#( and make death proud to take us. )

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

anhyatt9: ❤️ RebelCaptain, please?

❤️ first kiss / realization

Not that anyone would ever ask Jyn, but believe it or not, she really doesn't want her first kiss with Cassian to be for the sake of a cover.

Again, not that the unfeeling galaxy gives a single flying kriff about what she wants, but if you were to ask her (under duress, at knifepoint, and possibly under threat of torture, and potentially not even then), Jyn would say that she would sort of like any kind of kiss with Cassian to be...oh hell, meaningful? Maybe? Something that she could be sure they both want?

But it's Cassian we're talking about here, the only man in the galaxy who will offer to lead a potential suicide mission before admitting what he wants. But even after Scarif, he's been...well, he's a been a constant, steady, watchful presence by her side. Standing up for before Alliance High Command, recommending her to Intelligence. Even getting her situated with the quartermasters. He wouldn't do those things for just anybody, right? ...Right?

Unfortunately, short of just asking him, outright (who does she look like to you, Organa? Get out of it), Jyn isn't going to say anything. If Cassian--if Cassian wanted her that way, she would know. He would say something.

Wouldn't he?

But unfortunately, she doesn't have time to think about that now. Because the galaxy is vast and unfeeling and doesn't care one parsec about that she wants, she needs to kiss Cassian. For the sake of the cover.

Admittedly, circumstances could be worse. It could be some sick, twisted bastard trying to get them to "prove" something and getting off on it (which, gross, no thank you), or in some fancy party full of Imps, leering at them. Instead it's a smiling old granny, who spoke to Cassian in Kenari, and Cassian is absolute lothcat grass for old ladies and grandmothers, regardless of species, for some reason. They all just think he's adorable, with his shy smile and slightly sticking out ears, and his earnest eyes and the little dimple that appears when he's trying to be charming, not that he has to try very hard--stay on topic, Jyn.

But he's referred to her during this cover as my wife, the only slightest bit of wonder in his voice every time he says it, so the old granny running this stall that might be a cover for a fence that the Alliance can work worth, teased him about giving his wife such pretty roses in her cheeks by kissing. Cassian had laughed it off, wrapping his arm around Jyn's waist, smiling, and Jyn had seen that speculative look in the older woman's eyes, and she's never been one to back down from a dare. So when Cassian turns back to her, still smiling a little, Jyn smiles back at him, rises on her toes and--

Kisses him, in front of the entire market, the Force and everyone.

Cassian's mouth is soft under hers, his lips slack with surprise just for a moment. Then he recovers, returning the kiss with ardor, but somehow just keeping light enough so that it's not completely inappropriate for being out in public. Just a besotted married couple, indulging in a public moment of affection. Jyn wants to sink into this moment and never, ever come out of it.

She doesn't, though. She can't. She doesn't know if he wants it, or this, or her, or if it's just for the sake of the cover to him, but even if it is, Jyn will take this moment with both hands and cram it in her mouth, her pockets, clutch it to her heart like the greedy, striving thief she is. So she steals a few more kisses, and then one more, sinking back down on to her heels. Cassian chases after her mouth seemingly unthinkingly, before the amused cackle of the old granny alerts them both--they still have an audience. So he stops, looking at her with a question in his eyes only Jyn knows the answer to. She stares up at him, hoping against hope (that wild, reckless thing) that she can give him a proper answer.

#my writing #star wars #rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #otp: and make death proud to take us

[autumnoficarus]

i can't stop listening to the 'purpose is glorious' track from this season's ost and thinking about how lovely the title and its meaning are. it's just such an amazing underlying theme in this show, and - while i do have criticisms about some of the choices made for the series finale - i really do feel the writers wholeheartedly delivered in sending that message home. for me personally, loki's ending is so gratifying and a large part of that is solely from viewing their arc's conclusion with the perspective of this theme in mind. to have spent years watching this character i hold very dear to my heart struggle to find belonging, to feel as though they matter and there is reason in their existence, finally get a chance to show - and recognize - their worth was so, so rewarding. and honestly, i think the message behind the phrasing of 'purpose is glorious' is all the more meaningful because of how loki's arc finished. yes, the outcome was bittersweet; yes, we're left knowing loki didn't get the happiness they undeniably earned after everything they'd gone through. it smarts something fierce to know their journey up until they deviated from their timeline and became a variant, as well as seen their eventual intended fate. the ache is only worsened after witnessing everything that happens within the TVA and the entirety of loki's character growth leading up to a redefining moment where they willingly choose to undergo a nightmarish amount of time in the endeavor to do the right thing. of course we want them to emerge victorious when they've struggled for so long, but that's not the point. loki's final moments are them forfeiting their right to a happy ending to preserve the stories of others because all stories matter and should inherently reserve the free will to be written; as sylvie says, loki makes their choice so their loved ones and life across the multiverse still have a chance to belong somewhere and embrace their place in the world. the take away is that even burden can be glorious. even with all the hardships of life - all the inevitable heartache, disappointment, and grief we encounter just by being alive - we have meaning in our existence. there is meaning in the trials we face, and the suffering we endure in order to overcome them. our pain gives us purpose; it gives us the ability to love, to grow from and for each other, and choose to sacrifice our happiness for the benefit of another. loki's purpose was forged in the bonds of those they met in their time at the TVA and the sense of value they gained from their companionship. their sacrifice perfectly conveys how the human capacity to love is one of cosmic greatness, which can ultimately surpass our instinctual desire to preserve one's self. we can move immovable mountains and challenge insurmountable adversity in behalf of the ones we love and their welfare. if that isn't an act deserving of glory, I don't know what is.

