#bind off method

[ezekiellsplayground]

The long awaited double knitted twisted rib bind off method is finally here! Big shout out to the genius in my fibre community who developed this method for me and graciously allowed it to be shared. Happy knitting!

[darkandstormydolls]

PSA to all historical fiction/fantasy writers:

A SEAMSTRESS, in a historical sense, is someone whose job is sewing. Just sewing. The main skill involved here is going to be putting the needle into an out of the fabric. They’re usually considered unskilled workers, because everyone can sew, right? (Note: yes, just about everyone could sew historically. And I mean everyone.) They’re usually going to be making either clothes that aren’t fitted (like shirts or shifts or petticoats) or things more along the lines of linens (bedsheets, handkerchiefs, napkins, ect.). Now, a decent number of people would make these things at home, especially in more rural areas, since they don’t take a ton of practice, but they’re also often available ready-made so it’s not an uncommon job. Nowadays it just means someone whose job is to sew things in general, but this was not the case historically. Calling a dressmaker a seamstress would be like asking a portrait painter to paint your house

A DRESSMAKER (or mantua maker before the early 1800s) makes clothing though the skill of draping (which is when you don’t use as many patterns and more drape the fabric over the person’s body to fit it and pin from there (although they did start using more patterns in the early 19th century). They’re usually going to work exclusively for women, since menswear is rarely made through this method (could be different in a fantasy world though). Sometimes you also see them called “gown makers”, especially if they were men (like tailors advertising that that could do both. Mantua-maker was a very feminized term, like seamstress. You wouldn’t really call a man that historically). This is a pretty new trade; it only really sprung up in the later 1600s, when the mantua dress came into fashion (hence the name).

TAILORS make clothing by using the method of patterning: they take measurements and use those measurements to draw out a 2D pattern that is then sewed up into the 3D item of clothing (unlike the dressmakers, who drape the item as a 3D piece of clothing originally). They usually did menswear, but also plenty of pieces of womenswear, especially things made similarly to menswear: riding habits, overcoats, the like. Before the dressmaking trade split off (for very interesting reason I suggest looking into. Basically new fashion required new methods that tailors thought were beneath them), tailors made everyone’s clothes. And also it was not uncommon for them to alter clothes (dressmakers did this too). Staymakers are a sort of subsect of tailors that made corsets or stays (which are made with tailoring methods but most of the time in urban areas a staymaker could find enough work so just do stays, although most tailors could and would make them).

Tailors and dressmakers are both skilled workers. Those aren’t skills that most people could do at home. Fitted things like dresses and jackets and things would probably be made professionally and for the wearer even by the working class (with some exceptions of course). Making all clothes at home didn’t really become a thing until the mid Victorian era.

And then of course there are other trades that involve the skill of sewing, such as millinery (not just hats, historically they did all kinds of women’s accessories), trimming for hatmaking (putting on the hat and and binding and things), glovemaking (self explanatory) and such.

TLDR: seamstress, dressmaker, and tailor are three very different jobs with different skills and levels of prestige. Don’t use them interchangeably and for the love of all that is holy please don’t call someone a seamstress when they’re a dressmaker

[reasonsforhope]

"When bloodstream infections set in, fast treatment is crucial — but it can take several days to identify the bacteria responsible. A new, rapid-diagnosis sepsis test could cut down on the wait, reducing testing time from as much as a few days to about 13 hours by cutting out a lengthy blood culturing step, researchers report July 24 [2024] in Nature.

“They are pushing the limits of rapid diagnostics for bloodstream infections,” says Pak Kin Wong, a biomedical engineer at Penn State who was not involved in the research. “They are driving toward a direction that will dramatically improve the clinical management of bloodstream infections and sepsis.”

Sepsis — an immune system overreaction to an infection — is a life-threatening condition that strikes nearly 2 million people per year in the United States, killing more than 250,000 (SN: 5/18/08). The condition can also progress to septic shock, a steep drop in blood pressure that damages the kidneys, lungs, liver and other organs. It can be caused by a broad range of different bacteria, making species identification key for personalized treatment of each patient.

In conventional sepsis testing, the blood collected from the patient must first go through a daylong blood culturing step to grow more bacteria for detection. The sample then goes through a second culture for purification before undergoing testing to find the best treatment. During the two to three days required for testing, patients are placed on broad-spectrum antibiotics — a blunt tool designed to stave off a mystery infection that’s better treated by targeted antibiotics after figuring out the specific bacteria causing the infection.

Nanoengineer Tae Hyun Kim and colleagues found a way around the initial 24-hour blood culture.

The workaround starts by injecting a blood sample with nanoparticles decorated with a peptide designed to bind to a wide range of blood-borne pathogens. Magnets then pull out the nanoparticles, and the bound pathogens come with them. Those bacteria are sent directly to the pure culture. Thanks to this binding and sorting process, the bacteria can grow faster without extraneous components in the sample, like blood cells and the previously given broad-spectrum antibiotics, says Kim, of Seoul National University in South Korea.

Cutting out the initial blood culturing step also relies on a new imaging algorithm, Kim says. To test bacteria’s susceptibility to antibiotics, both are placed in the same environment, and scientists observe if and how the antibiotics stunt the bacteria’s growth or kill them. The team’s image detection algorithm can detect subtler changes than the human eye can. So it can identify the species and antibiotic susceptibility with far fewer bacteria cells than the conventional method, thereby reducing the need for long culture times to produce larger colonies.

Though the new method shows promise, Wong says, any new test carries a risk of false negatives, missing bacteria that are actually present in the bloodstream. That in turn can lead to not treating an active infection, and “undertreatment of bloodstream infection can be fatal,” he says. “While the classical blood culture technique is extremely slow, it is very effective in avoiding false negatives.”

Following their laboratory-based experiments, Kim and colleagues tested their new method clinically, running it in parallel with conventional sepsis testing on 190 hospital patients with suspected infections. The testing obtained a 100 percent match on correct bacterial species identification, the team reports. Though more clinical tests are needed, these accuracy results are encouraging so far, Kim says.

The team is continuing to refine their design in hopes of developing a fully automated sepsis blood test that can quickly produce results, even when hospital laboratories are closed overnight. “We really wanted to commercialize this and really make it happen so that we could make impacts to the patients,” Kim says."

-via Science News, July 24, 2024

[servicpop]

correcting wrongs nsfw teacher ! zhongli x student brat ! bttm m reader

Clad in a brown turtleneck with an almost unamused expression on his face, your professor was nothing short of being “the best in the business.” His stoic nature paired with those strikingly sharp features made him easy on the eyes, and strangely attractive.

He wasn't soft spoken, but his words were always delivered gently, tinged with a rasp from his low speaking register. A real heartthrob of a teacher.

Though he was kind to others, you seemed to be the one thing that made him slightly annoyed. Every conversation you had with him usually ended with a pinch of his nose bridge, a sigh, and a dismiss with the wave of his hand. Your bratty attitude towards him was almost bearable until it wasn't.

In a cliché fashion, Zhongli had asked you to come to his office in the afternoon when classes finished, and you did.

“Are my teaching methods not good enough for you?” You can hear the exhaustion weigh on his words as he pushes himself off the chair to stand.

You don't respond, the words seem to dissipate in your throat the moment he begins to scold you.

“What is the issue? I'm trying to understand,” A hand grabs your shoulder, and you lift your head to glance at Zhongli's face. He wears the classic 'teacher expression,' one that oddly reminds you of a parent.

“I'm more of a hands on learner,” you shrug, and its apparent in Zhongli's face that he picks up your little tease. There's a slight confusion in his eyes before it's masked to be unreadable. A sigh leaves his lips as his hands move to cuff the edges of his sleeve up, sliding his watch off and placing it on his desk with a small thud.

“I'm willing to adjust my methods if it means you'll behave more accordingly.” He carefully grabs your wrist, guiding it towards the papers on his desk, planting your hand firmly onto the sheet. Zhongli stands behind you, his chest almost touching your back from how close he was. He lets your fingers trace the printed letters to study the content on the page, but it's all a jumble of useless words to you, especially when your attractive teacher is right behind you.

“This is boring,” you whine, trying to pull your hand from underneath Zhongli's.

“Are you having difficulty concentrating?” He asks, the velvety tone of his voice violates your ears like it's crawling through your brain. It's a tingly feeling you can't shake off.

“As if it would be that—” You're cut off by the involuntary hitch of your breath as his cold fingers grace the side of your waist. They travel down to your hips, sneaking under your pants before they retreat.

“Maybe some concentration exercises? To help you stop getting distracted.”

You swallow. Thickly. You're about to jab a snarky remark at him before you feel his hand push down the back of your head, forcing you to look down at the worksheets on his desk. His free hand wrangles his tie, pulling it off to bind your wrists together. Zhongli rests his hands on your hips as he leans into your ear, his breath hot against the shell.

“Do you want me to stop?” Zhongli's fingers rest lightly on the waistband of your pants, like he's waiting for the greenlight to pull them off. He's too patient with you—he doesn't pry at all—and when you don't give him a response he kindly removes himself from you.

“No— um,” You stumble over your words as he pulls away, unable to conjure a coherent sentence in your head to respond. It's almost like your pride is blocking your throat but you push out a few words, just so he knows.

“It's fine,” you breathe, quickly turning your head away from him to save yourself some dignity.

You don't see it, but he smiled ever so slightly, returning to his previous position. Zhongli's fingers slip down, slowly dragging the zipper lower as he watches your eyes fixate on the pages infront of you. His hands—oddly soft and warm—meets your pelvis before they slide down to the elastic of your underwear. With a small flick of his wrists, he's able to pull your boxers off and down low enough that it sits neatly at your mid thigh.

Your breath hitches and you drag your eyes away from the text and to his hands that are gently running up the sides of your thigh. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, using his free hand to tap the sheet infront of you.

“Focus. Eyes on the paper.” His hands pull away from your body—only to unbuckle his belt, though you misinterprete his actions—and you spin your head around to question him. He's already pulled his belt off and taps your forehead with the end of it. “Needy,” he scolds.

Fabric noises fill the empty office and you see him reach over to dish a packet from his wallet—he keeps those on him at all time. You recognise the sound, the latex rolling on, the slight snap as he fixes it to be more comfortable, and the feeling of wetness against your skin.

He uses his hand to push the back of your head down once again, “Don't pay attention to what I am doing, focus on the content.” He's probably mentioned the word 'focus' five times by now.

Zhongli uses his thumb to part your flesh, giving way for him to nuzzle his head against your hole. He's exactly how you imagined him to be, except all you can really feel is the condom rather than his skin, none of his veins and all—which was, really, the more important details.

Its a slow movement as he slides himself into you, gently kneading the plush of your waist—an absent-minded habit you assume. He's not excruciatingly thick; he's rather average, but there's something about the way he could reach so deep without causing any external pain makes your knees buck just a little.

All the words and educational paragraphs all become a blur the moment he fully sheaths himself inside of you. He pauses, letting you soak in the situation before he pulls out, only just to slam himself back in. Your little gasps and moans earns another cruel thrust, forcing you to arch your back as he holds you in place.

“It's difficult, is it?” He's using that teacher tone on you, but you can tell there's a slight mock in his voice as he watches you disregard the paper, crumpling it under your hands as you grip at anything you can.

“I can always assign you easier work if that makes you feel better.” He tilts your head back, letting you see him through the corner of your eye as he continuously pounds into you, the obscene sound of skin against skin loud enough that you started to worry the janitors wold hear.

“I can do it,” you grit through your teeth despite the pants and whispers.

“I don't think you can,” he cooes, gently holding your jaw as he lets you rest your head against his palm. The only reason he's holding your head up is to ensure you don't get a headache from how hard your body is recoiling from his thrusts.

He practically drags his cock in and out of you, angling his hips in a way that would hit your prostate almost every single time. His hands were gentle on your skin, holding you like you were a porcelain doll, but his thrusts were punishing.

As your whines grew, he knew you were getting close, seeing the way your legs trembled underneath you, barely holding you up. The hand Zhongli had on your hip moves to pick up your leaking tip in his hands, smoothing his thumb over the slit. He holds it there, denying you of any release.

“Are you ready to listen in my lectures?” He hums, leaning his head down to get a good look at your face.

“No more talking back?” he adds, marvelling in the way you're eyes dip in and out of focus. You nod, unable to find your voice from how hard you were yelling while he was hitting all the right spots. He flashes a polite smile, removing his thumb from blocking your urethra and gently massaging your tip to coax out a orgasm.

It hits you like a train, sparks darting across your vision as your dick stiffens, spurting out a copious amount of white all over Zhongli's desk. You go limp in his hold, chest still heaving from the intensity of your high. It takes a few more, slow pumps before he's pulling out, taking off the used plastic and throwing it into the trash can underneath his desk.

“How was that? Did I do your 'hands on learning' correct?” He could really enchant someone with that voice.

a / n : sorry this was short T T I just needed to get something out . I literally forgot how Zhongli acted halfway through so this is probably very ooc . . .

[simonz-angel]

LOVE YOUR WRITING 😝😝‼️

can we get simon fluff please?? 🙏

purely sfw, like how he’d cheer you up after a bad day. some hugs, kisses, cuddles, jokes, tickles, etc. etc. 💜

hii lil nonnie!! i hope i did this justice… dunno if you noticed but i typically don’t lean towards the sweet stuff. anyways please lemme know if you love this or not (or anyone plz guys) i put some real love into this just for you sweet pie ♡♡♡

❥ simon… the big, broody man? nah, he’s an absolute ball of fluff, of candy-like sweetness that melts into you with every touch, soul binding to yours with every sweet kiss, every sweet moment.

❥ he’d be one to kiss you every step through the door, it was like he couldn’t get enough. could never memorize the softness of your lips, the hesitation in your touch, unsure if he’s hurt. it was dizzying every time, his thin, cracked lips simply pressed against yours had worlds colliding, his world splitting open.

❥ and he’s the type to crack his eyes open right when the suns rising, feet padding their way to kitchen to get a roast heated. and you’d soon be behind him, in one of his big t-shirts, hair tousled, eye brows scrunched and pouting up at him. god, it was a sight every morning, and gah it had him soaring, depths into the heavens to know he had you beside him.

❥ he loved how when he barged through the door bloody and battered he had someone to lean on. you’d be rushing over, pressing your lips to his cheek then to his before you’re guiding him to the bathroom. your gentle heart is what he fell in love with, the way you’d care so deeply and the way your warmth could mute any pain in these worlds.

❥ he hated how he succumbed so deeply to every desire of yours, but when you’d beg for five more minutes in bed, he’d sigh softly and grip you tighter, pulling you further into him. sitting warm beneath the sheets, limbs tangled as your inhales matched rhythm and your exhales combined, dancing around.

❥ or when you’d convince him for late night snuggles up on the couch, pleading with a “the movies almost over, please si?” and he could never reject your glowing eyes, your lips pulled so downward your cheeks begin to dimple. it’d always end with you asleep against the soft beat of his heart, a lullaby truly. and he’d have to pick you up bring you up to your bedroom.

❥ he’s one to admire audibly. whispering sweet things for only your being to hear, voice so soft it barely touches the air. mumbling at how your so perfect, so beautiful, the best thing life has granted for him. he’d go through lives n lives of hardships if it meant he had you waiting for him.

❥ he’s one to crack jokes to see your pretty teeth sparkle when your lips pull into the most shattering smiles he’s ever seen. it was mesmerizing every fuckin’ time, watching you giggle and shoo at him as your cheeks flushed and your lungs hiccuped for a deep breath.

❥ n when you wouldn’t smile, when you’d brush him off with a tired eyes a droop to that memorable smile, his heart would fail. and he’d sit you down, fingers dancing along your scalp to feel your soft breaths against his chest. he’d let you speak your mind, not interrupting, purely listening to how horrible your day went.

❥ and when it came to cheering you up he knew just how. he had methods, late walks, skin to skin, a movie, a warm filling meal. or simply the best jokes and the sweetest sarcasm that had your eyes rolling and cheeks balling in a smile.

❥ it was easy to see simon as some sort of monster, a fearful man born without an ounce of empathy. but when he meant you, that all seemed to crumble down, as he began to trust, when his heart began to pump wildly every time your name touched his ears, you were his forever.

[antimony-medusa]

gosh i am so so sorry to come into your askbox with this but you seem a knower of things and as an extreme latecomer to this fandom, i have been. a little bit genuinely mystified by the ""dadza"" phenomenon in general? like i've seen figures or characters Assigned Dad At Fanbase before but it's usually because of like. dad hobbies or jokes or fashion sense or an actual child they talk about often or a tendency to actually make "ah yes, i'm your dad" comments/jokes, none of which the real streamer seems to have or do, or a some manner of "gruff character is soft and caring under the surface and looks out for children" archetype, which his RP character doesn't seem to be (outside of MAYBE qsmp, the story that literally became about parenting through peril, but i know this goes back further than that). Is it just because he's older by internet standards and people can't imagine people with more than a 3-year age difference interacting in a way that isn't """parental""? was it a one-off joke that got taken too far? is this all a symptom from the dsmp plot point that snowballed to the extreme? i need to ask because it is just SO far-reaching and i see no clear origin and as you can imagine that is confusing.

Okay so. This is a fascinating question because as I throw my mind back I am a little fuzzy on the actual order of events. I think it was a bunch of things happening that kind of compounded, but to the best of my knowledge what happened was:

Through SMPEarth and MCC, the original sleepy bois becomes popular. Technoblade, Philza, and Wilbur Soot. Shipping is frowned on, so people start getting invested in a family dynamic (often with all three of them as siblings). Through a MCC win, Tommyinnit (also exploding in popularity) gets added to the "official sleepy boys" dynamic, and now we have 4/4— still often interpreted as siblings, if you ever read Snapshots in Lavender, which is drawing from this time period.

Wilbur particularly is huge into the family dynamic, often talking about being twins with techno, brothers with tommy, and referring to Phil as dad and Dadza (cause he was ten years older and that means of course he's OLD and DAD, and Wilbur had a daddy kink). When SBI joins DSMP, wilbur takes the opportunity to canonize Phil as his dad in lore at the same time as he makes Phil kill his character, and tries repeatedly to make Techno his twin, and refers to tommy and him as "like brothers" a lot. Tommy plays into the dadza stuff (he is like a decade and a half younger than Phil so at least it makes more sense) and also is clearly relying on Phil for things like tech support and moral support as the fandom is exploding. Phil is dependable and safe, therefore dad. Fandom takes this and RUNS with it. Passerine happens, and Phil gets written as the dad of wilbur and tommy, Techno as an ambiguously sworn brother to phil, and brother/father/mentor to wilbur and tommy.

Pandemic is happening. 30k people are showing up to Phil streams. TTS off kids basically in distress are latching onto Phil as a supportive and dependable figure who they are seeing as dad in fanfic and on Wilbur streams as Wilbur is playing up the dad thing whenever he interacts with Phil. Phil is like (to the fandom) sure if you haven't got a dad or a good dad you can call me dad I guess and just sort of laughs at his friends calling him dad.

Techno puts his foot down in canon that Wilbur is not his twin, though that doesn't stop either Wilbur or the fandom, and Phil clarifies that Tommy isn't his kid, and Techno isn't his kid, just Wilbur, and this does not stop fandom at all. Tommyinnit's Unbeatable Method and Clinic for Supervillains are written in this period, and Phil dad and techno+wilbur+tommy trio of kids are locked in. Other huge fanfics use this lens— importance of being kind, ars poetica, his curse of binding— a few people such as silverwing are doing techno and phil platonic marriage with wilbur and tommy adopted kids, but the phil=dad lens is inescapable. Even bones in the ocean, which I think might be the biggest phil-centric fic, has a subplot about him being wilbur's dad and how that went.

We start getting into fandom schisms about if Phil is a good dad or a bad dad in canon, with his treatment of Wilbur/Ghostbur/Tommy being variously argued. A common refrain is that cc phil is a great dad, c phil is a terrible dad, so this fic is writing phil as a good dad cause that's what's real. Phil in real life continues to have no actual children, but the fandom refers to Phil as techno+tommy+wilbur's dad so often that he puts "father of three" as his end screen. [EDIT: i have been informed that Tommy made that and send it to Phil and told him to put it as his end screen, so that was still Phil just playing along.] It becomes a common interpretation that okay in LORE phil is only wilbur's dad, but in like pure SBI phil is everybody's dad, and people are writing just the pure character dynamic, not LORE. This is still tagged as not RPF. Dark SBI starts to happen.

The DSMP kind of stutters to a halt, with various endings good bad or contentious. Technoblade passes. The fandom declines, but the fan fiction is kind of self sustaining at this point and has firmly established character interpretations. People are regularly showing up to Phil streams to call him dad. He keeps saying that he's just a guy playing block game, but it's fine if people call him dad if that helps them.

QSMP happens. Wilbur immediately assigns Phil as his dad again, though Phil manages to wiggle out of it enough to say that it's not a bio relationship, they just met on the train. Phil becomes a father of an egg child, and the Phil good/bad dad wars start up again. People start interpreting DSMP canon through the lens of Phil's QSMP actions and explaining how that makes him a good or bad dad. However, shipping is kinda legalized due to Phil having a (platonic) husband, so the lens of viewing Phil as a character in a relationship starts up, but the phil-dad people also continue, notably interpreting team bolas as a family with phil as the dad, and starting wars on the wiki about who gets listed as Phil's family and how/why.

