, thanks to your timing.”

He thought he heard something like a laugh coming from Isolde, but he could have been imagining it.

“How scandalous,” one of the girls giggled behind her hand.

“Oh, quite,” Astarion agreed with another drawn out sigh. “But, they’ll be other days and other unoccupied libraries. This one is all yours,” and he gathered up every inch of both of them in a searching look, “For. Whatever it is you need it for. The two of you.”

The two young women gawked up at him, mouths open. “Oh—ah, no,” one of them finally protested, “I was just going to show her a book—”

“Yes. Charming books in here! I assume,” Astarion let out a chuckle. Isolde appeared by his shoulder. Her hair still looked excellent, and she’d gotten cinched up tight rather quickly. He wondered if she’d abandoned her underwear, somehow situated it back into position that quickly—or if the garment was still constricting her thighs right where he’d left it, just a few soft inches below that delicious little wet cunt.

“Excuse us,” he shooed the ladies aside and ushered Isolde through the doorway without a backward glance, though he heard a scoff from one of them. He didn’t bother to wait until they were out of earshot before he said to Isolde, “well, if they weren’t going to fuck before, they should now.”

“You think so?” Isolde cleared her throat. She was still flushed, still obviously quite overwarm and underworked, but he knew better than to think they would get another chance now.

“In my experience, most people just need an opportunity and a suggestion.”

“Oh,” was all Isolde had to say to that.

He checked his buttons with the tips of his fingers but everything was still perfectly in place; Figaro had such an admirable understanding of the need for a waistcoat that hid one’s erection.

It had felt like such a long, wandering path through the Eltan estate’s dark hallways to get here, but as the two of them marched back, it seemed like they were woefully close to the rest of the merriment and the crowd after all. He stopped her, taking her by the arm and bringing them both to a halt before they could come back into the glow of the party, just at the mouth of the last deserted turn of the hall.

Isolde melted into the pressure of his touch, turning back to face him, eyes trailing along his lips back up to his eyes. He wondered if some part of her hoped to be stolen away into another deserted room to finish what they started—or perhaps she’d even submit to him right here.

“I want to take you home, and tie you to the bed, and keep you there to do with as I like,” he traced the backs of his fingers down the side of her face, watching his words shiver through her. “I am not certain Horrold would approve. But there’s easy ways around that. I can be patient. If I send for you, will you come to me?”

“I want to,” Isolde swallowed, something bubbling up in her breathless words. A similar reluctance to what he’d seen in her before. Was she sure she wanted this? Was she frightened? Yes. That was probably it.

“What are you afraid of?” It was something besides what she’d said before, he could tell. The fact that he was just looking for a good time and she was in danger of getting hurt was a risk she was clearly willing to assume, when it came down to it.

“I do not want to be a spawn,” Isolde said firmly.

Astarion let out a single note of a laugh; dismissive and cruel his voice sounded, he felt a slight twisting in his gut. “I know. I remember. You’d rather die. No worries, my dear. I have no intention of trying to change your mind.” A lie. Perhaps, the kind that was so obvious it would barely be called a lie, but still. “And how could I? I saw for myself that your desire to be free outweighed even your desire to live.” Her full, swollen mouth was so close and still so warm and soft from their encounter. He stole one more kiss, brief and teasing under the conditions. “What other desire could possibly be stronger than that?”

Isolde responded with a sharpening stare, and finally a shrug.

Astarion could have laughed at her again, but resisted the urge. “I’ll see you later darling, I’m sure.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #appetites

[pianocat939]

Love to hear your thought or hcs on Yandere Leo (platonic or romance or both ) with a reader who escapes from him ( could be from using his sword , when he’s on a mission or lies to him to sneak away ?) also hi hope your doing ok 🌙

Apologies for the long wait, but then again this is the last request of the set

I'm going to assume you want to be added to the anon list as 🌙

Tw: gore (a brief mention but is there), manipulation, isolation, and some overly possessive behaviour

Platonic:

Now I think there is no chance that you'll get away with lying. The reason is simple: he's the most deceptive of the bros and maybe even the entire show. In multiple points, he tricks his opponents using his psychological skill, like the time he made a deal with Big Mama.

So the only option is to use his sword.

I have done a possibility analysis on escaping by using their weapon a few days ago. But, I have not done the more emotional, thought term all that much, so, that's what we're going to discuss about.