tldr; loki's purpose is the friends they made along the way = as the saying goes, 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'. or: our own lives have purpose because of the connections we share with others, even when we are met with great loss.

#also this just shows the depth of love loki derived from knowing mobius and how they were changed for the better because of it #how mobius' initial - and repeated - acknowledgement of their potential is what gave them the necessary tools to rewrite their destiny #when loki first watches their fate on the sacred timeline their devastation is palpable; they now know they are meant to die - #at the hands of thanos after failing to save their brother - #after losing one last time #they see their final fate and know they were never meant to win; never to reach the respect and admiration theyve been chasing all this tim #but they're given a second chance at an ending - one they can be proud of and has meaning #and they SUCCEED; they ascend and take the throne not for power or control or even glory but because of the people they care for!!!!!! #loki accepts their burden with grace for the benefit of others; they escape the harrowing demise once preordained for them - #and while they mourn what they must leave behind they are fulfilled by the triumph of saving EVERYONE this time #the parallels between their sacred timeline ending and the finale's makes me way too emotional i am not okay #i have so many thoughts about the ost guahahauffh ignore me #i am obsessed with this track specifically like i want to write even more meta abt the significance of being used during mobius' last scene #okay these tags are way too long i'm shutting up now i'll see myself out #txt: icarus foaming @ the mouth analysis #char tags: #god of stories and faking death #peepaw from outerspace #loki meta #lokius #loki s2 #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #loki series #marvel #mcu #loki #Spotify

[raayllum]

1x03 / 1x08 / 2x07 / 3x06 / 3x08 / 3x09 / 4x03 / 4x06 / 4x07 / 4x09

#idk what this is but #'make death proud to take us' except when you can't #compilation #theme: death #arc 1 #arc 2 #multi #the gang's all here #tdp #didn't have room for rayla's 'end of the world' but trust me i'm Thinking about it

[priincekiller]

#collage wallpaper #wallpaper #ph #art #words #poetry #poem #death #make death proud to take us #brown #aesthetic #brown aesthetic

[halechief]

grip, platonic, obviously. maybe even ... when she's ... y'know.... almost bleeding out : )

send “grip” to grip my muse’s jaw in your muse’s hand. @newsworth.

claire is not terribly familiar with the sound of gunshots.

or, maybe that's inaccurate. there is a memory tangled at the back of her mind, slotted somewhere before coming into her own, but after losing the last of her innocence - it sounds like the sharp single remark of a 1950 colt revolver, silence, and then a thud. the ringing of her own ears. further toward the front, there's the memory of lucas goodwin's attempt on her husband's life. five ear - splitting rounds, if she remembers right, ( she does. she's watched the footage over and over. two from lucas, not in succession, the second while being grappled to the ground. three from edward after he'd fallen. ) but over the cacophony of shouting, the chanting of no more wars, of f. u. underwood, and then the curdled, nauseating screaming, she couldn't say that of everything, it was the sound of the shots that stuck in her mind.

further still to the forefront, there is the sound of a lone bullet colliding with the ballistic glass of a motorcade, the crystalline shatter, the webbing crack that bloomed before she'd flattened against the leather upholstery. the furious beating of her own heart, the oceanic chorus of blood in her ears. stay down. stay down! shots fired. a hand at the side of her head, not quite touching, just preceding the weight of a body settling over her own. shielding her own. are you okay, madam president? are you alright? ( yes, she'd lied, with a vigorous shake of her head. ) and finally : lone star is safe.