Wilbur is revealed as a domestic abuser, the QSMP ends, and both arms of the fandom decline again. Phil's stream numbers are declining to a more manageable level where he can actually read chat and respond to donos, and he starts responding more firmly to people saying that they love him, dadza, saying that that's parasocial and they don't know him. He is notably no longer laughing at it, and he re-emphasizes that he's just a guy playing block game on the internet. We still get like one dono a stream fully latched onto him as their dad.

A year later, Phil blocks dadza in his chat.

Which is to say to my knowledge it mostly came from fanfiction/other people, and Phil went along with it, and now he is no longer going along with it. He has never seemed particularly dad-y to me, but people viewing him through a wilbur-centric or tommy-centric lens had that wiring laid down for them, and then the fandom fucking Took Off With It with how popular those characters/character focuses were. That's my understanding of what happened, if anyone else wants to chime in go for it.

[kasagia]

Right Hand VI

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: You're tired of listening to others and of being afraid of prophecies that don't make sense and that were made up by someone else. Your present belonged only to you. And hell knows, you're going to take your future too. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I was listening to 'Down Bad' by Taylor and I used quotes from a few of them; TEXT NOT CHECKED - I' barely managed to write it on time' I've just ended it and wanted to post it for you, since you are waiting for it so long; it took me ages but I hope you will like it; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART V ~•♤♤♤•~ Epilogue ~•♤♤♤•~

Feyd rarely felt pain he didn't like. The years spent on Giedi Prime—or rather, years of enduring his uncle's methods of making him a true Harkonnen, his worthy successor—made Feyd love pain. He found pleasure in it—something he had to learn if he wanted to survive.

But it didn't bring him any satisfaction or pleasure when you pierced his chest with one of his swords. He feels pure pain. Anger, betrayal, and hurt.

He hates the way he falls limply to his knees in front of you. He hates that he still looks at you like you're a saint. He hates that he hopes you'll at least look him in the eyes, as if that would bring him some kind of salvation. He hates how lost he feels now and how he's slowly losing awareness of his surroundings. He hates that even though you stabbed him, all he can do is stare at you, clinging to the sight of you more than to his life.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N."

He feels you unhook your poisoned dagger from his arm. Feyd thinks you're doing it to finish him off. Poetically kill him with the weapon he gave you. He closes his eyes and waits for the final stab or throat slit. But nothing like that happens. He doesn't have the strength to turn around and see exactly what you're doing, but your words alone are enough for him to imagine the scene that is happening behind him.

"I may not be a Harkonnen, but I've picked up a few of their habits. If you want an agreement between us, show me your hand." After your words, he can hear a hiss from Atreides when you plunge the dagger into your joined hands, piercing them both through.

Feyd would have laughed mockingly if he hadn't spent all his energy on breathing slowly. He remembered explaining to you how contracts, such as arranged marriages, were sealed on Giedi Prime. The Harkonnens shook hands and pierced them with swords, thus signing a blood pact. This also applied to marriages and other such things. Blood bound them stronger than any words or signatures on paper. He cursed himself for the fact that, seeing your scared face at his words, he withdrew from this idea and decided to make a verbal agreement between you. He should be the one to bind you with his blood, not Atreides.

The steel in his body rubs against his lower ribs, but it does not damage any major organs. He tries to keep the sword in the exact same position you stuck it in, but he feels like he's going to faint from all the pain, the blood, and the fear for you that he feels now.

You made him so weak that even after you stabbed him, all he could think about was your safety and your well-being. Every shaky breath he took, every slow beat of his heart as he fought to stay conscious—it was all for you.

He just hoped like hell that you weren't lying a few moments ago, that this would all turn out to be just one of your games, and that you would soon end Atreides' life. But it's not like that.

"Let this blood be a symbol of our union." Your sweet, dangerous whisper reaches Feyd's ears.

He's raging with powerlessness and anger. That Atreides dog didn't deserve to mix his blood with yours. Only Feyd should be able to do this. Only his black blood should merge with your crimson, staining your joined hands as you swore allegiance to each other. His heart hurts more than the wound you gave him as he imagine how you and this desert rat are now echanging each other's blood.

If he hadn't been placed in such a vulnerable state by you, he would have ripped Atreides' heart out with his bare hands for daring to mix his blood with yours. A cold shiver runs down his spine at the thought of Atreides connecting with you in yet another way. A way Feyd was robbed too many times.

He tries to get up, but he doesn't have enough strength. All he can do is place his hands on the floor, trying to take the weight off his torso. The blade scratching his flesh bothers him much less than the fact that Atreides has the nerve to touch you or that you're blatantly ignoring him while playing whatever game you're playing right now.

"Leave him to me. I want… to repay him for all these years of fulfilling his wishes." The cool, composed tone of your voice that you used many times when the two of you dealt with inconvenient prisoners did nothing to inspire his hope or quench his rage.

You really betrayed him. You, of all people. How stupid and naive he was to believe you. He should have killed you the moment his eyes met yours. You were an intruder. A spy in disguise. His bittersweet end.

The door slams shut behind Atreides. Feyd hears your footsteps, the sand from your soles falling back onto the ground—the same ground where his black, thick blood is now flowing. You walk over to him; if he could focus enough, he would see the toes of your shoes.

You kneel in front of him, gently tugging on his head, causing him to rest on your shoulder. He can smell your blood dripping from your hand. You stain his head with it. Under any other circumstances, he would have appreciated how close you were to him, but now, with the sword rubbing uncomfortably against his insides, your touch doesn't bring any comfort at all. Even your lips pressed against his forehead cannot calm the volcano of emotions boiling inside him. But he is helpless. He is unable to do anything; he is completely surrendered to your grace. It wouldn't bother him a few hours ago. Now he hated it.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, then use the voice on him to tell him to fall asleep. When he drifts off to sleep at your command, he is already planning how he will take revenge on you. And hell knows you're going to pay him for it.

"He'll be furious." One of your spies comments as she helps you carry Feyd's body out of the sietch.

Inessa was the only Harkonnen woman you could reasonably trust. She's done your dirty work many times, but... never THIS. You somewhat understood her concerns, but currently, when you both had to carry Feyd through the Fremen corridors and go unnoticed, you didn't necessarily approve of it.

"I am aware." You reply, looking around. Inessa and you somehow patched up Feyd's wound. Now you had to either drag him to the surface yourself and hope that someone would find him in the chaos of the fight or leave him with some of his soldiers.

You didn't like any of these ideas. But you had to do what you planned if you wanted to regain your freedom, even if it meant that Feyd would hate you for it for infinity.

"Fucking angry. I'm serious, Y/N." Inessa warns you again. You roll your eyes at her, for a Harkonnen she was very fearful.

You remember how her hands were shaking a few minutes ago as you both stitched up your new Baron. It was a makeshift dressing and still required treatment by a doctor, but it was enough to get Feyd to the ship and back to base. During this time, you will take care of everything here. You hope that by the time he wakes up, you will have finished what you set out to do. Otherwise, you don't see your future well.

"Just get him out of here." You grumble, turning into a side corridor, and encounter Harkonnen soldiers fighting the Fremen as they kill the last of them, their eyes shifting to the two of you. You nod at them. Without a word, they approach you and take Feyd from you. Inessa looks at you, worried.

"What if he wakes up?"

"You stuffed him with painkillers, and I ordered him to sleep. He won't get up until you're back on the ship." The woman sighs and shakes her head, looking at you intently as you speak.

"Y/N. You've had some… creatively stupid ideas, but this one is the worst of them all. He won't give up. You know it. So why are you doing this?" She asks, taking you off guard for a moment.

She was right. You could have returned to the ship with them, gone back to the safety of Giedi Prime, and let Feyd fight Paul alone. You could have let go and stopped participating in a war that wasn't yours. But at what cost? You've been obeying someone all your life. Bene Gesserit. Prophecies. Feyd. It's finally time for you to deal the cards. And you will do it. In your and Feyd's best interests. You just hoped that he could… forgive you, or see the reasoning behind your actions.

"For myself. For my freedom. For us. This is the only way to end the matter of Atreides, Fremen, and Arrakis. The only effective way."

"Don't you know it yet? You will never be free. We women will never enjoy men's freedom. There will always be someone to whom you must submit. You can't change your fate."

"Then I'd rather die trying." You say, turning on your heel. You don't look back to see her reaction to your words. You had too little time.

The burning sensation on your hand only reminded you of running out of it. The dagger that Feyd gave you must have also had an effect on Atreides. You don't know how advanced he is in Bene Gesserit teachings, so you had to hurry before he detected the poison in his body. Or, God forbid, neutralise it.

You wipe your sweating forehead with the sleeve of your hand as your body begins to fight the poison slowly accumulating in your body. The antidote rested safely in a small syringe hidden in the handle of the dagger you kept strapped to your thigh. You just had to use it when the time was right.

You hope you will get everything done before you die.

You wander through the corridors without knowing where you are. You just have a feeling in the back of your head about where you should go. Besides, the escaping Harkonnens kind of showed you the way into the sietch.

Your hands are shaking as you slowly approach the main room—the one where the Fremen usually gather for large meetings and in case of an attack. Still, you thank Feyd for forcing you to attend the Harkonenn war meetings. At least now you are more familiar with the location of the Fremen's rooms and methods.

The closer you get to the main hall, the more Fremen women push past you, and you feel a little more confident walking through the crowd with them, confident that they are leading you to your place of harm in case of an attack. Even though the Harkonnen were already retreating from the area, some of them were still fighting the Fremen, who craved the blood on their swords and didn't let them just leave. You can only imagine the Feyd's wrath that they will have to face. His men didn't come... fully armed. Apparently it was supposed to be a quick action—get in and out with you, then launch a full attack and invasion.

You know that once he wakes up and heals up a bit, he's going to paint these halls with blood before he burns them to the ground.

Entering the main room, you immediately take a seat by the wall, watching all the Fremen gathering, carefully looking for Atreides among them. He probably had to make sure they "cleared" the halls from the Harkonnens. It makes you sick to think of them bragging about this as a victory over the Harkonnens. It makes you wish you had a little bomb with you...

"Are you already hiding in the shadows?" You shiver when you hear him whisper in your ear. You haven't learned to recognise his steps yet. They were irregular, different, and hard to detect and remember—as if he were constantly moving through the sand like a feather.

"The quicker I adapt, the better, right?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him in challenge. He shakes his head in amusement and watches the Fremen gather with you. It's strange that somehow no one has noticed him yet.

"I'm starting to understand why my cousin kept you so close to him."

"Cousin?" You ask in shock, turning your head towards him so you can look at him. This time he ignores you, not shifting his gaze from the Fremen.

"A little surprise. Maybe we all have a bit of Harkonnen in us after all?" He banters without giving you any of his attention. You snort indignantly, looking at the gathering people again.

"You look tired." You comment, wanting to tease him. You can barely keep yourself from stabbing him with your poisoned dagger a few times. But since he was talking to you so... carelessly, it meant he couldn't detect the poison. Good for you.

"I always am. I will rest when I sit peacefully on the imperial throne."

You would laugh at him if you could. He might easily sit on the emperor's throne, but he wouldn't be able to hold power over all the families for long. Certainly not if you and Feyd had anything to say about it.

Your heart clenches as you remember the moment you stabbed him. You had to. There was no other way to get rid of him long enough for you to take care of everything here. Also, he wouldn't allow you to do that if he knew what you were up to. Besides, if you didn't stab him, Atreides and he would get into a fight. Unfortunately, you weren't that confident in Feyd's abilities. He would be in a state of distraction if your well-being was at stake.

Besides, Atreides' words convinced you of this decision more than anything else.

More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

If there was anything you could praise about Paul Atreides, it was his cunning. And you were sure that if Atreides was somehow going to defeat Feyd, it would be through intrigue and trickery. And then you weren't ready to save your baron. So you had to use drastic measures to get him out and allow yourself to function fully. You couldn't give Atreides any leverage or advantage over you. You certainly couldn't reveal what a weakness Feyd was to you.

"Hmm… you have to survive first." You answered thoughtfully. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn his head to look at you. His intense, analysing gaze makes you burn as you have to endure his unwanted attention.

"With such a talented Bene Gesserit as MY right hand? I have not the slightest doubt. You proved your loyalty by killing my cousin. I have no doubt that you are capable of great things. However... this sudden change of sides is shocking, I must admit."

"Why? Because I chose something better for myself? It was the same with Feyd. I could either stay among the Bene Gesserit and hope they wouldn't send me to breed with anyone, or I could take matters into my own hands. And I don't like blindly entrusting my fate to someone else, Atreides."

"I see... you look good with independence, Harkonnen witch, but don't forget who you answer to."

"Of course, Fremen messiah." The nickname you give him makes me chuckle. He reaches up and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You look carefully at his bandaged hand, which you pierced with a dagger.

You find yourself comparing his hands to Feyd's. Harkonnen's hands were hard, rough, trained from years of using all kinds of weapons. Atrdida's hands were smoother, less stained by effort. Another difference between them was that Feyd would never let anyone bandage the wound you gave him. He would rather wear them proudly until the wound heals itself. You should think it's sick, but years spent by his side have taught you… to appreciate such gestures. Maybe you really had a completely different perception of normality?

Atreides' fingers trace your jaw, caressing it gently. You look into his eyes and immediately see the familiar gleam of audacity in them. He looked at you like you were a prize—a nice thing that he managed to take from his enemy, which he can now put on his bedside table and look at to remember his victory. Under any other circumstances, you would have bitten his fingers off, but unfortunately, you had to behave. But only for a moment longer.

"What do you think you're doing?" An angry, cold female voice echoes behind you. Before you know it, you're being pushed sideways against the wall. A dagger at your throat. You act automatically. You attack a woman, disarm her, and push her against a wall. But before you can put a dagger at her throat yourself, Atreides steps between you.

"What's necessary, Chani. I would suggest you not attack my guest." The woman glares at him, and for a moment, you think she's going to attack him or spit on him. Then her anger shifts to you.

"This Harkonnen witch has killed more of our people than any of them. She should be dead, not taken in as a guest." She growls furiously, giving you a distrustful, mad look. You understand her perfectly. If you were in her place, you would do the same. Only Feyd, unlike Atreides, couldn't stop you from hurting your rival.

"It's not up to you to decide her fate."

Chani gives the two of you one last hateful glare and pushes past Atreides, moving into the crowd, away from the two of you. You look at the woman carefully, analysing her gait and posture. Similar to Atreides. So you found his teacher.

"Your…"

"Concubine." He finishes, thus answering your question. You raise an eyebrow at him in surprise.

"I see."

"Jealous?" This time, you can't help but snort in amusement, giggling at his absurd question.

"I would sonner be jealous of a sandworm than of you. What is bewteen us is just an agreement. Don't forget that, Atreides."

"That's why I like you. Give me a moment. We'll talk later. Don't go anywhere. I will find you."

He puts his hand on your shoulder. You assume he thinks it's a gesture of reassurance, but it's not for you. You anxiously wait for him to move away from you so he can speak to the crowd of Fremen.

You shiver as you briefly make eye contact with Chani, who is standing at the other end of the room. She's still seething with rage. You're not entirely sure why she's so devoted to Atreides, but after thinking about it longer, you realise what her reason is for being so protective over him. You would probably do the same things for Feyd as she did for Paul. However, you would be... more ruthless towards your rival. You wave to the woman, smirking. She looks away from you, focusing her gaze on Atreides.

You study him as well, carefully observing him as he speaks to the Fremen. He is imperious and powerful, but also arrogant and conceited. His overconfidence that he acquired among the Fremen—the belief that he was the chosen one—will lead to his death. You will lead him to death. Otherwise, no one will stand a chance against him. He had one significant thing that could ensure his victory: a huge crowd of people who blindly believed that he would bring them salvation if they obediently followed his every request.

And maybe you would feel sorry for these people and try to help them if your own freedom and future weren't on the line.

You play with the handle of your dagger. You press a small button. A small ampoule with a needle falls into your hand. You hiss, injecting the contents of the ampoule into your arm.

Atreides was right. - You think, listening carefully to the man's speech to the crowd. - More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man.

The faint hum of the ship's engine gives Feyd a clear indication of where he is. He opens his eyes and looks around the room. He's in the bedroom of one of Harkonnen's ships. He sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and looks at his bare chest. He furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise when he sees no wound or bandage—just a tiny, sealed scar in the area where you pierced him with the sword.

"Where are you going?" Your quiet, protesting whisper makes him freeze. After a while, he feels your warm hands on his shoulders as you pull him back into the soft sheets and into your arms. You cuddle up to him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your head in the crook of his neck. "Stay. We still have a lot of time before we land on Lankiveil, so you can spend it in bed with your wife. I doubt we'll find a moment of peace for ourselves when our little Na-Baron demands swimming lessons from you and a tour around the new planet, so use this little moment of peace."

Feyd's heart skips a beat when he feels your lips brushing on the skin of his neck and hears you calling yourself his wife. He allows himself to drown in the warmth of your body and the feeling of your gentle touch on his skin. He buries his nose in your hair, shuddering slightly as you place small kisses on his neck and lick his skin, teasing him. However, one thing was still bothering him…

"Little Na-Baron?" He asks, confused, when you lazily stroke his head with your fingers, drawing patterns on its pale skin.

"Our son. I pleased you so well last night that you forgot about our son, or are you just not awake yet, darling?" You ask him teasingly, opening your eyes to look at him for the first time.

Feyd is speechless when he sees the spark of malice in your eyes and the beautiful smile you give him. Your beauty, the calmness with which you lie curled on his chest—as if it were the most normal thing you do every day—and the strange warmth that spreads across his chest because of it make him lose his ability to speak.

You giggle, pulling him closer to you and placing a tender, gentle kiss on his lips. You moan, enjoying the feeling of his plush lips, sucking on his bottom lip as you claim him as yours. Feyd feels himself starting to harden just from the feeling of your lips on his and the teasing movements of your fingers around his nipples.

"I…" He tries to speak, but then he hears the baby's soft whimpering. He tenses up, unaccustomed to any interaction with children.

His gaze goes from the cradle placed in the corner of the room to you in pure panic, as he has no idea what to do with the crying baby. But you don't seem to care about the baby crying as much as he does. You groan in protest and pull away from him, burying your face in the pillow.

"Mhm... go to her, it's your turn." You mumble, not giving him a glance, as you hug the pillow instead of him. He starts to be a little jealous, but that feeling fades away, replaced by panic as the baby's cries intensify.

"Now you're letting me go?" He asks, hoping you'll change your mind and take care of the crying demon in the cradle yourself.

"I simply found a better use for you elsewhere." He huffs, leaning towards you and ruffling your hair. You punch him in the chest and force him out of bed. He rolls his eyes at you and turns hesitantly towards the crib.

He feels his legs shaking and his heart beating with nervousness. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is stressed and nervous by a crying baby in a cradle. He breathes deeply as he stands over the cradle.

His world stops when his eyes meet small irises that are a similar shade of blue to his. And his heart stops when he sees a little copy of you. Your child is undoubtedly a reflection of you. She only has his eyes, but the colour of her skin and hair, the shape of her nose, mouth, and eyes are all you. Feyd's heart pounds as he stares at the small miracle before him. Suddenly, the sounds reach him again. Panicked, he takes the baby gently, making sure not to accidentally hurt her, and in a few quick steps, he is by your side again.

"I… I think it is hungry." He says, reaching out towards you to hand the baby to you as quickly as possible.

"Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, did you just call our daughter it?" You ask angrily, sitting on the bed and looking at him furious. You sigh at his helpless expression and take your daughter from him. "Forgive daddy, Katerina. He doesn't usually behave like this." You mumble sweetly to the baby, trying to calm her down.

Miraculously, because Feyd can't call it anything else, you manage to calm down the baby in your embrace, her little lips pursing in dissatisfaction as she waits for you to feed her. Feyd swears she makes the exact same face you do when you're impatient or angry. His heart melts even more at the image in front of him.

Feyd sits on the edge of the bed, watching in fascination as you feed your baby. This scene seems... unreal to him. He had never experienced anything like this before—the feelings of warmth, safety, and boundless love and devotion that appear in him when he looks at the two of you.

He may have had vague memories of his mother singing bedtime lullabies to him and Rabban, but... he had never felt the way he did with you and your daughter. He had never felt that disarming feeling of home that made him allow himself to become vulnerable for the first time in many years.

He uncertainly reaches towards the child and gently strokes his daughter's head. The colour of her hair is identical to yours. Feyd's lips form involuntarily in a smile when the child reaches her little hand to his fingers, tightening his fist firmly. As she gently moves his hand away from her head, she does not let her grip on his fingers loosen. She was strong for a baby. She certainly had a warrior nature inherited from both of you. Feyd couldn't wait to train her...

He found himself thinking that all he wanted was to curl up in this bed with you and hold you safely in his arms before he would be brutally torn from this beautiful dream or vision.