I think the easiest way to steal his sword is by causing a distraction somehow. You know how Raphie always has to guide back Leo and Mikey (and occasionally Donnie) back to the main task? It works like that. I suppose you can try the tbh stereotypical "gain their trust" tactic but that doesn't go through with him. He can perceive your emotions spot on so he knows if it's a façade.

Next question: How would he feel once you've escaped from him?

He's insulted and surprised.

He thinks he's the perfect friend for you so it offends him you would leave him like this. Isn't he your best friend? The one who'll always be there to protect you and keep you happy? It pushes him to do better so that he doesn't feel useless. If he retrieves you back, consider yourself in a neverending cycle of things being bought for you and a heavy people-pleaser friend wanting to do everything.

The only thing he's surprised about is how his manipulation hasn't taken effect on you. He planned you to be under Stockholm Syndrome (I know the condition was romantic but for the sake of this post let's assume it includes platonic as well) by now so imagine the disappointment in himself when it didn't work.

"I can't believe that didn't work! My skills are the best out there!"

Finally: How does he get you back?

Simple, he annoys the fuck out of Señor Hueso. Assuming you have both swords he goes to the Hidden City for help. Oh and Baron Draxum as well since he is a magnificent warrior alchemist.

Romantic:

Just a few details since I explained most of the situation.

He gets really clingy after the escape because 1. you escaped 2. the more affection the more likelihood of Stockholm Syndrome. Cuddles, kisses, nuzzles he's bombarding you with it.

At night if you ever fake sleep or try to sleep but are not quite there, you can hear him whisper a few gory details. It doesn't matter if anyone helped you on your runaway, he just hates the thought of anybody being closer to you than him.

Tw: gore

"Those people that you love so much? I'm going to peel layer after layer of their body until there's nothing but muscles and guts. No one can be better than me, I am the one meant for you."

If you do fall under Stockholm Syndrome he's going to revert to a pretty normal boyfriend, except for friends. No friends except his family and April.

He'll take you out to the Hidden City, going on some corny ass date. And maybe just maybe, you can go back to the life you lived.

No friends. He's better.

——————————————————

I ruined my sleep schedule so bad that I stay up until 4 AM each night but today is especially worse I haven't slept

What a life I have writing about traumatized turtles with unhealthy mindsets ;-;

- Celina

#yandere #yandere x reader #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #leo #leonardo #tmnt 2018 #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt

[forgedroyalseal]

I know, you think that what makes a king, is gold, a palace, and diamond rings

Two nights before the wedding, Horace found himself sneaking out of the palace and into the gardens. He was grateful, not for the first time, that his confusing status as both a lowborn knight and the soon to be Prince Consort had allowed him some flexibility when it came to having an escort. Once he married Cassandra and his role in the Araluen monarchy was cemented, he’d be followed by, at a minimum, a manservant, if not several members of the royal guard. But for the moment, he was blessedly alone. He walked until the torches of the guard stationed atop the castle’s wall became little flickers of orange light. Looking up at the clear midnight sky, he connected the constellations in his mind. Baron Arald had always held an affinity for constellations and the legends behind them. If the nights were mild enough, he drag the ward children out to the gardens and point out each star to them and tell the tale behind their name. Horace had always found it extraordinarily boring and used the time to taunt Will or try to sneak back off to bed. Now however, he was beginning to understand Arald’s interest in the sky. He understood the peace that it could provide, the comfort in understanding just how vast the universe is, that even if you falter, the stars will still twinkle and the moon will still glow.

“That’s Ursula Major, isn’t it?” Cassandra’s voice pulls Horace’s gaze down from the heavens. She’s alone, wrapped up in a heavy blush and burgundy quilt that Horace recognized as the one Lady Sandra had sent as an engagement gift.

“You shouldn’t be wandering out here alone. Where’s your guard?” Horace checked behind his fiancée for her royal guard Raul, but besides the stars and the towering oak trees, they were alone.

“Probably still standing outside my door. I snuck out the window.” She grinned at him and for a moment, Horace felt a wave of sympathy for the king. Cassandra had never once been a girl who could be contained or controlled.

“Anyway,” She continued, “I knew with you out here, I’d have nothing to worry about.” She leaned against him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. Summer had rolled in slowly this year, and despite it already being mid June, the night air still carried a bit of spring chill.