( that time, the officer had lied. she never would be. she knows it, now. )

there is a level of familiarity, yes. but it still takes until the second shot, for her to recognize the sound for what it is.

pain emerges first, and quite vividly through the confusion of her delayed thoughts, radiating from her shoulder into her collarbone and throat, the reserved grey of her blouse darkening rapidly. the third catches her as she turns, an instant before her detail completes the convergence around her, searing along the side of her neck, and she distantly registers the sound of glass shattering somewhere behind her after the fact, muffled as though through layers of cotton. her hand lifts to her throat, and she is confused to find it already slick with blood, hotter than expected, dripping down her throat and disappearing into the open neck of her shirt. the fabric itself has been torn aside slightly, cool november air stealing along the spaces left bared, and as her vision finds the wavering image of her hand held up before her, stained red, redder by far than the paint she thinks to compare it to, she notes the thin tendrils of steam that rise from it, matching the mist of her exhaled breath.

she sways on her feet, and as the steps underfoot begin to rise rapidly to meet her, so too does she feel the pressure of several hands pressing her downward, their voices joined together with the noise of the crowd, only one left distinguishable above the din, for how close it is to her.

"claire." his fingers are not trembling when they try to grasp her face, turning her gaze to him, his body hunched, the two of them crammed together underneath the bodies that move to shield her again, that shield both of them. what does it take, claire wonders dimly, to value your life beneath another's? she wants to live. she knows it distinctly, feels the fact of it beating incessantly against the closing of her throat. christopher. she tries to say it, and cannot manage, her stained hand instead lifting to grasp his wrist as his fingers move to her throat, aided in the slide by the blood that wets them, and he is . . . so calm. so incredibly calm. she would have smiled, but in her periphery, she sees another body lying prone, polished shoes pointing up to the sky, and she doesn't know who they belong to. they could be edward's. they could be scott's. "claire, you're going to be fine. don't move. don't close your eyes. just look at me."

she does, until the moment that she can't. until the moment his quiet directions begin to fall on deaf ears. until her body goes weightless, grasping hands lifting her into the back of a vehicle, and her eyes blink, slowly, too slowly, and finally an edge of hysteria slithers into his voice. "claire. claire, no. keep your eyes open . . . stay with me. please."

#gun violence tw / #shooting tw / #assassination tw / #blood tw / #uhhh yeah #iii. verse: there's only one chair. / first term. #iii. verse: secondary: i don't think there's anything i wouldn't do anymore. / presidency - alt. #< i would need to add a lot more phil thoughts for that to be fully relevant but #it is still the way it happens #( and make death proud to take us. )

[fluffycat-wizard]

Some of you will never understand what it feels like to want so badly to fly. To be airborne, to let the world fall away beneath your feet. Feeling the air rush past your face is a high that I'll probably never be able to achieve. That's part of the reason dragons appeal to me- They can just fly whenever they want.

The word for this feeling is "mahpiohanzia". The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows describes this perfectly.

n. the disappointment of being unable to fly, unable to stretch out your arms and vault into the air, having finally shrugged off the ballast of your own weight and ignited the fuel tank of unfulfilled desires you’ve been storing up since before you were born.

Which is exactly how I, and many others feel. I want so badly to just jump and not come down for a while. To soar through clouds, and glide into rainstorms. Looking down at the world you've been stuck on for so long. Knowing that you can leave at any time you want.

Dragons are the perfect embodiment of mahpiohanzia. Strong, wild, free. We all feel the same.

Am I describing it right? Do you feel the same? Anything to add? I wish you safe travels and happy dreaming, Friend.

#so thats how i feel #sometimes it just hits me: #i cant fly. i cant soar through the sky. #and i feel sad. #even flying a plane or similar won't get me close to that “high” #i need to use my own wings #my own two wings #to take off and fly #i'll probably get death threats from people for this #but i dont care #because this is how i feel #and even if it makes me sad #i'm fucking proud of it #and i'm an athiest #so i choose to believe that when we die #our deepest desire is granted #maybe religion is fake? #maybe whatever you believe in is what happens #so thats what i think #so thats what is going to happen #thanks for reading this. thank you for listening #sometimes all you need is a friend to lean on #and an ear for listening #mahpiohanzia #how i feel #kinda a rant #not dragonposting

[strwbrymlkshake]

I wanna post about my recovery + ramble in tags at the same time but I'm not motivated enough to come up with a mediocre yandere post rn , so just know that my life is going?? Somewhat good in terms of romance

