#with those blue eyes he could be in dune

[stew-magnetos-version]

[ghostgirl101]

I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||

A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩

You can't escape fate.

It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.

At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.

"You aren't resting."

Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.

"What troubles you?"

You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.

"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.

But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.

"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"

"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"

You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.

You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.

"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."

Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.

"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."

"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"

"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."

The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.

"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."

And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."

Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.

"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."

You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.

"Won't you tell me?"

Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.

"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.

"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.

"Not like you do," you answer steadily.

"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."

Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.

"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."

"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."

"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"

Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.

You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.

"A queen?"

"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.

"To being desired?"

You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."

"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."

You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.

"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."

"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."

"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."

══════════════⊹⊱≼ fin ≽⊰⊹══════════════

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie

[eraenaa]

Birthday Present

Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader Tag List

Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 

Warnings: ¿Enemies to Lovers-ish?, Arranged Marriage, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Blood Play, Fingering, Choking, Violence, Murder , Over Stimulation, Not Proofread

Word Count: 5,900 (pls bear with me)

Finally watched Dune: Part Two and needed to make a quick little fic because another psychopath to obsess over with has been unlocked.

You dreaded for this day to come. You begged your father and brother to just leave you in the safety and comfort of your home, but still, they insisted— practically forced you to join them in the business venture they will partake in Giedi Prime. You walked out of the royal ship with your brother by your side, trying hard not to let the frown slip your face, especially when your fine dress had lost its color due to the planet’s black sun. Your eyes trailed around those who were present as a welcoming party for your kin, “Why are they all bald?” You whispered to your brother, who could not help but snort a laugh at your question. It was unnerving to look at them; no warmth nor life was evident. You were escorted inside the palace and it was barely different from the outside, still bleak and dark and plain. 

You feel curious eyes trail you as you walk with your family, who are being escorted to meet Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. You clenched your jaw and held your breath as you were met with the head of House Harkonnen. You heard tales about him and his state, but none could prepare you enough to be met with him face to face. If you had thought his subjects were already unnerving to look at, you would gladly give up the gift of sight just as long as you no longer had to see nor remember the image of the gruesome Baron. You quickly planted your eyes on the ground, having looked enough at the man who floated about in the middle of the room that you had missed the way that dark blue eyes were planted steadily on your frame. 

“Welcome to Giedi Prime, your Grace,” You hear the Baron greet your Duke father, and you stay silent and hope that they would be quick with the pleasantries and let you retire to rest after the long journey to their dreary planet. You hear the baron address your brother, making him step forward, and you pray for your presence to be ignored, but alas, your name was called, and you feel all eyes upon you. “A beauty this one is, your grace… she looks just like her mother,” The Baron mussed, and you could only offer a tight smile at his praise because you had no recollection of what your mother looked like because the price of your life was hers. You backed away and took your place next to your brother once more as the Baron began to introduce his kin. 

“My nephews, Glossu Rabban,” the baron introduced, and your brother nudged you to raise your gaze and show your host respect and recognition. You did as told and locked eyes with the dark blue orbs that had been entranced upon you ever since you entered the throne room. “And Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” You swallowed thickly and turned stiff as the heir to House Harkonnen stepped down and walked toward your direction. Your linked arms with your brother tightened as the Na-Baron paused before you, bowing and taking your hand into his cold ones before placing a kiss on your knuckles. Feyd-Rautha wanted to smirk at the wide-eyed and blushing state he placed you in. The only greeting you gave him was a quick curtsy and a mumble of “My Lord,” The Na-Baron returned to his place at the right hand of his uncle and kept his gaze tranced on you. 

“How long are we to stay here?” You asked your father as he and your brother escorted you to your chambers. “Until the treaties are settled,” your father replied, and you scrunched your nose as the eyes of Harkonnen subjects followed you wherever you went. “They’re all staring at you,” Your brother mumbled, noticing the curious gazes as well. “Maybe they haven’t seen anyone with color or hair yet,” You distractedly said as you looked behind, the pair of dark blue eyes still haunting and following your every move. “Did I really have to come here?” You asked your father with a frown. “Yes. We could not leave you alone for an extended period— what will happen if our planet suddenly goes to war and you were there, left alone?” Your father asked, his protectiveness shining through. “Then I’d be surrounded by our army and best warriors.” You replied and earned a stern look from your father. “What am I even supposed to do here?” You grumbled and ceased by the door of your guest chambers. “You can explore the planet— do some sightseeing.” He answered, but that only severe your frown. “Sightsee what? Everything here is either black or gray— either bleak or depressing” You said, making your father sigh. “Just get ready for dinner,” He said, and you gave up on fighting them and their decision to drag you to the planet. 

A knock sounded out in your barren chambers. You understood that the palace was pushing some kind of aesthetic, but they took it to an extremity. There was literally just a bed and an armchair in your chambers. A very stark difference from your own room or even the guest chambers in your planet’s palace. Your handmaid opened the door whilst you looked at yourself in the mirror; you were to be escorted by your brother and were expecting him by the door, but hearing the gasp from your handmaid told you otherwise. You looked toward the chamber room door and saw the Na-Baron standing by its threshold; your maid stood by the side, head hung low, and was quietly trembling in fear. 

“Can we help you, Na-Baron?” You asked and smoothened the fabric of your gown. Trying your best not to appear unnerved by his dark gaze or his imposing demeanor. “I am to escort you to the dining room, my lady,” He said and offered his arm for you to take; you made no move to do so. “Oh…my brother was—“ you slightly frown as he cuts you off. “He is already there with your father,” He said, and you licked your lips and hesitantly nodded, having no choice but to take his offer to escort you. 

Feyd eyes curiously at the gown you fashioned and the decorations in your hair. You were a deep and vivid contrast between him and his planet. Your dress made of velvet trained behind you, the heavy and overflowing cloth cutting through the silence between you and the heir of House Harkonnen. You did not know if you should converse with him or just remain silent. And if you did choose the former, what topic of conversation would you even propose to the fearsome— psychotic warrior that is the Na-Baron? 

“How are you finding Giedi Prime, my lady?” His deep and raspy voice cut through the silence, and you thought of an embellished reply that would not offend the warrior. “Different… I— it is most unique, Na-Baron,” You manage to say after a short while, Feyd noting how you struggled to give a kind reply, your brows in a furrow, and your lips would open and close as you thought of what to say. 

You finally could breathe freely, and your stiffened form turned lax when the Na-Baron escorted you to your seat next to your brother and let go of his hold on your hand. You tried your best to keep your gaze away from any of the Harkonnens as you feared they would immediately see the fear and agitation in your eyes. “Is this human?” You lowly whispered to your brother, poking the cut of unidentified meat on your plate. Feyd smirked to himself as he heard the fear in your voice— overly wary, and it would seem the tales of their house had been implanted in your pretty little head. “It is cattle, my lady… but if you do prefer human flesh, our cooks could arrange that for you,” Feyd-Rautha relished at how your eyes widened and your cheeks blossomed with color once more. It was an interesting reaction that he had never been accustomed to see. “No, this is fine,” You quickly said and did not miss the amused smirk on the Na-Baron’s pale lips. 

The following day, you were set to tour around the planet with your brother along with the Na-Baron. You three had just stepped out of the palace and into the light of the black sun when your brother was suddenly summoned to attend the negotiations. You took a sharp breath and turned to your sibling, widening your eyes and silently willing him not to leave you alone in the presence of the Na-Baron. Your brother could only shrug and place a quick, chaste kiss on the top of your head as he ran back inside the castle walls. 

An awkward and uneasy silence followed you and your host as the tour began. Guards following the both of you in the direction of a large structure— that is as specific as you can get as the resident of the planet has still said no word as to where he was leading you. 

“This… is the arena,” the Na-Baron finally said, and you could hear the delight in his tone as if the brutal and triangular infrastructure had brought him calm and serenity. You nodded your head and wandered your eyes upon the high walls and countless seats that surrounded you. “You shall return here soon enough, a special celebration to take place in a few days,” You hear him say as your gaze was still stuck high above where you were guessing private boxes were placed. When Feyd did not hear your reply, he stepped closer and boldly placed a hand on your waist, making you jump in shock and quickly step away. “You don’t talk much, do you?” He asked. He usually was quiet, only speaking when he thought it necessary and the silence he provided brought an additional sense of mystery to him. But with you… he could not restrain himself as he felt the want— the need to speak. An urge he had never had before, an urge he could not control. 

“I prefer more to listen, my lord,” you answered, a white lie on your lips. You love to talk and blab about anything and everything, but you just did not want to exercise such habits with or around him, fearing he’ll grow annoyed by your yapping and slit your throat— a habit you heard he was fond of. You heard the Na-baron hum, and you avoided his gaze as he stared you down, as if trying to deduce if what you had said was the truth.

You followed the Na-Baron as he led you to more sights and structures that the Harkonnens take pride in. But everywhere you two went, you could not be rid of the curious and wondering gazes that followed. It was not a new scene; being a duke’s daughter meant you had been accustomed and exposed to the public. But being exposed and stared at and gawked at by people so different than you felt entirely unnerving. It made your skin crawl and your body tense uncomfortably. Your once proud and straight stature turned demure and small as you walked the dark and gray halls of the castle, you being the only thing of color and vividness in there, making you feel out of place and suffocated by the plainness.  

The Na-Baron escorted you back to the guest wing and paused by your door; you quickly curtsied and disappeared behind the metal doors to finally put some space and distance between you and the lord you had been forced to spend the day with. Feyd’s jaw clenched as the metal doors closed upon him; if it were anyone else, his patience would have run thin, and he would not looked kindly upon your impertinence. But even in your boorish actions, the Na-Baron could not help but find it amusing— possibly even endearing. 

As you were finished being prepared for yet another dinner, you turned to the doors once more at the sound of the opening, revealing your brother. “How was the tour?” He asked and sat by your bed as you stood in the mirror and adorned yourself with the precious metals and jewels. “When are we to leave? I… I would very much like to return home.” Was your reply as you still felt your skin crawl at how the eyes of the Na-Baron would asses you and your every move. “That bad, huh?” Your brother mused, and you sighed heavily. “I do not like it here, brother… I cannot… this place is entirely bleak and depressing.” You reasoned, and your brother only shook his head at your bellyaching. 

“They barely even have furniture! Their sun is black… there are no gardens or greenery and flowers to admire— I am quite literally the most vivid thing here!” You suddenly exploded, but your brother could only laugh. “Just a few more days, sister… we were most productive earlier. You’ll only have to endure this planet and its plainness for a few days more,” Your brother said, and you solemnly nodded your head, willing yourself to endure and be patient as your whole being wanted nothing but to return home. 

True to the Na-Baron’s words, you and your kin were in the triangular arena a few days later. A grand celebration for the birthday of the heir of House Harkonnen. Feyd-Rautha stepped out into the black sun and walked onto the pit with the screams and cheers of his house’s subjects. His eyes cast above and searched for only one being— an attention he seeks to be entranced upon him. The Na-Baron felt his lips curl wickedly as your eyes were upon him, seated in the royal box next to your brother. Your expression trying not to show contempt or disapproval. The Na-Baron was known for his skills in fighting— he is the greatest warrior there is. Everyone was impressed and in awe by his skills in combat, and he was certain that it, too, would impress you. 

You clenched your jaw and turned your head to the side as the Na-Baron was relentless in fighting the remaining members of House Atreides. You planted your gaze on your lap and fisted the fabric of your dress as you hear the land of steel and the grunts of prisoners. You took a deep inhale as your brother nudged you once more, urging you to watch the scene as it would be an offense if the Baron caught you ignoring the efforts of his favored nephew. You swallowed thickly and returned your eyes towards the men who fought; there was only one opponent now. 

Feyd-Rautha returned his gaze to you, delighting as you still had your eyes upon him. There was only one prisoner now, only one more man between him and the amazement he thought he would garner from you with his violent display. But as Feyd-Rautha set his eye on the final prisoner, his jaw ticked, and his hold on his blade tightened as he noticed that the Atreides prisoner was not drugged. He turned his spiteful gaze to his uncle, the vile man simply smirking and giving a nod of his head. Dark blue eyes flickered at you, who had her lip between he teeth in anxiousness. The Na-Baron squared his shoulders and refocused; he could not be made a fool nor a failure when the eyes of his planet were upon him— not when your eyes were upon him. As always, Feyd-Rautha emerged victorious in battle. 

“The slave wasn’t drugged,” Feyd said as he stood before his uncle, his form rigged still with the pestering feeling that he might have failed and been humiliated under your gaze. You tried to kill me?” he gritted out, but his uncle was merely amused. “Tonight, you are a hero… my gift to you,” The Baron explained, but that did not sedate the rage in the Na-Baron’s being. “I ought to drown you in that tub,” he snarled, but his uncle chuckled at his threat. “Don’t be hasty… I have another gift for you,” that piqued Feyd’s interest. “A bigger one,” his uncle added. “The girl, the duke’s daughter.” With just the mention of you, the Baron noted the quick shift in his nephew’s temperament. Desire shining through his rage. 

Feyd’s lips staggered as he thought of a reply, as he thought of how his uncle was able to acquire you for him as if you were some mere whore and not a daughter of one of the great houses. “Her father approved?” He asked and saw as a smirk rose to the lips of his uncle. “He had no choice but to… if he wanted the treaties to take place and for war to not come to their planet— he must offer his daughter to you.” Feyd let a rare and sincere grin slip his lips with the thought of you being bound to him. 

By the guest wing, an ugly discussion was taking place. “Father, you cannot be serious,” You all but cried, “To that psychotic Na-Baron!?” You screamed with tears streaming down your face. You knew it; you knew coming to Giedi Prime was a mistake— your intuition warned you greatly, but you ignored it and complied with your father’s wishes and orders. “There was no other way. I’m sorry,” Your father sighed and tried to take hold of you to calm you down. “You would leave me here to be his bride? You would leave me here vulnerable in the desolate walls of these Harkonnens?” You cried in pain, but your expression turned confused as your father shook his head. 

“The Na-Baron, your betrothed, will be heir to Arakis… you shall stay and rule there with him.” You hear the hopeful tone in your father’s voice as he tells you that you will be the lady of the most coveted seat and planet in the universe. “You… you cannot do this to me— please do not do this to me, father, I beg of you,” You cried, only crying harder as your father took you into his arms and offered you his apologies once more. Nothing can be done; you were now promised to the fearsome and formidable Na-Baron. 

They arranged for you to acquaint yourself more with your soon-to-be husband. Servants of House Harkonnen escorted you to him, and you followed mindlessly, but your stomach pitted in fear as you realized you had been led to the Na-Baron’s chambers. Your lips agape, and looked behind to see the servants hurriedly shuffling out of the Na-Baron’s room. You felt yourself grow cold and the life in your face went pale. You cautiously looked around the chambers and saw three women by your right, dressed and styled differently than the servants. The presence of women used to always bring you comfort in uncertain scenarios, but the three present did not aid your raging fear. 

“What’s so special about her?” You hear one of them drawl to the other, and you feel your lips upturn in confused fear. “Such a pitiful thing… weak and so fragile, could not even stomach to watch our lord handsomely fighting those puny slaves,” You frown and finally turn to them, the three just as eerie and disturbing to look at as any of their people, maybe even more so. “So what does she have to be rewarded with our great master Feyd-Rautha?” A third girl asked, and that is when you realized what their roles were. They looked at you expectantly, trying to know what you possessed to be rewarded or punished with the title of the Na-Baron’s betrothed. “I do not know,” you began, “Perhaps hair? Or sanity? Take your pick.” You boldly replied and watched as their teasing and amused looks turned scathing and jealous. Before any of them could make another remark, the sound of the door opening and boots walking the floor echoed through the room. Your expression was hard as you watched the three girls lower their heads demurely and out of respect as their master entered. 

“Ah, my future wife… I see you have met my darlings,” You turned to your betrothed, a smirk on his lips and his dark eyes sickeningly delighted as he was in a room filled with women he was certain would bring him much pleasure. You licked your lips and crossed your arms across your chest, your gaze flying to the three women who brazenly insulted you just mere moments ago. “You whores,” You boldly stated and let a fleeting smirk fly to your lips as you heard them hiss at your true statement. “My darlings.” Feyd-Rauth corrected, defending his loyal pets. You hummed and nodded your head. Finally, matching the fiery gaze of the Na-Baron. Every second you held his gaze, Feyd felt himself tighten against his trousers. You had always shielded your gaze from him, never letting him stare deep into those enchanting and lively eyes, and now that he did, all he wanted to do was stare into them, watch as tears would form when he made you cry in pleasure. 