“Why are you even awake? It’s late and you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” He said.

Cassandra scrunched her nose. “A day of picking out ribbons and flowers, and confirming choices I made months ago.” She sighed, ”But it’s almost over. Soon I won’t have to climb down ivy covered stone in the middle of the night to see you, I’ll simply have to turn over.”

Horace smiled, but his heartbeat began to race again, just as it had back in his chambers before he escaped into the gardens.

Cassandra had obviously picked up on the change as well, because she pulled her head back to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He lied, “I’m about to marry my best friend, what could possibly be wrong?”

“Ok, first of all, don’t let Will catch you calling me your best friend or he’ll be walking down that aisle himself just to prove a point. Second, I’ve known you since we were sixteen Horace, I know when you are lying to me.” Her words weren’t accusing or insulted, she said it as if she was simply stating a fact.

He sighed heavily, “It’s dumb. I’m just,” he waves a hand in the space around his head, “stuck in here, I guess.”

“Can I help get you unstuck?”

He bit his lip, “It’s not something you’ll… understand.”

Cassandra rose an eyebrow at him, “Try me.”

“I don’t think I can be royalty.”

She laughs, but stops when she sees his guilty and serious expression in the moonlight. “Horace, that’s crazy. Of course you can.”

He steps back from her and shakes his head, “See, I knew you wouldn’t get it! Cassie, you were literally born for this kind of life. But, I wasn’t. I-I have nothing to offer the Crown. There’s no political advantage to you marrying me, no strategic benefit, certainly no financial gain.”

“Horace-“

“Everyone thinks it Cass! I see it the moment I walk into a room. Everyone at court is thinking the same thing, “Why him?” And I get it! Because since the moment we started this whole thing, that question has been echoing in my mind nonstop.” Horace’s breaths were heavy and he felt his heart racing in his chest.

“Do you really not know?” Cassandra’s voice was small and timid, two things it so rarely was. Horace’s shoulders shrugged on their own and Cassandra’s face fell at the response.

“Darling,” She grasped both his hands in hers, “I didn’t accept your proposal because I saw you as some sort of pawn, an asset to the kingdom. I accepted because I love you. Because I can’t imagine a life without you at my side.” She reached up and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, “Besides, haven’t you been paying any attention to the history lessons you’ve been taking? A good king isn’t measured by his wealth, or the number of his alliances. He’s measured by the strength of his heart, his love for his people. And by that standard, you’d make the very best of kings.”

Horace blinked up at Ursula Major, willing the tears that were being to form away. “I love you so much.” He felt her arms squeeze around him.

“I love you too. Now come on, we should head back before Raul realizes he’s lost me again.”

__________________________

Will was waiting outside of his suite, folded against the door half asleep. Horace lightly kicked at his leg, even though he knew Will had noticed his approach the moment he entered the corridor.

“Dude, why are you sleeping against my door? Alyss get bored of you already?”

Will grinned up at him, “Not yet, thank god.” He yawned and Horace rolled his eyes before reaching down and pulling Will up to his feet.

“Thanks. I saw you sneak out. I was going to check on you, but then I saw Cassandra disappear after you and figured that was a party I wasn’t invited to.” He said with a wink.

Horace shoved him, “It wasn’t like that. I just, I don’t know. Was caught in my head.”

“Cold feet?”

“No. Maybe lukewarm feet, but everything is sorted now.”

“Good. Because as the best man, getting you down the aisle is literally my only job. And it’s a lot easier if you go willingly.”

Horace clapped Will on the shoulder, “No need to worry brother, there’s nothing I want more than to marry Cassie.”

#rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #will treaty #horace altman #ranger’s apprentice fanfiction #rangers apprentice fanfiction #song fic series #song fic drabbles #song fic

[its-wabby-stuff]

What If... Draxum got what he wanted?

Baron Draxum, the creator. Draxum is a very proud man, and usually takes credit for his creations contributions and successes. He teaches them to be proud as well, he teaches them to help, he teaches them to fight, and accidentally started pinning his elite team against each other. The spars were meant to be helpful, but he didn’t see how that created an atmosphere of competition and sabotage until it was too late.