He sits on the bed, looking at the two of you, when suddenly the bedroom door opens. The thud of small feet on the metal floor echoes around the room, and that's all the warning Feyd gets before the little white-haired boy lunges at him.

"Dad! Dad! We'll be there soon! I can't wait. Uncle Rabban told me that there are huge oceans that can swallow our ships if we land wrong! Is it true?" Asks the child, sitting on his lap and holding him tightly.

Feyd hesitantly wraps his arms around the boy, making sure he doesn't accidentally fall from his lap to the floor. His gaze quickly shifts to you in utter confusion. Rabban as a caring, mischievous uncle? What the hell was that supposed to be?

"Your uncle has a habit of distorting some facts, Feydor. I assure you we'll be fine. And Lankiveil is wonderful, isn't it, honey?" You ask Feyd, resting Katerina on your shoulder and making sure she burps.

"Yes. It is beautiful." He says, unconsciously running a hand through his son's hair as he looks at the three of you, unable to get over the shock and awe.

"I want a hug." Your son demands. You laugh as you pull him closer to you. When you see that Feyd isn't moving to join you all, you grab his hand and gently guide him back to the soft pillows. You lie there curled up, you with Katerina on your chest, Feydor between you and him as you wrap your arms around each other.

His son mutters something to his sister, but Feyd doesn't hear him. All he can do is stare at the three of you in amazement.

"Now sleep. Both of you. I don't want to hear any grumpy complaints about not getting enough sleep, okay, my boys?"

'It only happened once." Feydor mumbles, manoeuvring your and Feyd's hands to hug him tightly. "Besides, Dad was whining worse than me."

"I have no doubt that was the case. Your dad is a terribly fussy and grumpy man." You laugh and lean in to place a quick kiss on Feyd's lips. He strokes your waist, moving closer to you and your son as baby Katerina mumbles something in a language only she knows.

Feyd can only watch tenderly as his little family falls asleep, curled up in each other's arms. And he believes that this is the best possible future that can await him. He doesn't want the throne. He doesn't want to become emperor. He just wants to be able to fall asleep and wake up with you in his arms and your children running around. It's all he dreams about.

The younger Feyd would certainly laugh at him and mock him for such a trivial goal he had set for himself, but what more could he want with the title of baron and you by his side?

He saw perfectly well how the lives of his uncle and emperor turned out and knew the tragic fate of great people in power who decided to devote their entire lives to achieving the greatest possible influence. Feyd didn't want to follow in their footsteps. He wanted you. He realised, with horror, that this was enough for him—the vision or dream he had now was his ideal future.

"I love you." He whispers to your sleeping form before the darkness overwhelms him again.

He wakes up again on the ship, in the same room, and on the same bed. The difference is that your warm body is not pressed against his, and the throbbing pain from his stomach spreads uncomfortably throughout his body.

He groans, sitting on the bed and looking around. His hairless eyebrows wrinkle when he sees one of your spies with him. He automatically grabs the hidden knife and attacks your spy before she notices that he woke up.

"My Lord Baron, I can explain…" The woman says this as he presses the blade against her chest. She stops talking when he cuts off her access to the air by tightening his grip on her neck.

"Where is my right hand?" He growls, sticking to the remains of his control when he refrains from killing her. However, he does not stop himself from making a light cut on your spy's neck. Years of experience have proved that people were more willing to talk after he took some blood from them.

"It really wasn't my idea. She decided so. She knew that you would not let her do what she was planning, so she had to somehow... get rid of you from there, my lord Baron."

"Hm... that sounds like her, but... I would like to hear more about that plan of her. Say something useful and I might even spare your life." Feyd purrs, lazily dragging the blade down her neck to her collarbone, making a small cut.

He preferred not to hurt your toy too much. He didn't know how you would react to the loss of this particular spy. She must have been someone you trusted to entrust him to her.

But that didn't mean that Feyd couldn't land his anger at you on her for leaving him behind and completely unaware of your actions.

"Long ago, the Bene Gesserit had only one reverend mother. Their order was small then, but it was developing well. A certain ritual was invented to ensure that the most powerful of them was in power. It… is about the struggle of life forces. I don't know exactly how it's done, but… lady Y/N said that they both have to die for one of them to survive. She… she knew you wouldn't let her, so she had to make you leave that rat's nest so she could get the job done." A cold shiver runs down Feyd's spine. He needs a moment to compose himself and process your spy's words before he speaks again.

"They both have to die? What do you mean?" He asks, unconsciously tightening his already painful grip on the woman. His hand, the one holding the dagger, trembles slightly as he impatiently stares at her, waiting for an answer.

"I... they have to... they... their hearts stop beating and... the one who is stronger and has more life energy takes over the other's powers and survives."

"So... she may lose and die?" Fed sees your spy swallowing heavily after hearing his question. Thanks to this, he already knows the answer to it.

Strangely, instead of the huge, red fury and bloodlust, everything he feels is fear. Since he arrived at Giedi Prime, he has never felt fear. His uncle made sure that this emotion did not prevent him from reaching the ideal that his uncle demanded from Feyd. But at this point, when the vision of your dead body appears before his eyes, Feyd feels almost paralysed by fear of your life.

"There is... a little possibilty, my lord Baron."

This information is enough for him to make a decision. He stabs your spy in the stomach and allows her to sit on a bed. He reaches the exit in a few steps and opens the door with a bang. A doctor and two soldiers are waiting in the corridor. They look at him with fear in their eyes when he comes out, covered in blood. Before they can speak and probably inform him about his state of health, Fed is already growling at them and giving orders.

"Heal her and bandage her. She was only fulfilling my fiancee's orders." Fed tells the doctor. He is pleased with the surprise he sees on your spy's face. He intends to enjoy informing everyone about his 'engagement' with you. If you could have your plans, he could have some of his too. "Tell the pilot to turn back. And call more ours. We will burn these rats' nests to the ground."

With this promise, he leaves the room, ignoring the pain in his trunk. He must have found you before Fremen left with you for another hideout. He had to be fast and precise if he wanted to have you safe by his side. Maybe he should also ask the doctor for a sedative. Just in case you were stubborn enough to fight him instead of cooperating with him.

"What do you think?" Atreides' question catches you off guard for a moment. You stop watching the Fremen as they prepare to leave the sietch and shift your gaze to Atreides, raising an eyebrow in question. "About them. About my speech there."

"Are you looking for praise?" You mock, taking a closer look at what exactly he's putting into his bundle.

"I'm looking for a second opinion. Objective. Analytical and thorough." He replies, tying the fabric as he waits for your response.

"They will do whatever you want. Isn't that enough for you?" You ask, licking your lips as you choose your words carefully. You can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Paul wipes them away with his hand, not yet aware of the poison that courses through his veins.

You wanted to make sure as much as you could that when the moment came to defeat him and take his life force, there would be no shadow of a doubt that you would emerge victorious from the duel between you. After he went through the Reverend Mothers ceremony, you could try to perform the old ritual of reclaiming power between you two. This hasn't been done for centuries. So you hoped that everything you remembered from the old scrolls was true and that Atreides wouldn't surprise you with anything.

Even if he was a Kwisatz Haderach, you're still going to defeat him. No one and nothing will decide your fate.

"For now, yes. But in the future, I will need their full devotion. After all, I won't be the one to rule them on Arrakis." You raise your eyebrows questioningly, curious as to what his big plan for the future might be.

"Who do you want to entrust them to?"

Silence falls between you as you both look at each other intently. You know he's judging you, wondering how much he can tell you and how much he can hide from you. And you have to be convincing enough to gain even a little bit of trust from him. You know that stabbing Feyd helped you a lot with that. No matter how much it hurt you to do it.

"To be honest, you have the best skills to serve as Governor of Arrakis. The only question is, will you be equally faithful to me?"

"Me? Why?"

"They're already afraid of you. Besides, I saw your power—you're quite a powerful Bene Gesserit. Even if you don't like being called that, you can't cheat or change your destiny, no matter what."

"But... it is not all about power and fate, though is it?" You ask, slowly approaching him. "It is... something more there. Much more than we know." You whisper, looking at him with your most captivating gaze. Feyd would have killed him and tortured you if he saw you flirting with someone else... but luckily he wasn't here. And you had to somehow lower Atreides' guard.

"Indeed." He mumbles back and takes a step towards you. His fingers gently caress your jaw, tracing it until his fingertips brush against your lips. "My mother told me legends about the birth of the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. A woman who could bring thousands to their knees with a wave of her finger, tamed the most bloodthirsty of all beasts. Stilgar... has suspicions that you may be the mother of the one, the one to come. Of course, this conflicts with his perception of me as the chosen one."

He spoke the truth. You were the most powerful of the Bene Gesserit. But not because you were born according to their program. You simply had potential, and they had way too much time and no obstacles to train you differently. You were supposed to be their perfect pawn in their game, to provide them with the Kwisatz Haderach. And now… you will kill the one who was supposed to be him.

"Even so, you don't lose power. They still listen to you. More than anyone else." You say, shifting your gaze from his eyes to his lips. He licks them, holding your jaw tightly as he leans slightly towards you.

"I may be my father's son, but I'm not going to make the same mistakes. You know, it is much safer to be feared than loved because... love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails."

"The prince Machiavelli." You say, knowing a quote from the book. You're a little surprised that he would read something like that. He also seems amazed that you know what book he took these words from.

"Indeed. Hmm... Maybe you're not that cruel and bloodthirsty Harkonnen witch people think you are. After all, you're a bit educated." Under any other circumstances, you would have kicked him in... his tender place for this. But now you have to smile sweetly, comforting yourself only with the thought that he will soon die at your hands.

"Believe me, Atreides. I am everything they talk about and more." You mumble before leaning in to connect your lips in a kiss.

Kissing him is… different from kissing Feyd. Less intense, less hot, and less passionate. With him, you don't feel that familiar thrill of excitement you feel every time Feyd literally devours you. This kiss is... too polite. There's not an ounce of desire in him, at least not on your part. You try to be persuasive, though, caressing his lips, but it's not the same plush softness of Feyd's lips. Your mind refuses to be fooled, and you realise with horror how deeply your new Baron has managed to get under your skin when you haven't been able to enjoy the kiss of any other man.

Atreides reaches for your hips, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth. At least he was the only one having fun out of the two of you. You place your hands on his shoulders, slowly pulling your hidden dagger from your sleeve as you let the man kiss you and explore your body with his hands.

You almost sigh with relief when his lips finally leave yours. He moves to kiss your neck, and you decide that this is the moment to start the ritual.

"Stay still. Don't move or speak." You use the voice on him. He stiffens in an instant, his eyes widening slightly as the steel of your poisoned blade presses against his neck. "You were right. It's better to make them afraid of you than to love you."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him grab his hidden knife. But before he can stab you, you place your hands on his temples and recite the old formula, beginning the ritual. You feel yourself slowly starting to lose strength. You both kneel to the floor, life draining from the two of you.

It has begun. - you think as darkness takes over you.

This... is different from what you expected. Nowhere is it written what happens after the connection between the brains of the Bene Gesserit combatants is made. Or what kind of test are the two of you being put through to find out which one of you is stronger. You thought you and Atreides would stand in some imaginary arena and fight until one of you killed the other.

At least you would prefer this to the burning pain that overwhelmed you. You feel like you're immersed in pure, wild fire. All your nerves were burning. You felt your body, but at the same time, you were far from it. And all you could see and hear was blackness, screams, whispers, and songs in a language foreign to you. You feel like you've gone mad. Any pain you've felt doesn't compare to what you're going through right now.

You feel every cell in your body tear apart, and at the same time you remain in a void, unaware of anything except the feeling of pain.

But you endure it.

And suddenly, everything disappears. For a moment, you feel or hear nothing. It's just you and your consciousness as you anxiously await the turn of events.

Then various images begin to appear before your eyes—visions of the future and the past. You see every possible course of events that could occur and every single scenario that may happen. In some visions, both you and Feyd die; in others, it's just him or you; and in others, you both live to old age together. One element is constant. Only one. And you shudder every time you see the familiar figure of your future son ascending the throne as the Emperor and taking care of the entire world, restoring balance and peace.

All of Atreides' power has passed onto you. You knew everything. All possible futures. And they scared you more than you thought they would. And you feel completely different than you thought you would...

After some time and tens of thousands of visions, you return to your body. You begin to feel everything around you—the soft sheets beneath you, the softness of the pillow beneath your head, and the quiet beeping of the machines keeping you alive.

You struggle to open your eyes, hissing as the light hits your eyes. You look around, expecting to find a familiar hospital room, but instead you find yourself in Feyd's chambers. On fucking Giedi Prime.

"Welcome among the living." Feyd's hoarse voice reaches your ears. You turn your head towards him—too quickly, making you feel a little dizzy—but you open your mouth to speak anyway.

You have a terrible coughing fit, and your throat is drier than it has ever been on Arrakis. As you curl up on Feyd's bed, coughing up your lungs, you see him quickly fill a glass of water from the corner of your eye. He sits next to you, pulling you against his chest. You lean your back against him and drink the water greedily.

Feyd gently strokes your back, watching carefully as you drink the water. His gaze is watchful and attentive as he makes sure you drink the last drop from your glass.

When you finish, he takes your glass and walks over to the table to set it down. A cold shiver runs through you as you feel the absence of his presence. You remember how the last time you saw him, he was unconscious and injured. Because of you.

"I was more expecting to be chained to a wall in a prison cell. Or to have your harpies hovering over me and waiting for you to cut me up for them." You say jokingly, teasing him. But he doesn't laugh. You see him tense at your words before he slowly turns to face you.

"I had such an idea in my mind a month ago, when I found you pale as death in the arms of the equally dead Atreides. But I guess enough time has passed for me to get over it… or I just killed enough Fremen and doctors and Bene Gesserit women who couldn't bring you back to calm myself down."

"Month?" You ask, swallowing thickly as you bravely endure his stern glare.

"Mhmm… a month, two weeks and five days to be precise. This whole time, you were either losing your pulse or screaming until your throat was torn. Also, you had a fever that we barely managed to break down, and you were pronounced dead a few times, but who cares, right?" He asks casually, but you can clearly see the rage bubbling inside him despite his obvious concern for you.

"Oh… that's… a while."

"A little bit more than a while." He growls at you, playing with his dagger—the exact same one he gave you. You shudder as you see how much the blade has bent from the blood of the people you used it on.

"What about Atreides?" You ask, confused, wondering if it was really a good idea to bring this up now. Especially since he is playing with a poisoned dagger in his hands. And you used up the antidote to it (apparently) a month ago.

"I have his head. Do you want it on a silver platter, or should I just frame his tongue and hang it on the wall? Maybe right next to yours for being a liar and a traitor?" He asks furiously. But that's not what scares you the most. He's calm. Too calm and composed. And this was often how his anger manifested itself before he killed his victims.

"I... you know perfectly well that I had to do it. If I had done it differently, his... skills would have been lost. And I... now I see everything. I can prevent everything, I can make everything fine. Isn't that a big advantage for you? Have an oracle next to you?" You ask, slightly nervous about what he's going to do next.

"Depends on what this oracle wants to show me and what it doesn't want to show me. But since you know everything and the entire future, you probably know what I will do now." He says and heads towards the exit.

Your heart clenches, and you feel an inexplicable panic as you see him walk away from you. You can't stand how cold he was towards you. You have to do something. You can't just let him go.

"Feyd." You call after him and get out of bed to follow him. When you're on your legs, you lose your balance, and you would have fallen to the floor if Feyd hadn't caught you in his arms.

You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as you breathe quickly. You look at each other for a moment, allowing yourself to immerse yourself in the closeness of the other one.

Feyd places his hand under your knees and picks you up in bridal style. He puts you on his bed again and pulls away to leave. You grab his elbow tightly and hold on, forcing him to stay by your side as you give him a desperate, pleading look for him not to leave you.

Feyd sighs, sitting next to you on the bed. He leans towards you and rests his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, brushing his nose against yours. And you feel really calm for the first time in years.

"You have no idea... I have killed men for smaller things than that. The only reason you're still alive... is because I prefer to destroy you myself. Without the help of any sick rituals or poison. You'll be begging me to kill you, little witch. I'll make you go through the same damn pain you put me through. You'll be begging me to stop making you scream. Oh, and I'll make you scream much louder than becasue of this stupid ancient ritual."

You know he's mad at you. And he has every right to do so. But you can't take his words seriously. Not when you have irrefutable proof of the depth of his feelings for you. As he said, he killed for less. If he wanted to, he would have gotten rid of you or hurt you by now. But he didn't.

"I'll happily scream because of you, my Baron." You reply, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs, trying to memorise every little bit of his skin.

"I… I'm serious." He growls at you. He places his hand on your neck and squeezes it gently. You smile and press a kiss just near the corner of his mouth.

"Me too. Do it. Show me how loud you want me to scream for you." You challenge him, placing small kisses on his face.

"Y/N... I should have killed you ages ago, woman. You poisoned my mind, you stabbed me with a sword, you left me alone to deal with the mess you made, you forced me to worry about you while you slowly died in front of me day by day, and I couldn't do any-fucking-thing. So tell me, how can I get past this? Why is it that all I want to do is fuck you until I feel like you're really alive and around me?"

You bite your lip, trying not to moan at his words. You lick your lips and lean towards him, kissing him. He moans into your mouth and tries to pull away from you, but you grab his neck and pull him towards you. Your heart speeds up as your lips caress his as you give all of yourself to him in that kiss.

You gently massage his scalp and lie down on the pillows. You pull him with you as he starts to kiss you back. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. He pulls away from you with a growl and presses his forehead against yours, trying to calm down for your sake. After all, you had just woken up... too bad his cock wasn't as sympathetic to you as you rubbed against him.

"I… my mother was a Harkonnen, you know? Maybe that's why I was so drawn to you. Like calls to like or something like that." You gasp, remembering the memory you saw. Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows in surprise. A shiver runs across his skin, realising the power you've taken from Atreides.

"What else do you know?" He asks, caressing your cheek. You turn your head and press a kiss on the palm of his hand. You surprise him even more, but he's not going to protest when you show him affection. This was very rare in his life, and the fact that this small, voluntary gesture of adoration was coming from you made him even harder.

"That I don't want to lose you for some visions that may or may not happen. That you love me and that these months have been torture for you. That you hated me as much as you needed me to come back to you. That I… only want to think about us. I only care about our future, and I'm willing to watch this world burn if it means I can hold your hand until the end. with no fear that fate will make us hate each other. That I want you to be the only prophecy I care about."

"What about your escape from fate? You never wanted… to be part of this Kwisatz Haderach thing. Will you run away from me when you see that the path we are following leads inevitably to what you were so afraid of?"

His doubts are absolutely right. But that doesn't change the fact that you need him close to you right now. That you need his reassurance that everything will be fine, not his resentment. And you know it was wrong of you to demand from him things like that, but... nothing about your relationship was healthy anyway.

"Fuck it if I can't have us. Fuck it if I can't have you." You say and pull him in for another kiss. He moans in shock into your mouth but quickly responds to you with equal passion. You gasp as he grabs your waist tightly and lifts you up, making you sit on his lap.

"You said you love me." He gasps as he slowly removes your nightgown that he dressed you in himself.

"I did... I also stab you." You say as your hands reach up to start undressing him as well.

"You did. And you killed Atreides." He purrs against your jaw, placing kisses and hickeys there.

"I did." You groan, your hands shaking as you try to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible.

"You handed me over to our people."

"I did. You are quite heavy." You giggle as he blows on your neck, tickling you, before sinking his teeth into it. You dig your fingers into his back, pulling him close to you.

"Why did you do this?" He asks, pulling away from you to look at you carefully, gauging your reaction, making sure you were always on his side, and doing everything for your mutual good. For his good.

"Because I decide about my fate. Not Bene Gesserit, not any Atreides, not you or anyone. Only me. And I want you. And love you. And need you. But only as my equal... and if you will have me."

"I won't let you go anymore." He warns, laying you down on the bed and towering over you.

"I will never want to leave." You promise, looking into his icy blue eyes and stroking the scar on his lower stomach—from the wound you gave him.

"Good."

"Good."

"Say it again."

"Good?" You ask teasingly, pressing kisses to his neck and giving him a few hickeys, marking him as yours with more than just his scars.

"No. You know what."

"I love you."

"About damn time." He growls, devouring your mouth. You moan as he bites into your lower lip. You both don't hold back anymore. Feyd marks you like a map, as if he wanted to memorise all the sensitive places that made you moan and writhe in pleasure, pressing into his muscled body.

You forget for a moment the whole world, everything you've done for him, everything you both should have discussed—all you can think about is Feyd. About wanting to be closer to him, about needing him as desperately as he needs you. So how can Feyd resist you when you're so willing to take him in? When he had dreamed of this moment for years? When can he finally satisfy his desire for your body?

He trails his kisses lower, gently taking your nipple into his mouth and cupping your other breast, massaging it. You moan, scratching his scalp, throwing your head back against the pillows, and grinding your hips against his.

You're both starting to get annoyed by the underwear that's preventing you from clinging to each other the way you want. Feyd rips your panties off of you, wasting no time in pushing his fingers into you. You whine, thrashing around on the bed, wanting more and yet too sensitive for anything else. You open your eyes and gasp at the sight of his full, erect length rubbing against your thigh. Feyd pinches your nipple, making you moan and shifting your gaze to him.