“I always thought whores are acquired after marriage, but I suppose the Na-Baron is always one step ahead,” You bitterly mused at the man across from you, expecting him to grow enraged as you called his ‘darlings’ whores once more. But instead of rage, you only saw the smirk on the Na-Baron’s lips widen. “Are you jealous, little wife?” He asked and threaded closer, you let a frown slip your pretty face and a scoff left your lips. “Do not call me that,” You gritted. “And no, I am not… in all honesty, I am relieved in their existence if it means that you would be preoccupied and far from me and my bed; you could have a hundred ‘darlings’ for all I care,”  You stood your ground no matter how your mind went alarmed at the murderous look on your betrothed’s once amused expression. 

You chewed your cheeks as the Na-Baron silently motioned for the three women to step closer. You thought he was testing you, to see if you were truly unbothered and not at all jealous that your future husband was being satisfied by other women, but you gasped in horror as Feyd-Rautha swiftly took his dagger and slit the throats of his three pets. They fell at your feet, and you could only watch and step back in horror at the scene of black blood pooling and spewing from their throats. You were trembling, and Feyd-Rautha took you into his arms, forcing your face to look at him, enjoying the horror in your eyes. “Now, nothing will keep me from you and your bed, wife,” he lowly whispered, and you were defenseless as he captured your lips. Hungrily kissing you and pulling you impossibly closer to him to feel the softness of your frame as blood flooded under your feet. 

All was quick to fall into place. One moment, it was announced you were to be wed to the heir of House Harkonnen, and the next, you were being prepared for the actual ceremonies. You felt bile rising and tears falling as you stared at yourself in the mirror. A gown of white in the make and design of your home planet rather than the fashion of Giedi Prime. “You look beautiful, sister,” Your brother complimented quietly. He, too, turned solemn as he had no way to protect you from the arrangements made behind closed doors. “Let’s just get this over with,” You mumbled and took his arm for what you believed would be the last time. 

You were being escorted down the aisle by your father,  Feyd-Rautha’s eyes upon you impatiently; he could no longer wait any further and suffer through the ceremonies and banquets before he had you alone in his chambers. After your kiss two nights prior, you quickly left the chambers and left the Na-Baron to want and desire more. Each moment that had passed has left him hard and strained, with no other outlet for his needs to be quenched and met; his only choice was to wait for you to be his wife. 

It should shame you to admit, but the kiss you shared with the Na-Baron didn’t leave you disgusted. It was alarming to note that your body had turned warm, and throughout the night, your thoughts strayed to wanting more. You had been kissed before, once, but it was nothing compared to the way Feyd-Rautha kissed your lips. 

You stood by his side as a man in front spoke in a language you could not comprehend or understand. The only thing your mind could focus on was the way the Na-Baron’s hand held yours. Cold and calloused palms enclosed around warm and soft ones. You raised your gaze as the man in front of the two of you finally spoke words you understood, announcing to the room that you and the Na-Baron were officially husband and wife. You set your eyes upon Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes were on your lips. Letting go of your hand and taking hold of your face to kiss your lips without warning. It was a quicker kiss than the one shared the previous night, and you were dismayed yourself as your body wanted more, so much more. 

Feyd smirked as he saw color bloom onto your cheeks and felt its warmness against his cold touch. No word was exchanged as he escorted you through the aisle, the cheers of his subjects ringing loudly; absent were the reactions of you and your kin. You were still silent during the banquet, only offering a ghost of a smile when you two were approached and presented with ‘congratulations.’ You tried to ignore the way your body responded when your husband placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze now and then through the fabric of your gown. “You look ravishing, my darling,” You hear him whisper in your ear, his warm breath sending a chill down your spine. 

“Do not call me that,” you gritted as you had no wish to share an endearment he used with his whores. Feyd smirked as he believed that heard a hint of jealousy in your honey voice, “And what would you like to be called, wife?” He asked, and you clenched your jaw and thighs as that brought a surprising twist in your core. Your reaction was not missed by the Na-Baron, a wicked smirk spreading to his lips and his hand inching higher from your thigh. “Tell me, wife… are you too as excited as I am for the bedding?” He teased and nipped your ear, making you gasp, turning to him with shock and wanting-filled eyes. Your eyes shifted from his dark blue orbs to his plush lips, and the desire for it to be against you became increasingly prominent. You gulped as his eyes turned impossibly darker and his jaw clenched, you took a sharp intake of breath as he abruptly stood. “The feast is finished, leave.” That was all he said before he urged you to stand and dragged you to his chambers. 

You were like putty in his arms as he pushed you up against the cold wall of his chambers. Your lips roughly danced against each other, and his hands hiked up your wedding dress, leaving fire with his cold touch. For days, you had convinced yourself you felt no attraction to the man who had his lips on you’re neck and hand against your cunt. “You are a great actress, wife. Making me believe you hated me— wanted nothing to do with me, but that cannot be true, not when your cunt is so wet and ready for me.” You gasped as he inserted his finger inside you without warning— the feeling foreign, and you did not know if you should embrace the uncomfortability or the prospect that pleasure was quick to bloom. “So tight… my little wife had never been defiled— that shall change,” He mused against your lips, swallowing your whine when he inserted another finger inside your wet cunt. 

“M-My lord,” You cried at the curl of his finger; you heard him ‘tsk’ and rub his thumb against the sensitive bundles of nerves on your cunt. “Enough with the formalities. I am your husband, and you will call me by my name— you will scream my name when you come.” Your eyes rolled back as his other hand clasped around your neck, your husband thrilled and overjoyed as you only clenched tightly around him, and a pleasured moan slipped past your lips. He thought he’d have to be gentle with you— that he would scare you with his savage desires, but as he felt you cling and clench to him as he added more pressure around your throat, he knew you would be able to take and would be grateful for his brazenness in fucking. 

“Feyd… Feyd!” You cried as you felt your thighs tremble and your core painfully twists in want of release. You whined and cried as you felt his fingers slip out of you, your knees weak and your body desperate for release. “Patience, little wife,” Your husband cruelly mussed, his eyes locked upon you as he licked the essence of you clean from his fingers. You moaned as his lips met yours again, tasting yourself as his tongue teased yours. You whimpered as he placed his rough hands tights on your hips, imprinting his mark and making it known to you that he was yours. You groaned as he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, him pulling away to admire the red the beaded on your plump, sweet lips. “Such a pretty color…” he murmured and bought his finger to wipe away the blood and taste it, you growing more aroused as a rumble emerged from his throat. Feyd watched as more blood dripped from your lips, and he wasted not a drop of it, kissing and tasting all of you. 

Feyd moved the two of you to his bed, pushing you down on the soft, silk-coved mattress. You swallowed thickly as he took out his dagger once more, a grin on his lips as he saw a speck of fear in your eyes. “Such a beauty you look in this dress… but I know you’ll look better without it,” He took the dagger and cut through your fine gown, nicking your stomach on the way. Feyd zeroed in on your sweet blood once more, his eyes hungrily taking in your body that was now exposed to him. “Oh…” You moaned as his tongue soothed the cut he made, his tongue teasing you as it would thread lower but would return to the cut every time it oozed blood. “Feyd… please,” You finally relinquished and let your needs be known. He hummed as his cock grew harder at your moans. 

“What do you want, little wife?” he hummed and took a deep breath of your scent. You whined as his tongue teased your navel, and his lips threaded further south but quickly moved north again. You moaned as his black teeth gently bit your bosom, his cold hand pawing at the other, your nipples taut by his cold hand and hot tongue. “Tell me, little wife, what do you want?” You whimpered again as nipped your skin once more, “You. I… I want you,” You finally said and yelled when Feyd flipped you to your stomach. Anticipation sat heavily as you heard him shuffling to remove his clothing. You breathed harshly as you felt his hands on your behind, kneading the smooth, plump flesh; his thumb teasingly brushed your cunt, and you were quick to moan. 

“What did you want again, my pretty wife?” He hummed by your ear, his toned body pressing against your back, his throbbing cock resting on your derrière. “You, I want you. Please, Feyd… I— please just fuck me,” You cried and let go of any pride you had in exchange for feeling pleasure. You howled as his thick and large length pushed its way inside you. Feyd hissing as the tip of his cock was being squeezed by your cunt. You were wet, galaxies, you were wet. But not wet enough for your husband’s cock to slip inside comfortably. Friction and resistance were prominent, and Feyd enjoyed that tremendously. Excruciating pain first had to be felt before you could feel the pleasure that you were desperate for. 

You gasped and felt tears rim your eyes as a cold hand found home around your neck again. “So fucking tight… all fucking mine,” Feyd hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you; his hand felt the trickle of pained tears, and he was determined to turn it into tears of pleasure. “Such a good wife taking all of me,” He praised and squeezed your neck tighter. You whimpered and raised your gaze, only now noticing that the wall that your husband’s bed rested upon was entirely reflective that you could see him in all of his glory. Knelt behind you and a pleasured expression on his face as he gradually moved his length in and out of you. 

It felt like eons before you finally felt pleasure, but when it finally came, it was the most blissful feeling you had experienced in your life. The way he harshly gripped your throat, the way that his lips would pepper kisses on your shoulders and back, was enough to quickly drive you into climax. One where you screamed and called for his name, begging him to slow down, but he did no such thing. Only increased his speed and moved his hand to draw circles upon your bundle of nerves, coaxing another climax from you, making you scream his name louder and your body over-sensitive. “Feyd, Feyd, no more, please,” You cried as your whole body was already exhausted and trembling. 

“I do not understand you, wife. Just earlier, you were begging for this… you were begging to be fucked by me.” He grunted as he, too, felt his peak to come. He moved his hands to bundle your hair, the texture so soft and foreign, his fingers running through the locks and pulling it to make you groan. “Such a perfect cunt, such a perfect wife. You will sire me many heirs… you will always be my side.” Feyd groaned as you squeezed his length tighter and tighter to the point he felt pleasurable pain. You hear his animalistic growl when he finally spills himself deep inside of you, watching through the reflective wall as his face contorted into sheer pleasure, his rasping voice repeating your name as you feel both of your essences drip on the inside of your thigh.

He moved your head for your lips to meet with his again, him biting down to draw blood once more. You pulled away and gasped for air as well as gasped in shock as you felt his once limped and just emptied length grow erect inside you. “Did you truly think we were finished?” He asked against your lips. “I’m going to fuck and breed you until you’re unable to walk, little wife.”

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, arranged marriage

fem reader

You'd only been married to Suguru for a couple of months, but you’d known each other for longer – always with the knowledge that you’d be wed one day. 

It’s always made it a little nerve-wracking for you to see him, but he’s kept a smile on his face every time – polite and sweet – telling you how pretty you look in such a genuine way you’d never been able to hide how nervous it makes you.

It’s been awkward at times, but that’s to be expected when you get married so young to a person you know only from brief and scheduled altercations. 

Either way, he’s an awfully busy person and spends most of his time at Jujutsu Tech or out on missions. So even now, you don’t see him all that much. 

But when you do see him, he’s still nothing but kind and patient and respectful of you – much more humble than what you’d expect such a profoundly gifted jujutsu-sorcerer to be – where most men like him can't seem to shut up about themselves.

You’ve always felt like he’s been older than you, even though he isn’t. He has that mature air about him, such calm and suave. Even back when you were still kids, he’s been comfortable and confident, always so collected.

And now, older, after the wedding, when you’d performed marital duties, he’d been considerate. Whispering softly in your ear that you could take it at your own pace – holding your hips gently, never leading or handling you, just encouraging while you gingerly climbed up on his lap and started rolling your hips – feeling his bump even through all the layers of your wedding attire.

He’s a good kisser – softly and smoothly brushing his lips with yours, using his tongue like a third lip, softly teasing yours between his teeth. Not too rough, but not too boring either. Just enough to leave you a little breathless.

He’d asked if you were okay – his voice a melted hum, looking at you with sage eyes in wait before going any further. You’d been lost in them while nodding your head, breaths heavy and staggering – feeling warm and tingly all over. 

Then he’d asked if you wanted him to take over – still not making a move, only gently rubbing your hips – waiting for you to repeat your nodding before he’d begun pulling the knots to your fabrics, loosening them all slowly, one by one, like he was unwrapping a present. 

Soon, it all draped the floor and left you nervously goosefleshed. 

He’d lifted you so easily and laid you down softly, splayed with your back against the dune – then he’d continued kissing – going from your lips to your cheek, then your neck and chest, your stomach, and then there.

Making your breath quaver. Back arching off the bed, hands lifting the sheets in curled fingers. Feeling the soft warm tip of his tongue circle your clit – never having felt anything like it before.

You were quite certain you loved him…

Never in your life would you think he’d do this to you.

“Please, Suguru- don’t let him-” You cry, wanting to close your thighs to hide your panties from the pursuing blue-eyed predator in front of you. But your husband doesn’t let go.

You’re in his lap. Legs pinned and spread beneath his while he embraces you snugly from the back, keeping your tiny body pressed tightly against his chest – arms wrapped around your front, his hands at your sides, messaging your skin with those soothing touches while your smaller hands push at the unbudgeable thick muscles lining his forearms – pathetic whines leaving your lips. 

He’s so big and holds you so unfairly easy – paying no mind to your struggles. He just tugs your tiny torso closer to his chest, squishing your waist tightly, squeezing your tits together. His head rests next to yours, nuzzled in the grove between your neck and shoulder – his lips at your ear, calmly shushing you – as if cooing at you could make you stop fussing.

Gojo laughs; he takes the joke even when it puzzles you – finding it even funnier when you can’t wrap your pretty head around it, looking so cute and confused and distraught as to why and how your own husband could do this to you.

His slender fingers reach out to your face, squishing your cheeks between them – and your teary eyes look straight into his blue ones with that awfully beautiful look swirling inside them.

“Oh, he’s not gonna help you, little dummy~” He croons with a smile – his lips close to the pucker of yours, his breath heated. “He’s got his hands full helpin’ me.”

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 1

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none for this chapter. Masterlist of warnings overarching the series

A/N: Hello! If you’re here then there’s probably something wrong with you too, so let’s be friends. I haven’t been able to write anything lately until I saw the latest Dune movie and then all of my thoughts became dedicated to Feyd-Rautha. I must get these thoughts out. Help. Me.

“Chin up.”

Your mother brushes your hair back, bronze, like hers, and lifts your chin. Her gaze is critical. You stare back, thinking only of the things that she will find fault in you. An endless amount, you muse. The slightest flicker of expression on Lady Jessica’s face informs you that she suspects what you’re thinking. Your teeth grit.

“Must you do that?” You hiss through your painted lips. The servants have dressed you specially for the occasion. A floor-length black dress and, settled on your shoulders, a red cape clasped together with the House of Atreides insignia.

Jessica withdraws her hand. Your mother radiates femininity and power, a feat you’ve yet reached. Even the cool way in which she regards you drips with regality.

“Do what?” She asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jessica’s blue eyes harden. “You don’t have to, daughter. It’s plain enough.”

Mother and daughter stare at one another.

She tried to teach you the ways of the Bene Gesserits, but you failed to take to it. You were too expressive, too…volatile. You struggled to detect the slightest change in voice, you could never sit still long enough to study, and your facial features always betrayed you. The only aspect you succeeded in was combat — there was no need to mask your feelings, your thoughts, able to just completely lend yourself to the blade.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re fortunate the Reverend Mother has chosen to see through with this arrangement,” Jessica all but snarls. “There’s hope for you still, in form of an heir.”

The Kwisatz Haderach.

The only reason your mother still spoke to you, affords you any attention at all. The fact that you’ve been painstakingly bred to produce him: a Bene Gesserit of male origin, capable of accessing the memories of his ancestors and see through time and space itself.

A terrible mantle for an unborn child.

In the black of night, you sometimes lay your hand on your abdomen and utter apologies to the egg nestled in your ovary; burdened with horrible purpose. If only you could avoid its fate. But you were not even in control of your own.