Slider (Leo), the perfectionist. Constantly hoping to prove himself, he never lets himself make a mistake. This wins him title of leader from Draxum, but he still feels like something is missing. Because of this, he is very strict on his subordinates and does not allow mistakes or disobedience without punishment. He has manipulated his way into making all of them believe he is the strongest. Really he’s beginning to crack under the pressure and the lack of control.

Snap (Raph), the obedient. The right hand to Sliders leadership, and also selectively mute. A condition brought on by pressures from Draxum and reinforced by Slider, that lead to the belief he had nothing good to say. He is hyper observant due to this repression, always watching and capable of smelling out lies and fear. He is often used as a shield, protecting all of his younger—- fellow soldiers. He is often found shadowing Slider. He can’t admit that he cares.

Shell (Donnie), the favorite. With seemingly little effort, Shell managed to impress Draxum with his high intelligence. Their deep rooted similarities had the two create a bond so tight, it’s transparently impenetrable. Slider resents Shell for his ease of life and Shell for Sliders high and mighty tude, causing the two to squabble often and aggressively, but the respect for each other runs deep. He’d always have Sliders back, and he knows he can expect the same.

Box (Mikey), the underdog. Being the youngest of Draxums army hasn’t boded well for the energetic, clumsy little warrior. With the high expectations from his superiors, he feels insignificant and useless only desiring a chance to prove himself. A solo mission to the surface caused him to begin questioning everything he’d been told. He wonders if he’ll be strong enough to fight against everything he’s ever known.

Yoshi Hamato, the pacifist. Unable to stop the raging threat of Baron Draxum in his past life and aware of the threat he possesses, Yoshi re-evaluates his life and decides to quit running. Settling down to run his New York City dojos in order to prepare the next generation for an inevitable fight. He prepares for the day he may run into his sons.

April O’Neil, the rebel. Taken to martial arts classes as a kid in the hopes that she’d make some friends, she found the best of them in her Sensei. She learns of his life, his successes and failures, and vows to help him in whatever endeavor he faces. She didnt expect to make friends with the enemy she’s been trained to defeat.

The Plot:

In general this is a story with Box as the protagonist and Slider as the antagonist.

Box meets April, and through a specific series of events the two end up becoming friends. To prevent this forbidden friendship, Slider orchestrates a mission to reveal the twos natures to each other, resulting in the mutation of Hamato Yoshi. However, this doesn’t act as a deterrent, and Box’s insubordination continues.

These meet-ups, with April and Splinter, cause Box’s abilities to grow, which directly threatens Slider (or at least it feels that way) cause it seems to come without reason. Slider manipulates Box into thinking he’s nothing without them, while balancing the supportive, mentor, older “brother” feel. Basically he builds up a dependence.

Box’s increasing freethinking results in him leaving the hidden city permanently to join April and hopefully, peacefully stop Draxum and his brothers. This results in a confrontation with Snap, who for the first time in his life, disobeys and lets Box go, buying him a few extra minutes before Shells system goes off. This action infuriates Slider and he snaps, nearly killing April and Yoshi. He is stopped by Box, and April is saved from drowning by Snap.

Box officially dons the name Michelangelo, or Mikey. Ever confused by Snaps actions, he begins sneaking in notes and such to Snap. Draxum forms an alliance for the dark armor with the foot clan, and with Sliders help, takes it over. Snap befriends Cassandra who befriends April after Casey tried to steal Sunitas boots (a call made by Slider to test the recruits loyalty. She failed). This leads to Snap and Cassandra’s eventual leave of the foot clan as they join Mikey, who teaches Snap how to speak up for himself. He dons the name Raphael, or Raph.

Slider loses his grip even more with the loss of his right hand man, his shadow. He orchestrates leads with mutants for the last of the Dark Armor pieces, and using a microchip Shell had placed in the oozsquitos, is able to control Yoshi into bringing them the final piece. He bargains his life to see Mikey again, and expresses his udder hatred for him as Mikey tries to convince Slider that he’s going about it all wrong. Slider threatens to kill Yoshi if he keeps talking, but Mikey calls his bluff. Draxum then puts on the last piece of the armor, and The Shredder is brought to life, draining Draxum of his power.

The commotion causes Mikey to escape, with Yoshi, and a close to dying Draxum. While Slider and Shell officially take over the foot clan by controlling The Shredder via a mystic collar courtesy of Big Mama. They begin a rampage against the surface.