#mine #💿 #i can only ramble in tags. posts feel too official im shy</3 i feel like tags are less likely to show up on search engines as well... #just forever paranoid about the blog being discovered you know how it goes. personal stuff (proceeds to post it online) #in the general scheme of things im doing alright. tho im currently obsessed with a game instead of a man so idk if that counts #feels like im just waiting for an important event to happen. like ill have a great life changing thing but rn im just in limbo. waiting! #i dont mind it because i take joy in the small things in my day to day life but i feel like i should be doing bigger things. doing more #hell. BEING more. theres lots of cookie cutter paths i could take but none of them fit the mould im making yk. its boring. #on one hand im proud of myself for being able to stay focused on my interests instead of wasting time on a guy who doesnt care abt me #like i still am doing that a Little Bit but its not as detrimental to my daily life as it used to be. like its fine now #on the topic of.. him. we dont really talk much but i feel theres sort of a weird air between us now and he could tell i was in the yanzone #im not too broken up about it because i repeatedly told myself this would happen n i knew it would but everythings okay as it is rn #i still do admire him but not as intensely. the moment he stops hinting at even the possibility he could be interested my attention drops #i want to be everything but at the same time i want to be nothing. i want to be god and the earth and the sun and death and disease. #im working up to being perfect but at the same time i know no such thing exists so meanwhile im just. working up. to SOMETHING #i want everyday of my life to be an adventure. at the same time im much too tired for that. guess thats why i stick with emotional trifles #im not in love with him or anything. its the same as everyone else. like various dials in a lab that i have to keep below 50 #or else bad things will happen. like a scientist with anxiety. its like i be insane for a little while and the dial goes down #but any others could easily skyrocket because i find little things i adore about one person and latch onto them!!! like art #i feel im the most socially acptble level of yandere out of them all rn. in insanity specifically tho. in othr aspects im still weird #the power of autism is condemning me from learning proper social skills but by god i am TRYING my hardest n learning new things #i sit around waiting but atleast im building skills while doing it. part of what life is about i guess! #you come for the yandere content and then i just post philosophical rants. a tragedy most awful to those who can relate #but im okay with it as long as these strange lengthy rambles help me recover better!! no problem at all. one day i will be better #tl;dr i havent found love yet but im not miserable either. trying to improve myself through numerous mental quarrels n experience

[werewolfrevenge]

I understand thematically and character development wise why Casey doesn’t kill hun when he has the chance and I think that’s an interesting moment and shows a lot about Casey at his core……however I’m just saying should Casey get a second chance I don’t think he’ll hesitate……..

#look I’m a firm believer in why a character wants revenge give them it!! #but I do understand why revenge maybe might not be the best for Casey in the long run #like I think he probably uses the idea of revenge as something that’ll take away his grief #but that’s not how that works…….revenge won’t heal the wounds it won’t make his dads death hurt less #like sure he’ll get the satisfaction he took out his dad’s killer he avenged his dad #but how long is that satisfaction gonna last? #like how long until he feels empty and like he has no real purpose anymore because his number one goal is done #but that didn’t bring his dad back…….all he’s left with is the hole In his heart from his fathers death #he thought this would make it hurt less but it didn’t it never was going to and maybe deep down he knew that wouldn’t help #but fuck if it didn’t feel good……fuck if he isn’t glad he took out that bastard finally…….he hopes his dad would be proud…… #but no matter how nice the revenge was it won’t ever give Casey want he really wants……he wants his dad back #he wants a life where he got to spend all the time he should have with his father #a life where his dad saw him go to his prom saw his graduation was at his damn wedding met his fucking granddaughter #it’s not fair it’s not fair and revenge didn’t fill that void but fuck……it felt good to do #Casey tag

[mclqren]

PERFECT ★ CL16

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!singer!reader

SUMMARY ✦ most of your songs are based off of your relationship with your boyfriend, so it's only fair that he writes a song for you, right? [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ for the purpose of this fic, i have stolen some songs from other artists to use as the reader's/charles'. as per request, the fc i've used is sabrina carpenter, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

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liked by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo, and 3,555,971 others

tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername my new song 'cinnamon girl', and the music video to go with it, is out now!! i'd like to thank everyone who supported me through the making of this song, but especially my boyfriend, who inspired me to write it. je t’aime 💌

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user1 THEIR RELATIONSHIP HAS ME SCREAMINGGG WHEN IS IT MY TURN

user2 SO REAL THEY'RE SUCH CUTIES

charles_leclerc forever proud of you ❤️

yourusername 💘💘

user3 her aesthetic means absolutely everything to me

user4 THE SONG IS EVERYTHING AND MOREEE I LOVE IT!!

user5 y/n l/n one chance PLEASEEE

oliviarodrigo so proud of you baby!! 💜

yourusername thank you sm liv i love you 💌

user6 their friendship is everything to me.

liked by charles_leclerc, tatemcrae, and 3,002,718 others

yourusername cinnamon girl is already at one million streams on spotify?! actually insane - thank you all so much for supporting me and my vision, i love you all to death 💌

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user10 WOAH 1 MILLION ALREADY IS CRAZYYY

user11 beyond proud of you y/n you’ve come so far 💗💗

charles_leclerc couldn’t be prouder of you ❤️

yourusername love you!! 💕💕

user12 the way he supports her>>

user13 the fact charles leclerc inspired this song is actually everything to me

user14 IM IN LOVE W EVERYTHING YOU DO

tatemcrae MY GIRL COME ON ❤️

yourusername TATEEE MY BABY 💕

liked by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo, and 2,981,627 others

tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername next stop: bahrain!! 💌