“I want to stay here,” you plea finally, pitifully.

Jessica steps away from you, brushes off her skirt. “You know that you cannot.”

“I can help Father,” you insist. “You know that he worries about gaining the approval of the Fremen. I can —”

“Enough!” The Voice. It snaps your mouth shut and renders you mute. “This is bigger than both of us.” Jessica snatches your upper arm, pulls you close enough to feel the heat of her anger. “Your father wanted a son. A heir. But it was my duty to produce a daughter. I ignored the pleas of your father because I understand what it is to serve. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

You swallow your disgust, though it lingers like a foul taste on your tongue.

This isn’t the first time that your mother has told you this. Nor did you think it would be the last.

Perhaps making a home among your enemies would be better than staying here among family.

“Fine,” you say. You wrench your arm from her grasp then turn away. It’s futile, you know the heighliner will be here soon to whisk you away, but you can’t stand to be in the presence of your mother any longer. Fortunately she lets you go.

You’re not even aware of where your feet are taking you until the familiar sound of the baliset meets your ears. Gurney rests lazily on the ground in the massive corridor, back against the wall and string instrument in his scarred hands. He doesn’t look at you as you approach nor when you collapse down beside him.

Usually Gurney’s situationally appropriate songs bring you a modicum of comfort, but today it seems more ominous than insightful.

“I won’t miss your singing,” you say.

He stops playing. “You jest.”

Playfully, you crack open one eye and peer at his baffled expression. You try not to laugh. “I don’t.” A sigh escapes your mouth then, and you slump further down, uncaring if you rumple your gown. “I will, however, miss the singer.”

“Don’t bother appealing to an old man like me. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Hm,” is all you say, lost in thought.

Gurney sets the baliset to the side. His hand finds your knee and he squeezes. “You will be fine, Lady Y/N. I’ve taught you well.”

“Not even what you’ve taught me will suffice for what I’m up against.”

“Nonsense.”

Both eyes open now, you stare pleadingly at the swordsmaster. “Just come with me. Please.”

It’s Gurney’s turn to sigh. With a groan he heaves himself to his feet and offers you a hand. “You know that I can’t,” he murmurs.

His loyalty to your father doesn’t extend to you.

He is Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis, after all. And you are just his daughter. A pawn. A womb and nothing more.

You reach out to ghost your fingers over the scar on Gurney’s cheek. “Tell me about them.”

The Harkonnens.

“There’s nothing you don’t already know or haven’t learned from the filmbooks,” Gurney says to you in a terribly soft voice. It’s unfitting of the great soldier. “They are a cruel people. Do not trust them.”

You nod, irrationally devastated that your final plea to Gurney did not work. But his words were not anything new.

Nothing you learned about the Harkonnens has been pleasant — from their oppressive rule and misogynistic society down to their industrialized homeworld. Your chest aches.

First you were forced to leave the lush beauty of Caladan for Arrakis. You had even grown admittedly fond of the desert planet, just to yet again be snatched from another home.

“Thank you, Gurney. For everything.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then holds out his arm for you to take.

Gurney has been like a second father to you over the years. While Leto was out securing political alliances and holding meetings, it was Gurney who kept you company. He aided in your combat training and believed in you when no one else did. To lose him would be to lose a great friend, indeed.

By the time you return to the antechamber where you’d been, Leto has arrived. He looks as cunning and handsome as ever, and the smile he flashes you is enough to cut you to the bone.

If what Jessica said was true about your father wanting a son and being sorrowful he did not get one, you would never know. He has only ever made you feel loved.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you. He smells wonderful. The same way he did all of those years ago when he would tell you stories of your grandfather and tuck you into bed, his beard tickling your cheek.

You breathe him in for one of the last times. “Hello, father.”

“You look marvelous,” he says. His smile falters slightly. “Are you ready? I wanted to ensure that you’ve said your goodbyes before we leave.”

Bitterly, you think, Before I leave. Everyone else will return to Arrakis and you will be moored on Giedi Prime, married to a bloodthirsty monster and forced to grow round with his child.

The thought makes your knees tremble.

The Harkonnens controlled the fiefdom of Arrakis before your family and were unbelievably outraged that it, and the flow of spice, had been stolen from them. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your reception on their planet will be like. It’s any luck if you don’t get slaughtered upon arrival.

Especially since the Baron’s nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha — your betrothed — was known for his brutal nature. You hoped stupidly that the arrangement of marriage and promise of an heir would be enough to keep you alive.

At least for awhile.

Feyd-Rautha killed his own mother. Who knew what the status of wife meant to him?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer Leto. He squeezes your hand.

You hug Gurney goodbye then board onto the heighliner after your parents. It’s difficult to suppress the tears threatening to fall as the ship takes off in a flurry of sand and departs.

Normally you’d be completely enraptured with the endless golden dunes, but today you stay rooted to your seat and refrain from crying.

The flight to Giedi Prime happens much too quickly for your liking. Already your heart is in your throat, hammering out your nerves in a steady rhythm.

The view from your seat reveals the strange nature of your new home — a black sun. Never again will you see the stretch of blue sky from Caladan or feel the formidable heat of Arrakis. The entire world outside the ship stood in sharp black and white contrast, all color drained from the surroundings and its people.

You spy hoards of Harkonnens gathering beyond the ship, awaiting the arrival of the na-Baron’s wife and their future Baroness.

Your stomach churns. How could you ever lead such ugly, wicked people?

Jessica’s voice engulfs you. “Chin up,” she says again to your dismay. “You mustn’t show any weakness. Not here.”

You raise your chin the slightest amount. Jessica nods stiffly in approval, and it’s in that moment you understand that your mother’s harshness has been preparing you for this. While you hardly feel the urge to forgive her, an odd sense of calm washes over you.

You are an Atreides. And you always will be.

No one can take that from you.

The boarding ramp disengages and you’re the first one to step onto it. A hush of silence befalls the crowds.

You stride forward with as much confidence as you can muster, focusing not on the leering eyes of the Harkonnens but instead on the Baron’s fortress. A large pathway separates you from it, granting you plenty of time to get your fill. It’s as grand as it is excessively boastful; tall, pointed towers cleverly connected, all sharp lines and edges. It leaves the impression of a finely crafted dagger.

A display of power and wealth.

Behind you your parents emerge and the carefully observant crowd launches into disarray — shouts and yells of anger, of hatred, grate your ears. You know that they take it in stride, however, and their strength fortifies your own.

By the time you’ve crossed the distance from the heighliner to the inner walls of the fortress, your eyes are blurried by the strong contrast outside now given away to darkness. It takes a few moments for you to adjust. When you do, you quickly look over your surroundings.

There’s few decorations or art. It’s cold and impersonal and extremely clinical.

Your slippered feet reverberate off the high ceilings.

Bracing yourself, seemingly, has been for no reason. For it’s not the Baron and his nephew that meet you but rather a line of Harkonnen soldiers. Their faces are stoic.

You bristle. “Where is the Baron? And my betrothed? Do they not wish to receive us?”

The soldiers do not answer.

A man appears then from down the hall, a Mentat by the look of him. He’s pale and bald and clad in black like the other Harkonnens.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N,” the Mentat says. “My name is Piter de Vries. I am here to escort you. The Baron and na-Baron will receive you now in the throne room.”

Leto lays a hand on your arm as if to stifle your response. “Please, Piter, lead the way.”

You can’t help but glance curiously at your father. This entire situation was delicate, you knew, but you wonder at his subservience. It’s an insult not to be immediately greeted by their hosts, especially when your guests happen to be the Duke of Arrakis, his concubine, and their daughter. If Leto agrees with this affront, though, he doesn’t show it.

Leto simply strides after Piter with you and your mother in pursuit.

The fortress boasts sleek walls and floors, polished to perfection. Piter guides you to the throne room a short distance away, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s larger than any room you’ve seen before, outfitted on the far side with steps leading up to a grand dais.

And upon the dais, demanding your attention, is Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The man is as large as the throne room itself but not nearly as impressive, pale and beastly, his enormous weight supported by suspenders. He makes no movement as you enter.

Your gaze moves quickly, eagerly, away from him.

Standing on either side of the dais are his two nephews. Aware that you can’t stand to face your betrothed yet, you fix your attention on his brother. Rabban, you recall his name.

Rabban is bound with hard muscle and swathed in what you can only describe as thinly veiled anger. At his side, his fists clench and unclench restlessly.

Then, without permission, you look to your future husband.

Feyd-Rautha stands as tall as Rabban but roped instead with lean, attractive muscle. His brow sits above dark eyes and a generous mouth. There’s a frightening intensity to the way he stands, encapsulating both nonchalance and a dangerous arrogance. Clearly this man is used to getting his way and will stop at nothing to do so.

And it’s this man that makes no effort to disguise the way he studies you, starting at the top of your head and trickling languidly downward.

A chill dances down your spine.

When he catches this, catches you watching him — he must’ve known that you were — his lips twitch into the faintest of smirks.

Part 2

[buzzkillers]

The Deer Was Tired 1/3

synopsis: As a guard for the Atreides family, it's your job to make sure their precious offspring was satisfied. Even if doing so got in the way of your true mission.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Trigger Warnings | Content: Manipulative Behavior, Dubious Consent, Abuse of Power, Stalking, Sexual Coercion, Corruption Kink, Assassination Au.

By his fourth night of no sleep, the Archduke was restless, prickly and completely fucking annoying.

If you could kill him you would, but you couldn't. You could just barely grab for your knife and after an hour, even moving had become an impossible task. Call that the 'completely fucking annoying' part.

What a pity. 

Now at this hour, the Palace was a sleeping beast with soldiers that stood bleary eyed in the hallways. The inner workings of the court, nothing more than a shallow husk.

 It reminded you of the cities on Tano, a planet so lively during the day but nothing but a husk at night. But this was not that, this planet was a graveyard. 

An open cemetery filled with the walking dead and the beast that fed on them. Bad actors filled every corner of this world, death licked at your feet and famine yipped at your lungs. You've never been so thirsty. But you were sure that even they were rested now. The disease, the pestilence and the worms. Everything rested at this hour. Everyone but him. 

It was an odd thought. You felt as if you were even breaking some rule, that even the dunes moon hated the fact that the two of you were awake as it shined it's light through the Lords window, successfully lighting up the dark room and giving you a front row seat to the Lord that stared at you like a bug, like something to step on. 

Maybe you were. 

If not a bug than a snake. Something slimy and slick that cleaned up the pest in your walls silently, efficiently. Something meant to be invisible. It was partly true. Just as much as you were partly impressed. 

You never knew such a delicate man could look so demeaning. It reminded you of those old war paintings, the kind filled with vengeful women with burning eyes and gnashing teeth. He wanted to kill you. 

It didn’t help that at this hour, the young man was dressed like his mother. His body decorated in a deep oceanic blue fabric that crashed into waves at the ankles of his calloused feet. Each cross stitch covered in jewels and beads that glimmered in the moonlight while he laid stiff on his cot. 

 He was beautiful like this. And if you were being nice you’d say that he looked like one of those deadly beauties you heard of on the radio-if you were being nice. The look of death on his face kind of ruined it. 

With a face engraved with dark circles and sallow cheeks. The lord looked more sickly than anything. A walking famine. Before he turned towards his window, a frown etched into his regal features. 

Then with a beleaguered sigh, the Lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be blunt, soldier," 

"Are you saying it all came up negative?"

You rolled your armored shoulders. It sounded like a machinery of parts. "Yes, m'lord," 

"And what about this room, the walls I touch, the air I breathe?,"

"Checked and cleared, m'lord"

His frown only deepened. "Check it again,"

"But-"

He slammed his fist on the window sill. 

"Must I repeat myself?" You straighten your posture.

"Must I?"  

You shook your head till your helmet let out a creak and the brat unballed his fist. "Good," 

"This sickness has already gotten in the way of the more important things, it can't make me ignore my father's request too," 

You blinked and lied: "The Duke may be lenient," 

He laughed till his cheeks went sickly red but no humor was on his face. "You know him then?" He asked, even though that wasn't at all what you said. 

Still, still he did not wait for your response. He simply groaned, low and hard like an injured animal too stubborn to die. You wished he'd just die. 

"In a weeks time my father will need me at peak condition, and yet I haven't slept in days,"

"I haven't dreamt in days," 

"I have not known rest in days, I can barely hold my dagger any more but you say nothings wrong,"

"It is the truth," you lied again. "I pray for your health everyday m'lord" 

And for a moment there was silence before he cut his eyes towards you. "Don't lie, you are irritated with me and would readily slit my wrist for disrespect if I wasn't a highborn," You've never been more grateful that your armor came with a face shield. 

The stupid prince just had a flare for the dramatics, that was all. 

"My lord," you continued, your voice unnaturally timid because that's what books told you to sound like when speaking to royalty. "May I make a suggestion,"

"You may," But he barely looked at you when he responded, his eyes now locked firmly on the expanse of sand outside his window. His own little view of this hell scape planet. For a moment you wondered what he saw.

"Well as you know, the Duke brought many of the servants on your home planet to the Dunes," you waited for him to interrupt but he did not, you sighed with relief. "Everyone with loyalty to the throne is on this planet" 

The young man scoffed. "Are you suggesting that I make friends with servants" 

"In a way," you lied and before the scowl on the mans face could deepen (fuck it) you continued: "I'm suggesting that you get a whore," You said bluntly and not at all regal or uptight, shit. 

You're barely finished your sentence before the Atreides lord went as stiff as a board. His eyes no longer focused nor his breathing noticeable. For a moment, you mistook him for an apparition until a rush of red bloomed from under his cheeks and his eyes went beady like a bug.

Nonetheless, silence draped over the room like sand, the only thing you could hear being the sound of mice that scurried through the walls and the dancing of desert sand. 

 It would be distracting if you weren't anticipating his answer. The poor man, you must've shocked him. Politicians were rarely known for directness and you've begun to contemplate if you ran into this too abruptly then you thought before you felt it.

The soft tremor of your muscles and the swelling in the back of your head that felt like a banging drum, like a whistled beat. As something red-hot and scorching (fear,fear, dread) seeped from your veins and onto cold white bone. 

The urge to run bursted in every cell of your brain but you could not move. The sense of doom forced you still. For a horrifying second, instinct fought against instinct. You needed to run, you needed to stay. You needed to scream, you needed to choke it all down. You didn't realize it was over until you collapsed to your knees and sticky drool sloshed from your lips while your nails dug painfully into the floor. 

 Atreides hadn't moved an inch. He simply looked at you from the reflection of the glass window. His eyes replaced with black opaques that made you wonder where his irises ended and pupils began. 

Shakily, you stood back to your feet. 

"My-"

"How dare you," he hissed. 

"Please-"

"Get out," And as if space and time were at his beck and call. You blinked, the universe ceased to exist and just like that you were at his door with your armored hand on the handle. 

"And soldier," he whispered, voice now hoarse. The room now thick, muddy and impossible to think through with this heavy cloud that swelled heavy in your head. 

"Check it again,"

__

The next day, the Dune sun sunk into every pore of your skin. 

You could barely hear yourself think as you leaned against the cemented pillars of the palace. Each moment passed by with a drip of sweat made the tree gardener eventually stop and glare before grimly handing you a cup. 'A waste of water' he grumbled before he got back to work, his own skin drier than the dirt itself. 

Oh the thrills of guarding the Palm Trees.

For a moment, you wondered if this was a punishment. Something suggested by the Lord himself before quickly you burned the thought away, the Archduke was not that cruel. No, he was efficient. If he truly wanted you to hurt, a quick walk in the desert would be more his style. You doubt that you would’ve made it to morning if you had truly hurt the Lord. But that was the problem wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to want to hurt you. He wasn’t even supposed to know you. And now you were here, so now what? 

Now what?

Your head had begun to hurt as you thought of the possibilities. You could run, you could change your appearance, you could simply die. Did it matter? The end result stayed the same; they would not be happy. They might just bring her back just to kill her again. Oh the horror. They were going to find out and you were going to die and, 

Something like terror had begun to lick at your bones. Fear lapping at your soles. Suddenly it felt like eyes were on you everywhere. That the sky was watching and the walls were listening, they were everywhere and what were you to say? How would you plead your case? Everything watched as you stood there, your entire body damp with sweat and in your delusion even the gardener kept his gaze on you. His deep set skin dragging with his eyes at your form. Did he know what you were too? Did he know what you did? 