April helps a dying Draxum and injured Yoshi recover, while Mikey, Raph, and Cassandra search Hamato scrolls for a solution. Mikey and Raph begin a search for their clans ancient weapon, and discover Karai. Mikey and Raph convince Draxum to help them, and they release Karai from holding back The Shredder.

When The Shredder breaks through its mystic collar and suddenly gains an intelligence, Slider and Shell have no choice but to submit to him to save their own skins, and keep their Hamato energy a secret. They go on the hunt for Yoshi (a win for Slider as he presented the idea, and it won him praise) halting their surface take over.

Karai, though weak, is able to give advice to the boys hoping to reunite their family. A speech to Draxum about family also shows him how much he cares. The three makeup, and are then joined by Cassandra, Snap, April, and Yoshi. The Shredder then attacks their sewer lair. Slider loses himself more upon seeing Draxum not only be on their side, but be affectionate with them. Like he doesn’t even know what’s real.

The fight ends with Slider killing Karai. Mikey screams and Raph has to carry him off as they escape via tunnels, with Cass, April, and Draxum. Shredder then turns his aggression toward Slider for killing their Hamato, and Shell saves his ass by presenting the kidnapped Yoshi.

Mikey and gang find a safe enough place to stop. Mikey tells Raph he’ll never forgive Slider. Draxum says that it is his fault. April then reveals that Karai was already dying, and that during the fight, she had passed over her soul to her. They then comment on the outfit change they didn’t notice. Karai tells them there is still hope.

There is a showdown at the weeping Titan. Yoshi tries to talk to Slider and Shell as they tie him up. He says The Shredder does not care about you, but your family does. Slider says he’s been waiting to kill him since day one (it’s a cover. Shell realizes this. He also realized that Sliders losing his grip).

Mikey, Raph and crew show up- new mystic powers activated and a fight ensues. Mikey tells Slider that all he ever wanted was his respect, and Slider tells Mikey that he never had it (also not true). Shell watches Yoshi, and Draxum is sent to retrieve him. This confrontation isn’t crazy really, as Shell relinquishes Yoshi to Draxum anticlimactically. He tells Draxum that Slider is going down a dark path, and he can’t leave unless Slider comes too, or they’ll lose him forever.

Slider and Shell then turn on The Shredder, which had been their plan for a while, unlocking their full extent of mystics in the fight and destroy him with the help of the whole gang, Slider leading the pack. Karai and Saki, their free ghosts, tell Slider that family is everything, and that he is not alone, and then die. Mikey then goes up to Slider, and tells him that he forgives him. Slider spits, saying he didn’t do it for Mikey. Then disappears, without Shell.

Mikey and April co-lead their little help everyone team. They help rebuild the city and try their best to help relationships with the surface and Yokai to get better, along with the relationships with each other. Mikey holds out hope that Slider will join them, eventually. Slider has been fighting in the Battle Nexus to clear his head, being Big Mamas champion for a couple months. And one day, he receives a warning from a young kid named Casey Jones, that the future is in serious danger.

The Movie:

Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute take over the foot clan again and plan to release the Krang. Slider ignores the human kid for a while, but Casey is persistant, telling him that he knows who he is and that he trained with him and even telling him secrets he shouldn’t know. Slider then tries to fix the problem by himself. Casey goes to get Mikey. Slider causes a big seen and accidentally releases the krang, when his brothers get there to save him. They lose their mystics but get the key.

Slider presses Casey for telling on him and Mikey says it’s good to see him. Casey tells everyone how bad this is. Slider says they just need to destroy the key. Mikey takes charge, which infuriates Slider, who then ignores Mikey’s orders and sneaks away. Casey follows Slider, who has the key, and they go look for answers in the Hidden City, particularly with Big Mama. (Casey is following Slider around like a dog and he doesn’t like it).

Shell, adjusting to the name Donnie, is taken by the Krang when Mikey’s team goes to confront them. His A team, consisting of himself, Raph and Yoshi, go looking for Slider, while his B team, April, Cassandra and Draxum, go looking for more of that extreme weed killer.

Slider and Casey, are found by A team, and Mikey tells Slider that the krang got Shell. He also confesses that he doesn’t think he’s very good at this leadership stuff and he could use his brother’s help. Slider turns him down. Casey gets mad at Slider and starts telling him how frustratingly stubborn he is, and what he’s like in the future. Slider then turns around, and agrees to help Mikey.