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user17 y’all’s relationship is everything to me

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

user18 Y/N IN BAHRAIN THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!

user19 the way he looks at her omg

user20 i want someone to look at me the way charles looks at y/n oh my days

oliviarodrigo take me w you!! 😭

yourusername next time!! 💕

user21 she’s so sweet i cant

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 2,671,902 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc touchdown in bahrain! let’s hope for a good race 👊

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user22 HES BACKKKK

user23 LECLERCCC

user24 y/n is glowing omg

yourusername can’t wait to watch 💕

charles_leclerc ❤️

user25 awwww stop it rn

yourusername FORZA FERRARIII

carlossainz55 SIEMPRE ❤️

user26 y/n’s two moods: cutesy gf and raging ferrari fan

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 2,880,218 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc i promised something new and exciting with my music, and here it is. 'perfect' is out now - a song i produced and played purely on the piano. this song is for my love: you write songs about me all the time, so here's a little present from me to you ❤️

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user30 he's so in love it's actually the cutest thing ever

user31 this song is actually so beautiful what on earth.

yourusername my love 💌

charles_leclerc forever ❤️

user32 kill me now why are they so cute.

user33 THE SONG CHARLESSS ITS SO GOOD

maxverstappen1 photo credits for the last picture?? ☹️

yourusername thanks for capturing such a gorgeous shot maxie, much appreciated 😘

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 3,313,220 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc to the person who i would dedicate all of my songs to. je t’aime ❤️

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user38 someone put them in a cheesy romantic comedy film right this instant they're too perfect for this world.

user39 RIGHTTT IVE BEEN SAYING THIS

user40 can't tell who's punching more: charles or y/n

user41 she is so stunning i actually can't

user42 the song title 'perfect' is so fitting i mean look at her

yourusername im choosing to ignore the second picture 😘

charles_leclerc but why, it's so cute!!

yourusername you are joking charles.

yourusername love you always and forever 💌

liked by charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 3,445,380 others

tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername thank you sm charlie for the song, it was truly one of the most beautiful things that have ever graced my ears, and i will forever cherish it 💌 this post is an appreciation for you (the last picture will forever be my favorite)

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user43 the way i can hear the last photo 😭

user44 "nothing it was just an inchident"

charles_leclerc the last picture ☹️

yourusername my fav 😊😊

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

user45 FUCKKK IM SO SINGLE RN

user46 NO REALLL IM SO LONELY

maxverstappen1 last pic brings back bad memories 😢

yourusername sorry about that mad max, i'm sure you'll get over it soon. 🫶

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#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 smau #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 social media au #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #mclqren

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #Bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #collin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x wife reader

[youareiron-andyouarestrong]

💛 rebelcaptain please 🥺

reunion kiss / relief

He doesn't like it when she's gone.

True, their respective occupations (spies, thieves, saboteurs, rebels) aren't exactly conducive to a thriving domestic life. They carve out pockets here and there, between missions. Moments in his quarters, in the cockpit of his ship. In hidden corridors on Yavin. But Jyn's been assigned to the Pathfinders for this mission, and it was estimated to take about three weeks. That was already four weeks ago, and anxiety has been a low-level hum in the back of Cassian's mind since. He knows that Jyn can take care of herself. Hell, she can take care of herself and the entire team, if it comes down to it. Does it make him selfish or cowardly to hope that it doesn't come down to that? He would take her safe return over a dozen successful missions, if that's not the most terrifying thought. He can count on Bodhi to try to distract him, or Kay to run statistics and data by him; the odds of Jyn's return are "mid-to-high chance of likelihood," as Kay says. That's practically a joyful song by Kay's standards, but nothing will reassure Cassian until Jyn is standing before him, whole and unharmed. He cuts through the hanger, on his way to his quarters to grab a datapad Draven asked for. He's been at loose ends, admittedly, for the last week, doing recoding and updating programming on any droid that needs it, or working out new codes and aliases for other operatives to use. Draven would've sent him on a mission, but Majors don't get sent on anything greater than pure infiltration and retrieval. (Cassian might've refused point blank to go if Jyn wasn't back yet, but he doesn't think he can take it that far. Not yet.) Kay meets him in the corridor just outside his quarters, looming up an iron pillar. "You are expected at a briefing in half an hour." "Half an hour?" Cassian echoes, startled. "I thought it was sooner." "I am not your protocol droid," says Kay sternly. "I only convey the information that is told to me." A patent falsehood, but never mind. "Half an hour, Cassian." Kay stumps down the hallway, as Cassian shakes his head. He trusts Kay's scheduling abilities, but it seems a little odd, and arbitrary for him to insist on this particular time--