What were you to say if they asked? If your stupidity breached the walls of the Lords chamber?

 It was one thing to be the brats guard, it was another for him to remember that you were his guard. Just like that, you gripped the cup painfully. 

If the Brat remembered you...no you couldn't have that. It would ruin everything.It maybe already had. But the man was teased of sleep, of rest. Day and night he screamed and shouted at the guards, at his parents. At this moment, he was no different than a drunken fool. Yes, that was it. Your stupidity could be put down to that. The ramblings of a sleep deprived idiot. Even if he wasn't around, you suspected that the brat would tell your commander about the perverted soldier who attempted to tempt him into depravity, but who would believe him?

Everyone. 

Everyone would believe him. Because he was a prince before he was a fool. And you were going to die. Either by his hand or something far, far worse. It was as simple as that. A fact set in stone. The revelation caused your heart to ram into your ribs. For it was a simple answer for a simple question. All that you had left to do was warn the others, to prepare them.

Or maybe you didn’t as your shift ended with a buzz on the wrist and an overarching shadow that stretched into a soldier with armor like yours appeared in your line of vision. Under the sunlight he stood like death's hand. His metallic armor catching a gleam in your eyes. 

“The commander needs to speak to you,” the man said gruffly. 

“He says it’s urgent,” and that was that. 

You could only jerk your head in acknowledgement and with a nod towards the Gardener, you swiftly made your final exit; but not before looking at the cup of liquid in your hand and throwing it to the ground.

[boldstarks]

Giedi Prime (House Fenrir Dune AU)

word count: 1498 Words pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader warnings: none (yet) summary: you arrive on Giedi Prime for the Na-Baron's birthday celebration, but you have another task ahead of you.

Before you arrived on Giedi Prime, you didn't believe a place could be completely devoid of color, but as you stand on one of your father's heighliners looking over the planet, you have come to believe what they say. You peered at the black and white planet below from the bridge as the ship waited for its permission to land on the surface. House Fenrir was one of the many invited to the celebration for the Na-Baron's twentieth birthday and one-hundredth gladiator fight.

Even from outside the atmosphere, you can see the planet is heavily polluted from the fervent industrialization led by House Harkonnen over the centuries.

A nervousness settled in your stomach when you entered the planet's orbit, and your father's reservations about the match weren't easing the anxiety creeping through your bloodstream. Today was the day that you would begin to seduce the Baron's heir.

"We could always go back home," the archduke said. He has joined you at the window.

"It would not serve our house to make an enemy out of the Harkonnens," you reply in a monotone voice.

They were known for maintaining a cruel and tyrannical grip over their worlds. Violence and war were ingrained in their culture, and you had no doubt they would inflict that bloodshed on your people. If their treatment of the people of Arrakis was any indicator of how they treated those who displeased them, you knew they could do the same to Fenrir.

"Wise words," Lady Aurelia, your father's concubine, said.

Lady Aurelia was the closest thing you had to a mother after your own had died of a mysterious illness during your adolescence. You knew she did not see you the same way, though. Your father openly favored you and your older sister, Maron, over her two sons. To her, you were simply an obstacle in the way of her eldest son inheriting your father's title.

"They could reverse engineer our harvesters or simply kill us and take over production, and the emperor wouldn't bat an eye," you said, turning away from the grim image of the planet that you would soon call home if all went according to the Reverend Mother's plan.

"I hate the thought of leaving you in this place," Vulcan says.

Lady Aurelia sighs. "Y/N can take care of herself; I've seen to it."

"Lady Aurelia is right, father. I am more than capable of completing the task that the sisterhood has given me," you tell him.

Your reassurance only causes the worry lines around his mouth and forehead to deepen.

"Your Grace," a servant said.

The three figures at the window turn, and the servant curtsies quickly in respect.

"We have been given permission to land, Your Grace. We await your command," the servant says and curtsies again.

You watch her nervously scamper off. It seems that Vulcan wasn't the only one on edge today.

The landing was relatively uneventful, and the surface of Giedi Prime was just as bleak as you imagined. There were no natural plants in sight, and the air had a bitter taste to it that coated your tongue, throat, and sinuses. It made you miss Fenrir bitterly, with its vast oceans and thick forests that enveloped the less developed parts of the planet.

In the light of Giedi Prime's black sun, your ice blue dress looks silver. It's form-fitting to your body with a halter neck and leaves your arms bare. The look was completed with teardrop-shaped pearl earrings set in silver hardware.

A female servant is already waiting for you when the ship lands. She is pale and completely devoid of hair. She wears a dark-colored dress of a peculiar cut, and she keeps her eyes on the floor.

She curtsies deeply when you step off the ship with your father and Lady Aurelia into Harkonnen Palace's ship dock.

"I have been ordered by the Baron to show you to your quarters before the spectacle, Your Grace," the servant says in a small, timid voice.

Your father opens his mouth to reply, but the girl turns on her heel quickly and hurries toward another crowd of visitors being led by another woman in an identical dress. She waits to let the guests from a house you didn't recognize pass before continuing her beeline to the door.

You see Vulcan and Aurelia exchange a glance before all three of you follow after her.

The inside of the Harkonnen Palace is just as bleak as the outside. It is made up of identical black and white hallways; one could easily get lost in them. The servant girl expertly navigates these identical hallways without raising her eyes. She's obviously been here for quite a while. You wonder what horrible things she witnessed, or perhaps endured, in her employment here.

The woman is completely silent until she arrives at a nondescript slate gray door with a black panel installed on the wall next to it. "This is your room, Lady Y/N, and your parents are right beside you."

She motions toward an identical door to the left.

Lady Aurelia goes to her and your father's door and presses her hand to the panel. The panel glows, and the door slides open.

"What did it just do?" your father asks, puzzled.

"The doors to your quarters are programmed, so you need your handprint to get into them, Your Grace," the girl responds. "The Baron has found guests feel more secure when they are the only ones who have access to their living space."

Your father nods and presses his hand to the panel. Lady Aurelia walks into their room without another word.

"Just knock if you need anything, darling," Vulcan said, following her inside.

Their door slides shut behind them, leaving you alone with the servant.

"How did I find my way around?" you ask.

The girl makes eye contact with you for the first time.

"I strongly advise you not to walk around without someone to escort you, My Lady," the servant girl said firmly. "This is not a place where one wants to get lost."

This wasn't a request; it was a warning. The girl's eyes darted back toward the ground. You place your hand on your door's panel. It warms slightly when it scans your handprint. The door slides open, and you step inside. The servant girl won't meet your eye again before the door slides shut.

If you were anyone else, you would feel as though you had stepped into the belly of the beast. But you're not just anyone; you're Bene Gesserit. You're exactly where you're meant to be.

---------

You sit on an elevated platform that sits slightly lower than the one occupied by the Baron Harkonnen, the Reverend Mother, and your father, the Archduke, along with an unknown count and his wife. The crowds in the stands below are packed with Giedi Prime citizens. The black sun has once again washed the color out of everything. You were provided a pair of small field glasses to view all the fights through.

You're sitting with six other Bene Gesserit sisters that you have never met before. Despite knowing little about them, having some of your sisters here is a comfort.

In some twisted way, you looked forward to having your way with Feyd-Rautha. The Reverend Mother Helen described him as violent, calculating, and isolated. The Baron and his brother, whom they called the Beast, were neither fit to raise an emotionally intelligent, stable child. That only made your job simpler. It doesn't matter how physically strong Feyd-Rautha is; he's sexually and emotionally vulnerable. And you could mold him into whatever you see fit.

The opening fights are lackluster. It's obvious the opponents have been drugged to ensure the safety of the Harkonnen gladiators. You noted this with distaste and nearly rolled your eyes. The Harkonnens claimed to be the most dominant, well-trained fighters in the galaxy, but they couldn't be bothered to truly fight someone without resorting to petty vices and trickery. Nevertheless, the crowd roars with satisfaction whenever blood is spilled on the sand of the gladiator pit.

Now comes the main event: Feyd-Rautha's one-hundredth kill in the gladiator pit. Was this the measure of a Harkonnen man? Slaughtering drugged prisoners was supposed to be a show of power and strength while wearing a shield.

A horn blows, and the crowd begins to shriek and whoop once again. In the arena, a large set of doors slide open, and the Na-Baron emerges from the darkness beyond the doorway, a knife in each hand. He raises them toward the sun and circles the pit. The light of the black sun glints off the blades. He's hairless, like the other inhabitants of his planet. He's dressed in light black armor and practically preens for the crowd before kneeling. He bows his head in respect to his uncle and dedicates this win to the man.

The Baron is satisfied by this display, and the barbarism begins.

taglist: @ariesmai

[motherofdogs1010]

A Jedi in Arrakis III (Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: 18+ only, eventual smut, eventual pinv! sex, current fluff and eventual angst, kissing, simp!Paul, spoilers for Dune 1 and 2, somewhat canon aligned

A/N: Sorry for the hiatus, loves! I'm back and ready to grace you with my works!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part I Part II Part IV

The Baron was a man of heavy weight and heavy glutton, he liked food and power with women waiting for him. He liked the power that Geidi Prime gave him, but most of all, he liked the power that controlling Spice, no controlling Arrakis gave him.

This is why he felt anger towards the Emperor for forcing his soldiers off-planet and handing his cash cow to the damned soft-hearted Duke Leto and his house.

He hated House Atredies with a passion and he could recall the countless interactions he had with Duke Leto, the heated arguments he had with the man.

Which is why he felt happy when the Emperor proposed the slaying of House Atreides, the slaughtering of those damned fools.

"There is a rumor floating around", one of his advisors said, "of a girl from not of this galaxy that the Duke has taken in, someone with some extraordinary abilities. The Emperor wants her alive, especially since the na-Duke is said to be quite taken with the girl."

The Baron grumbled as the sound of the Sardaukar's throaty chanting filled his ears.

It was another hot day on Arrakis, the dry heat of the planet making Y/N wonder why Paul and other members of House Atreides were wearing all-black. Y/N had been offered a loose, beige dress that she wore with a scarf covering that concealed her head and neck from the harshness of the sun that came down on the planet.

"Tell me more about Arrakis", she said to Paul as he led her outside. "I feel like we've only ever talked about our home planets."

"Everything I learned is from the archives", Paul began as she noticed a place of worship ahead of them. "The people who inhabit the planet call themselves Fremen, they're the only ones to ever to successfully live here. The sandstorms here are brutal, they ravage and destroy anything that crosses them... maybe not a sandworm, but anything yes."

Paul spoke in a gentle yet enthusiastic voice that made her stomach flop around and she felt her ears begin to get hot. She was embarrassed at the way he was stirring feelings, forbidden feelings in her as they walked along the compound.

"They value water here the most and the Spice they are constantly exposed to gives them blue eyes. Not much is known about them since they prefer to remain to remain remote."

"And you said Spice is what is needed to travel?" she said, Paul nodded.

"We rely a lot on Spice, which is why it is so unheard of that you traveled here without Spice", Paul clarified. "The Emperor gave my father control of this planet to find peace with the Fremen People but before, House Harkonnen controlled it."

Y/N saw inside the temple many people praying; religion wasn't something uncommon back home, there were so many from the Mandolorians to the Sith but she had never really seen such worship before.

"What are they praying to?" she asked, gesturing to the people.

"To Shai-Hulud", Paul said as a warm breeze came by, "it is also a Fremen custom to spit at one's feet with how they value water."

"We greet and say goodbye by saying 'may the force be with you'", she said with a small grin.

She missed home despite the intrigue this galaxy brought, although she wondered how much was about the galaxy than it was her interest and growing intrigue with Paul.

🪐

Jedi law dictated that love or any form of romantic feelings were forbidden yet Y/N could recall a conversation she had with Anakin about the law.

"It's an odd law", Anakin had said, "love is the strongest form of the Force yet it can also be your weakness."

Y/N wondered about it as she walked the halls of the compound; Paul had been pulled away by his mother, Lady Jessica as she said that the Reverend Mother was wishing to speak to Paul. It gave her time to contemplate on her growing feelings for Paul with BB following behind, letting out a little chirp every so often.

Lady Jessica had been pleasant to her, the woman reminding her of some of the older Jedi Masters with her way of speech and stance, but Y/N had managed to piece together that it had to be from strict upbringings and belief of the Bene Gesserit.

"Ah, F/N", a familiar voice called out to her and turning around, she saw it was the Duke, himself.

"Oh, Duke Leto", she said, "how nice it is to see you. Thought you'd be caught up doing Duke stuff."

Duke Leto chuckled as he said, "I'm on my way to find Lady Jessica."

"She took Paul to meet with some Reverend woman?" Y/N said with a questioning tone.

Leto sucked in a breath and nodded, Y/N wondered just how this Bene Gesserit ideology worked. It was nothing she had ever seen before back home and seeing the way the Bene Gesserit sisters carried themselves intimidated her just a bit by how their eyes singularly focused on you as if they were truly trying to dissect you right down to your core.

She just hoped that she wasn't about to fall into their cross hairs.

Another night came to Arrakis with cool air and a beautiful night sky that always kept reminding her of Tatoonie as BB charged in the corner. Her hair was down again and she was in another loose muslin nightgown to help with the heat of the planet; she had the doors closed along with the windows as she sat in her room, watching a hologram archival documentary on the planet.

The Duke was pleasant to talk to, he was knowledgeable and kind, and for some reason reminded her of Obi-Wan.

A knock, a familiar knock echoed in her room and she tried to suppress a smile as she knew it was Paul.

Walking to the door, it slid open to reveal the young na-Duke but she could see something was troubling his mind a bit as she greeted him in.

"Something troubling you, Paul?"

Paul looked at her as they sat on the small sofa that was in the room.

"Your way of believing is so simple yet so understandable", Paul breathed, "my mother was supposed to birth a girl, it's how it's been for eons with the Bene Gesserit."

"Why?" she frowned.

"I think... it's so they could eventually get their Kwisatz Haderach", Paul voiced, Y/N frowned. "It's their Messiah, a male heir that possesses the abilities of the Bene Gesserit."

"And you think it's you?"

"I hope it's not me."

She remembered Paul's earlier explanations of the abilities of the Bene Gesserit sisters and their use of something he called 'the Voice', which reminded her of the way the Force could be used to manipulate weak minds.

Paul was quiet for a moment before he scooted closer to her and she felt her breath get caught a bit in her throat as she stared at him.

"I have these... visions", Paul said, staring into her eyes. "I dream of things that I'm never too sure of and for months, I dreamed of a girl... I dreamed of you."

Y/N felt heat rushing through her as the sound of the hologram documentary rang quietly in the room.

"And ever since you've arrived, it's felt like I've been living a dream... a dream that I never want to wake up from."

And before she knew it, she felt Paul's lips against hers in a soft, gentle kiss and her heart raced as she felt a surge of electricity go through her...

So many thoughts were running through her mind in that quick moment and maybe it was the instant connection she had felt towards Paul, maybe it was some odd corruption from the Sith side of the Force that made her entangle her fingers through his dark, curly hair and push her body against his lithe frame.

But all she knew at the moment was that Paul felt like home.

TAGLIST

@cloudlst

@khlaeesihavilliard

@colors-for-the-world-please

@senhoritaapple

@dark1paradise

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Oasis｡⋆.

Stilgar x plus size reader

When the sand is still and the sun has set, you reflect on what has become of your life but there is someone unexpected who wishes to show you how valued you truly are

Warnings: some Dune 2 spoilers but nothing too major, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, fluff, love confessions, hope , mentions of death and pregnancy

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You doubted that you would ever get used to the harshness of Arrakis. The heat and the perpetual dryness were a constant reminder about how far from home you really were but your duty was not to your own comfort, it was to your Lady Jessica. You followed her from the drowned planet of Caladin all the way here, protecting her and her son, as well as the unborn child within her. 

The Fremen looked down on you, even after Jessica was named Reverend Mother and Paul became Muad'Dib, you were still the outsider, the one whose eyes had yet to be stained by the Spice. You got used to eating, sleeping and walking alone, the sand beneath your feet becoming the only thing you could count on. You trailed behind everyone else, they called you a waste of water and there were times that you couldn’t help but agree. You could not fight, nor harvest Spice, you were raised and trained to be a lady’s maid, destined to spend your days in the shadows observing the world around you as life passed you by.