Using the key as their base point, Slider comes up with a plan using all the angles and they make their way into the building. Twist in the plan when Donnie comes out all krangified and steals the key back, but it doesn’t deter Slider. Part of the plan was opening the portal anyway- now they just have to get them through. Draxum and Raph will fly the ship back through the portal while him and Mikey get Shell. April, Cass, and Yoshi will keep things at bay on the floor. Casey is responsible for the key.

Draxum and Raph manage to fight off Brother Krang and Draxum takes the plunge into the ship. Mikey and Slider make their way to the top. The fight against Krang Donnie starts a squabble with Mikey and Slider. Mikey yells at Slider why he can’t just be vulnerable for two seconds. Then, when the ship starts moving, Prime pulls everybody up, suddenly unamused. Slider then apologies to everyone, then targets Shell, who breaks out of the krangification.

The four fight together (Draxum can’t keep up), and give Prime a run for his money until he decides he’s had enough. Donnie and Raph are blown off and Raph saves both of them from the blow just in time. Mikey and Slider are left up top. Slider tells Mikey there only chance is keeping him on the other side, by going there with him. Everyone listens on the comms. The two jump into action, and pull Krang back into the prison dimension. Slider tells Casey he’s not so bad and to close the portal. At the last moment, Slider switches Mikey out. Mikey tries to run back in, to grab Slider with his chains, but the portal closes before he has the chance, sending him flying away in the explosion.

Draxum, who stuck around somewhere, winds up saving Mikey and returning to the other boys. Mikey passed out from the explosion but wakes up only a couple minutes later. He frantically tries to get Slider back, and eventually, it causes him to open a portal. Draxum, Raph and Donnie all support him as they get a very beat up Slider out.

He cries, as he asks them why they did it, after everything. Mikey tells him he doesn’t deserve to die because of his mistakes, they make him human. They love him and they just want him to come home. They all hug.

End scene. The whole family is preparing for a party, patched up and clamoring. It’s a welcome home party for Leo. He nervously walks in, and then Mikey pulls him into a game. Leo doesn’t know what that is, and Mikey explains the rules. Before he can finish, Leo bursts out laughing, which startles everyone. He explains that the game is stupid, but this is the first time he’s ever felt- happy.

And they live happily ever after, or something like that…

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Thanks for making it to the bottom. If you have any questions, leave me an ask and I’ll give you an answer! Likes and reblogs and appreciated!! 🩷

#an AU I thought out but am not going to be writing #feel free to take this idea m #if you want #rottmnt #wabbystuffpost #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #tmnt #donatello #raphael #michelangelo #april oneil #yoshi hamato #baron draxum #what if…? #what if… Rottmnt? #what if… Draxum got what he wanted? #rise of the tmnt #evil Leo #slider #box #snap #shell #evil Donnie #evil disaster twins #redeemed Villian #casey jones #the movie will end with Leo rejoining his family and becoming good #for the most part #I mean Mikey and April are the moral compass

[opheliajupiter99]

The Dead Dance (OUAW Horror, gore and blood warning)

Fireflies buzzed and danced about as they walked through the seemingly endless swamp known as Hither. They'd walked so long they'd nearly forgotten where they were going but pressed on regardless. Wherever they ended up, it was sure better than just sitting here. At least, that's what they hoped...

Twigsy sat at her usual spot, upon Gideon's shoulders, looking up and around at the vast bog that lied tangled with every nook and cranny of this land. She hummed, smiling softly as she enjoyed the sights. Her and Gid were out in front of the group, Kremy walking second, Gricko and Frost third, with Torbek and Hootsie in the back, Hootsie nuzzling against Torbek's leg to calm his eternally frayed nerves.

Twigsy opened her mouth to speak, but as she took in her breath, a foul scent filled her senses. She could tell Gideon smelled it too, as he stopped his hefty footfall and looked around. Of course, in a swamp, the smell of rot was nothing new, but this was different.

It was...a near suffocating scent of rot, and not simply of plant matter, or of feted water, but of flesh, like a corpse left to rot in the muck for hours, days possibly with how wretched it was.

The scent was clearly coming from straight ahead, as only Gideon and Twigsy had caught scent of it thus far, though as Kremy noticed Gid pausing in his walk and approached him, he quickly caught the scent as well, coughing and covering his snout.