He steps into his quarters and stops, the panel sliding shut behind him soundlessly. Jyn is there, in the very process of tossing down her kit bag, turning to face the opening and closing door. She freezes momentarily in surprise, those star-filled eyes widening as she takes him in. "Cass," she says. "I was just coming to find you--" He doesn't even think, he just moves. Surges towards her with no other thought but overwhelming relief, like a bone that's been snapped into place, and pain removed--

He catches her in his arms and kisses her, fiercely glad, and Jyn's arms wrap around his neck in response. He has to nearly lift her off her feet to get their faces level; he doesn't care. He can count on Jyn to wrap her legs around his waist like she's scaling a tree, her hands clenched in his hair. Her mouth tastes like caf and sugar, her hair smells like ozone. It's the safest he's felt in weeks. Finally, the need for breath draws them both apart, and he lowers her down to the ground, their foreheads pressed together. "Welcome home," he tells her quietly, their breath mingling.

"Hi," Jyn says, a little breathless. He tries not to feel too smug about it. "Not that I'm complaining, but what brought this on?"

He manages a little shrug, as they're still wrapped around each other. "I missed you." He says it like a secret, like an oath. "I see," Jyn says softly, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. "Well, according to Tall, Dark and Grumpy out there, we have half an hour. Why don't you show me how much?" He's only too glad to.

#star wars #rogue one #rebelcaptain #jyn x cassian #replies #writetheniteaway #my writing #otp: and make death proud to take us #thank you e i can always count on you

[scientia-rex]

One of my patients used to be a Big Deal Specialist in the city and you can just TELL he’s SEETHING that no one out here is even qualified to understand what he did, much less how important he was. He’s also terrified of death. It’s both annoying and really sad. Like, sir, I hate to break it to you, but no amount of knowledge will protect you from the ravages of time. It’s a special kind of hell to know the stages of various fatal diseases intimately. What is it going to feel like when it’s my turn? How do doctors want to die? Suddenly, quietly. Slip away painlessly in my sleep. But how likely is that? Not very. More likely I’ll get cardiovascular disease or cancer, the greatest killers of our time.

He was so afraid of cancer he had an organ that wasn’t cancerous removed just in case. He talks down to me as if I’m his student, and who knows? Maybe I was. He was in the same city as me, and they were forever dragging Big Name Doctors in to teach us things. Maybe I learned how to elicit Achilles tendon reflexes from him.

But mostly I find myself a little scornful. Who lives without the shadow of death? Who doesn’t think about death all the time? When you die, life is a round thing, finished and whole. What will your life look like when God holds it in the palm of his hand?

Also don’t fucking call me by my first name unless I’ve specifically said you can. I don’t GIVE that permission to patients, except for my mentally ill trans and queer patients. If I wanted to be disrespected by an older man I would have married young.

You do not have time. This important doctor who based his whole life around his importance lived as rich and full a life as anyone. And now he’s clinging to it, leaving fingernail marks on the walls on his way out. No one has time. There will be a moment when you’re dying when you think, I would give anything I have to be back in that moment. Any ordinary moment. Taking the dogs out to go potty. Browsing at the grocery store. When you’re being crucified on a hospital bed, dying and aware of it through the morphine, you would give anything you ever possessed to go back and have one more agony-free afternoon. Sit on a curb or a stoop. Walk through a park. Hug your spouse. These tiny fragmentary moments that we are constantly sliding through, tobogganing past at high speeds, these are what will be our life when our life is over.

I am accountable to that self. To the dying me. What did I do with this gift and curse? I don’t believe in God, but I know that I will die, and I have watched enough dying people by now to know the kinds of things I’ll think about. I want to make that me proud of what I’ve done and how I’ve spent my life. She will be a harder judge than God, and I want her to look at this one little life and think, yes. I did what I meant to.

#death cw

[temis-de-leon]

Pick me girls and OM! Brothers - Part 2

Characters: Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 3 - Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, one of these girls is actually really stupid, suggestive, mentions of sex between the brothers and mc, mentions of violence, a bit of magic, mentions of cheating (not actual cheating), nightmares, implied death, jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, still ooc but i had even more fun

.

Satan

Your boyfriend looked more offended than you ever had the chance to feel.

The cashier at the bookstore barely had the time to say anything about her supposed romance with the demon before he appeared in his signature pose: a hand in his hip and the other one over his chest.

He had been a regular for years and you didn't know if the girl had been delusional enough to believe she had something with him or if she was just jealous and wanted to make you feel bad.

You weren't sure which one was sadder.

"Am I hearing this correctly?" he said with spite, distracting you from your own thoughts "Are you so daft you were considering me reciprocating your feelings?"