You often wondered why Stilgar had fought so hard for you to stay with the Fremen when you had nothing to offer them. Even Lady Jessica couldn’t find a use for you anymore. 

The moonlight cast a blue glow over the mountainous sand dunes and you could almost imagine that they were the ocean waves of your home planet. The camp was quiet, everyone having retired for the night an hour before yet you remained awake, deep in thought. No one would know you had gone until the morning, the wind would wash away your foot prints. You would give your water to the desert.

Just as you rose to your feet, a strong hand clamped down onto your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Why are you not resting Suhl?” Stilgar’s voice was quiet but it still held such power over you. You turned slowly in his hold to face him, yet he did not release your shoulder. His blue eyes shone like gems in the moonlight, making your heart jump and flutter. 

“Forgive me for worrying you, I found that I couldn’t sleep.” You bowed your head. Stilgar tutted softly and hooked a finger beneath your chin, guiding your eyes back to his. His thick brows were pinched in confusion though his expression remained soft, far softer than you had seen him look at anyone else. He seemed doubtful of your excuse.

“How many times have I told you to come find me if you need something?” Your cheeks blazed with the heat of shame. Stilgar was a generous man, especially with those he cared for and inexplicably, he was almost too giving when it came to you. He gave you extra water when you had consumed yours too quickly, he showed you how to sand walk when your fear of the sand worms had mounted, he had even shared his tent with you on so many occasions that you had lost track of the number. 

His hand shifted to your soft cheek, his calloused palm from a lifetime of fighting a stark reminder that you were not made for this life, this planet. “I can see that is not all that worries you Suhl. Tell me what troubles are clouding your mind.” You attempted to swallow down the thick lump trapped in your throat but when the older Fremen let his free hand wander to your lower back, his thumb gently rubbing the base of your spine, you choked on the tears you had not allowed yourself to shed.

“It is nothing.” You tried to deny and tug yourself away from the man that had been caring for you. Your eyes burned as he held you closer, a show of affection that you had never received before. He clicked his tongue at you, as if he were scolding a child.

“Suhl.” He cooed, dipping down to press his forehead to your own, the tips of your noses brushing together. You could no longer hold back.

The first tear that rolled down your full cheek shocked you both. It was quickly followed by another and another and another until they dripped down your chin and onto the loose white shirt Stilgar wore at night. You hiccuped and slumped into his strong chest. You clutched at his waist as you continued to sob but the Fremen, despite his constant insistence that absolutely no water could be wasted, gently rocked you back and forth, whispering comforting words into your hair, even if you couldn’t understand them.

“I shouldn’t be here. I should have been killed with the others when the Harkonnens. I am of no use to anyone and everyone knows it.” You pretend not to notice the way his muscles seize and he goes stiff in your arms, you wished to bask in his affections for as long as you could, before he too realised the truth.

His thumb ceased its movement and he slowly pried his chest away from yours. “Is that what you truly believe?” Your lack of an answer told him everything he needed to know.

He pulled you back into him, his thick arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders like he were fearful that you would suddenly dart away from him and into the desert where he could not follow you. Your eyes screwed shut as you curled into him. More tears stained his shirt but he did not flinch away from you.

“Do not waste your water on those who would not drink from you. You are better off crying for the dead.” A light breeze washed over the both of you, kicking up the sand around your feet. “You are not like us Suhl, you are soft where we are ruthless. It is true that you are not meant for this life but I would not have you take that light away from this world, not when I can keep you safe until this world is kind enough to let you bloom.” 

“Why?”

His chuckle made your head bounce against his sternum. “I thought it obvious. You are my Suhl.” A hand came up to lovingly cup the back of your head, urging you to look him in the eyes. “Suhl means peace. And that is what you are: my peace. And one day, when the sands have disappeared beneath a sea of green and Dune is free once more, I hope that I shall be yours too.”

You can’t help but smile which in turn makes Stilgar beam, the blue of his eyes shimmering with what you now realised was love. “Thank you Suhl.” Your pronunciation was clumsy and most certainly needed some practice but still, he squeezed the base of your skull and dipped down, pressing his lips to yours.

The sun would rise soon and you would be forced back into the real world and all its dangers, but for now, you basked in the moonlight, safe in his arms. Perhaps Arrakis held more than just pain.

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[bendycxmet]

Lay It To Rest—Vash the Stampede

Summary: Vash finally can sleep with the help of your presence.

Word Count: ~1k

Pairing: gn!reader x Vash the Stampede

Content: pure fluff

a/n: brain shut off for a hot minute, so this lil vash piece is baiting the writing side of my head to come back. do i like this? idk but i need this taken off my hands

Out in the dunes and dunes of gritty sand and underneath a pitch black sky dotted with constellations of stars the humans of Gunsmoke have yet to name, lies Vash with his head resting on his knapsack. The quiet night intermittently interrupted by the rustling of blowing sand lulls Vash into an introspective state of mind. He hasn’t been able to fully appreciate nights like these for years, decades even, as his body was acclimated to being tense and wary of any sign of trouble 24/7. What has changed this, however, was your graceful appearance in his life. 

A stranger turned immediate partner. The heavy, anxious beating of his heart quelled by the sight of you and your lovely eyes meeting his for the first time. He knew in that moment that he had to know you, even if it were just your name, he knew that even that little bit of knowledge about you he would carry with him for the rest of his days. The week he spent in your little town, laying low to escape the bounty hunters that chased him from the next town over, he would frequent the bar you worked in, getting tipsy each night just to have that liquid courage to get to know you and make you laugh at his slurred jokes. Those cheery nights soon had to end, when the bounty hunters finally caught a whiff of him. Thinking with his heart more than his mind, he ran to your bar to say his goodbyes, but was astonished when you pleaded with him to allow you to accompany him. He could never say no to you. 

He blinks himself to the present, feeling your body settle next to him, leaning more into his shoulder than the sack. 

“My turn for watch. You seem tired,” you say, thumbing at his heavy eye bags. “Try to catch some sleep. Don’t worry. I can handle this.” His droopy eyelids do nothing to mask the love and appreciation in the blues of his eyes, if anything they enhance it. He closes his eyes and heaves a sigh, expelling the adrenaline and tension from his body. He settles his head into your lap, slowing his breathing. “How did I ever get so lucky to meet such a wonderful guardian angel?”

You run your fingers gently through his hair, peering out at the miles of sand. You usually used this time to think of the next day’s agenda, mapping out a mental route you two could take once the sun peeked over the horizon. You tried not to move too often, as any slight movement from you had Vash awakening to check on you, the light sleeper he was. 

You tense.

A slight growling freezes your body. You incline your head. It comes again, only this time louder and closer. Your mind races, thinking a bandit’s car is coming your way or a Worm has sensed the two of you out, weaving through the dunes to come swallow you whole. 

You’re about to tap Vash awake when a loud snore cuts through your panic. You flinch, glancing down at his form, expecting him to jostle awake. Only. He doesn’t. You marvel at his sagging form for a minute. Never has Vash looked so comfortable, so asleep in the time you have been with him.

You joked with him before that he reminded you of a hummingbird, heartbeat always racing, speedy and agile in his movements, quick to dodge any danger with a simple flap of his wings, disappearing into the wind as if he had never been there. He had only rolled his eyes, with a blush settled high on his cheeks. 

You peer back down at him, his mouth wide open, snores now pouring out, and even a bit of a drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, trailing down to touch your pant leg. You crinkle your nose slightly at that but laugh more at how cute he is this way. Completely relaxed for once. You’ll definitely tease him in the morning about it. For now, you let the hummingbird he is finally rest his wings.

-

“Morning sunshine.” you poke at his cheek and pinch his nose. He lazily swats at your hand, turning more into your stomach now, hiding from the light shining on his face. 

“Didn’t know you snored. Also, my leg is wet from your drool.” You hear a scoff coming from your midsection.

“Mm, I do not snore. Yer makin things up.”

“Well, last night you did. Looked real comfy actually. You twitch alot too. Seemed like a good dream you were having though, from how your hands got all grabby. See donuts in that dream of yours?” he pulls back from you with a crease in his brows. Had he really been snoring? 

Every night when he slept, he was always stuck in that miserable halfway point of half awake and half asleep, ready to run. Your teasing, however, gives him deja vu. The last time he remembers waking up to teasing about the drool on his face was back on the ship, Luida and Brad chuckling at his messy hair and drowsy expression in the mornings. He laughs, relieved at his discovery. 

“Well I trust you,” is all he says. You tilt your head at that.

When did he get so comfortable with you? When did he become so trusting that you could handle looking out for the both of you? He always told himself that he would be the first to notice when something is awry before it could reach you, but last night proved that wrong. For the first time, he was able to drop his guard, and sleep well.

You see the racing thoughts flash on his face, warring with something in his head. Grabbing his flesh hand in your own, you trace light circles over his scars.

“Don’t think too much into it. It’s quite simple. We’re in this together now, so of course we trust each other.” He smiles at your reassurance, thanking you. He yawns then, leaning his head back on your shoulder but looking up at you, memorizing the way the sunlight dances on your face, illuminating every feature that he loves. 

“Good morning, my guardian angel.”

masterlist | divider

[whirlwindimagines]

hello! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is upset and crying (i wanted to originally ask if it could be a panic attack but i wasnt sure if you were comfortable with that) and vash is at a lost of how to help them so he just presses his forehead agaisnt theirs just like he does when he's helping plants and to his surprise it works?

The way I gasped when I read this I love this so much! I used to have panic attacks lol I don’t mind writing mild ones. Also sorry I haven't been posting much ;p; I've been slowly getting ready for my trip, and work has been something! I'll try to crank more out lol

‘I don't have much to say’

Vash x Reader

You're thankful to have some time to yourself, being in a cramped car with so many other people, good be suffocating, not that you didn’t mind the company for the most part…it was just a lot.

So, when Meryl said she was tired of driving and wanted to camp out for the night, you were the first to agree! Once camp had been set up, you can feel that overwhelming feeling. Not wanting to be a bother you mention you’re going for a quick walk, and that you won’t wander far.

Choosing to ignore the concerned look Vash gives you, instead leaving to head out into the dunes. Making sure to keep the camp at least in someone what sight, you managed to find a boulder heading to the other side for some privacy you sit in the sand.

Trying to count your breaths in and out, digging your hands in the sand to ground yourself, doing everything possible to not let your thoughts race. It’s hard to even know what set this off, it’s pathetic. With that thought you know your crying, placing your hands over your mouth to muffle the sobbing. 

Not knowing how long you’ve been sitting out, your startled when a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder, breath hitching and looking up in surprise you’ve come face to face with Vash. He is on his knees beside you, a look of such concern in his eyes your mind registers his lips moving, but your ears are ringing so loud, feeling humiliated that he’s found you in such a weak state. 

The thought makes you sob more, wrapping your arms around yourself to appear smaller, Vash’s eyes widen as he looks up you, unsure how to help, but wanting too so desperately. Your clearly in pain, and he doesn’t have a clue on what to do to help.

But Vash needs to help, it’s his nature so with a thought he reaches for you with gentle hands, cupping your face with one warm and one cool hand he touches his forehead to yours in such a gentle way you nearly forget how to breathe. His eyes are closed while yours are wide open.

“It’s okay I’m here” Vash says it’s so quietly you nearly miss it, having to steady your breaths, but the feeling of his hands on your face and him being so close is just so comforting that you close your eyes breathing in his scent. You don't know how long the two of you continue to sit there simply existing with each other. 

It helps, more than you could ever imagine, pressing closer to Vash as you close your eyes. “Thank you.” You feel as if those words aren't enough, that you’ll never be able to describe the pure gratitude you have towards Vash at this moment. You feel Vash’s rub his thumbs over the top of your cheeks, the motion is smoothing and continues to help ground you.

“You don't need to thank me…whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” your breath hitches at his words, feeling his breath ghost over your lips, opening your eyes just to take a peek at his face, your surprises that his are now open and he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression, his blue eyes so kind. 

Your eyes soften looking at him, he pulls back a bit to place a kiss on your forehead before pulling you completely into his arms. You know all your problems aren’t solved, and you have your worries and anxieties, but you let yourself enjoy this moment here with Vash.

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Watchdog 

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: Mando had him by his neck, squeezing hard enough for the man to lose his breath and scratch Mando’s hands out of distress. Mando never faltered, even when the male scratched his nails into the leather of his gloves. The male whined and screeched for air, whispering “please, I’m sorry, please,” but Mando just...held him there. Staring into his eyes, squeezing his throat so tight his hand nearly became a fist. 

Your stomach sank and your brain went blank. You were so frozen your voice had completely escaped you. You could only watch. 

Finally, Mando said huskily, “That is enough.”

Warnings: Din gets a bit ✨violent✨, reader gets harassed, terribly written sexism, references to past sexual harassment, descriptions of bruises, swearing, reader self-deprecates and is scared of love (relatable much?)

A/N: Happy final days of Dincember everyone, especially to those that updated nearly every day for every prompt (@dindjarindiaries I’m looking at you you’re incredible). I cannot wait for new content in the new year. I love you all <3

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(GIF from Pinterest)

The last thing you needed from your partner—or whatever the hell he was to you—was the image of him nearly snapping a bounty’s neck.

What made it worse was that it was out of defense. For you.

You, of all people. A woman who had killed and tortured and maimed for a few lousy credits. You had killed in front of him, so many times you couldn’t keep count, and you barely felt remorse. You even went as far as to gloat.

You were a bounty hunter with a heart long-since hardened; at least, until you had teamed up with him. The infamous Mandalorian, wrapped in a reputation more ominous and intimidating than the impenetrable beskar he donned, yet the kindest being you had ever known.

The two of you didn’t talk much—if ever—but he still found a way to read you like a book. If you were squirmy, he offered you food. If you were achy, he offered you a quick stop at a hot spring. If you were anxious, he would press you gently with his words, curious as to what was bothering you. It was these little things, these seemingly insignificant actions, that made you begin to…care about him.

The worst, however, was when, once in a blue moon, you were filled with emotion so harsh that you revealed it in your body language. You had learned the hard way that emotion was weakness in your line of work, so you never showed it in front of him, but sometimes the heat of it burned you so badly it was impossible not to show it.

This was when the Mandalorian tended to lash out on whatever had caused you such pain or remorse. He would get…angry. Vengeful. These moments were so rare you would latch onto them, clutching them to your chest and using them to drift you off into sleep; however, in the moment, you would lash out as well. Usually at him. Pushing his…thoughtfulness away like it was a ticking time bomb.

The longer you remained partners, the worse he would lash out, and it all came to a head because of a fucking Twi’lek.

                                                           ~*~

Mando dragged the creature across the sand dunes of Tatooine, grunting and panting in the hot sun. You tried to get him to let you drag the male for at least half the walk, but he refused. It wasn’t like you were complaining. His infrequent grunts gave you a new set of audios for your mental soundbox. You were already eager to press the keys later that night as sleep carried you away. 

It was then that the dark green male remembered he had a voice box.

“Well would you look at that,” the male breathed, likely still aching from the blow you had politely bestowed upon his rib cage, “the only thing strong enough to drag me across the sandy hills of Tatooine is a man. Figures.”

You let it roll off you but could not help but let out a scoff. He sounded ridiculous, like a droid reading off of an old stormtrooper-recruitment brochure. 

“You find that funny, lass?” the male asked, turning to look at you while still being dragged. “I agree. Truth always seems to reveal itself even in the most subtle of ways.”

You didn’t laugh at that. You just kept one foot in front of the other. He was trying to piss you off on purpose, likely a last-ditch effort to regain his dignity. You were used to it; hell, you enjoyed it. It was bounties’ last grabs to their decency that always seemed to give you the most pleasure. 

The Crest finally came into sight, and if you didn’t know better, you would say that both you and Mando picked up your speed simultaneously, desperation for home present in both of your strides. He lowered the entrance ramp and you exhaled in relief, basking in the scent and feel of the one place in the galaxy you felt comfortable enough to take your shoes off. You started your march up the metal with Mando still hauling the man behind you. Of course, it was then that the bounty decided to perk up again. 