"What da fuck is that?" He inquired, Gideon looking all around him in a tense fashion, before his eyes finally settled on Kremy. "I have no fuckin' idea. Think it's comin' from up ahead. What should we do?"

Kremy crossed his arms, thinking, the others looking between the two of them as they listened in. It could be nothing, it -was- a swamp after all, things rotted here all the time. It could just be some especially large gator that freshly died, festering in the water.

(Gore and blood warning beyond this point)

The decision was quickly made for them, however, as a male halfling quickly darted forward out from the heavy fog, rushing forward blindly at first, but upon seeing them did his best to stop, though his legs buckled and he fell forward, crumbling at Gid and Kremy's feet, Twig gasping at the state of the man.

The young halfling's clothes were matted with blood, a mix of some kind of rotten, blackened blood and his own, as there was a quite brutal bite wound in his right arm, just above his elbow, the muscle and flesh torn in a jagged way, as if something grabbed on tightly then roughly yanked its head backwards.

Gricko, being the kind-hearted healer he was, immediately rushed forward to tend to the man, while Frost kept Torbek and Hootsie off to the side, so they didn't see what was going on, Torbek already beginning to panic and scrunch away from the sight.

Gideon pulled Twigsy from his shoulders and hugged her close, not wanting her to see what was going on either, while Kremy just...stood there, eyes wide with shock. The halfling opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but instead coughed, the coughing quickly turning to gurgled hacking as black blood splattered out from his throat and onto the wet grass before him.

In this moment, time almost felt frozen to Kremy. He could Gricko telling the man not to speak, to try and stay still, as he attempted to tend to his arm. He could hear Twigsy's muffled sniffling, he could hear Hootsie's concerned hooting, but they all seemed a million miles away in his moment.

This...he knew this. He hadn't seen it -often- but, worshipping the Baron for as long as he did, he'd certainly seen it. The thick scent of rot piercing through even the densest of air, the pale, deathly look upon the halfling's face, the thick, blackened blood that one would expect in a tar pit, not a man's veins.

And...and that bite. Despite the wound looking quite fresh, it was already festering, as if somehow, its severity was accelerating before their very eyes...almost, as if...

Kremy rushed forward without much thought, knocking Gricko away from the injured man, him falling onto his side nearby. Gricko quickly sat up. "Kremy, what the fuck?! I need to finish the band-" "EVERYBODY GET DA FUCK AWAY FROM DIS FELLA!" Kremy shouted.

Frost, Torbek, and Hootsie were already a way away from the situation, but Gideon quickly backed away, hugging Twigsy even tighter. He knew firsthand that panicked look on Kremy's face was one to listen to, always.

As the halfling on the ground hacked and sputtered, full-on puking blackened blood all down his front as he squirmed and writhed in pain, they began to hear the telltale snapping of twigs and rustling of branches before, as something foul...or rather, many things foul, began to approach them.

Soft moaning further signaled their approach, as ever so slowly from behind the leaves of trees, and from the dense fog, they saw...them. It looked to be what remained of a fellow adventuring party; an orc, an elf, another halfling...one of them even seemed to be another Tabaxi.

The state they were in was utterly putrid; rotten flesh, strands of hair and fur either fallen or in the process of falling, hollow white eyes that appeared blind, but somehow could indeed still see. The orc looked like he'd had an entire swarm of beasts set upon him, bites and claw marks marking the entirety of his flesh, to the point he was missing large patches of his skin.

The elf, who still instinctively clung to a gnarled wooden staff that now held no meaning to her, didn't have a visible bite, but had a filthy bandaged tied tightly around her left arm, likely the first of the party to be afflicted. The other halfling, a female, was somehow missing her jaw, her tongue lazily hanging out as she stared outwards, while the Tabaxi had his throat violently bitten out, resulting in him producing little more than a hollow ghost of a moan.

"FUCKIN' RUUUUUN!" Kremy bellowed, as the entire party turned tail and began to book it in the opposite direction, the determined dead behind them giving chase, the now turned male halfling beginning to trail behind his former friends.

(Not sure where to go from here, so if this is popular I'll do a second one lol)

#once upon a witchlight #twig toadspring #gideon coal #kremy lecroux #morning frost #gricko grimgrin #hootsie grimgrin #torbek #tw gore #tw blood #zombie