The girl lowered her gaze, clearly embarrassed, and for a moment you felt guilty. Maybe she really thought she had something mutual going on with Satan; a crush that went too far in her own imagination.

She proved you wrong, however, when not only did she give you a side eye, but also said the most stupidest thing one could ever muster.

"Well, obviously you are so daft you chose them over me"

You couldn't waste time on feeling hurt; not when Satan was showing his fangs, letting his tail scratch the floor as it lashed behind him. As hot as he looked like this, it was not the moment nor the place to show his demon form in a fit of rage.

The stupid cashier seemed proud of getting a reaction out of him, finally catching his attention. Maybe she was a demon of wrath too? Maybe that's how she flirted with other demons?

The poor thing would be lucky if she ever lived to see another day.

Let her discover that fact on her own.

"She's not worth it, Satan" you urged, pushing him to the door "Let's go to that cat cafe you mentioned earlier. You said they had new kittens, right?"

That seemed to do the trick.

He looked at you with love, still mixed with anger and bewilderment, but not enough for you not to hold his hand and lean against him.

"I'm sorry, my dear" he murmured, then he spoke louder "Do not believe a word she said"

"I would never"

"Good"

He nodded to himself, like the idea of you believing the cashier was too stupid to even consider it, but neither of you could ignore how his hand stiffened in yours for a second.

"Let's go see some kittens" you said in a singing voice, leading him in the street towards your destination.

You failed to see the adoration in his eyes.

Asmo

This succubus dated Asmo long before you were even an idea in your parents' minds and she wanted you to keep that in mind.

She wanted you to know that everything you knew, she knew better (a blatant lie) and that Asmo preferred experience over novelty (ew).

"I remember the times we went to the sauna and... Oh, sorry, does he take you to the sauna?"

"He invited me a couple of times, yes" but I had to say no or else I would've boiled alive.

"And does he...?"

Does he. Does he. Does he.

He does. HE DOES. HE DEFINITELY DOES.

In which moment did you think going to The Fall was a better plan than doing each other's skincare routine while making fun of 50 shades of Grey?

The both of you could be criticizing that poor excuse of BDSM right now (before recreating the correct version), but, instead, Asmo was ordering the girliest cocktail ever made while this Camila Cabello wannabe harassed you.

"...that was a little joke between us"

Lord Diavolo she just kept going.

"I'm so happy you remember so well your past relationship with him" you intervened with a strain in your voice, "but maybe it's time for you to stop and leave"

The succubus smirked with a smugness that made your innards burn from the inside out.

"Don't get jealous! I'm sure he loves you too"

Oh my Lord.

The lion, the witch and the audacity of this bitch.

"Hon', look at this!"

There he came, your savior, dressed in a skimpy dress with hands full of shimmery drinks and a glint in his very beautiful loving eyes.

"They didn't have human beverages, but I swear the taste is impeccable, you'll love it! Just let me take a picture for Devilgram first"

Camila Cabello, as you had finally decided to call her, cleared her throat in search of the demon's attention. Asmodeus looked in her direction, obviously trying to remember who she was.

"Asmo, baby!" she was nothing but a smile full teeth and a mission. Her gaze a little desperate "Remember me?"

Her determination died, however, when Asmo's expression turned shocked after studying her. He grasped his chest in sorrow as he asked the funniest question you could hear at the moment.

"What are you wearing?"

Camila Cabello was finally at a loss of words and you briefly wondered if this had ever happened to her.

"If you're gonna meddle in my relationship with MC at least take effort in looking decent"

His expression was sweet, saccharine, but there was an underlying seriousness in his voice.

He was so beautiful. And he was all yours.

Beel

She was one of the boys, apparently. Beel had definitely never mentioned her, but the girl only laughed when you told her that.

"Wow, controlling much? Does he have to tell you about every friend?"

Well, no, Beel didn't have to inform you about everyone he's ever met, but your boyfriend was sweet enough to want you in every aspect of his life, thus introducing you to his friends, his teammates and even his gym bros.

Definitely not to this girl.

You looked at her in disbelief, licking your teeth with a calculating glance. How much would Beel care if you hit this airhead with a dumbbell?

"We hang out together almost every day" she boasted, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger "It's not even weird for me to be in the boys locker room"

Were you strong enough to throw a dumbbell?

Surely she'd rather be with them instead of you if she was 'one of the boys', no? Why would she be in the bleachers with you, waiting for the team to finish their training, when she could be in any other part of the field doing exercise or playing for another sport?

"I'm not making you insecure, am I?" asked the girl in poorly faked innocence "If he loves you so much you should have nothing to worry about"

"Oh, I trust him" you assured her, but you didn't sound as confident as you wanted to. Although Beel never gave you any reasons to doubt him, it was difficult to defend your relationship when this girl was so convinced everyone was in love with her.