"Eyes on me, little witch."

"But... ach!" You moan as his fingers speed up inside you, tears forming in your eyes as your hips move in time with the rhythm of his fingers as you chase your orgasm.

"Listen to your Baron. Eyes on me." He pauses to slap your pussy. You moan, biting your lower lip. "And don't hold back any sounds. Or I'll punish you like I should have since you woke up."

It's very hard to keep your eyes open for him. Especially when his fingers massage your clit so perfectly and fill you up. You reach your hand to his hard cock on your thigh and rub it gently.

He growls, kissing you hard and punishingly, as you try to speed things up and make him lunge at you in a frenzy of lust, when he wants to tease your pussy and punish you accordingly first.

For a month he waited by your bedside, bravely holding you through the stages of your screams and high fevers, making sure you were alive, breathing, and your heart was beating in a rhythm he had memorized. He deserves to have some fun with you...

"Feyd... please..." Your moans, the kisses you place on his jaw, and the way your fingers caress the scar on his muscled stomach—the one you gave him yourself—make him lose his restraint, which was already frail and weak. At least that's how he explains his desire to immediately fulfill your wish.

His arms wrap around you tightly as he gently pushes into you, making sure his entire alabaster length will fit inside you. He stops, cursing in his tongue and resting his forehead against yours as he gives you a moment to adjust to his length. Finally. He finally feels you all around him. And you're tighter than he dreamed.

"Damn… you little witch…"

"I know..." You gasp, wrapping your arms around him, and kiss him hungrily, basking in the feeling of fullness as his length perfectly fills the void inside you. It's warm. It's nice to feel him so close to you. It's nice to be with him. You moan as he starts to move slowly, testing how far he can go.

Feyd growls, picking up his pace when you don't protest, his hips bucking wildly against yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer.

He grips one of your hips and cups your cheek with the other, making sure your eyes are focused on him. He kisses away the tears streaming down your cheek, licking them off your face. He kisses you fervently and hungrily, catching every moan and grunt you make as his hips grind against yours. A wet sound echoes through the room, occasionally interrupted by a moan from either of you as you finally come together in the most primal, animalistic way, demanding each other.

"Mine. Only mine." Feyd growls into your neck; his thrusts are faster and more precise, making you bite your lip to hold back your moans, but he doesn't let you do it for long. He wants to feel and hear all of you. He wants to revel in his victory. That's why he kisses you, biting your buttom lip to the blood. He pulls away and leans his forehead on yours as he listens to the little sounds you make as he fucks the brain out of you. "Can you feel how deep I am? How well am I filling you? You will be a beautiful Baroness. Fuck. My future wife. The mother of my children." He moans in your ear. You don't answer; you take ragged breaths, listening to the squelch of your joined bodies echoing around his chambers.

"You were meant for me. Just like I was for you. I will never let you escape again, I will never again let you out of my sight for more than a second, I will never again let you fight against the world and fate alone. We are the two sides of the same coin... WE. ARE. UNITY." He growls, making one last few hard pushes into you, making you both cum. He captures your lips in a kiss, muffling both of your screams as you fall apart around him, feeling his warm seed flood your womb.

You shake, wrapping your arms around him tightly, trusting him to hold the weight of both of you as you see nothing but white light in your orgasmic haze. You can't feel your legs, but you know you're still clenching them tightly around him. Your mind is empty; you feel amazing, electric bliss.

And for that moment you knew what cosmic love really meant. And you would fight with anyone to be able to experience it whenever you wanted.

"I love you." Feyd whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple and tightening his grip around you.

He slowly pulls out of you and collapses next to you, still holding you in the iron grip of his arms. You lazily snuggle into him and trace the scar you gave him with the fingertip of your finger. Guilt grows within you, and for a moment, you think that he purposely allowed this scar to remind you of what you did.

You decide to talk to him about everything tomorrow. It was just the two of you for now, and you were going to enjoy this as long as you could. You place your head into the crook of his neck and take his hand in yours. You tangle his other hand in your hair and snuggle into him, sighing as you feel his touch, warmth, and scent around you.

You both fall asleep cuddled together. And for a moment, you allow yourself to be in bliss of his touch and closeness, not worrying about any politics or issues that you should discuss instead of... giving in to something you have wanted for a long time.

From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you and Feyd.

That's why you make sure that your first child will be a daughter.

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 @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t  @oneandonlybbygrl @alexa4040 @lowlyloved @toertchen @em-100 @caintheking @justarandomflowerchildofthenight @hrtifyeren

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

nsfw knb part 1: (Akashi, Midorima, Murasakibara, Aomine)

Thank you for the request, the other half kuroko, kagami, kise (the kkk?!?) will be up in a few days. knb was my first sports anime that I fell in love with. Takao supremacy.

Akashi: 

He is very dominant in bed and gets off on a sense of control.  It does matter to him if you are feeling good though, and Akashi checks in regularly to make sure you’re still on board. 

Both personalities like bondage. Seeing you all helpless and needy is a major turn on for him.  Akashi usually keeps a tight lid on his alter ego, but it does slip out in the bedroom sometimes. 

Heterochromic Akashi greedily claims you as his prize, methodically stripping you of your dignity. 

Akashi secretly likes exhibition, but will never let anyone actually see either of you vulnerable.  

He insisted on binding you for a generation of miracles reunion.  The rope harness under your clothes dug into you, as you tried to look as normal as possible.  Suddenly you were aware of everyone’s gazes and praying they wouldn’t hear the soft vibration coming from under your clothes.  “Be a good girl.” he whispers, turning the vibrations a degree higher.  It’s likely no one suspects a thing, but it still feels like everyone can see right through you.  Akashi carries on as usual, but the hungry looks he gives you feel like he’s lighting a beacon for everyone to see.

Midorima:

Midorima is repressed as all hell and tries to control himself and be proper, but as soon as he slides in you he can’t stop himself from pounding into you relentlessly.  

Is not one to curse in his day to day life, but has a dirty mouth and spews profanity in the bedroom.

He holds a strong conviction that you are meant to be his, and will never let you go.

Eye contact is a thing for him, he likes to stare at you and the expressions you make.

While daydreaming, the idea of pictures popped in his head, but he was too embarrassed to bring it up and he hasn't worked up the courage yet.

“You’re tight,” he hisses, as he slides all the way in.  His fingers are leaving indents in your thighs as he pulls you up instinctively, forgetting everything except the urge to go deeper, to be inside of you. 

“Fuck! S-stop clenching like that…  feels too good” 

Aomine: 

motherfucker can't keep his hands to himself.  I think that as he grows older and matures his love of big boobs dies down to just a love of all boobs.  He still likes them big of course, but he learns to appreciate all sizes of boobs. 

Will lay his head on your chest to nap, making you unable to do much besides scroll on your phone.  Withholding sex is a great way to motivate him, but when he finally has you after being pent up he’s 10x more aggressive.  

Oddly though Aomine is more on the vanilla side of things. He likes rough sex but has no notable kinks. It would be more accurate to say that the only real sexual need he has is a soft and squeezable body.

"Baby... please lemme fuck you I can't take it anymore my cock is about to bust out of my pants!" He's already got one hand down his pants, the other undoing his belt.

"For the last time, no! We both need to finish our work! We can have sex afterwards." Unfinished emails and documents sit in front of you, as you literally push your horny boyfriend off of you.

Murasakibara:

lazy mf doesnt want to do shit but he’s fucking enormous.  His favorite pastime is eating you out over and over until you’re properly ready to take his cock.  It's not a problem for him because he loves to eat you out if he’s in the mood. 

The oral fixation is real.

He is easy to rile up and prone to childish jealousy, feeling the need to stake his claim on you at the slightest hint of competition.  Of course nobody in their right mind would pick a fight with him, but he still perceives anyone you talk to as a threat.  He doesn't want to share your attention with anyone.

If you want sex, you gotta get him in the mood. If he wants sex he's picking you up and hauling you to the nearest room with a lock on the door. You've been unceremoniously kidnapped several times already.

It's always a little scary when your boyfriend is in a foul mood. The inkling of fear turns both of you on though.

"I told you, he wasn’t flirting with me!  He wasn’t even talking to me!"

"He was looking at you. I could tell he wanted to fuck you." His voice is lower than usual, eyes narrowing to a glare. He inches closer, tying up his hair as he goes.

"Atsushi, I can take care of myself." A nervous wobble creeps into your voice though, and he backs you into a wall. His frame fills your line of sight, as he looms over you.

"No. My job is to take care of you."

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |15|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Fifteen: Reel Around the Fountain

warnings: physical violence (choking), highly suggestive content (off-screen smut with a build up), psychological trauma and grief, references to pregnancy loss, manipulation, trauma, and references to death.

note(s): you're officially caught up with my wattpad and ao3.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

One week since your return, and the cabin still feels like hostile territory. Conversation dies when you enter a room. Glances follow your movements, some curious, some wary, some outright hostile. You've become accustomed to the weight of their judgment, have learned to move beneath it like carrying a physical burden.

Natalie is the worst, her anger manifesting in cutting remarks and pointed silences. This morning, as you reach for a cup by the makeshift stove, she deliberately moves it out of your grasp.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Did you want this? Weird, it's almost like objects just disappear sometimes without explanation. Must be confusing."

You say nothing, reaching for a different cup instead. Her metaphor isn't exactly subtle.

"Nothing to say?" Natalie presses, leaning against the counter. "No witty comeback? No explanation for why you let us think you were fucking dead for weeks?"

"Not this morning, Nat," you mutter, pouring yourself water from the pot.

"Not this morning, not yesterday, not the day before." She makes a show of checking an imaginary watch. "When exactly is a good time for you? Should I pencil something in for next month? Or are you planning another wilderness retreat before then?"

You take a deliberate sip of your water, using the moment to gather your patience. "I've already apologized."

"No," Natalie corrects, her voice harder now. "You said 'sorry' once when you first got back. That's not an apology, that's a fucking placeholder."

Before you can respond, Shauna enters the cabin, arms laden with freshly washed clothing. Her eyes flick between you and Natalie, assessing the tension with a single glance.

"Everything okay?" she asks, the question directed at neither of you specifically.

"Peachy," Natalie replies, pushing away from the counter. "Just catching up with our resident ghost. Did you know they can actually speak? Rarely, but she  can."

She brushes past Shauna on her way out, leaving you alone with the one person you've been most diligently avoiding.

The silence between you stretches uncomfortably as Shauna begins sorting the laundry, separating items into neat piles on one of the bunks. You watch her hands—steady, methodical, familiar in their movements. How many times had you seen those same hands sort through supplies, tend wounds, stroke hair away from your face when nightmares pulled you gasping from sleep?

The memory makes something twist in your chest, a sharp ache of longing for what's been lost. Before your departure, after Jackie's death, you and Shauna had become inseparable—grief and guilt binding you together in ways you couldn't articulate. Nights spent huddled for warmth that became something else, something deeper—her fingers tracing circles on your back as you finally surrendered to sleep, your arms around her when sobs would wrack her body in the dark hours before dawn.

Now, she won't even look at you directly.

"Need help?" you offer, gesturing to the clothing.

"I've got it," she replies, voice neutral but distant.

You nod, taking another sip of water to hide your disappointment. "Sure."

She continues working in silence, and you should leave—give her the space she clearly wants—but your feet remain rooted to the spot. There's something almost magnetic about her presence, drawing you in despite the clear boundaries she's established since your return.

"How are you feeling?" The question slips out before you can reconsider it.

Shauna's hands pause briefly over a shirt—Travis's, from the size of it—before resuming their task. "Fine."

"You look..." You hesitate, unsure how to complete the sentence without touching on subjects she's made clear are off-limits. Thinner. Sadder. Different. "...tired."

She glances up then, meeting your eyes for the first time in days. Something flashes across her face—anger? Pain? Longing? It's gone too quickly to identify.

"We're all tired," she says flatly. "It's kind of a prerequisite for being stranded in the wilderness."

The dismissal stings, but you push forward anyway. "Shauna, I—"

"Don't." She cuts you off, her voice suddenly sharp. "Whatever you're about to say, just... don't."

The cabin door opens before you can respond, saving you from whatever ill-advised words might have escaped. Lottie enters, her movements graceful despite the bulky winter clothing she wears. Her eyes find you immediately, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"There you are," she says, as if she's been searching for you specifically. "I was hoping you could help me gather some herbs today. I found a patch growing near the southern clearing, but it's too much for one person to carry."

You glance between Lottie and Shauna, caught in the sudden tension that seems to fill the small space. Shauna's expression has closed off completely, her focus returned to the laundry with almost aggressive intensity.

"Sure," you finally agree, seeing no graceful way to decline. "Just let me grab my jacket."

As you move to retrieve your things from your sleeping area, you catch the look that passes between the two women—Lottie's expression serene but somehow challenging, Shauna's a flash of something that might be irritation, might be jealousy. The exchange lasts only a second, but it settles like a weight in your stomach, a complication you're not equipped to navigate.

Outside, the air is sharp with cold, the sky a brilliant, merciless blue above the skeletal trees. Lottie leads the way into the forest, her steps confident despite the unmarked path. You follow silently, grateful for the physical activity, the chance to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cabin.

"She doesn't like when I talk to you," Lottie says suddenly, without turning around.

The observation catches you off guard. "Who?"

Lottie glances over her shoulder, her smile knowing. "Shauna."

You focus on the uneven ground, careful not to slip on patches of ice hidden beneath the snow. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Lottie slows her pace until you're walking beside her. "She watches you when you're not looking. Gets tense whenever I'm near you. It was the same with Jackie."

The casual mention of Jackie's name makes your breath catch. "Don't."

"Don't what? Speak the truth?" Lottie's voice is gentle, almost sympathetic. "Jackie knew it too. Why do you think she was so angry that night? The night she..."

"I said don't," you snap, harsher than intended.

Lottie falls silent, but there's no offense in her expression, only that same eerie patience she's displayed since the crash, as if she's operating on a different timeline than the rest of you, privy to outcomes you can't yet see.

You walk in silence for several minutes, following a path that seems to exist only in Lottie's mind. The forest around you is hushed, dormant, waiting for a spring that feels impossibly distant.

"Here," Lottie finally says, stopping at the edge of a small clearing. She points to a cluster of plants growing improbably through the snow, their leaves dark green against the white backdrop. "Winter herbs. They have properties that help with... dreams."

You kneel beside the plants, recognizing them from Lottie's previous foraging expeditions. "Bad dreams?"

"Dreams can't be categorized that simply," Lottie says, kneeling next to you, close enough that your shoulders touch. "They're messages. Sometimes warnings, sometimes... invitations."

Something in her tone makes you look up, finding her gaze fixed on you with unsettling intensity. "What kind of dreams have you been having, Lottie?"

Her smile deepens, a private amusement playing across her features. "I told you. Dreams about you."

Before you can question her further, her hand comes to rest on yours—a deliberate touch, skin against skin. The contact sends an unexpected jolt through you, a reminder of how long it's been since anyone has touched you with anything resembling gentleness.

"You've been hungry," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not just for food."

You should pull away. Should put distance between yourself and whatever strange energy radiates from Lottie in this moment. Instead, you remain frozen, caught between the desire to retreat and the desperate ache for connection that's been building since your return.

"We should get back," you finally manage, withdrawing your hand with an effort that feels physical.

Lottie allows the retreat, but her eyes never leave your face. "Of course."

You gather the herbs quickly, stuffing them into the makeshift sacks you've brought. The task gives you something to focus on besides Lottie's proximity, the knowing way she watches you, as if seeing beneath your skin to the turmoil beneath.

The walk back to the cabin passes in tense silence, broken only by the crunch of snow beneath your boots and the occasional call of winter birds overhead. By the time the clearing comes into view, you've almost managed to convince yourself you imagined the strange intensity of the moment in the forest.

Then Lottie's hand brushes against yours as she takes some of the herbs from your arms—a touch too deliberate to be accidental, too brief to acknowledge without seeming paranoid. She smiles at your startled glance, then moves ahead toward the cabin, leaving you to follow in her wake.

Inside, the others have gathered for the midday meal—a thin stew that stretches their dwindling supplies, supplemented by whatever protein the morning's hunting has provided. You take your usual place at the edge of the group, aware of Natalie's pointed silence, Van's sympathetic glances, Tai's barely contained disapproval.

Shauna sits across from you, her eyes carefully averted, focused on her bowl with an intensity the watery soup hardly deserves. You try not to stare, but your gaze keeps drifting back to her—to the sharp line of her jaw, the way her hair falls in front of her face when she leans forward, the restless movement of her fingers against the rim of her bowl.

It's pathetic how much you miss her. Miss the quiet conversations in the dark, the way she'd seek out your hand under blankets when the others were talking around the fire, the soft sound of her breathing as she fell asleep beside you. Miss how after Jackie's death, you'd become each other's anchors in a sea of grief and guilt—holding each other through nightmares, whispering confessions too dark for daylight, finding moments of impossible tenderness amid the horror of your situation.

"You're staring," Lottie murmurs beside you, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

You look away quickly, focusing on your own barely-touched meal. "No, I wasn't."

"It's okay," Lottie continues, as if you hadn't denied it. "I understand hunger."

The way she says the word—hunger—makes it sound like something sacred, something primal. You shift uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close she's sitting, how her knee occasionally brushes against yours beneath the crowded table.

"I'm not hungry," you lie, pushing your bowl away for emphasis.

Lottie's smile suggests she knows exactly what kind of hunger you're denying. "If you say so."

The meal concludes with the usual distribution of afternoon tasks. You volunteer for wood gathering, hoping for some time alone, but Tai assigns you to inventory instead—a deliberate move to keep you within sight of the cabin, you suspect. The others disperse to their duties, leaving you to sort through their meager supplies, counting and recounting items that barely sustain survival.

You're halfway through tallying their dwindling medical supplies when Shauna approaches, her expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," she says without preamble.

Your heart lurches at the words, equal parts hope and dread flooding your system. "Okay."

She gestures toward the door. "Not here."

You follow her outside, past the immediate clearing to a fallen log that's become an unofficial meeting spot when privacy is needed. She sits, leaving enough space beside her that you can join without touching, a calculated distance that speaks volumes.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. You watch her profile, the way she chews slightly on her lower lip—a nervous habit you've always found endearing.

"What are you doing with Lottie?" she finally asks, still not looking at you.

The question is not what you expected. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb," Shauna says, an edge to her voice now. "The herbs, the touching, the little private conversations. What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you reply, genuinely confused by her apparent concern. "She asked for help gathering herbs. That's it."

Shauna finally turns to face you, her expression tight with something that might be anger, might be fear. "Lottie isn't... she's not who she was before all this. Talking about dreams and visions and things that—" She breaks off, shaking her head. "Just be careful."

"Careful of what? Lottie's always been a little weird, but she's harmless."

"Is she?" Shauna's voice has dropped nearly to a whisper. "Are you sure about that?"

The question hangs between you, loaded with implications you're not sure you understand. Before you can press for clarification, Shauna continues.

"You left." The words come out flat, accusatory. "After everything—after Jackie, after... after everything else we've been through. You just disappeared."

There it is—the conversation you've been avoiding since your return. "I needed space."

"Space," Shauna repeats, the word dripping with disdain. "So you faked your death? Let us mourn you? Let me think—" She stops abruptly, swallowing whatever she'd been about to say.

"Let you think what?" you press, turning to face her fully.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter now." She starts to stand, but you catch her wrist, an instinctive gesture you immediately regret when she flinches.

"Shauna, please," you say, releasing her immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was messed up. I couldn't handle being here, seeing you every day, knowing what—"

"Don't," she cuts you off harshly. "Don't pretend this was about Jackie, or about us. This was about you being a coward."

The accusation lands like a physical blow. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" Shauna laughs, a brittle sound that bears no resemblance to happiness. "Was it fair to make me think you were dead? To leave your blood on Jackie's jacket where we would find it? Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly," you admit, the closest you've come to a genuine explanation since your return.

"Clearly," she agrees coldly. "And now what? You're back, you're saying nothing about where you've been or what you did, and suddenly you're spending all your time with Lottie of all people?"

There's something in her tone—possessiveness? Jealousy?—that makes your pulse quicken. "I told you, she asked for help. It's not like I'm seeking her out."

"No?" Shauna's eyes narrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're replacing one fucked-up relationship with another."

The implication sends a flash of anger through you. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a pattern," Shauna says, her voice rising slightly. "Jackie, me, now Lottie. You just can't help yourself, can you? Always gravitating toward whatever's most likely to blow up in your face."

"That's bullshit," you snap, standing now too. "Jackie and I were—that was different. And you and I were never—we didn't—"

"Didn't what?" Shauna challenges, stepping closer, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, close enough to smell the pine soap she uses to wash her hair. "Didn't hold each other every night? Didn't whisper things we'd never tell anyone else? Didn't cross every line except the one we were both too scared to acknowledge?"

Her words leave you breathless, confronting truths you've kept buried beneath grief and guilt and the consuming task of survival. "Shauna..."