“Make that sound again,” the man said breathily. “I’ll say please if I have to. Plus, it sounds better from this view.”

Your jaw immediately clenched and blood flowed to your cheeks from embarrassment. It was one thing to be demeaned and lessened, but it was another to be viewed as a piece of meat. 

Despite it all, you took a deep breath, and carried on.

You set your belt and knives on their reserved spot in the cockpit, as well as your jacket and buff. You then made your way down the ladder to the bicarbonate chambers, or as you liked to call it, the trophy room. Mando had had a good scoff at that name once or twice.

Mando already had the bounty leaning his back against the metal wall next to his frozen fate as he prepared the chamber, and you took the opportunity to give the male a small smirk of victory. You wanted him to give you the best he had and, as expected, he began to overcompensate. 

“You really are much prettier when you smile,” the man said, looking up at Mando. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Mando ignored him, facing forward and keeping his focus on preparing the bower, but you noticed the tips of the fingers of his left-hand inch that much closer to his gun holster. Your heart quickened. You didn’t know why. 

“I bet you smile nice and pretty for this big guy,” the Twi’lek said with a laugh. “I bet he’s seen your smile in this very room, on this very floor. Describe to me, Mando, in my final moments of consciousness, just how hard she grips you and screams for you when you get a taste of that perfect—”

You felt yourself flinch at his words, cursing yourself internally, but you didn’t hear the rest over the sound of his skull smashing against the tank door. 

Mando had him by his neck, squeezing hard enough for the man to lose his breath and scratch Mando’s hands out of distress. Mando never faltered, even when the male scratched his nails into the leather of his gloves. The male whined and screeched for air, whispering “please, I’m sorry, please,” but Mando just...held him there. Staring into his eyes, squeezing his throat so tight his hand nearly became a fist. 

Your stomach sank and your brain went blank. You were so frozen your voice had completely escaped you. You could only watch. 

Finally, Mando said huskily, “That is enough.”

The male in his palm nodded profusely, still climbing for air, and Mando lowered him torturously slow to the floor as he said, “If you speak about her again, you will not leave this ship with your life, and I will make it agonizing. Understood?”

The Twi’lek was inches away from losing consciousness, making it nearly impossible for him to reply, but Mando knew it was only nearly. He slammed his skull against the tank again, repeating, “Understood?”

The male nodded once and Mando dropped his body to the floor. His green body convulsed as he coughed and sucked in his breaths, but you weren’t watching him. You were staring at your Mandalorian, mouth agape, and stomach coiling with feelings you had obviously not pushed down deep enough. Mando calmly opened the tank and picked up the male on the floor, still gasping and clutching his throat in pain, and practically threw him in the bicarbonate. His body froze over immediately with his hand still pressed against his already bruising throat. 

Mando stared at the frozen body, and you stared at him. As you let your mind process what just happened, a wave of anger began to rise in your body. He had defended you before, but never like that, and something about it finally struck down the wall around your feelings for him. You had no other way to cope with that vulnerability than anger. A volcanic fire of rage enveloped you at your own stupidity and weakness when it came to the warrior in front of you, and who better to take it out on than the man himself.

So, you spun him around and slammed him against the tank, hard enough for him to exhale a huff. His hands went up in the air, refusing to go anywhere near you, and his chest heaved against your own. Your foreheads were practically touching as you hissed at him. 

“How many times have I told you,” you whispered menacingly, “I don’t need a fucking watchdog.”

Mando replied quickly, quicker than he had ever before and in a tone laced with anger similar to your own. “Do you think I can fucking help it?”

You stared at him, feeling the murder in your face beginning to soften.

“Do you think I don’t try to stop myself Y/N? Have you not realized that I cannot stop it. I cannot fucking stop it.” Your body remained pressed to his but your grip on him softened enough for him to drop his hands lower and lower. He practically dropped his forehead against yours in defeat as he whispered, “I don’t know why, but I just can’t stop myself. Not when it comes to you.”

He was a ruthless bounty hunter, but a terrible liar.

You remained pressed together for a few more moments, breathing hard, waiting for the other to move first. Mando’s hands made it down to his sides, clenched so tense the leather squeaked, before the tiniest brush of his right hand gazed against your hip. 

“Not when it comes to you,” he whispered, and slipped out from under your grip.

You didn’t watch him climb the ladder: you didn’t notice him look back for you, waiting for you to follow; you didn’t hear his sigh before he made it to the top of his climb; you didn’t register the ship rocking into hyperspace. 

All you could feel was that brush of his leather against your hip, so tender, so...loving. Your body was unable to move and your mind was unable to work. All they could latch onto was the feeling of that adoring touch...

...and how much you fucking loved it. 

Tag list:

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@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatte

@miss-goldenweek

[marigold-hills]

Oh I am so jumping in here.

Can you give us a dreamy summer wolfstar first kiss/get together, but put it in YOUR nostalgic summer. Like whatever that means for you. Where are they? What are they eating/drinking? What is the air like? The lighting? The smells and sounds?

I humbly bow before your altar take my compliments on your prose and pacing and metaphors as my offering 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Hey! Loved this ask. It completely run away from me. Hope you enjoy it! (Also you said altar and offering and well. Those words clearly stayed with me.)

It’s wine and bread, a fancy cheese selection from Tesco’s. A little plastic pot of olives. No blanket, because they’re not tourists and don’t mind a bit of sand as seasoning.

The storm is coming in.

They can see it, across the vastness of water, darkening the horizon and stretching through the sky like spilled ink.

Recreating exactly how it was the first time, years ago:

Remus had said there’s a storm tonight. We should go and watch it.

On the beach? Sirius had asked, a bit bewildered. The wind was already picking up, and the logistics of sitting out in the open during a downpour didn’t enamour him.

Remus, undeterred, prepared a backpack. I know a place, he said, we’ll be hidden from the rain. Trust me?

And Sirius did: with his life, with his time. Followed him off the main promenade and across the dunes until they reached a hidden spot of sand: a bay, of sorts, with a railway bridge backed into the cliff side. The arches of its support beams only faced open towards the water, secluded otherwise by brick and clay.

“Used to come here with da, when I was a kid,” Remus told him: “there are fossils in the clay if you know where to look. Come out after heavy rain best, maybe we’ll find something tomorrow.”

They set up under one of the arches. Remus built a stone circle at the mouth of it, stacked it with sticks and driftwood he’d collected on their way. Set a crumpled wad of receipts from his pocket on fire and used it as kindling.

“Impressing me with your caveman skills here, Moony.” Sirius had known, of course, that wild streak within Remus, seen it shine through sometimes when he let his guard down, but this was something new. Large hands stoking the flame as it slowly engulfed the given wood, eyes alight with its reflection. Sirius felt a pull at his navel like a fishhook: handle me like this, the pull said.

He’d made a mistake, maybe, following Moony back to his parents’ house for the summer after their graduation. A miscalculation of how much he could stand watching him, in the summer heat, with sea breeze curling his hair.

Red wine, a couple paper cups. Sirius didn’t like it then yet: not like he pretended to, and it was a cheap bottle from the middle shelf. The aftertaste was sharp, it stayed on his tongue and the insides of his cheeks - dry, clinging.

Cheeses Remus had cut into cubes. Pungent Stilton with dark blue veins, Brie, white skin coating the creamy interior, fruity Wensleydale filled with cranberries.

They sat side by side by the fire as the storm hit. The rain a heavy curtain in front of them, the wind making their fire dance erratically. Sirius had never seen it like this, surprised by the intensity of the smell of salt in the air. Despite the cover, a thin mist of spray hit his face when the wind blew just right.

Remus had made him a canapé of sorts, spread a chutney on a finger-torn piece of sourdough and topped it with the Stilton. He ate it in one bite. Asked for another, just like it, the taste round and warming, somehow.

“It’s the chutney,” Remus said. “There’s chilli in it. Try an olive.”

A new thing, this, being presented with food like offerings. Remus watched each bite Sirius took with an intent, as if they were eating something rare and costly. Like this, with the storm above them and the fire in Moony’s eyes, Sirius felt each mouth full was something precious, something to be cherished. A worship, and he wasn’t sure if he was the god being praised or the offering on the altar.

They’d almost finished the bottle when Remus asked want to swim? With such wonderful abandon that Sirius didn’t even hesitate. Yes, he said, and they took off their trousers and shirts and walked hand in hand into the water.

The first crack of thunder rang out when they were knee deep. Remus laughed, free and loud like a curlew, head thrown back into the falling rain. The sky turned white with the lightning and Sirius thought it’s you, that needs to be worshipped.

Moments like this, though, something Sirius didn’t know: it’s too easy, for thoughts to be said aloud.

Remus turned to him like a trap closing. “Is that right?”

“You look like a god of the sea.”

(Another break of thunder, a wave sweeping into them, rough with the storm but soft like a touch.)

Remus took his hand, pulled him further into the water. There were raindrops caught in his eyelashes, and Sirius realised I’m close enough to touch them. He did, shaky fingers, as lighting lit them up. The water made Remus’ curls heavy and darker, sat on his skin in a fine sheen. “I want to lay you out onto the sand,” Sirius thought-said, “trace the path of every raindrop.”

“You’ll be at it for hours.”

“As long as you’ll let me.”

The first time they kissed, Remus tasted like salt.

NOTES:

I feel compelled to point out: everyone. Please don’t drink and swim! Don’t swim in the storm! Especially not in the sea.

I don’t know how I didn’t realise before you’re the person who wrote The Homecoming of Sirius Black??? I LOVED it. Honestly the fact that you enjoy my writing feels like such a massive compliment.

[uollop]

Pearlescent (Mer!Vash x Reader pt. 1)

Content: Mermaid Vash, GN! Reader, oceans (ofc), deep water, lifeguard reader, reader is ticklish

Word count: 2.3k

Notes: Happy MerMay! Mermaid AU won the poll pretty easily, so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it :))

Next Part

Vash had always been curious about humans, but his brother has always attempted to dissuade him from investigating them "for his own safety".

Knives would tell him stories about humans and the cruel things that they would do, but the tales didn't do much to satiate Vash's curiosity.

He would people-watch often, lurking in water that was likely too close to the shore for Knives' liking, simply watching the humans swim and talk and play. Watching them walk around on the beach had him wondering what it would feel like to walk with them. What the sand would feel like as he moved across the warm dunes.

He knew it was impossible, though. His tail prevented him from being able to enjoy nearly all of the activities that he was desiring to join in on.

It was getting late today, most of the humans had already left the water because of the chill in the air settling into the sea. Only a few remained on the sand, packing up their belongings to leave. He continued to watch, wondering where they went when they weren't at the beach. He was watching so intently that he didn't realize someone paddling over to him on a surfboard.

"Do you need help getting to the shore? It's getting cold, if you stay in the water any longer you'll get sick." When you spoke, you nearly scared the poor fish right out of his scales. Most humans ignored him during the day, but it seems he outstayed his welcome.

He recognized you. You were always sitting up high above the others, watching them during the day and occasionally blowing some kind of mechanism at them if they misbehaved. You were obviously some kind of an important person, seeing as they listened to you and that you were seated higher than the rest of them. Were you one of those royals that he had heard about in Nai's stories? He had been told about how cruel the Kings and Queens of the humans could be, but you seemed to hold a kindness behind your eyes that calmed his worries a bit.

"You've been in the water nearly all day," you laugh nervously at the lack of a response as you hold your hand out for him, "aren't you tired?"

He slowly blinked at you, a bit confused, before shaking his head, lowering himself deeper into the water so that it was only his blue eyes poking out. You watched him with curiosity before he suddenly dove under the water, splashing you a bit with the cold water as he swam away. Your eyes widened as he disappeared, cursing to yourself as you stared into the dark water. You waited a bit for him to come back up before you started to grow worried.

You slowly climbed off your board, allowing yourself to sink into the freezing water, goosebumps popping up across your skin as you tried to look into the water without fully submerging yourself. You couldn't even make out his shape anymore. You started to worry more, dipping your head under the water and opening your eyes, looking around. The salt of the water burned your eyes as you swam deeper, looking around for the blond.

It was so dark in the water that you could barely see anything that wasn't directly in front of you, but you managed to make out a silhouette deeper in the water. You swam towards it, reaching a hand towards the shadow before it swam further away. You narrowed your eyes and continued to swim after it, sure that it was the strange man that had been sitting in the ocean all day, watching people on the beach.

You had noticed him a few weeks ago. He came nearly every day, but you never saw him get into the water. He would always mysteriously appear in the part of the water that was too deep for most humans to swim comfortably, but he never seemed to mind. You were curious about him and, when you noticed he was the only one still in the water despite the bite in the air, you decided to go check on him.

His silence at your offer to help him towards the beach had concerned you a bit and, now, your concern got worse. You were starting to run out of air, but the shadow kept going deeper. As much as you wanted to keep following him, the stinging feeling in your lungs was enough to convince you to swim back towards the surface.

When you broke, you gasped, allowing air to fill your aching lungs as you coughed and rubbed your sore eyes. You were a trained lifeguard and he had been able to stay under much longer than you. You looked around the surface of the water, trying to see if he had surfaced while you were swimming back up, but you couldn't see him anywhere.

Panic continued to settle on your skin at the eerily quiet scene. The only movement in the water appeared to be your own as you frantically scanned the sea. You took a deep breath before dunking your head back under the water, almost screaming when you opened your eyes and you're met with bright blue eyes inches away from your face. You narrow your eyes at him and reach out to grab his arm before you realize something was off.

The first thing you see are the scars littered across his body. It was difficult to find a patch of skin that wasn't darkened by a slash or a stitch. There was also a concerning absence of a left arm, a short nub replacing where it should be.

You continue to glance down and notice something slightly more worrying. Instead of legs, he had a long... fish tail? You couldn't make it out well due to the pitch darkness that surrounded you both, but you were certain that you knew what legs looked like, and that thing definitely was not a pair of legs.

You reached out and grabbed his arm gently before allowing yourself to pop above the surface again, gasping for air and pulling him towards your surfboard. You released his arm once he surfaced, his scarred hand placing itself onto your surfboard. You reached towards the board and pulled yourself onto it, shuddering at the feeling of the cold air before looking back at him.

"You..." you trailed off as you stared at him, unsure if what you saw was real, "you aren't human, are you?"

He continues to stare at you, unspeaking before making a quiet chirping noise. You continue to stare at him in awe before shaking your head.

"Ok, um. I guess you're okay to stay in the water then... My shift is almost over, so I, uh..." You looked at him again before moving into a position that would allow you to paddle away easily. "I hope you have a good night. I assume you'll be here again tomorrow?" You ask cautiously before he nods and gives you a wide smile, showing off rows and rows of pointy teeth. It was almost cute. Mostly scary, but almost cute.

You slowly started to make your way back to the shore, occasionally glancing back at him. Every time you checked, it seemed like he wasn't getting any further away. Maybe he was even getting closer. Was he following you? You kept paddling, unsure if you were imagining things until you eventually made it to the shore and pulled your board out of the water. You turned towards him and see that he had pulled himself onto a nearby rock, his eyes still watching you.

Your eyes flicker down towards where his legs should be, your breath hitching as you get a better view of his tail. A long fish tail, covered in red and turquoise scales shimmered in the moonlight. You definitely hadn't seen it wrong; he was a merman.

You silently stare at his tail for a few more moments before you hear another chirping noise. You look up and see him patting the spot next to him on the flat rock. It takes you a moment to realize he wants you to sit with him, a patient look on his face as he taps his hand against the rock again.

You walk up to him and sit on the rock with him, a happy sounding noise coming from him as he immediately grabs your leg, causing you to yelp in surprise as your back hits the cold surface of the rock.

He examines your leg, a curious and excited look on his face as he squeezes your skin, stretching your leg out for a moment and then bending it at your knee, an amused chirp coming from him as he continues to move your leg back and forth.

You're confused at first before you realize that he doesn't have legs and that he probably isn't used to seeing them this close. You let him continue, until his hand brushes the underside of your foot, causing you to jolt and let out a stifled laugh.

He notices your reaction and repeats his movement, a large smile on his face. You laugh again, attempting to pull your leg away from him, but his grip is strong. He continues to touch along different parts of your leg and foot, smiling to himself.