"That's so cool"

You decided to ignore her and her mocking tone, hoping to end the conversation right there, but she just kept talking. It was obvious she wanted to get under your skin.

For what? you wondered. Did she expect Beel to leave you if she batted her lashes fast enough? Did she know Beel at all??

"Oh, Beely!"

You cringed with a scowl visible to everyone around you. Some of Beel's teammates laughed at your missfortune, while the others, the ones you liked best, turned around in horror and left without a second glance.

Wether he was oblivious or just didn't care, Beel wasted no time in running towards you with a smile on his face.

"Did you see me?" he asked, looking up to you with a boyish grin and brightened eyes.

"I'm always looking at you"

Beel blushed, his smile still obvious in his face, but he couldn't get another word in before the girl talked again.

"I was looking at you too"

You rolled your eyes and Beel immediately stared at you with a curious glance. He hummed in response, ignoring her once again as he reached out for your hand to caress your knuckles.

"There's a new limited edition menu in a restaurant near RAD"

No questions added nor needed. You smiled at him and nodded, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss it. A promise for later.

"Noo, we used to go there so much..."

"Can you stop?" Beel interrupted her with a deadpan expression "You're making MC uncomfortable"

The girl looked at him in surprise, mouth wide open, clearly not expecting to be snapped at.

She didn't dare to look at you after that.

Belphie

It wasn't the first time you dreamt about this girl and it wasn't the first time you dreamt about her stealing your sloth of a boyfriend.

She wasn't some mystery girl, but rather Belphie's old seatmate, the one he had before you were kidnapped admitted in RAD. A quiet doe-eyed succubus that looked at him like he was the best thing that ever happened to both human and demon mankind.

She'd tried to sit next to him a couple of times with no avail, always getting rejected in your favor. Then, Belphie and you started dating and she stopped trying. You'd innocently thought she'd surrendered.

But not only did she search for him the very few times you guys weren't next to each other, she also ignored you completely when you were there.

Ignoring her back was easier said than done.

And this time, the oniric version of her wasn't just stealing your boyfriend. This time, he was willingly going to her, making your heart hurt so much it made you wake up with what felt like broken ribs.

It took you a couple of minutes to pull yourself together and not push Belphie away when he brought you back to his chest. The image of him kissing her while looking at you was engraved in your mind.

So, although sweating and hurting both from your heart and your confidence, you forced yourself to sleep.

You didn't notice just how awake Belphie was.

Back when you were still friends, you had allowed him to introduce himself into your slumber each time you had a nightmare. Images of you dying under the jaws and claws of faceless demons disappeared faster when the real Belphie was there. Ironic, isn't it?

He tried to stop every single one of them, but sometimes he was so deep in his own dreams it was proved to be impossible.

You thought this was one of those occasions, but, alas, you were wrong.

Days passed without any new event and Belphie mentioned nothing about your initial irrational coldness towards him, which made you feel a tiny bit better. Eventually you'd get so embarrassed about the situation that you had no other option but to dote on him like the brat he was, leading to a whole weekend sprawled over his bed in the attic.

The girl was still there, although not as persistent with Belphie, and she avoided you like the plague, with fright in her eyes.

So he did something about her, didn't he? But how did he know? And what did he do? You wanted to ask, curious as ever, but as time went by and the eyebags under her eyes started to occupy her entire face, you decided against it.

Barely a month later she disappeared without leaving trace. And since Belphie didn't even acknowledge her at all, why would you?

Tagging a little more: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! swd #om! shall we date #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo x mc #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me beel x reader #obey me beel x mc #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphie x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me x gender neutral reader

[halechief]

the gift chris gives claire is a scrapbook, a pale, dusky pink cloth bound collection of photos taken on the campaign trail. the first page has lines from “oh the places you’ll go” written in his own handwriting. the rest of the book is just very mundane candids of every city they visited together. some nicely posed shots of monuments they saw together, things she remarked on as interesting or funny. some of them she’s in, some of them she’s not, some of them they’re in together, some are of her and phil, and some are just of phil, have no people in them at all and they’re just cityscapes or still life. some are black and white, some of them in color. besides them being in the order of cities they visited, there’s no rhyme or reason, it just is as it was experienced and left for her in her office without ceremony. @newsworth

happy birthday to claire :) : @newsworth

text : christopher brady. i got your gift. it's very thoughtful, christopher. are you still in the building?

text : christopher brady. i hope so, for your sake. avoiding a hug today just means a longer one tomorrow, you know 😊

#( and make death proud to take us. ) #newsworth #fuck all the way off this is so mf cute #i have no words you sonuvabitch you've done it #iii. verse: secondary: i don't think there's anything i wouldn't do anymore. / presidency alt.

[merakiui]

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x reader #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: baby trapping #tw: somnophilia

[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

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

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