"And then you left," she continues, relentless now that the dam has broken. "After everything we shared, after I told you about the baby, about my fears, after I held you through your nightmares and you promised—you promised—you wouldn't leave me alone out here. You just disappeared."

"I'm sorry," you repeat, the words woefully inadequate against the tide of her anger.

"Sorry doesn't bring back the weeks I spent thinking you were dead," Shauna says, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "It doesn't erase the nightmares. It doesn't change the fact that when I needed you most, you weren't there."

The accusation hangs between you, heavy with unstated losses. You think of her pregnant belly, now flat again, the question you've been afraid to ask.

"What happened to the baby?" you finally manage, your voice barely audible.

Shauna steps back as if struck, her expression shuttering completely. "You don't get to ask me that. Not now. Not after—" She shakes her head, arms wrapping around her middle in a protective gesture that makes your heart ache. "Stay away from me. And for god's sake, be careful with Lottie."

She turns and walks away before you can respond, her posture rigid with anger or pain or both. You watch her go, the distance between you widening with each step, a chasm of your own creation.

You remain by the fallen log long after Shauna has disappeared back into the cabin, trying to process the confrontation, the revelations it contained. The admission that what existed between you wasn't just grief or convenience or the desperate need for human contact in the face of tragedy—it was something deeper, something neither of you had been brave enough to name.

And now it's broken, possibly beyond repair.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulls you from your thoughts. You look up, expecting—hoping, perhaps—to see Shauna returning. Instead, Lottie emerges from between the trees, her expression serene as always.

"I saw her come back alone," she says by way of explanation. "Thought you might want company."

"I don't," you reply, harsher than intended.

If Lottie is offended by your tone, she doesn't show it. Instead, she sits beside you on the log, closer than Shauna had, her thigh pressing against yours despite the ample space available.

"She's angry," Lottie observes, her voice light. "But anger isn't the opposite of love. It's just another form of it."

"Don't," you warn, echoing your earlier response to her mentions of Jackie. "I'm not in the mood for cryptic bullshit right now."

"Not cryptic," Lottie corrects gently. "Just true. Shauna loves you. Has since before. Will after."

"Before what? After what?" You turn to face her, frustration building. "Can you, for once, just say what you mean instead of playing mystic?"

Lottie studies you for a moment, head tilted slightly. "Before the crash. After you leave this place." She gestures to the wilderness around you. "Time isn't linear here. I've seen it—how threads connect, overlap, double back. Your threads and Shauna's are... entangled. Always have been."

"You don't know what you're talking about," you mutter, but there's less conviction in your voice now.

"I do," Lottie insists, her hand finding yours on the log between you. "Just as I know about the hunger. The emptiness inside you that nothing seems to fill."

Your head snaps up at that, meeting her gaze with shock. Those were your exact thoughts during your self-imposed exile, words you've never spoken aloud to anyone.

"You—"

"I told you," she says simply. "I dream about you."

Something cold slithers down your spine—fear or anticipation, you're not sure which. "What exactly do you dream about, Lottie?"

Her smile deepens, something predatory entering her expression. "This," she says, and before you can react, her free hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you toward her, her lips meeting yours with surprising force.

For a split second, you're too shocked to respond. Then instinct takes over—anger, confusion, and weeks of isolation converging into a surge of adrenaline that has you shoving her away violently. Lottie tumbles backwards off the log, landing in the snow with a soft thud.

"What the fuck?" you demand, standing, fists clenched at your sides.

Lottie makes no move to get up, simply looks up at you from where she's fallen, that same knowing smile playing at her lips. "You're not angry because I kissed you," she says calmly. "You're angry because you wanted me to."

"That's bullshit," you snap, but even as you say it, you're aware of a treacherous heat in your blood, a response your body had no right to have.

"Is it?" Lottie sits up slowly, making no attempt to stand. "You've been starving for weeks. I can see it in the way you watch her, the way you flinch when anyone comes near you. It's eating you alive."

You take a step toward her, fury building at her presumption, her ability to see through defenses you thought impenetrable. "Shut up."

"Make me," she challenges, still seated in the snow, looking up at you with an expression that borders on anticipation.

Something snaps inside you—control, reason, restraint, whatever thin veneer of civilization has survived the months in this wilderness. You move without conscious thought, dropping to your knees in front of her, one hand coming to her throat, pushing her back until she's pinned against the ground.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl, your face inches from hers, fingers pressing just firmly enough against her windpipe to be felt, not enough to truly restrict her breathing. "Is this what you dreamed about?"

You expect fear, resistance, perhaps even tears. What you don't expect is the slow smile that spreads across Lottie's face, the deliberate way she arches her neck against your grip.

"Yes," she breathes, the word barely audible.                                                                                                           

The admission should repulse you, should make you recoil and retreat. Instead, it ignites something dark and hungry within you, a need that's been growing since Jackie's death, since your isolation, since Shauna's rejection.

Before you can reconsider, your mouth crashes down on hers, the kiss nothing like the gentle exchanges you shared with Jackie, nothing like the hesitant, tender moments with Shauna. This is raw, almost violent, teeth and tongue and desperation.

Lottie responds with equal ferocity, her hands tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. You're dimly aware of the cold seeping through your clothes from the snow beneath you, but it's distant, irrelevant against the heat building between your bodies.

When you finally break apart, gasping for breath, Lottie looks up at you with pupils blown wide, lips swollen from your assault. "Take me," she whispers, the command clear despite the breathlessness of her voice.

You should stop. Should pull away, apologize, retreat to the safety of distance and denial. Should remember Shauna's warning about Lottie being different, dangerous perhaps.

Instead, you surrender to the hunger that's been consuming you for weeks—for touch, for connection, for oblivion however briefly it might be found. Your hands move to the fastening of her coat, pushing it open to access the warmth beneath, and Lottie's triumphant smile is the last thing you register before giving yourself over completely to the primal need that's been building inside you since the moment the plane crashed, stranding you all in this wilderness where normal rules and restraints have long since ceased to apply.

In the back of your mind, a voice whispers warning—that this is a mistake, that Lottie is not what she seems, that there will be consequences you can't foresee. But the hunger drowns it out, silences caution and reason alike as you lose yourself in the temporary escape of skin against skin, of pleasure sharp enough to eclipse grief, of connection however fleeting or false it might prove to be.

[bluejayblueskies]

I Will Not Burn | Croik

[ID: Six photographs of a hand-bound book of the fic I WIll Not Burn by Croik. The first photo shows the cover of the book, photographed so the spine and front cover can both be seen. The spine has faux raised cords outlined in red foil, as well as the title, author name, and a swirl graphic in red foil. The cover has the title and author name foiled vertically below a red foiled tentacle graphic. The second photo shows the top of the book, showing off red and black endbands and red and black speckled edges. The third photo shows the title page of the book, with the title and author name in a rectangle in the middle of a tentacle graphic. The fourth photo shows a section header page of the book, with the name of the fic in a rectangle atop a picture of black smoke. The fifth photo shows a chapter header page of the book for chapter fourteen, with a red foiled swirl graphic next to the word "fourteen" in all caps and the chapter text beneath it. The sixth photo shows a text spread of the book, with a bookmark resting atop it. The bookmark shows black and white artwork of various scenes from the fic, outlined in red foil. /End ID]

.

Last year for Fandom Trumps Hate, @threearmsally requested a copy of @croik's wonderful Malevolent/Arkham Horror crossover series, which includes the longfic I Will Not Burn along with some accompanying oneshots. It ended up being the thickest (and heaviest) book I've bound to date, and I styled it after old leather binds, with faux raised cords and a faux black leather cover. The red foil was a bit temperamental, but I'm so happy with how it turned out, and I learned a new method for applying hot stamp foil to the inside of a book involving glue pens! There's a ton of artwork by some extremely talented artists featured in this bind as well (not pictured here), and it's always a joy to be able to include that in the books I make. The bookmark art shown here is by @shibara - here's their post with the artwork!

[dark-corner-cunning]

Transmutation Warding: Feeding Off The Haters

• Welcome Back, Seekers! Within my local coven, we’ve turned our focus to warding and protection magick as we prepare for the year ahead. I adore transmutation magick for warding! It’s one of my favorite ways to craft shields for myself, my work, my growth, and my success. Instead of constantly bracing for every hex, evil eye, or ill wish, this approach flips the narrative. Transmutation wards work proactively, taking any negativity sent your way and alchemizing it into fuel for your growth and power. Why waste energy defending against haters or uncovering their identities when you can let their spite feed your fire? Let them send their malice—it’ll only make you more powerful.

As always, take what resonates with your spirit and weave it into your own unique magick! My spells and workings are here to spark your creativity and inspire your craft. ✨

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Tools & Ingredients:

1 black candle (to absorb negativity)

1 purple candle (for transmutation and spiritual power)

Thread or Cord (any color)

A mirror (to summon your Fetch Spirit or reflect your essence)

1 clear quartz crystal or any charm you’re called to that can be left on your altar or within your space -  As a subtle sentinel of the ward’s power, clear quartz is a cherished ally in magick. Its ability to be easily programmed makes it a perfect vessel for your intention, while its amplifying nature ensures the energy of your working radiates far and wide. To the untrained eye, it appears as nothing more than a beautiful crystal resting upon your altar or within your sacred space—a discreet guardian cloaked in plain sight, silently weaving its protective spell.

Optional: Chalk or something to draw a circle (for creating a sacred boundary to hold the enchantment of your crystal or charm. If chalk is unavailable, let your finger become the wand. You can also use salt or any symbols you would like to use to draw out a circle.

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Preparation:

Cleanse your workspace and tools with smoke, salt water, or another method of your choosing.

Candle preparation, take your black candle and anoint it with a neutral oil, something simple like canola oil—or any oil you feel connected to for protection. Once it’s dressed in oil, sprinkle it with herbs known for protection, such as basil, bay, black pepper, cinnamon, or clove—or any protection herbs that resonate with your magick. For the purple candle, I like to use a neutral oil as well, then dress it with herbs that are perfect for transmutation, like lady’s mantle and yucca. Along with those, I often add a pinch of herbs that represent success and abundance—and don’t forget to include a bit of your hair, fingernail clippings, or something from your person to taglock the magick, connecting the work directly to your energy. Then bind the candles together with some thread or cord.

Binding the Candles:

Take the black and purple candles and begin winding the thread around them, chanting this, or create your own:

"I bind these flames, black and purple entwined,

Protection and transmutation, powers combined.

Through thread and flame, my will takes hold,

To guard my essence, fierce and bold."

You don't have to go all out like I did with those massive candles. Honestly, a couple of chime candles will do the trick if you're short on time.

3. Place your mirror above the center of your altar or working space, positioning it to reflect either yourself or the flickering flames of your candles (refer to the caption below the next picture for more context). Let it serve as a portal, amplifying the energy of your work. Arrange your candles in a fire-safe dish at the center—I often favor a trusty aluminum pie pan for this purpose.

4. Hold your crystal or charm in your hands, letting your energy flow into it. Visualize your purpose, your will, and your desire imprinting itself upon the object. Once your intention feels vibrant and alive within the crystal or charm, move it in a clockwise circle around the candles, envisioning it connecting to the fiery energy of your working—like a thread weaving them together.

5. When the circuit feels complete, place the charged crystal or charm before the candles. Now, cast a circle around the entire space, sealing in the energy. You can do this energetically, feeling the boundary forming with your will, or use chalk, salt, or symbols drawn ahead of time to anchor the space. This sacred boundary holds the power of your work, ensuring that your charm becomes fully and beautifully enchanted. And now, it's time to spark the flame on them candles.

I used a selenite tower in this picture as a stand-in to show where your crystal or charm should be placed. This isn’t the actual charm I used, but it gives you an idea of the setup. You’ll also notice my altar mirror hanging just above the space, perfectly positioned for the energy work. If hanging a mirror isn’t an option for you, no worries—simply place one in front of your working area instead. The reflection is what matters most!

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Casting The Ward:

Lighting the Candles:

With the bound candles before the mirror. Light them, starting with the black candle, then the purple, and then chant this, or create your own:

"Black flame of shadow, guard and protect,

Purple flame of spirit, energy redirect.

Before this mirror, realms align,

My (Fetch Spirit/Reflection) carries this spell through time."

Incantation of The Ward:

Face the mirror and focus on your reflection, summoning your Fetch Spirit or the reflection of your empowered self. Chant this incantation, or create your own:

"Anyone who cannot honor my essence,

Respect my growth, or stand in my presence,

Be it through disdain, envy, or intent,

Their fate is sealed, their malice spent.

Their energy flows to me, transformed,

Into strength, abundance, success reborn.

As I feed upon their misguided spite,

They are drained by their own blight.

Across all realms, my shield is spun,

Now and forever, this spell is done."

Seal the Energy:

Visualize the mirror reflecting the power of your spell into the cosmos, spreading the ward across all realms. Allow the candles to burn fully if possible, or snuff them out respectfully.

I love this picture! The flames intertwine perfectly, mirroring the energy I was aiming for in this ward of protective transmutation.

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Aftercare:

Charging your crystal or charm: Leave your charm on your altar or in your space as a representation of the ward. Each full moon, place it under the moonlight to recharge its energy, visualizing the ward growing stronger with every cycle.

Mirror Care: Cleanse the mirror after the spellwork with smoke or moon water to ensure it remains a neutral tool for future workings.

Final Words:

Maintain your crystal or charm as a talisman of your protective transmutation ward and remember that this ward will work continuously as long as you charge it and feed it with belief and intention.

Stay Wild, Stay Magickal, & Keep Seeking, Seekers!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Wild West Outlaw!'s Reaction to You Trying to Escape

Warnings: Slight Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Thoughts, Dominant Outlaw Confirmed, Kidnapping, Restraining/Binding, Binding Kink ( 👀), Punishment, Outlaw having Intrusive Thoughts, Forced Proximity (And They Were Roommates), No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

♡ He has you tied down to a chair so quickly you don’t even get the chance to feel the wind being knocked out of you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw hasn’t survived this long by letting pretty little things like you turn the tables on him. And if his unwavering strength and endurance aren’t enough to confirm that, his knotting skills are.

♡ “Thought ya could pull the wool over my eyes, didn’tya,” the Outlaw drawls, pulling the rope tight over your wrists, panting, recovering from your frolic with freedom.

♡ He leans in, close enough that you can smell the rock-beaten freshness of his shirt, can feel the warmth of his anger radiating against your skin.

♡ “Suppose I’ll just have to discipline ya. Make ya nice and obedient.”

♡ Despite the low, husking tone of his voice, the quiet promise of promiscuity in his drawl, Outlaw’s rendition of punishment comes as… solitude.

♡ He leaves you tied to that chair for hours, riding off into the desert, leaving you with nothing to entertain you save for your thoughts and the wonderings of what he’d do to you when he returned.

♡ You might view this as a cold, calloused method of behavioural conditioning. Starving you, not letting you stretch your legs or go to the bathroom.

♡ Of course, the punishment is still horrific. But, rather unintentionally so.

♡ You see, in the moments between Outlaw’s two-minute tango between you, himself and his rope, something in his brain had switched. Snapped.

♡ Having you look up at him with wide eyes as you writhed beneath his touch, the burn of the rope, the pleas starting to fall from between your lips for him to let you go, stirred something in him. A primal frenzy. A dark need.

♡ Yandere Outlaw can’t think straight, his mind flooding with involuntary ideas, notions of what he could do with – to – you while you’re bound and at his mercy.

♡ He doesn’t know what happened; why having your body pressed so closely to him in such a thrashing, violent, desperate encounter has left him with a heavy burden in his heart and in…other places.

♡ He’s wrangled captives before and they’ve never had the same licentious effect as you did. Then again, he’s never kept a captive for this long, either. And certainly not willingly.

♡ Yandere Outlaw eventually returns, the thought of you helpless in that chair weighing heavy on his mind all day, taking him down avenues and annals of thought he’d only have the opportunity to explore under the cover of darkness.

♡ Of course, he was concerned that you must be hungry by now. Thirsty, too.

♡ That, and…

♡ How there’d be nothing to stop him from having his way with you.

♡ Yandere Outlaw shakes his head, his horse letting out a puff, as if she could read his mind. Don’t, she told him.

♡ “Don’t worry,” he said, voice quiet. He patted her mane, rubbed the space between her ears. “I won’t.”

♡ Upon Yandere Outlaw’s return, he cuts you loose. He doesn’t apologise, but his silence is thick enough with the accent of shame that you can tell he regrets, in whatever slim capacity, what he’s done.

♡ He puts together a simple meal tonight, either for a lack of trusting that you won’t spike his meal with one of the earth’s thousand natural poisons, or as an apology for his actions.

♡ That night, as you lay next to the Outlaw in bed, your hands and legs bound to the bedposts, the Outlaw looks over you. Watches you.

♡ He doesn’t know why the image of you being tied up hadn’t aroused him as much as it had earlier. Especially now, of all times, with you sleeping beside him, entirely incapable of defending yourself if he acted on his primal desires.

♡ Perhaps it was the thrill of the prospect of having everything on the line, of losing you. Perhaps it was the display of his strength, his ability to make you do whatever he pleased through physical force alone.

♡ Yandere Outlaw tried to dampen his thoughts by placing his hat over his face; to stop the heat he was certain made his cheeks glow in the pitch blackness of the cabin. 

♡ And to stop the onslaught of another issue. 

♡ Taking a dip in the cold waters of the river this time of night didn’t much appeal to him. Especially when he could indulge himself a little longer in the image of you gagged, bound and entirely his.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[animeyanderelover]

Among Uchiha (Sasuke, Itachi , Indra and Shisui) whom are most to least likely to do a massacre just to ensure their darling safety or just for her to be alive

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, violence, death

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata

Ranking

Uchiha Shisui

🍂Last place is actually sort of tricky for me but I am going to settle with Shisui on this one. Whilst I actually see him capable of the act of murder if we're talking about sheer mindset alone what holds him back greatly is his connection to Konohagakure. Sure, the Anbu is a very ruthless position but certain things are very much off the table and an entire massacre is hardly going to be excused if only for the sake of your safety. Shisui has to rely on smarter methods as a result of that, needs to be much more stealthy and careful whenever a situation arises where he knows that he is unable to act like his darker instincts tell him at times as there are restrictions placed on him as a part of the Leaf Village. If he had none of those expectations that shackle him down he would be much more dangerous but with what he is given he is only allowed that much lenience from the council and the Hokage until even he would get into troubles. Whilst a lot of people might be able to close an eye or two when he commits a questionable action there is a limit of how much he can explore this willful ignorance and Shisui learns to use this line to his full advantage. Ultimately a limit is still a limit though.

Uchiha Itachi

🍡Itachi and Shisui both have been essentially desensitised to violence and death from a very young age yet even as a member of the Akatsuki Itachi holds up some loose morals. Even those loose morals get tainted as his obsession for you gets involved and whilst Itachi is much more composed in comparison to other trigger-happy members of the organisation it would be wise to remember that he is at best merciful and merely tries to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He isn't a good person and he himself had embraced this years ago when the blood of his parents stained his katana and he had to leave his younger brother behind all by himself. Nothing is worse than that which is why everything else could never evoke the same silent agony that he went through when he had to massacre his entire clan. What enables him more than Shisui is additionally that his circumstances place no watching eyes over him. Pain only cares for the members to capture the tailed beasts and the havoc that happens in between does not matter as long as results are delievered. Itachi doesn't have to pretend to be on the good side, the only reason why he does is because he doesn't want to scare you.

Uchiha Sasuke

💙As the second reincarnation of Indra it is very much understandable that Sasuke makes it fairly high on this list. He has no ties that properly bind him anymore to any village and even when with you he doesn't pretend to be a good guy as his past speaks louder and it is something he doesn't even want you to ignore. He may not be as trigger-happy as he once used to be when he was still a teenager filled with nothing but hatred and the burning determination for vengeance but Sasuke is far from changing his ways. When you stumble into his life you become the only person he truly has left as his family is dead and all his friends in a village far away who could have been otherwise able to at least weaken the intense obsession he develops as a rogue. With no voice of conscience even attempting to reason with him Sasuke simply gets consumed and whilst he may have acquired a colder and calmer exterior he is extremely possessive and protective. Death is a fate he easily hands out if someone does not head his only warning and an immediate consequence if someone even attempted to harm you in any shape, the lives taken not even evoking a twinge of guilt.

Otsutsuki Indra

💜Indra should not even come as a surprise as the first place as he has really nothing that could even remotely restrain him. In his eyes he has been wronged and betrayed by his own family, has suffered humiliation by the hands of his younger brother who used to be always inferior to him and has as a result quite literally just snapped. He acts on pure obsession and a secretive paranoia that he does not speak of, perhaps because he isn't even fully aware of it himself. After all his trust has been permanently broken as his own flesh and blood turned their backs on him, leaving him unable to ever put his full faith in anyone ever again. The consequences are severe for you as you are constantly monitored and unable to do as much as glance too long into someone's direction without Indra starting to believe that you too plan to abandon him by already planning for an escape. It's that overwhelming amount of paranoia and possessive impulses that result within the blink of an eye into blood being spilled. The angrier Indra is, the more extreme this will get as you have made plenty of experiences with his Susanoo crushing people like ants even though he could have easily done it without using those powers.