Eventually he releases your leg and, for a moment, you thought it was over, until he suddenly grabbed your other leg, lifting it was well and playing with it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It was as if he hadn't just played with a nearly identical one, but you allowed him to examine your leg for as long as he would like. He doesn't mess with this one for as long, his curiosity satisfied as he places his hand on his lap, looking at you for another moment before giving you a gentle wave.

You wave back at him, unsure of what to say or do at this point. He seemed friendly, despite his sharp teeth. You stared at him for another moment before he made another high-pitched noise, sliding himself off the rock and smiling at you before diving under the water.

You waited a moment or two, unsure if he was coming back or not, until his head popped back up from the water. He swam towards the rock and held out his fist towards you. You looked at his hand for a moment before slowly placing your own hand underneath it, allowing him to empty the contents of his hand into your palm.

You looked into your hand curiously, the moonlight reflecting against a bunch of colorful pieces of sea glass. You slowly reached for a blue one, holding it towards the sky and allowing the light to shine onto it. You lowered your hand and smiled at him, "this is very nice. Thank you."

He lets out a satisfied noise before diving back under the water. You watch him disappear and, this time, he is gone for a longer period of time. When he does return, though, he is holding a soaking cloth bag in his hand.

He places the bag in your lap, looking at you expectantly. You set down the handful of sea glass that you had been holding next to you on the rock before pulling open the cloth bag, your eyes widening.

The bag was full of many things. More sea glass, sand dollars, shells, and a few pearls. You stare in awe for a moment before you give him a happy smile.

"This is beautiful, you seem to have been collecting for a long time," you say as you hand the bag back to him. His grin turns into a frown when you hold the bag out to him. He reaches up and pushes the bag back into your lap, chirping again. You stare at him in confusion for a moment before shaking your head with a laugh.

"I can't possibly keep all of this," You lift the bag up again, ready to hand it back to him before he lets out a low growl. Your face turns from a happy one to one of shock. He places his hand on the bag again and pushes it into your lap one more time. You blink a few times as you look from the bag to him, unsure of what to do before you shrug, "Ok, ok... I'll keep it."

He lets out a noise of pride and reaches into the bag, pulling out one of the pearls and holding it up to the moonlight. The small pearl shimmered gently against the light, its blue color was similar to the color of the merman's eyes. He looks up at you as if waiting for your reaction, so you give him a nod.

"That's very cool." You say as you admire the pearl. His smile grows as he moves closer to you, placing the pearl in your palm. He makes another chirping noise before closing your hand around the small treasure. You watch him carefully before giving him another smile. He looks up at you, his cheeks dusting a pink color. He stares at you for a moment before you hear a distant chirping sound. The merman in front of you blinks in surprise, looking at you for one more beat before waving and diving into the depths of the sea.

You waited for a while, unsure if he would be coming back. After ten or so minutes of waiting, you determined that he likely wasn't going to be returning. You stand up, gathering the items he had given you and walking towards your lifeguard tower. You glance down at your hand, admiring the pearl he had given you. You placed in it your pocket before taking the rest of your stuff and heading towards the path away from the beach, looking back at the sea one more time before smiling to yourself.

You hoped to see him again tomorrow.

Masterlist | Ao3

[ledder4]

keegan p.russ after a mission fun

Sergeant Keegan P. Russ woke to the metallic clang of boots on the cold, hard ground. He had become accustomed to the harsh pattern of a military camp, but today the sounds seemed sharper, more piercing. He sat up, his eyes immediately drawn to the frigid dawn light that crept through the mesh window of the tent. He knew the drill, the same as every day before it. But today felt different.

Keegan had always been the quiet one, the man who preferred the solitude of his thoughts and the company of his sniper rifle. He had left the bustling city life behind for the stark, unforgiving world of the U.S. Marine Corps, trading skyscrapers for sand dunes and urban sprawl for camouflage netting. His past was a blur of faces and places, a montage of moments that had led him here. To the Ghosts.

He stretched, his muscles aching from the constant state of readiness. His tent was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where he could find a semblance of peace amidst the chaos. The canvas walls whispered secrets of the night's operations, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and sweat. Keegan reached for his glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose, the world coming into focus.

Outside, the camp buzzed with activity. Soldiers hustled to their positions, the air charged with anticipation. Keegan knew the routine; he had lived it a hundred times. But today, as he laced up his boots and checked his rifle, there was an unmistakable tension in the air. A mission was coming, and it wasn't just any mission. This one had the stench of urgency, the kind that could change everything. He felt it in his bones, a deep, unsettling rumble that echoed through the very earth beneath them.

Keegan stepped out into the early morning light, his eyes adjusting to the stark contrast of shadows and light. The camp was a maze of tents and equipment, a temporary bastion of order in the ever-shifting sands. He took a deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs, and began his solitary walk to the briefing room. The quietude of the pre-dawn hours was shattered by the distant rumble of an engine, growing louder, closer.

A figure emerged from the dust cloud, a lone figure on a dirt bike, skidding to a halt outside the tent flaps. The rider, a young woman with a curtain of blonde hair and piercings glinting in the light, flipped up her goggles to reveal a set of piercing blue eyes. Keegan felt something stir within him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. She looked at him with a mix of determination and exhaustion, a look that spoke of battles won and battles yet to come.

The woman, who he knew as y/n, had been with the Ghosts for only a few weeks. Her past was a mystery, wrapped in whispers and rumors that danced around the campfire like ghosts in the night. All he knew was that she was skilled, maybe too skilled for her age. Her arrival had been met with a mix of skepticism and admiration, and she had quickly proven herself to be an asset to the team.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to slow. Keegan felt a connection, something he hadn't anticipated, something that could either be their greatest strength or their downfall. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You're early," he said, his voice gruff.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice carrying the hint of a smile. "Figured I might as well get a head start."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken language of those who lived on the edge of darkness. They had both seen too much, felt too much, to be bound by the constraints of normalcy.

Together, they walked towards the briefing room, the weight of the coming mission heavy on their shoulders. But as they approached, the air was charged with something else, something that neither of them could put into words. The spark of potential, the promise of something more than just survival. As they stepped into the dimly lit room, Keegan couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would be unlike any other, that it would change their lives forever.

The briefing was tense, the room filled with the whispers of maps and strategies. The mission: infiltrate a heavily guarded enemy compound and extract a high-value target. The intel was sketchy, the timeline tight. Keegan listened intently, his eyes never leaving y/n as she studied the maps laid out before them. Her focus was unnerving, her resolve unshakeable. He felt a pang of something unfamiliar, a protectiveness that went beyond the typical camaraderie of the battlefield.

As the briefing concluded, the team began to gear up, the air thick with the sound of Velcro and the clinking of ammo. Keegan found himself by y/n's side, double-checking her equipment, his hands lingering a moment too long on the strap of her rifle. She looked up at him, her gaze unwavering, and for a brief second, he thought he saw something in her eyes, something that mirrored the tumultuous emotions within him. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the steely determination that had become her trademark.

The team moved out, the sun now a fiery disk in the sky, casting long shadows across the desert landscape. They moved in silent unity, each step bringing them closer to the looming fortress that awaited them. Keegan and y/n stuck to the high ground, using the natural terrain to their advantage. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, sharpening his senses, but it was the awareness of her presence that truly focused him.

As they reached the outskirts of the compound, Keegan set up his sniper nest, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. He could feel y/n's gaze on him, her trust unspoken but palpable. He took a deep breath and settled into position, his heart pounding in his chest. The moment of truth was upon them, and as he took aim, he knew that this mission would not only define their careers but also the course of their lives. The crosshairs danced over the target, and with a calmness that belied the chaos in his heart, he pulled the trigger. The world held its breath, and in that split second, everything changed.

The crack of the rifle shot echoed through the desert, a sonic boom that seemed to ripple through the very fabric of reality. The enemy patrols snapped to attention, their movements erratic as they searched for the source of the disturbance. Keegan watched through his scope as the target dropped, a crimson blossom spreading across his chest. The shot had been perfect, a testament to the hours of training and the innate skill that made him one of the best. But it was y/n's reaction that truly captured his attention. She had moved without a sound, her eyes gleaming with a predatory excitement that sent a shiver down his spine.

They waited, the silence stretching out like a tightrope between them. The seconds ticked by, each one a heartbeat that seemed to throb in his ears. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the tension coiling in his gut like a spring ready to snap. And then, it was time. They leaped into action, moving with a synchronicity that was almost unnatural. They were two shadows, slipping through the dusty streets, unseen, unheard. The heat was a living thing, wrapping around them like a lover's embrace, making their clothes stick to their skin.

Their hands brushed together as they climbed over a wall, and a jolt of electricity shot through him, leaving him momentarily stunned. He glanced at her, her eyes alight with the same current that surged through him. It was a look that spoke of more than just the mission, a look that hinted at a shared burden and a yearning that neither of them could articulate. They moved closer, their breaths mingling in the stifling air, and for a moment, Keegan forgot about the world outside their little bubble of danger and desire. The line between comrades and something more had blurred, leaving him teetering on the edge of a precipice he hadn't even known was there.

The compound grew closer, the stakes higher with every step. Keegan could feel the heat from y/n's body, her curves brushing against him as they weaved through the shadows. His thoughts grew hazy, the adrenaline now mixing with a heady cocktail of lust and anticipation. He knew it was wrong, that the battlefield was no place for such distractions, but he couldn't help it. Her presence was a siren's call, drawing him in, making him want to ignore the danger and lose himself in her.

As they approached the heart of the compound, the air grew thick with the scent of sweat and fear. They shared a look, a silent promise that they would make it out alive, together. The tension between them was palpable, a pulsing energy that seemed to charge the very air around them. They communicated in whispers and gestures, each movement a silent dance that spoke of a connection deeper than friendship. It was as if the very fabric of the universe had conspired to throw them together, to forge a bond that could not be broken.

Their mission was successful, the high-value target secured, but it was the aftermath that truly tested them. Back at the base, the rush of victory and the relief of survival collided with the undeniable attraction that had been simmering just beneath the surface. They found themselves in an empty corner of the mess hall, the din of the returning soldiers fading into the background as they faced each other, the weight of their shared secret heavy on their shoulders. And then, without a word, they kissed, a kiss that was desperate and fierce and filled with all the passion that had been building for weeks. It was a kiss that spoke of life and love in the face of war, a kiss that was both a declaration and a question. What now?

Keegan's hands found their way to y/n's hips, pulling her closer, feeling the softness of her curves against his chest. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in, as if trying to anchor herself in the storm of emotions that raged within her. The world outside the confines of their embrace ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of her breath mingling with his own. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated need, a moment where the rules of engagement didn't apply.

They stumbled out of the mess hall, the cool night air hitting them like a slap in the face, jolting them back to reality. The moon cast a silver glow over the camp, illuminating the path to Keegan's tent. The desert night was alive with the whispers of the wind and the distant howls of coyotes, but it was the sound of their breathing that filled their ears as they stumbled inside, tearing at each other's clothes with an urgency that bordered on violence.

The canvas walls of the tent seemed to close in around them, creating a cocoon of privacy in the midst of the chaos. Keegan's calloused hands traced the softness of her skin, the cold metal of his dog tags a stark contrast to the heat of her body. Y/n's glasses fell to the floor, forgotten in the frenzy, as she pulled him closer, her eyes never leaving his. The air grew thick with the scent of them, a heady mix of sweat and desire that seemed to fuel their passion. They fell onto the narrow camp bed, the springs protesting beneath their weight, and the world outside was nothing but a distant memory. In that moment, there was only the two of them, entwined in a dance as old as time, a dance that was both a declaration of war against their own restraints and a sweet surrender to the fire that burned between them.

Keegan's lips traveled down her neck, his teeth grazing the tender skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips as his hands found the hem of her shirt. He pulled it over her head, revealing the soft mounds of her breasts, the nipples already pebbled with desire. He took one in his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak, feeling her shiver beneath him. Her nails raked down his back, urging him on, a silent plea that he was more than happy to answer. He kissed her again, deeper, harder, their tongues tangling in a battle for dominance that neither could win, nor wanted to. The kiss grew more frantic, their movements more urgent, as the need to claim each other overwhelmed them.

Their clothes fell away, a tapestry of fabric and gear that lay discarded on the floor, a testament to the urgency of their need. Y/n's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, her hips rolling in a silent invitation that Keegan could not resist. He slid into her, feeling the warmth and wetness that enveloped him, a sensation so intense it was almost painful. They moved together, a symphony of gasps and groans, each thrust a declaration of a need that went beyond the physical. Their bodies were a battleground of passion, a war zone where every touch was a victory, every kiss a surrender.

Their movements grew more frenzied, the rhythm building to a crescendo that seemed to shake the very foundation of the tent. Keegan could feel the tension coiling within him, tightening like a spring ready to snap. Y/n's nails dug into his skin, her breathing ragged as she met him thrust for thrust, her eyes never leaving his. The world outside, the missions, the danger, all of it faded away, leaving only the two of them, locked in a battle of love and lust that was as intense and all-consuming as any they had ever fought. And as they reached the peak together, their bodies shuddering in the throes of release, Keegan knew that he had found something more than just a fellow soldier in her arms. He had found a piece of himself that he didn't even know was missing.

They lay there, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and entwined like two vines that had grown together over time. The air was thick with the scent of sex and gunpowder, a potent reminder of the world they had left behind. Y/n's hair was a wild mess around her face, and her glasses lay on the floor, a symbol of the vulnerability she had allowed him to see. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, his touch gentle, almost reverent. Her eyes searched his, a question in their depths that he didn't have an answer for. But the connection was there, undeniable and unyielding.

Keegan kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her, the feel of her. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour as if he was committing her to memory. He felt her respond, her breath catching as his thumb brushed over her sensitive nipple, her hips arching to meet his touch. The hunger was still there, a low-burning flame that had been stoked but not extinguished.

He slid down her body, his mouth tracing a path along her stomach, pausing to kiss the piercing in her navel. She quivered beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him on. He reached the apex of her thighs, the soft folds of her sex glistening in the moonlight. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her, the way she lay open and exposed for him. Then, with a growl of need, he dipped his head, his tongue finding her clit, flicking and teasing until she was panting, her legs trembling.

Y/n's hands clenched the fabric of the camp bed, her body arching as he feasted on her. The noises she made were intoxicating, a symphony of pleasure that sent shockwaves through him. He felt himself harden again, his need for her insatiable. He slipped a finger inside her, feeling her tighten around him, her body begging for more. He added a second, pumping them in and out as he continued to suck and lick, driving her closer to the edge. Her thighs clamped around his head, her hips bucking as she neared climax.

The tent was a cocoon of passion, the sounds of their lovemaking a stark contrast to the quiet camp outside. The world had ceased to exist, and all that remained was the frantic dance of their bodies, the slick slide of skin on skin, the mingling of their breaths and the desperate gasps that filled the air. Keegan felt himself losing control, the desire to claim her completely overwhelming him. He slid back up her body, his erection nudging against her wetness, and with a growl, he thrust into her again, feeling her tighten around him as she came, her muscles clenching and releasing in waves of pleasure.

They rode the wave together, their movements erratic and unbridled, each one bringing them closer to the precipice. Keegan could feel the tension building in his own body, his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. He drove into her, his hips moving with a rhythm that was as old as time, their bodies moving in perfect harmony despite the chaos that surrounded them. Y/n's nails dug into his back, leaving trails of fire that only served to fuel his need for her. He could feel her getting closer, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling beneath him.

And then, it was over. They reached the peak together, their bodies shuddering in unison as the wave crashed over them, leaving them both gasping for air. Keegan collapsed onto her, his weight a comforting warmth in the chilly desert night. They lay there, their hearts beating as one, their breaths mingling in the quiet darkness. It was a moment of perfect peace, a brief respite from the storm that was their lives. made by ledder4

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #15 Beauty and the Beast

Imagine dis…

 By definition when you search these two terms…

 beau·ty- noun- a combination of qualities, such as shape, color, or form, that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially sight. 

 beast- noun- Negatively calling a person a beast likens them to a monster and implies that they behave in a crude, brutish, or animalistic way. This use of beast can be especially offensive, especially due to likening a person to an animal. The adjective beastly means monstrous, nasty, vile, or cruel.

 A young man who was discarded by his father for being born as a failure in the sacred line of the Al Ghul empire met a young man whose eyes give you the illusion of clear blue skies while it sparkles like stars above. 