[sooniebby]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

𝗪𝗲𝗲𝗸 𝟯: 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲/𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲

Bottom trans male reader. Reader’s lower part is called interchangeable: cunt, pussy, clit, folds, heat, hole. No mention of anything feminine. Reader has had top surgery.

“Is… the rope necessary?”

You were dressed in your Halloween costume, a very simple makeshift murder victim. A tired white shirt with fake blood splattered all over it. Jeans that you purposely tore and also splashed some blood on it.

The real “kill wound” in your costume was a fake slit throat that you had. It was starting to feel itchy on your neck after being at this party for over two hours now. The blood on your face had uncomfortably dried up a bit that you just wanted to wash it off.

The guy you were with, inside some random room. You didn’t really know who owned the house. You were just here for free drinks and candy.

He was dressed pretty bland compared to you.

Just a nice dress shirt and dress pants. You wondered why he’d wear something so nice to a college party like this.

His white shirt was unbuttoned now, letting you see his chest a bit better. Which was nice as you were currently being tied up. He wrapped the rope around your chest and shoulders, leaning it down to circle around your hands.

He was slow and methodical, making sure it was tight but not too tight. You were a bit too drunk to complain about him taking too long. Hey, if he needed bondage to get off, so be it!

“W..what are you anyway? Such a boring costume..”

He glanced up at you and smirked. You saw the faintest sight of fangs. Ah, vampire.

Eh, he could’ve done better.

You yawned, getting comfortable on the bed. Wow, this bed was so soft. All that alcohol was making you a bit sleepy. And this bed wasn’t helping you.

With a jolt, you glanced down at the man as you felt himself slap your thigh. He didn’t say anything, just finishing his touches on your bondage. You could still move your legs and if you tried hard enough—you could slip your hands free though it would hurt your wrists to do so.

“Are… you going to speak?” You whisper, watching him move down to your jeans. He glanced up at you and with a smile, turns his attention back to your pants.

You spread your legs open to give him space as he.. quite literally tears your jeans apart?!

You cry out in shock, sobering up a bit at the sound of tearing jeans.

“D..dude?! What the fuck..?”

He paid you no mind as he reached your boxers and also teared that open. Fuck, he was going to ruin your clothes to bits at this point. You squirmed a bit, wondering just what the fuck you were going to do after this with no pants or boxers.

You watched as he leaned close to your legs and began to kiss it. His kisses were wet as he trailed down to your wet heat that was beginning to ache to be kissed itself.

His fangs.. which.. felt real in a way, teased your skin. You grunted, wishing you could just reach down and tangle your hands in his curls but your hands were tied.

“Jeez… those fangs of yours feel.. real, man.”

He stopped for a moment and glanced up. His eyes just staring at you before looking down as he pressed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the softness.

Why weren’t most one night stands this nice?

You gasp as you felt his kisses on your pussy this time. He was soft—just pressing kisses on your folds while one of his hands teased your clit.

“E…mhm.. ever eat… cat before?” You drunkly joke.

He looked up at you unimpressed. You pout. Hmph, this guy just didn’t know what a good joke was.

His breath was really the only sound you ever heard from him. But you wanted him to talk. So badly but you didn’t know how to get him. You had come up to this room with him because of his teasing on your waist and you thought he’d start flirting with you.

But no, just started binding you.

“Name..?” You muttered, thinking maybe he’d be nice enough to tell you.

But he didn’t. He leaned in and began to lick your pussy, slow and methodically once more. You flinch, your legs accidentally closing on his head. He grunted in discomfort and moved his hands to grab your legs and force them apart.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit happy.

You got him to grunt!

That’s something..

He was sucking and licking your heat with a sense of ownership—eyes staring straight at you as he watched you try to move your hands against the bondage. Your lips were parting constantly as moans left your throat, filling the room.

You couldn’t really help yourself that you began to try and ride his face. He didn’t seem to mind as he allowed you to do so. You whimper and whine, his nose was a bit good to ride on.

Huh, maybe you should stick to sleeping with man with long noses.

The drunk thought leaves your mind when he pulls away. You whine and pout at him, wondering why he’d pull away. His lower face and nose was wet from your slick but he didn’t seem to care at the moment.

He reached down and pulled open his pants, his cock slipping out. You blinked in shock. Holy fuck, that cock was huge.

Maybe.. eight inches?! Jesus, what type of man needs eight inches???

You glance down and watch as he grips his cock and rests it against your cunt. He gently rubbed his cock between your folds, earning a sharp gasp from you.

You were biting your lip in excitement—even if the thought of such a large cock was scary.

But he didn’t slip inside of you.

His cock began to rub against your pussy, getting between your slick folds. He reached down with his free hand and placed it on your hips, gripping it tightly as a way to keep you still.

“W…c’mon… inside~” you whined.

He continued his thrusting against your folds, his cock constantly rubbing against your clit. His grunts began to fill the room, overpowering your moaning.

You felt as if you were being used.. but honestly it made you excited.

You just wished he said something to you.

Praise. Degradation. Something!

Much to your shock, his cock began to cum. He moved his cock between your folds and cummed right near your hole—teasing you with the thought of him pushing his cock inside and just filling you with cum.

He pulled away after a second and reached down, scooping up the cum that was dripping from your pussy and fingering it inside. You began to squirm and twitch, hips thrusting upwards as you cried out.

Finally… something inside!

But then he pulled away.. again!

“F…fuck you! I wanna cum, man!” You grunted, wishing you could just reach down and make yourself cum.

He simply smirked and patted your stomach before pulling away. You watched in shock as he buttoned up his shirt and pants and… left.

He fucking left.

You panicked a bit, wondering what the hell were you supposed to do now?! As you shuffled around the bed, trying to force your hand out of the bondage, the door opened again.

He was back.. with water and a bowl of grapes.

He sits down on the bed and makes you sit up but makes no effort to untie you. You part your lips and gladly accept the water, humming at the cool drink blessing your dried throat.

Huh, you didn’t notice that.

His lips pulled into a smile as you saw you begin to feel comfortable once more. Once the water was finished, he grabbed the bowl of grapes and began to feed them to you.

He was.. taking care of you? Oh, this was nice.

You hummed in delight, starting to feel sleepy again after being mildly taken care of.

“You.. do this with everyone you fuck?”

He didn’t answer. Stupid man. He placed the empty bowl on the night stand and made you lay back down again. Getting between your legs, he pulled down his cock.

You didn’t know if eating and then fucking so quick was smart but eh, you were still a bit too drunk to truly care about that.

He leaned over you, staring over you as a smirk pulled on his lips. Staring at his teeth you began to notice his fangs were a bit too real. It looked as if they came straight from his gums.

“You.. must’ve put most of your money into the fangs, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow, as if in a way telling you that you’re wrong. You gasped at the feeling of his cock pushing inside of your tight heat. His cock was stretching you but you couldn’t help but sigh in relief—happy to fully be fucked.

His thrusts were different from his other one. No longer slow and methodical. He was like a beast, his hips slamming into you as you squirmed and cried. Your cunt tightened around his cock with each thrust.

“S…so good! Fuck.”

You cummed in no time, arching your back as you screamed out. But he didn’t stop, his thrusts were even faster now—forcing you to squirm as your body was being forced to cum again so quickly.

You could’ve sworn you were squirting at this point.

But he hasn’t cummed.

And he wouldn’t cum for a few minutes as your body got tired from the constant and back to back squirting. Your body was limp by now, your pussy lightly clenching at this point. The only sound leaving you was soft little whimpers.

You couldn’t even speak properly now.

He leaned down, pressing kisses on your throat. You hoped he was close soon, your body couldn’t handle another orgasm. His teeth grazed your throat as he moved down right where your shoulder and neck connected.

And he bit.

You screamed out, spasming against his body that held you down to the bed. This wasn’t just a simple bite, his teeth—no fangs, pierced your skin.

“W…h…!”

Any sort of pain you felt was soon pleasurable. You began to softly moan, trying to move your hand but still not able to. He continued to drink.. just like a vampire before pulling away after a few seconds.

His lips were stained with your blood, turning them red in color. A few drops slipped down his chin and his eyes were blood red. He reached down and gently rubbed the spot his bit, giving a bit of comfort for it.

You felt something warm inside of you now… oh, he came. His cock slipped out of you as white cum slowly dripped out of your aching hole. Your breathing was light and soft…

You somehow felt content.

He grinned down at you. His black curly hair was no longer neatly laid like before. You tried to truly look at him now but all you could do was whine about the ropes still bonding you.

He pulled the bondage off and began to rub your wrists, pressing a kiss on the mark it left on your skin. His eyes trailed your body. The only thing you had left was your shirt.

“You…you’re….?”

He smirked.

“B…wh..?”

He hummed and walked over to the closet in the room. He pulled out a long coat from it and wrapped it around your body. Much to your surprise, he picked you up easily.

You whimper but glance up at him, wondering what he was thinking.

“Y…you..? Wh.. a… college..?”

He looked at you thoughtfully as if he was actually thinking why he, a vampire, came to a college Halloween party. But he simply shrugged. He looked close to your age, but perhaps now getting a better look, three to four years older.

Physically at least.. who knew how old he was mentally.

“Wh…ere..?” You mutter, starting to feel so tired. But you weren’t sure why.

“Home.”

Your eyes open in shock as you stared up at him. His voice was nice and velvet. So smooth and deep. You wanted him to keep talking. Please, keep talking.

“Sleep. You were good… so I decided…”

He leaned down a bit to your ears, gently nipping it as you hummed, snuggling a bit in his arms.

“To keep you forever.”

Realistically, that was such a fucking scary thing to say. An immortal being taking you forever.

But.. you were drunk and happily satisfied by sex you knew no one else could possibly give you.

How long was forever anyway…?

Eh, you only meet a sexy vampire once.

You get it? He edged you with his cock and his voice… a true edger… does that make sense? Lol, anyway, hope this was sexy enough cuz he doesn’t talk basically at all! Why he doesn’t talk..? Don’t ask, I just thought it’d be sexy

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @nakedtoasterr @smellwell @tehyunnie @ofclyde @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @remdayz @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo @kaedezu @tomoeroi

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 19

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: medical procedures; mutual pining; jealousy: angst; angst; angst

You walked through the ER doors just before 7 a.m., fully expecting to slip into the usual rhythm.

But something felt off.

You adjusted your badge, trying to shake off the unease curling in your stomach.

Robby stood at the far end of the nurses’ station, scanning a tablet, his brow furrowed in focus. But when he looked up, his gaze found yours instantly. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

There it was again—the thing that didn’t exist. You offered a smile, soft, professional, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t said exactly what you never wanted to admit stung. But before you could walk toward him, you heard your name.

“Dr. Williams,” Gloria’s voice cut through the corridor like a scalpel. You turned, instantly straightening. “Morning,” you greeted her, surprised to see her. “Do you have a moment?” You followed her into the empty consult room, hands slipping into your pockets.

“I’ll be brief,” she began, all business. “We’ve been reviewing performance metrics from the day shift. Gurney times. Patient satisfaction scores. Throughout. And one thing is becoming increasingly clear—whatever you’re doing with Dr. Robby, it’s working.”

There was a pause. Calculated.

“But,” she added, folding her arms, “I have to ask myself: how much of that success is you?”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Look,” she continued, stepping closer. “You’ve got instincts. You’re sharp, fast on your feet, and the staff trust you. That’s not something we see often in someone still in their fellowship.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“I’d like to offer you an Attending position on Day shift. Permanent.”

Your breath caught. For a second, all you could hear was the echo of her words—sharp and sudden, cutting through the haze of the morning.

“I... I thought that wasn’t possible until the fellowship ended.”

“I can make exceptions,” she said smoothly. “We’re restructuring anyway. Leaning into what works. You’ve earned the opportunity.”

There was a flicker of something in her eyes when she said it—an unspoken message embedded beneath the compliment. Something that made your stomach knot.

“And Dr. Robinavitch?” you asked carefully.

She gave a noncommittal smile. “Dr. Robinavitch is very good at what he does. But his methods are... traditional. You, on the other hand, represent something fresher. Progressive. It’s not about replacing anyone—it’s about optimizing what we already have.”

You didn’t buy it. Not entirely.

Still, the words landed, pressing against a part of you that had longed to be seen for something more than potential.

“I’ll need time to think about it.”

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll be finalizing the shift schedule for Q3 by next Friday.”

You nodded numbly. She left with a purposeful stride, heels clicking across tile like punctuation.

You stayed behind a moment longer, staring at the closed door.

Your heart was thudding now—not from the offer, but from what it meant. From what it could cost.

When you stepped back into the hallway, the buzz of the ER surrounded you, but it was muted somehow. Like you were underwater.

Robby had moved closer, standing just past the nurses’ station. His eyes were already on you.

And this time, you didn’t smile. Because you didn’t know how. Because for the first time, it felt like you might be standing on opposite sides of something.

You spent the first few hours of the shift pretending to be fine.

You nodded through consults, smiled with the residents, charted with a kind of manic precision that made your notes look like they were written by someone with caffeine in her bloodstream instead of blood.

But beneath it all, you were rattled.

Gloria’s offer kept looping in your head like a faulty monitor alarm. Permanent. Day shift. Optimization. Not replacing anyone, she’d said. But you weren’t stupid.

And Robby—he was everywhere.

In the trauma bay, tossing you a pair of gloves with a smirk and a quiet, “You ready, hotshot?”

In the lounge, where he held out your favorite snack without comment, like he always did when you forgot to eat.

And every time he was near, your body betrayed you.

Your shoulders would stiffen. Your pulse would kick up a notch. You’d flinch—internally, mostly—each time his arm brushed yours or his eyes lingered for just a second too long.

He noticed something. You knew he did.

But Robby wasn’t the kind of man who pushed. He just... watched. Waited. And that somehow made it worse.

Because now, every look he gave you felt like it came with a question you didn’t know how to answer.

“Hey.”

You turned, startled, and nearly dropped the chart in your hands. Robby stood behind you, brows raised slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, too casual to be just professional.

You forced a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. Just, uh—long morning.”

“You’ve been charting like you’re mad at the keyboard,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

You tried to laugh. It came out thin.

There was a beat of silence between you. The kind that used to feel easy.

“Want to split the next trauma?” he asked. “They just paged for a GSW.”

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

Robby lingered for half a second longer, as if he was waiting for you to say something else. But you couldn’t. Not yet. Not with your heart running a marathon and your thoughts tangled in every possible version of what this meant for him... for you.

You followed him down the hall, your footsteps slower than usual, your mind anything but steady.

Later that afternoon, you stood in the supply closet, staring blankly at the gauze shelf while trying to remember why you came in here in the first place.

Your hands were shaking. Just barely. But enough to notice.

You hated feeling like this—off balance, uncertain. You hadn’t felt this way since your intern year, when everything had felt too big, too fast, and all you could do was try not to drown in it.

The worst part was knowing that this—whatever this was—wasn’t about fear.

It was about Robby.

It was the way you had to keep pretending his words hadn’t cut when you overheard them. The way you kept brushing aside the look on his face this morning like it hadn’t shaken you more than you wanted to admit.

And now Gloria’s offer had taken all of that emotion and lit it on fire.

Because for the first time, you weren’t just a fellow trying to prove herself.

You were a threat. To him. To the stability of whatever fragile rhythm the two of you had managed to build.

And the worst part? You didn’t know if you should warn him.

By the time the shift was wrapping up, your nerves had frayed to the point of splintering.

You handed off the last patient to a resident, ducked into the lounge, and took a long sip of your tea like it could somehow center you.

Robby walked in a second later, and ran a hand through his already-messy hair.

“You ever gonna tell me what’s going on with you today?” he asked, voice quiet.

Your throat tightened. “Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. But he didn’t press.

Instead, he sat beside you on the couch, close enough that your knees brushed. The quiet between you was heavier now. Charged. Like a storm waiting on the edge of your skin.

You turned your mug in your hands, suddenly feeling everything far too clearly.

“Do you ever feel like things change overnight?” you asked, not looking at him. “Like... you wake up and you’re not sure where you fit anymore?”

His brow furrowed. “What happened?”

You hesitated. “Nothing. Just thinking too much.”

His gaze lingered, but after a moment, he nodded. “For what it’s worth... you still fit.”

The words landed deeper than you expected. And when you looked up at him, you saw something flicker behind his eyes—something soft, unguarded.

It would be so easy to lean into that.

But instead, you stood.

“Have a good night,” you said.

And as you walked away, you knew he was still watching.

And this time, you didn’t know what it meant.

[readngandweepng]

talking mostly nsfw of ftm rdr2 boys ft. charles sean (high and low honor) arthur kieran micah and javier with a top reader

MDNI amab reader with no pronouns mentioned. contains afab language and talk of dysphoria, binding, and periods in the first half plus breasts sex etc btw this is long

short first section mostly just sfw about if they feel dysphoria, if they bind, and what they're like on their periods etc.

i really can’t see charles getting much dysphoria at all, if any. part of him wouldn’t really care much how people see him as long as the gang/his friends see him as a man. the way outsiders perceive him isn’t something he thinks of much. even if the gang didn’t see him as a man for whatever reason it’s not something he’ll be that upset about. he’s confident in himself to never doubt his identity, despite any feminine features he bears. however he’s not afraid to knock someone out if they’re seriously taunting him and being a jackass. charles is also a great person to go to if you’re feeling dysphoric. his words are quality over quantity, and even someone with the worst dysphoria can feel a little better after listening to him.

i feel like charles would have a pretty big chest, so if he binds before going out into town he’s really doing it for the sake of holding up his male appearance to avoid any complications. at camp he’d wear baggier clothing just as a general thing but i don’t see him feeling the need to bind as much. he’s really not that bothered by his breasts; they’re just another part of his body to him and that’s about it. he can experience back pain and bodily stress, so it’s possible that binding can help relieve that pain, which in that case he definitely will bind. 

charles gets cramps but he’s pretty good at powering through them. he may hiss in pain every now and then but usually they don’t really get in his way much. though if they get particularly bad charles is a master at finding methods to soothe the pain. his period doesn’t change his mood much, aside from making him a little hungrier than usual. he’ll have extra snacks in his pockets prepared just for his cycle so he can eat while he sits around the fire or does chores. his sex drive also slopes, going from almost non-existent at the start of his period and then gradually getting hornier as it reaches its end. you’ll know his period’s almost over when he starts getting touchy-feely or when you can feel his gaze on you more often. 

sean’s flat chested in my mind, probably the flattest of everyone. maybe used to experience chest dysphoria as a teen but as he got older he started to see his breasts as pecs and now isn’t afraid to waltz around with his shirt off. (probably would have done so anyway, he’s ballsy like that) his hair doesn’t make him dysphoric but he’ll still make sure it’s at its reasonable length. for fun, sean would probably like dolling up, stealing a dress from karen and then prancing around it at camp just to fuck with people and maybe even get a guy to hit on him just to turn around and laugh in his face like an asshole lmao.

unlike charles, sean can NOT handle cramps at all. he’ll be curled up in a ball until they go away, whining and huffing when people tell him to get up and work. and when he is up and about all he does is complain about it hurting. even when he’s not cramping he’ll still be complaining until someone like karen or grimshaw tells him to pipe it down. if someone offers him some herbs or tonic he’ll all of a sudden try to pretend like he doesn’t need it but then will end up downing a bottle of whiskey later just to try and relieve the pain. he’ll also want to have sex with you to cope with his cramps. 

on his period he’s less chatty and a lot more grumpy. snaps a lot when he’s not in the mood to talk and even drinks less at times (when it’s over he’s back to the bottle though). his sex drive surprisingly plummets and he can even be a bit touch-averted. this can happen in spurts, where he’ll be sitting in your lap one minute and then all of a sudden won’t want to touch you again for the rest of the day. his breasts also become very tender even to the point where wearing a shirt that’s just a little bit too tight can be painful or uncomfortable. he’ll let you kiss him on the forehead or give him a side hug but for the most part he’s not as bubbly as he usually is. and when his period’s over he’ll try to wrack pity from you for not giving him enough love and attention.

out of everyone here i think (high honor) arthur would experience the worst dysphoria. he’d try really hard to pretend like the dysphoria doesn’t bother him, but he will be noticeably very happy and feel just a little bit more confident in himself when receiving affirmations from his close friends. if he’s out in town, he greets everyone just the same. he gets a bit of a pep in his step when he hears people referring to him as “mister” as they greet him back. arthur’s heart skips a beat if he overhears someone talking to a woman, fearing that someone’s talking to him. but when he turns around and sees a conversation happening elsewhere his anxiety slowly settles. really he tries to avoid going to town when he’s feeling dysphoric for these reasons, but also because he can’t help but over-analyze himself in other people’s eyes in fear of them seeing nothing but a woman, regardless of his muscles and rugged appearance. in a long-lasting relationship he won’t be as scared and lots of progress can be done however the dysphoria never does go away.

his breasts aren’t too large, but he’d still bind and would need to be reminded to change the bindings or take them off. arthur doesn’t like wearing too many layers so he sees binding as a bit of a hassle, and some days he’s too stubborn to bother with it so he just puts on a thicker jacket and calls it a day. he might need someone to remind him to bind when he goes into town, just for his sake. he can get into a headspace where he feels like he doesn’t need to bind for whatever reason, so having someone there to clear his head is something he’s eternally grateful for. 

when he’s on his period arthur doesn’t really like to admit he’s cramping. if someone asks why he’s groaning in pain he just waves it off and blames it on “being old”. charles and the girls will see through it and only then will he bashfully shrug in admission. he will hesitantly take any remedies they give him and may or may not actually use them. his period definitely physically weakens him a lot more than it may the others. all of a sudden lifting a hay bale feels like trying to carry a whole bison over his shoulder, and even riding his horse feels like a huge chore. he doesn’t get grumpy but he definitely gets depressed. will become more distant and will spend time away from people until his period’s over. his sex drive can randomly spike though. you might see him wander into the woods just to turn around and see him there with rosy cheeks as he asks you if you’d like to accompany him to his tent.

(low honor) arthur feels dysphoria but nowhere near as bad as his high honor counterpart. his dysphoria comes less from his outward appearance and more from within. he speaks to townspeople with trepidation because deep down he’s on edge in fear of hearing even a little bit of hesitation in their greeting. he becomes cold when dysphoric, even with you he’ll try to drive affirming words from you, pushing you to call him mister or to tell him how handsome he looks. he wants validation even when he doesn’t realize it.

lh arthur, even in the midst of dysphoria could really care less about his tits. there’s still some underlying insecurity but overall he could whip them out whenever he wanted to and wouldn’t be bothered. he almost gets off on it to be honest. he’ll use his own breasts to his advantage if he really needs to. both arthur’s in the right mindset can also see their breasts as pecs the same way sean can. lh arthur doesn’t feel the need to bind, but it’s not something he’s never done before. if someone like dutch insists upon it for whatever reason, then fine. but in his own accord it’s not something he cares much about. 

on his period he’s honestly the exact same, except maybe a little more cocky. something about his cycle has him just a tiny bit more confident and in over his head. he’ll be more antagonistic but also flirty. he’s also a huge tease. he’ll sit on your lap and grind into you just to pull away and leave camp for like two days. surprisingly, he won’t have sex on his period, not once. before and after? hell yes. but during? no. he doesn’t know why and neither do you. 

kieran feels some dysphoria, but i think his main problem is just insecurity and anxiety. he’d shrivel up very easy at any rude comments so receiving compliments and assurance goes a very long way. he doesn’t care about his hair length, but he does much prefer having facial hair. feeling/seeing a clean-shaven face on himself can make him feel a bit dysphoric, but again he’s really just anxious about how people perceive him. he will cry if he gets misgendered in public which is why he always has some facial and other visible body hair. over time if he’s around people who support him he will feel less insecure and will slowly garner more confidence until eventually he barely ever feels dysphoria.

i think he’d have pretty big breasts, second to charles. he definitely binds and layers his clothes when he’s anywhere but with his friends or you. if he’s been with people long enough that he doesn’t feel dysphoria anymore he’ll still bind but won’t layer his clothes as much. with you there are some insecurities about not being manly enough for you, but of course that is something that eventually deteriorates over time as your relationship progresses. he most likely will never be able to walk around camp shirtless like sean, but he can loiter in your tent without a top on as long as it’s just you and him, albeit with a very red face. 

his cramps vary. either he has cycles where he’s completely cramp-free or he randomly is struck with pain so bad he needs to sit and curl up in a ball for an hour. he gets a lot of headaches that he needs to sit down for and his sex drive fluctuates a ton; he’ll be super horny for one entire day and then the next he feels absolutely nothing. also gets distant more than usual, sticking to the horses and not making much conversation, and if he does get in conversation he’s somewhat curt and almost impatient, but right when his period is over he’ll be chatting it up with everyone and acting like he usually does.

micah 100% experiences dysphoria that he pushes down like crazy, he’s the second worst to arthur. would never admit to feeling dysphoric, but you can see it in his actions, like wearing a jacket over his shirt even when the weather is warm and hot. on the outside he’s high and mighty but inside he’s going through a literal hurricane. he really doesn’t want to admit that he feels like shit and most likely never will unless you’ve been together for a while. strangely he’d feel dysphoric if his hair was longer past his shoulders, and if he notices it’s even an inch longer than he wants it to be he’ll cut it even if he ends up doing a shit job. he simultaneously feels inner distress about not having a penis but at the same time gets really cocky about having a pussy.

i can’t really decide whether micah either refuses to bind entirely just out of spite or if he’d be too scared to go out without at least some thing around his breasts. he’s not flat by any means but they’re not too big either. he’ll bind or layer up to try and conceal his breasts but if his shirt happened to get undone when at camp and someone makes a comment, a part of him wants to say fuck it and pretend like he’s not bothered and another part of him wants to tear down an entire tent and wrap it around himself. micah’s very capricious, he can be showing off his tits one minute and doubling up on shirts with a jacket on the next. micah’s another one who, overtime and with progress will feel less insecure. 

when he’s on his period you may or may not will be able to tell; he’s snappy, grumpy and mean, but also very depressed. might make a comment to someone passing by but really doesn’t have the energy to continue his taunting further even if he gets a reaction. loses motivation very quickly and gets frustrated with himself often over little things. if he’s particularly sad and angry he’ll make especially mean comments to charles or arthur out of his own projection and insecurity. if he had a cycle where he was mostly depressed and quiet, when it’s over he’ll be twice as bad as he usually is to make up for the lost time lmao. but with you he becomes oddly affectionate, not really possessive but not docile either. he’ll stick to you half the time until he gets in a mood and needs to distant himself. at the end of the day he’ll always find himself back in your tent, snuggling up to you as you sleep.

i don’t see javier experiencing much dysphoria at all unless someone deliberately misgenders him. he’s confident with himself and his identity and isn’t bothered by accidental misgendering but if someone is purposely referring to him as ‘miss’ or calling him a lady to mock him or be an asshole then javier’s confidence dwindles just a bit and he can feel dysphoric, mostly just afterwards when the heat dies down. he’s kind of able to save himself by acknowledging how pretty he is regardless if he were a man or woman, especially when both are visibly eager to chat him up at a bar. your gaze is really all he needs, the mix of hunger and love is enough to overpower any dysphoria he feels.

his chest is about the same size as micah’s. sometimes he binds and sometimes he doesn’t. he honestly might forget most of the time because he’s not too bothered with doing it. he doesn’t care who sees his tits, and if he’s feeling particularly confident he’ll dress up real nice and pop open a button or two to even accentuate them, especially if it gets your eyes and hands on him. similar to charles, javier won’t hesitate to throw a punch at anyone who wants to antagonize him for it, and if it’s someone at camp attempting to get him riled up he’s petty enough to find every excuse in the book to show off his breasts in some way. 

on his period he’s not much in the mood to talk, mainly just wanting to get chores done and get the day over with. has cramps that vary in pain but usually he’s able to power through them well enough with some mental strength and tonics. also gets physically brought down by them, so instead of doing heavy lifting chores he’ll just go fishing instead to contribute. his sex drive spikes but for the most part he loses it. unlike some of the others, it takes longer for javier to bounce back after his period’s over, but when he does he really longs for the closeness he missed prior and he will put aside an entire day or two just to spend it with you.

second section all nsfw here of how your first first time together would be like—talking about them and their body, foreplay, ideal positions, their volume, how they take dick, and what happens after

you may or may not have to be the one to initiate it. if you’re dating charles he already trusts you a lot, so having sex for the first time isn’t something he’s particularly that shy about unless you were very flirty and gave him a lot of attention. he’s not typically self-conscious, but he can get bashful if you stare too much, especially at his breasts. not a lot of pleasure derives from them but he doesn’t mind having them played with if it makes you happy. if he’s already sensitive or you’re in the middle of sex, sucking on his nipples can make him moan a bit. if you’re really into his breasts, charles will purposefully incorporate them into sex just for you. he’ll ride you either with his shirt off or undone, if he’s on his back and his hands are free he’ll squeeze and caress them, etc.. for the most part as long as you’re happy then he’s happy too. charles does get a little kick out of you staring at him because he does like feeling wanted. if you’re looking at him like a love-sick fool he’s going to end up being the more dominant one, sitting in your lap to kiss your lips and neck, being sure to leave at least one mark because he’s a bit cheeky like that. he’ll love it if you run your fingers through his hair, not to pull it or yank on it but it does make him shiver a little bit, especially when you graze his spine or the back of his neck. he’d also like it if you left a mark on him too, so it almost feels like you’ve claimed each other in a way. 

compared to some of the other boys, charles takes a bit longer to get ready. he doesn’t get as wet as fast, and if you’re spontaneously having sex (compared to having planned a night together) then he’ll need more foreplay or at least some pomade to use as lubricant. this stays true no matter how long you’ve been together. charles is often a giver, but if you decide that you want him to lay back and just enjoy it then he will be happy to do so as long as you give him a chance to return any favors. he likes being fingered, and fingering him while you eat him out is the quickest way to get him soaking and ready for you. he’ll want to go down on you too, just because he likes (and is good at) doing it. he might accidentally make you cum though so it can be best to do that first. and charles recovers fast, if you make him cum once or twice it doesn’t sway him, he’ll still be able to take you just fine.

he takes it slow and steady. if you’re inexperienced then he’ll ride you and do the work. he tries not to let his desire accidentally soil your first time together, making sure that he rocks his hips at a consistent leisurely pace. if you’re experienced or you just want to be on top of him then charles will let you take the reins, he’s not picky at all how you’re positioned in general. he’ll keep his hands either on your shoulders or settled on your back. with charles there isn’t a lot of switching places mid-sex, however if he’s riding you and he cums first, you can gently flip him onto his back. he’ll buck his hips up into yours until you’re close before sweetly reminding you to pull out because it’s easy to forget when you’re inside him. even though charles isn’t picky about your positions, he does like to be physically close or pressed against you, favoring to feel your skin against his. there’s a lot of touching and squeezing and kissing, mostly from him. he won’t take it to heart if you can’t focus on anything but his pussy to be honest. 

doesn’t matter if you’re at a hotel or at camp, charles is pretty quiet. if you’re in missionary and in control of the pace, he’s a little louder, at least moaning loud enough for only you to hear if you thrust into him just right. when he gets near orgasm is when his volume picks up. he’ll go quiet for a second before letting out a shaky moan as he cums. if you’re loud, he might prefer riding you so that he can easily control your volume and/or shush you with his hand. it won’t embarrass him if someone were to overhear, he mostly favors the quietness for the sake of others especially for people back at camp. charles can also be a little louder depending on how many times he’s already orgasmed. each orgasm takes longer and longer to build up, so with the added overstimulation it can make him moan as long as you’re fast and deep with your thrusts.

charles is great at taking dick, honestly takes it the easiest out of everyone here despite him needing more preparation. doesn’t matter how big or thick you are, you’ll slide in nice and easy. he might need a second to adjust but he’s ready to go the minute you bottom out. charles’ pussy is a bit more creamy than it is actually slick, but he can take you at any speed just fine. his hips are wide and he’ll like it if you grab onto them as you fuck into him. he’s good at keeping his legs wide open and spread too so you won’t have to worry about accidentally cumming inside of him. his pussy is also very good at gripping you so you might need to pull out a little earlier than you’d think. charles needs clitoral stimulation to cum, so it works anyway. pull out and finish him with your tongue and fingers then cum on his stomach. he’s not picky where your cum goes, and if it’s on him then that just means you both can have a dip in the lake later. 

charles doesn’t need a lot of time to recuperate after he cums. he’s immediately relaxed and definitely very pleased. he’s not all that sensitive, so if you haven’t cum yet he’ll gladly let you keep fucking him to reach your peak. he won’t hesitate to help you in other ways, whether it’s jerking you off or using his mouth, he’ll do whatever it takes (within reason) to make you cum because he wants sex to be satisfying for the both of you. you’re both making love, and even though it doesn’t have to be ‘romantic’ he still wants it to be fun and sweet. and if you for whatever reason can’t cum, he doesn’t take any offense at all, and he’ll even really love the challenge. again, charles has a lot of energy. if you want to go for a second round? he’s up for it. maybe even a third, if you can handle him. he’s also totally up for sex while you’re cleaning up and bathing.

sean doesn’t care how long you’ve been together, he wants you to fuck him. if you’re not already dating, it’ll be a breeze for him. however if you’ve been together for a while, surprisingly sean might be just a little bit shy. this would be real for him; you’d be making love, really, not just fucking. you’d have to get him to slow down, stop him from tearing his shirt off and getting your pants undone before you’ve undressed everything else. feel him up over his clothes, he’ll like feeling you press your palms against his nipples. kiss him on his lips, his face, his neck chest hands whatever. his face will light up and get hot, and once you’ve undone the buttons on his shirt to reveal his chest he’ll be squirming telling you to get on with it already. because it’s sean we’re talking about he’ll want to jump the gun, so just take it slow and ignore his squabbling. the slower you take it the better it is for him, he just doesn’t want to admit it, but it is a very satisfying result once you actually jump into things. 

sean’s a greedy boy, he’ll gladly lay back and have you do all the work. he’ll wrap his legs around your head as you eat him out and he’ll beg for you to slip a finger or two (or three) in alongside your tongue. he gets wet very fast over almost everything you do, so you won’t have to worry too much about preparing him. tell him to get on his knees and he’ll do it in a heartbeat; sean gets a little bit in over his head so he’ll suck you off but you’ll have to grab his hands so he doesn’t touch himself. most likely he’ll cum once or twice (probably by accident) before you actually have sex. but just give him a minute and he’ll be ready to go in no time. he’s the opposite of charles, once he gets an orgasm in him the others cum in like clockwork. he likes foreplay but he likes sex better. he does secretly like having you be in control of his orgasms though, and he’ll be a lot wetter (and noisier) if you hold him back from cumming before you’re in him. 

he’s not gonna care what position you put him in. automatically he’s on his back with his legs open, but if you want to flip him onto his side or his back then he’s completely on board with that too. being able to see your face gets him going. if you want him to ride you he might whine a little about it but the minute he’s sitting on your dick he shuts up real fast. he’s sporadic and all over the place, so if you’re into that then you’ll love having him in your lap, though he’ll try to rush things and he’ll 100% forget to get off your lap before you cum but thankfully he’s light and easy to push off lmao. if you take him in missionary you’ll have to be careful because sean’s a leg locker, it’s the only position with him where you’ll actually struggle to pull out. he genuinely does it by accident because his head just gets so hazy and even if he hasn’t cum yet he’s going to be very fucked out. he just wants more and more of you, so naturally he keeps you locked in place. you genuinely might accidentally get him pregnant, so it’d probably be best to have him on his stomach a few minutes before you finish. 

yeahhh, sean’s a little noisy. for some reason he just can’t contain himself. he moans with every thrust and whines with every drag, and even when you’ve stopped he’ll just be talking. the only way to make him be quiet aside from stuffing something in his mouth is to fuck him so fast that his voice gets caught in his throat. when he cums he’ll let out a long and loud moan but at least for the most part he’s quiet. it’s better to rent out a room with sean, at camp he already gets enough flack from everyone. not that sean wouldn’t love to rub it in people’s faces, but for everyone’s sake it’s just a better option. this is also why it’s a good thing to put him on his stomach so that the bedding muffles him. it’s not perfect but at least it’s something. overtime you might be able to train him to be a little less noisy. 

sean’s not the worst at taking dick. he tenses up a little too much sometimes, and with his overzealous personality he often bites off more than he can chew. he’s very tight, but he gets soaked rather quickly. he takes dick the best on his stomach or in your lap. he’s messy, so he’ll just be rutting his hips into yours inconsistently. preferably you’re the one to take control, either bouncing him in your lap or pulling him back to meet your hips. he’s sloppy on his back but if you’re on a comfortable hotel bed he likes it when you press him down flat against it, keeping his arms and legs down or even just one leg thrown around your hips and one pressed down. sean can cum with or without clitoral stimulation but during sex he gets forgetful so you’ll have to be the one to rub his clit. clitoral stimulation does also drain his energy a lot more, so he’ll recuperate less quicker and become much more sensitive. 

afterwards sean is a total wreck. he simultaneously is bouncing off the walls but is also ready to pass out. he likes to act dramatic, like you’ve wrecked him so hard that he couldn’t possibly do any chores for the next week.. (he wants you to offer to do them for him.) he likes being kissed after, it makes him feel all giddy and loved. he’s very ticklish, so honestly tickling him a little after sex really isn’t that bad of a way to get him tired since sean doesn’t know when to stop, he might end up trying to rile you up for another round or two. if you don’t take his bait, he’ll curl up in your arms and he’ll be totally conked out for the rest of the day/night. just be sure not to kiss his neck too much or else he’ll really start bugging you to go again. and he’s a heavy sleeper, so once he’s passed out you can clean him up a little and he’ll be none the wiser.

oh arthur. you’ll need to initiate. (high honor) arthur gets so embarrassed just having you kiss him, wanting to make love to him is a huge step. he’s not against it and he knows you’ll treat him right, but his own insecurities seep through that you’ll have to snuff out. he’ll be the shyest you’ve ever seen him, and depending on how you ease him into it he may or may not keep his shirt on. kiss him all over and give special attention to his neck. he gets red and bruises easily but it riles him up and gets him shivering at every touch. gently touch him over his clothes and slowly trail your hand under his shirt to squeeze his waist. give him lots of verbal praise, arthur will gain his confidence soon. once he does, he’ll guide your hand where he wants you to touch him. if he takes his shirt off, kiss his chest. his nipples are sensitive, so sucking on them gently will get him wet embarrassingly fast. he has performance anxiety, so you’ll have to take a domineering role until his worries settle (they never truly go away but they can be pushed aside). he is very sensitive altogether, emotionally and physically. his heart is constantly racing, both out of good and bad anxiety. once you get into a rhythm, he’s less scared, and if you can get his brain to turn off then he’ll be laying back and soaking in all the love and attention you give him. 

arthur’s not too sure what to do with himself, so you’ll need to take the reins. trail kisses from his lips to his stomach, and then to his heat. before taking off his jeans, grind yourself against him. he’ll look up at you with a sickeningly sweet expression until you slowly undress him. then you can drag your thumb across his folds before circling his clit. he’ll buck up, but he’ll let you carefully hold him down. kiss him, and when he feels wet enough, slide a finger into his heat. arthur will be blushing like crazy, probably even call you dirty for doing this, but make sure that you tell him how handsome he is so that he doesn’t get too in his head. he’ll enjoy any way you touch him, but most of all arthur loves to hear you tell him how handsome and strong he looks. whisper in his ear how well he takes your fingers and he’ll twitch and groan. his cunt tightens around you like a vice, mention it and he might just cum on the spot. foreplay will be a big part of sex for him. feeling how hard you are through your jeans just from kissing and licking him surprisingly gets him going. if you go too slow he might make a joke to hurry you up, but really his heart is swelling at your care and attention.

for your first time together arthur’s gonna be somewhat self-conscious, naturally. he’ll want to be on his back where he can move around as he pleases but still have you doing the work. in the future this changes but for now he wants you to be in control. arthur’s good at staying still, very obedient. you most likely won’t be switching places, unless arthur cums first. if arthur cums before you do he gains a newfound confidence and insists on riding you to bring you to orgasm. this is how arthur’s anxiety quells, when he knows that what he’ll do will be good and pleasurable. when his touch makes your cock twitch inside him and every kiss makes your hips jolt into his he soon starts to understand the power he has. it’s a bit dangerous honestly, but arthur uses it well. arthur wants you two to be physically close, mostly so that he can hide his face in your neck when he gets too shy, but also being held pressed against you because you crave to feel and have more of him is a reminder that he’s loved and that you truly do want him.

arthur tries very hard to be quiet, mostly just letting out low groans or shaky breaths and huffs. He sometimes puts his hand over his mouth to muffle himself if he’s moaning however if you’re not at camp he’ll reluctantly keep his hands over his head to let you hear him if you ask. he’ll be red in the face the entire time but at least you can hear the little moans he lets out when your cock drags along his walls. though arthur isn’t that loud, he does get very wet and slick; unless you’re having slow drawn out sex, things can get noisy very quickly. hearing his own pussy can make him shy, however it does bring him to orgasm faster. he finds it embarrassing, but if you love it he just gets so red and he can’t help but tighten around you if you tell him just how much you love it. if you’re vocal, whispering in his ear or groaning at how he feels it has him reeling. he wants to shush you, but he can’t help that it really does him going. arthur also can have kind of a dirty mouth by complete accident. like he’ll be so into it he might let it slip that he’s been thinking about this for ages and his face just gets so hot that you can literally feel it when he hides it in your shoulder. 

arthur struggles at first taking your dick. he tenses up so you’ll have to soothe him, caressing his thighs and hips. he’s tight, but once you’ve bottomed out his pussy has your dick in a chokehold. he loves resting his heels on the small of your back and pulling you into him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders so you can tease him by all of a sudden stopping and he’ll desperately keep fucking up into you to keep taking your dick. after some time of course he stops tensing up, and in no time sex is smooth sailing. he’s the second best at taking dick overall. and he does know how to ride, his hips aren’t just for show. it’s shocking how worried he was about his performance when he literally can make you lightheaded just from the way he bucks his hips. like before, he doesn’t realize the kind of ability he holds until later. but once he gets the hang of it you’re really going to be in trouble.

arthur is most likely going to be pretty tuckered out. all the anxiety building up and then being overwhelmed by so much love and pleasure, it tires him out real fast so there won’t be a spontaneous second round after your first time with arthur. he might be a little blissed out so you’ll have to help clean him up or wrap a blanket around him. he’ll let out a big sigh before rolling over and letting you wrap your arms around him. hold him close because truthfully he’ll be a little scared of you leaving. kiss him and don’t forget to tell him how good he did, arthur loves it. he’ll try to shoo you away if you get too lovey-dovey but he loves and appreciates it so much. internally he doesn’t always believe the praise you throw at him, but still his heart picks up speed and he may even cry a little bit, just don’t mention it. 