 Danny is the beast while Dusan al Ghul also known as Ra al Ghul is the beauty.

 …

 It was 1013 A.D. The young Dusan also known as Ra al Ghul in the future, was full of life and youth, and was just starting his journey to create a league of his own, when he noticed a young man on the horizon. A traveler, perhaps, but what strikes him his interest is that the man’s blue eyes shine as of all the sapphires in the world or maybe the man/ traveler is unbothered by the scorching sun of the desert sand.

 Ra didn’t know what made him dawned on him, but at a split decision, he asked the stranger what he was doing in the middle of the desert. The stunning stranger just looked at him head-on, with those lovely eyes those eyes, and told him he is just a mere traveler, wandering from one place to another. Intrigued by the stranger’s way of life he was prompted to follow as he too wanted to see the world more than these desert dunes.

 The stranger had introduced himself as Danny Nightgale, short for Daniel. He wore a cloak that has the embroidery of a combination of flowers, skulls, stars, a clock, and some Egyptian polygraph, as it covers his entire body aside from his face. He carries no weapons but a satchel full of things that surprises the young Al Ghul. The first time together they were at odds, seeing that Ra strives for perfection as well as order through meticulous planning while Danny thrives at the chaos around him.

Dusan loved nature while Danny loved the stars, it has been months since they both went on a journey. The number of things that Danny had done that almost caused a permanent heart attack in Dusan to the point he is the cause of his early gray hairs. Both began discovering hidden places as well-hidden cities from all around the world, from the ruins of Gobekli Tepe to the hidden and lost city of gold. They, Danny, befriended the locals and learned and understood with them. Took part in their rituals and cultures. Some may not be as friendly as the last one, He was sure that he and Danny would die from the endless brigade of poisoned arrows that they keep shooting at them, but they still learned from them. Their intelligence as well as languages were thought lost in time.

 Dusan learned many things in the years he had traveled with his friend. Yet his feelings for him changed like the seasons that pass by them. With each passing day, Dusan noticed himself leaning towards Danny’s direction as if he was the sun and he was nothing but a mere moon or a planet rotating around him, how he would find comfort in his warmth and presence, how he could not take his eyes off Danny’s own eyes, how he would beg the stars to listen to Danny’s laugh and how he would indulge himself to listen to his endless rants about a particular constellation. He was not favored by his father for being an albino, but when Danny looked at him, it is as if he hung the moon and arranged the stars for him. He kept sending Danny hints like holding his hand for too long or wanting to be in his presence. He saw that Danny never once looked in the direction of every exotic beauty that they saw. Which made him hopeful but he remembered that he is a prince not favored but a prince none less. But he could not see himself without his life companion.

 It was a gamble per se, confessing his love and asking Danny to officially court him. Dusan planned everything to the very last speck. A dinner using the finest ingredients whilst they were on top of the highest peak of the mountain as the stars shine brightly above them. Moreover, that love between two men is frowned upon. In his family history there have been king, prince, and men falling in love with other men but was written as friends or even blood brothers, Dusan may have believed those scholars if he hadn’t found a hidden corner in the palace, while he was exploring, that contains a journal of his predecessor’s life as well letters he had exchanged with his lover.

It was said that at his marriage the King only slept with his wife until he bore him a son after that it was noticed that the King abandoned his wife, it was speculated that he has another woman or even that the queen cannot satisfy him making her a laughing stock as a woman who never pleased her husband enough.

 Confessing was harder than he thought he would be, Danny who was on the opposite side of the table was quiet. Feeling rejected Dusan dared to look at the disgusted look at Danny but the moment he opened his eyes his eyes widened in disbelief. Danny is looking at him with awe as his cheeks are slowly turning red like the desert mariposa lily flower. Both ended the night after a kiss that the two of them shared as the stars seem to congratulate them knowing found relationship bore more brightly at the endless night.

 Now you would see the two of them walking from one place to another holding each other’s hands. You would see the two of them rest under the endless stars as they both bask in each other’s presence. You would see the sweet smile that Dusan Al Ghul that he only shows to him and only him. How Dusan became so smitten at Danny's mere presence, how he would present Danny with not only the best but the most exotic flowers to present to him. How he would indulge Danny’s wishes, if Danny does wish for the world on a silver platter he would say wait to his lover and present the world on a golden platter.

 But life isn’t a fairytale.

 A king who has a son, his only son dying and at the mercy of death asked for the traveler’s help to cure his child. Dusan saw, dug, and discovered the restorative chemical pools to heal the prince, about to present it to the king to cure the dying prince. Danny who saw the consequence as well as the true nature of the pools tried to stop his lover, but his warnings fell on deaf ears as Dusan thought that this might be the key for his father to acknowledge him.

 It may have cured the dying prince but it drove him mad to kill Danny. As Dusan felt his lover’s warmth leaving his body with each passing minute, he curses the heaven as well himself for taking away his lover his love the only person whom he ever surrenders his heart to.

 Dusan who is the cause of his lover’s death said the lover used his remaining strength to whisper his last words. 

 To me, you are everything. The last several years have been fantastic, and if reincarnation exists, I would have chosen to be yours again and again until the end of time.

 …

 Damian Al Ghul- Wayne was only 6 years old when he stumbled upon his grandfather’s room. It is said that no monks, assassin, or even mother had stepped into grandfather’s chambers or even found the said chambers, and whoever was found it was said they met a painful death. 

 Damian told himself to forget and go back to the useless tutors that his mother had assigned to him, but a small part of him says that a quick peek wouldn’t hurt. 

 Curiosity won as Damian was still a 6-year-old, opening the double doors slowly he was greeted by the darkness of the room. Slowly he looked for any switch of light, as he flipped the switch on, he was astonished at what he saw. 

 The large fireplace above it contains a large portrait of what looks like a younger version of grandfather alongside someone whom he never recognizes. A lean frame that looks like a grandfather towers over him, a mop of midnight hair, ice-like eyes as well the having the aura of softness and warmness in his body language and smile as if the portrait is alive. 

 Looking around he was even more flabbergasted, shelves that contains countless miscellaneous things that the League considered worthless yet his grandfather seems like he has a large collection. Shells that have bits of sand in a large jar, a small floral terrarium, fabrics that contain embroidery of different constellations, a necklace made out of beads and small polished rocks, and many more. He was about to reach a wooden sculpture of what looked like a figurine between lovers when he felt a faint pain behind his neck and promptly lost consciousness.

 When he woke up he was back in the main base of the League his mother explained that he had been asleep for almost three days due to one of the tutors poisoning him slowly, and his mother exclaimed that they were upping his dosage of poison during his poison training as it was embarrassing for the heir to faint from a mere poison.

 Damian kept quiet as he was sure that the explanation of his mother didn’t happen, he may not have seen whomever attacked him from behind but he was sure that nobody had poisoned him. The moment he recovered he immediately went back to the room that he had found, but the moment he opened the door the room was completely deserted; all of the trinkets were gone including the large portrait. 

 He thought that he may have dreamed the said room and what he saw was a hallucination product of the poison in his system.

 But the moment he met Danny, a mid-20-year-old man who has black hair and blue eyes, an owner of a small book café that both Todd and Drake come frequently at the tender age of 11 he began having a strange sense of de ja vu, especially after he saw the man smile at him when he was petting the owner’s pet dog named Cujo.

 …

 Danny decided to have a vacation, after years of becoming the Ghost king and after years developing his eldritch appearance, he had felt bored as he had already fixed the Realms due to the neglect that Pariah Dark had caused, in just a few centuries. He may have his friends, sister, and daughter with him, but even then, his boredom continues to grow every decade. Clockwork had advised him to explore the endless dimension that was connected to the realms. 

 Seeing the appeal, he immediately went straight in, but at the last moment, Clockwork grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and told him that he cannot just go to the human world looking like a cryptid. The mortal plane as well as the locals may not handle his aura and appearance. He reminded the young king, even though Danny became one of them and immortal but compare to the rest of the ancients he is nothing more than a toddler or a child in the eyes of the ancients, that due to his ever-growing powers as well as his titles his mere presence would either kill or make a mortal faint. Pouting at the reason, he asked Clockwork how he would explore the mortal realms when Clockwork handed him a digital tablet, courtesy made by Pharaoh, and told him to create his avatar that can contain some of his powers that connects him to the realms and vanished.

 Danny stared blankly at his avatar, which looked no different from his previous human and fleshy self, and asked if someone introduced SIMS to the ancient of time.

 Carrying a satchel that has an endless space, a gift from one of his subjects that was a manifestation of fans in fandom, people, or topic. 

 He started his journey.

 He never planned to meet a mortal, to sweep him off his feet to the point his nonexistent heart seems to beat for only him. Danny’s north star made him love the green-eyed beauty, the tan skin that looked like the fresh sand of the dessert while his eyes reflect the polished emeralds that they have saw deep in the ocean during their stay in the middle of the Caribbean, as when they have gone for scuba diving. 

 Nor dying while his lover begs the gods or any higher power out there to bring me back, when his Astrophel had dug out corrupted ectoplasm he immediately warned his star but his warning fell on deaf ears as he saw what in his love’s mind, he wanted HIS acknowledgment more than anything. He knew that even though his bright light had told him countless times that he didn’t need his father’s approval his eyes and actions screamed at the mere fraction of attention that he could have if he had saved a prince. 

 Danny prepared himself for any side effects that may affect the prince but he was caught off guard at the immediate reaction of the prince to his presence. He knew that sometimes ectoplasm leaked to the mortal plane what he was surprised is that ectoplasm was affected by the former king, as the prince was straggling him he came to the conclusion that the ectoplasm was affected by the previous king making it corrupted as well it explains his immediate reaction to kill him as he is the one who stood up to the tyrant king.

 As he felt his avatar’s life force slipping away his final thoughts were about returning to this reality to be with his lover. 

 As he returned to the Infinite realms he was immediately whisked away by his knight for another scheduled meeting. 

 After what had felt like centuries, he immediately created another avatar to enter the dimension and be with his lover. When he returned, he immediately noticed that time flowed too fast for his liking. Feeling devastated he originally planned to return to the Infinite Realms to mourn for his lover when he met the scrawniest 6-year-old boy stealing old books from the trash. Even the thin boy on the roof holding a camera waiting for the vigilantes to come, made up his mind and stayed. 

 The scrawny boy he dubbed before, his name is Jason and he lived in Crime Alley with awful parents. Danny would give him real food, light yet filling, to Jason while he would teach the boy to read books. He fell in love with classical books, he was happy to learn that he got adopted by a nice family who can feed him three times a day and he could go to school as well having a warm place to sleep. When he noticed that Jason stopped going to his shop for his usual visit, he was worried. 

 He knew that the boy he grew to love as a brother became a vigilante alongside that Batman fellow, so when he failed to show up, he began to panic. Carrying a handful of posters in his hand, he began spreading missing posters despite that many children are missing in Gotham every day. A rich fruit loop, to which he was sure he is Batman as every rich people who he meets has a secret lair in their basement, approached him and asked for the posters to which he replied that the young boy in the pictures came to his café before he was adopted. He couldn’t do anything to help the boy aside from the warm meals and sometimes sleeping over at his place, He could feel Clockwork’s warning and his connection that this boy has a destiny to fulfill and it mustn’t be disturbed, as he was just starting his business, and other legal and identity stuff, to keep the boy.

 Bruce, the fruit loop introduced himself and said that Jason passed away a few weeks ago. Which Danny would have believed if he noticed Lady Gotham grieving for her knight or bird? He kept quiet as Bruce asked where he got the picture, gesturing at the poster, as he didn’t recall having a picture of Jason with this kind of outfit, Danny answered by saying that sometimes after the kid got adopted, he would still come at his place and just hang out with him. Both became quaint acquaintances as both settle down and drink warm cups of coffee as two people share and tell stories of Jason.

 The thin one came into his life when he noticed a small silhouette in a roof over in front of his shop. A child too thin for his liking was carrying a camera focusing on any rooftop to catch a glimpse of the vigilante. Tim, who introduced himself, loves the vigilantes in Gotham and often would sneak out of the home to catch a photo or two and even a glimpse of the iconic duo. Danny asked himself what good parents wouldn’t notice their child missing every night surely the small eye bags below his eyes is already an indicator. Danny was sure he didn’t add a meta gene in his avatar so why is he getting too close to the family of a vigilante as well as having children who are neglected by their parents come to him? Gave Tim actual food than letting the id starve in the empty house and he didn’t get even surprised when months later he was adopted by Bruce. 

 During Bruce and Danny’s rare get-together, Danny mentioned hardly that having empty nest syndrome does not excuse him to adopt every black hair and blue-eyed child who is potentially traumatized in Gotham. This caused an immediate choke from Bruce and assured Danny and tried to refute him but Danny continued as if he had gone deaf at Bruce’s denial, that it is natural for teenagers to leave the nest and he felt pity and understanding for the butler for his efforts to stop Bruce in adopting every child in Gotham. 

 When Jason appeared and opened the doors to his café with a white streak on his hair as well as getting noticeably larger than last time, he didn’t say anything but prepared his seat in his favorite spot with Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen at one side and a Neapolitan ice cream sandwich on one side. Weakly whispering, Welcome back, to the person he had missed and loved like a brother. Danny knew that Jason didn’t like real-life sappy moments but Danny was just about to open his arms when Jason suddenly rushed to hug the man. Danny began filtering the corrupted ectoplasm in Jason’s system each time he stayed at his café to have a quick snack or lunch away from his brothers.

 It was when he took notice of the youngest Wayne that he experienced de ja vu. He looked like a mini Bruce, he inherited everything from Bruce including the scowl aside from his coloring. His color reminds him of his deceased lover in the desert, he traveled in this dimension in the past and he knew a child assassin in the making when he saw one. He tried everything to give Damian a sense of innocence as he was sure that this one would turn into a Robin at any given moment, going as far as having a menu dedicated to vegetarians.

 That should have been the first warning sign that fate is up to something.

 …

 There has been a spike in occult activities in Gotham and the Bats decided to investigate as there has been evidence of live sacrifice. Their occult problem seemed that the followers of that particular occult are trying to revive the Pariah Dark who was known as the tyrant king as he ruled over under his rule. 

 As they were busting another botched attempt in summoning whatever was named king, they noticed Danny, a lovely café owner by the way, all tied and scratched up but no fatally noticeable injuries and seemed unconscious from the way he laid down. All birds wanted to rush in and free Danny from the tight binding that they were sure would leave a mark and a wound when the sound of shattering glass made all of them look up. A band of assassins accompanied by the one and only Ra Al Ghul the demon head. Now there is a heavy tension in the air as both sides are looking at each other with apprehensive, distrust, and blood lust. They didn’t know that Ra was following them nor his agenda for today but both sides know that no one is going to leave the dimly lit abandoned warehouse unharmed.

 But Danny chose to wake up that very moment to witness the two still not moving an inch from their spot and continuously staring down at each other. Danny would’ve slowly left the scene or even sunk into the shadows to watch both sides when he noticed the supposed leader. Danny felt his non-existent heart begin to beat again, something inside of him recognize the man. Looking closely Danny’s face slowly turns to one of awe and pure love as he stares at the Demon's head.

 In what would have been forever as the tension was broken by Danny who awoke and called out Astrophel while staring at Ra. 

 Batman and company are surprised to see Danny awake but also curse themselves for their luck for Danny to witness this. As Jason is about to pounce at any assassin that tries to harm Danny, they all have their respective jaws drop as Ra responded to Danny by having a whiplash too fast that they were sure they heard his neck crack at sheer speed.

 When they saw Ra and the League in tow, they were expecting a battle and bloodshed, not the fact that Ra looked like he is on the verge of tears nor the amount of emotions present in his eyes, aura, and body language.

 The joy, excitement, peacefulness, overwhelm, disbelief, hope, and nostalgia emitting from Ra made them double check their very eyes as well check their reality because never in their lives would they witness Ra such vulnerability and emotions to the café owner they both love and acquainted. 

 …

 Danny is overjoyed to learn his lover is still in the mortal plane, he is ready for another adventure and journey just the two of them and maybe they would get married this time. 

 If only the Bats both in and out of their costume and civvies would stop getting in their way.

 …

 PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.