(low honor) arthur’s all confidence. if he doesn’t get to bed you within the first week of meeting you then success! you’ve tamed him, somewhat. he’s very seductive and knows exactly what to do with his body and how to twist his words. he’ll try to tease you by stripping slowly and grinding into you until you get impatient. you might have to wrangle him a bit just to get him to stop teasing but it’s entirely in his nature. he brings your hands to touch him, making you grab his tits or connecting your hips together. when he kisses you he’ll bite your lip before having you say out loud that you want to fuck him. he likes getting you frazzled, so if you’re unlucky he might end up pulling himself away entirely to get you riled up until you chase after him. he also will definitely mark you up, making sure at least one is visible for everyone to see. he’ll keep his favorite ones in places where only he can see and access them.

foreplay with lh arthur is slow. either he’s teasing your dick, dragging his tongue up and down it and suckling on the tip or you’re eating him out as he tells you how to touch yourself through your clothes. he’ll make you edge yourself as you finish him off with your tongue, promising that he’ll make it up to you. lh arthur likes spreading himself open with his fingers, inserting three right away, not to stretch himself out but just to show you how much he can take. he won’t want to get prepped too much because he likes the burn of your cock splitting him open. however he’ll shove your dick down his throat and make you cum once or twice in record time so once you fuck him it’s almost painful. if you’re really too sensitive, surprisingly he will give you a break and not overstimulate you, even though he really wants to. instead he’ll let you overstimulate him, although with lh arthur it’s not exactly painful. 

he’ll let you have some control before taking over. he likes riding you, first letting you lay him down and slowly fuck him until he sits up and starts kissing you. the way he kisses makes you feel hypnotized, and once you stop fucking him out of forgetfulness is when he’ll push you onto your back and ride you. he also likes sitting on something, a crate or bedside cabinet maybe so that he can pull you close into him with his legs and keep you trapped there. he’ll just tease you if you start worrying about pulling out. he’s also a leg locker, except he does it on purpose, so he wants a position where he can keep you in place easily. if you can’t afford the risk then he’ll let you pull out as long as you promise someday you’ll cum in him like he really wants. 

naturally he’s not actually that loud except for groans and huffs and dirty talking, but he sometimes likes to raise his volume deliberately so that someone overhears. lh arthur isn’t shy, he’ll take any excuse to kill two birds with one stone by teasing you and also letting people know he’s getting fucked by you. if you try to shush him he’ll laugh saying it’s your fault for fucking him so well but you both know he’s full of shit. if you’re in a hotel he doesn’t feel the need to raise his volume unless the law was near, the risk of getting caught turns him on like crazy. the best option would be to have sex camping out in the woods where he doesn’t feel the need to show you off and he can (reluctantly) be kind of normal for once, although he’ll still give you condescending praise just to get you riled. also know that if you can really fuck him just right he’ll let out a completely real and sweet moan that is reserved only for you. he tries to ignore how it makes you twitch inside of him even more so than when he plays it up.

he takes dick like an absolute champ. truthfully, out of everyone lh arthur is the most experienced due to his fearlessness and thrill-seeking personality. i can see him honest to god pretending that he’s a virgin at first just to see the look on your face when you momentarily believe him. again, lh arthur isn’t shy. he’s not as tight or wet, but he knows how to grip his cunt around you and how to work his hips. he’ll make you lightheaded the second you’re bottomed out. he loves making you feel so good that you’d want to stay inside him forever even when it hurts. he’ll want you to cum in him because he loves being filled with your spend and telling people about it. and he’s got a lot of energy, he doesn’t get as sensitive; you’ll end up clocking out waaay before he’s even close to being tired. he’ll feign desperation, pleading you to give him just one more. he won’t push you if you say no, but if you fall for it and humor him it most likely won’t just be “one more”. he has a high sex drive, and his loyalty to you also means you’re the one who has to help satiate him.

afterwards, depending on the events prior he either will be tired enough to sleep/give himself a break or he won’t be anywhere near done. you’ll have to have a lot of stamina to keep up with lh arthur, and even more mental strength just to handle what he dishes out. he’s a little restless, so if you’re tuckered out and ready to hit the hay he might end up leaving you for the time being to go hunting or robbing folk. if you can really manage to strike his heart, he’ll lay down with you and at least stay with you until you fall asleep. he’ll have a hand on you the whole time, and his staring may come off as a bit weird at first but internally he’s going through a lot of different thoughts and feelings. you may or may not hear him whispering into your skin as you drift off to sleep. you’d have to be real special to tame this arthur morgan. 

kieran’s going to want it sweet and romantic. having sex with him will always be intimate and full of love, especially for your first time. he’s completely head over heels and at your mercy. take it slow, but not too slow or else he gets squirmy and (at least at first) he’ll be a little too shy to tell you to pick up the speed. kieran likes having your hands on him, rubbing circles into his hips, holding his hands or squeezing his breasts. he wants to hide away and be shy, but at the same time he wants to be brave and give you himself completely, so undress him with care. he’ll get embarrassed about it but praising him and telling him how pretty he looks makes him preen in delight. he’s very sensitive, shivering when your breath lightly grazes his skin. blow on his nipples and they’ll perk up real quick. he likes having his chest squeezed and fondled, even if he can’t bear to look at you when you do it. his face gets red and warm, and even with everything his favorite thing is feeling you kiss him. 

foreplay is huge for kieran, especially for your first time making love. start with kissing him and holding him in your arms until he feels comfortable enough to move things forward himself. kiss his neck and ask him how he’s feeling, and if he’s feeling confident then take off your shirt and help take off his. kieran loves feeling your skin against his and it makes his heart flutter when you pull him flush against you. when you get into it he’ll like sitting down with his back against your chest as you pull his slacks off before having him spread his legs. he’ll squirm as you gently open him up with your fingers. they’ll glide between his folds with ease due to how wet he is. his legs will try to close automatically, but with the combination of kisses being placed on his neck and your fingers stretching him he gets so flustered he can’t think straight enough to be self-conscious anymore. he also likes dry-humping as foreplay, it makes him feel less insecure and it feels good to have your hardened dick against his heat. it gets him desperate, so you may actually hear him beg for you in your ear. 

kieran likes having his hands above his head, even though it makes him feel extremely vulnerable. he trusts you, though, and truthfully he enjoys how exposed he is. when he sees you gazing down at him with so much love and affection it makes him want to cry, which he does. hold his hands in yours as you fuck him, keeping him close. he’ll wrap his legs and arms around you in seek of warmth and comfort. he wants to be in a position where you can easily kiss his lips. kieran wants to feel loved and needs to be reassured. kiss his tears away and remind him of how much he means to you. then fuck him till he can barely move so you can pamper him and give him even more attention. and before he cums, lift one of his legs up and he’ll tighten around you so hard it’ll make you dizzy. he also loves feeling your hands gripping his waist or pressed against his stomach as you take him. 

kieran’s somewhat loud, somewhat quiet. he doesn’t realize he’s loud but he is. he’s more talkative, rambling about how good you feel. he’s actually got a pretty dirty mouth, but only far during sex when he can’t completely think straight because afterwards he’s totally embarrassed about it. if he’s not talking then he’s whining and moaning with your name slipping out occasionally. kieran feels comfortable with you, but having sex in a room rented out or somewhere far from camp will calm him much easier. it also means he can be as loud as he wants and doesn’t have to hold back without someone getting on his case about it. kieran would really enjoy a partner who’s talkative, someone who can whisper in his ear and talk dirty to him. it gets him soaking, which also makes actually fucking him loud too. he’ll get embarrassed hearing his own pussy squelching around your cock but it still drives him crazy. keep his legs down spread open and it makes him moan up a storm.

kieran takes dick well. at first he can be a little tense, but it’s mostly just nerves. he wants to perform well for you and wants to make you feel just as good as you make him feel. once the nerves have dissipated and he’s completely calm and in the moment his cunt suddenly grips you with fervor. he’s both tight and also not at the same time, but your dick glides into him so smoothly. his pussy practically sucks you in and his legs locking around your waist makes it difficult to resist fucking him deep. kieran’s another one you have to be careful with, once he’s in the headspace he can’t think straight for himself. he’ll want you to cum in him, and if you’re not quick enough to react to him keeping you in place deep inside him then you’re gonna have a pregnant kieran on your hands very quickly. 

afterwards kieran may or may not be knocked out. he’s a sweet crybaby, so after he might tear up again. he loves you so much, and he’ll tell you that a million times until he’s too sleepy to get any words out. kieran will get sad if you get up and leave to wash up, grabbing onto your wrist or an article of clothing you’re wearing so that you’ll stay with him and hold him. he wants to be wrapped up in your arms, feeling your skin against his. if you’ve got blankets, he wants to be boxed in your warmth. right after sex kieran doesn’t care about the mess, he just wants to snuggle up with you and sleep. he’ll be too overwhelmed for another round, but the next morning he’s going to want a bath and he’ll be happy to let you help bathe him. after too, it’ll be all he thinks about for days, so most likely the next time you have sex it’ll be him shyly requesting it.

micah’s another one who bites off more than he can chew. he’ll act all confident saying he’s not scared of nothin’ until the situation actually dawns on him and all of a sudden he’s trying to hide his face behind his hair or hat. he’s self-conscious and even when you’ve been together for a while he’ll keep his shirt on. your first time together is most likely not full sex, but instead just getting him off to help him adjust to an intimate setting. when you do have penetrative sex he’s shaking. you need to be slow with micah because this isn’t something he’s used to, but once you’re further into it and you’ve convinced him to just lay down and turn off his brain then he’s better about it and manages to relax and just take the pleasure you’re giving him. may or may not even cry too, but because he’s never felt truly loved before not because he’s in pain. he’s scared sex will make him feel like a woman, but with enough confirmation from you he loosens up and for the most part the fear and thoughts subside. of course in the future he’s less anxious, but for a new setting it’s absolutely terrifying to him. he won’t be very vocal, so you’ll kind of have to observe him and figure out what he’s okay with, where squeezing him is uncomfortable and where it feels good. he flushes at kisses really easily, and giving lots of those will make him huffy. he wants to push you away so badly but inevitably he loves it. 

he’ll want to skip the foreplay first, half out of embarrassment and half out of thinking foreplay isn’t ‘manly’ enough to him. however once you convince him to let you do your thing and you’ve got your mouth on him he’s like putty. being eaten out is a luxury he surprisingly loves to indulge in. sucking on his clit has him almost wailing, he might actually need to put a pillow over his face to muffle and ground himself. once you have your fingers in him he’ll be convulsing around them and he won’t even notice that he’s grinding back onto them. he can get fussy, telling you to hurry up and ‘get it over with’ but his mouth will shut the second you spread his legs any wider. micah likes getting his pussy slapped, and even if you feel it’s a little too rough for a first time, he’ll genuinely fold beneath you at the feeling of your hand or cock slapping against his clit. he may or may not suck your dick if he’s feeling confident enough to, most likely he’ll give you a hand job if you feel it’ll settle his nerves. he’s intimidated of course but with time he gets his own rhythm going and ends up being pretty amazing at it. 

at first he’ll probably want to be on his stomach where he can’t see your face and vice versa. but if he was the one to initiate, he’ll try to ride you as a spur of the moment thing until he’s actually hovering over your dick and realizes he doesn’t know what to do and he turns bashful. his face gets red very easily so he’d instinctively want to hide it. he’ll groan everytime you pull him into a kiss, and his eyes get a little glossy when he hears you whisper into his neck as you nip and suck on it. micah shivers every time your hands move his hair out of the way, and feeling you grip it when you fuck him from the back makes his heart swell and his cunt throb. being on his stomach also means he can muffle his moans, but if anyone overhears him anyway at least he can say he’s having better sex then they are. if you take him on his back, expect him to keep his head down the whole time. he won’t say it but he’ll love it if you move down closer to him where he can put his face in your shoulder and also wrap himself around you. his head will end up falling back when he’s close but at that point he can’t think straight enough to care. 

micah isn’t that loud no matter where you’re having sex. he’ll huff and puff a lot and he’ll sound like he’s out of breath almost every second you’re fucking. he does moan, but he tries to hide it. usually it’s when his clit is being stimulated, he’ll start with a groan but when you’re thrusting into him and circling his clit at the same time his back will arch and moans will eventually spill out of him. he’s the loudest when he’s cumming when your cock is as deep in him as it can get and you’re palming at his clit in sync with your thrusts he’ll moan as he gushes onto your cock before going limp and only letting out heavy breaths and incoherent mumbling. it is possible to get him real loud if you’re continuously fucking him and hitting a specific spot without stopping then if he doesn’t choke on his breath you can manage to rack out some real moans from him. over time as your relationship progresses and he gets more confident/comfortable something in his brain will switch off and you’ll find that he starts letting out soft moans just from kissing his neck or squeezing his hips. he doesn’t talk much during sex, at least not for your first time. he may say something to provoke you into fucking him rougher but besides that he doesn’t trust himself to speak without stuttering or moaning. he’d secretly love a loud partner though, either someone who groans in his ear because he’s making you feel that good, or someone who talks a lot since he gets off on dirty talk. 

micah is of course another boy who gets real tense the first time he takes your dick. it frustrates him because he wants to appear fearless, but in reality it’s a new intrusion for his body and he fears the vulnerability that comes with it. it helps to soothe him not with words but with actions, thumbing circles into his hips and thighs or kissing him all over his face and neck and chest; really anything to distract him from the imposing length sliding into him between his legs. he’ll be gripping your arm or back, literally digging his nails into your skin as he adjusts to your size, but once you’ve bottomed out he goes still for a second as his brain attempts to catch up with everything. he’ll be tight around your cock until you start fucking him open, and then he’ll be an almost perfect fit, only tightening around you when you try to pull out to slam back into him. slow your thrusts down and micah will fuck himself back onto your cock. once he has you there’s no going back, he’ll reach back and grab your legs if you try stopping. micah’s another one who wants your cum in him but he won’t be bothered by you pulling out so long as you cum on his ass or back. he’s also like hh arthur where he overtime starts to understand the power he holds with just his pussy, and if you thought micah was bad already then you don’t even know the half of it.

after he’ll be really overwhelmed, though he won’t admit it. if you ask how he’s feeling he’ll say something kind of like “could be worse” or “just fine” but in reality he’s blissed the hell out. his heart is racing but if you point it out he’ll blame it on the adrenaline and blind lust. micah’s kind of like a once abandoned and malnourished kitten that’s being fed and given a new home. he’s stubborn but helplessly putting himself in your hands. he can’t completely believe that you love him, at least not entirely but nonetheless he can’t deny (even though he wants to) that it feels good to be held in your arms so he’ll ‘let’ you gently push his head down to rest on your chest. he’ll shoo your hand away if you try to clean him up. micah also won’t be up for a second round, he’ll be too sensitive. he takes a while to recuperate after an orgasm, both physically and mentally (even after just a single round his pussy gets all puffy and tender) but there is a chance that the next morning (if he hasn’t run off somewhere for a job) he’ll want to go again, however you’ll have to actually figure that out yourself because no way in hell is he going to actually tell you with his words. 

with javier your first time together will more likely than not be in a hotel room that he rented out after a well-paying job. javier knows he’s pretty, he’ll make sure he’s sitting up straight so that you get a good view of his body as it’s complemented by glossy damask and dim lighting. his hair will be down, freshly washed and brushed. he smells of stolen cologne, and when you put his hand to your lips to kiss it you can smell a small spritz of perfume. he’s a swift romantic, holding onto either side of your face as you kiss, beckoning you to run your hands through his hair and down his body. he’ll scold you with a smile if he feels you getting too handsy, but it’s just an excuse so that he can press your hands down against the silk sheets and let him have his way. javier will rock into your clothed hips and then act like you’ve done something perverse when he feels you hardening against him. he’ll undress after making sure you’re staying still, slowly undoing each button with grace until his shirt falls from his shoulders and is pushed onto the floor. javier will love it if you’re impatient because then he can watch you writhe beneath him as he just barely gives you enough touch to keep you painfully hard. he’ll also give you a mark or two on your neck, half because he loves giving you any kind of touch and half because he wants people to know that you’re together (as if they don’t already know). 

he’ll make you cum first, to your surprise. he jerks you off, slowly, to make you think he’s just trying to get you hard. but your mistake will be telling him you’re close, because he’ll just jerk you off faster until you cum on his hand. why does he do this? just to torture you, most likely. maybe he ‘cleans’ your dick, taking you completely down his throat until you cum again, and then he’ll get on his back and spread his legs to circle and slap his clit, taunting you in a mixture of spanish and english. he wants you desperate, he wants to see the look on your face when your cock enters him and how even when you’re so sensitive that it hurts you’ll still fuck him. he’ll push you away if you try putting your mouth on him, teasing you about ‘being in a rush’. he’ll arch his back and spread his folds to show off his glistening cunt. javier is patient, and even more sadistic. he wants you pleading and throbbing for him.

javier isn’t picky about positions, but he’ll definitely want to see your face for your first time together. he’ll ride you and it’ll be both the best and worst experience of your life. he’s good with his hips, but he’s a little bit too good. he knows how to make you feel good and he knows far too well how to get you to the brink of insanity. he goes slow first to figure out his rhythm and he’ll mentally note every reaction you make to what he does just so he can use it against you. he’ll bounce in your lap before slowing to a grind, being sure to take you as deep as he can. he wants to know what makes you twitch and groan and throb and what words make your hips jump into his, and the best way to do that is when he has full control, if you let him have it. take him onto his back and he’ll still do the same except now he has to take everything you dish out, which he can and will. javier will suddenly lift himself off your dick just to watch how your body seeks him out, because no matter what with a pussy like his he will always be the one in control. 

javier can be as loud as he can be quiet. he’s another talkative one where he’ll mostly be trying to get you worked up with condescending praise or whatever he figures out gets you hot and bothered when he whispers it in your ear. he’s at his loudest if you turn the tables on him and get him on his back, preferably after he’s already cum once, then he’ll be extra sensitive but with how much more you’ll need to fuck him to get him close again he won’t be able to hold back. he might exaggerate his moans just a little bit as a way to tease you, especially if he knows there may be someone who will hear it but overall your first time together he isn’t going to be as loud as you may expect however a second round can reveal a different side of javier. if you manage to dominate him then he really has no other choice but to moan about it. give him slow or quick deep thrusts as you circle his clit and he’ll have to bite his lip to quiet him. 

of course he takes dick amazingly well. he doesn’t get wet as quick as some of the others mentioned in this list but that doesn’t matter when the foreplay goes on for so long. his pussy isn’t that slick but it is tight. he knows when to grip around you so that you’re reeling at every roll of his hips, which is why he prefers to ride you because he loves to drive you crazy. and since javier’s a very patient man, he’s not afraid to literally hop off your dick if you’re getting too close to orgasm for his taste. he knows he’s a good fuck and he wants to prolong it as long as he can without driving himself crazy since he does need clitoral stimulation to cum. javier’s a master at controlling your orgasm as well as his own and he’s fully prepared to keep you on the edge until you can’t take it anymore and have to flip him over so you can pound him, which he’ll appreciate the excuse to get back at you tenfold. it’s a dangerous game with javier, and if you manage to find the time to spend nights and days with him it can get a little addicting. 

afterwards you’ll share a bath, where you will both wash up and also have, more likely than not, another round unless you’re really tuckered out. he likes feeling your skin against his when he helps wash you and when you wash him. move his hair out of the way to kiss his shoulder or neck and he’ll let out a pleased hum before resting back in your arms for a while. maybe even suck a spot into his skin so you can match, the thought of others seeing the evidence of your long night together will do things to him. he’ll be less talkative but still making conversation just to fill the silence, mostly teasing you about your earlier actions. when in bed it takes a while for javier to fall asleep. sex energizes him more than it makes him tired unless it was particularly arduous, but he’ll drift off with you easily if you rub circles into his skin and softly kiss him or talk to him in a hushed voice. if you end up being in the mood, he’ll definitely want to have another go in the morning as long as there’s time for him to get another bath afterwards. 

might make a second part for this to talk about more general things. this is my first time writing for sean javier and micah so i hope it's not terrible lmao. was thinking about writing for john but i might have to have some practice. if i add him here ill make a post but i wanted to get this out because i've had this in the works for so long.