#Dangerous Games: Kindred Spirit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

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Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.

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sheerfreesia007 · 3 months ago

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Boardgame Confessions

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Word count: 1,077

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: Jeongin has known since he met you that you’re his partner in crime and that he was in love with you. But what happens when over a friendly board game he decides to confess to you?

The room is in utter chaos and Jeongin grins wickedly as he feels his stomach begin to flutter with delight at the scene. The Monopoly board game is laid out on the coffee table with each one of the guys sitting around it all arguing about who had the most property on the board and who wasn’t playing by the rules while you sit quietly behind him on the couch with each of your legs caging him gently. He loudly scoffs at Jisung who adamantly refuses to pay up the fee of landing on one of his properties as the older man crosses his arms over his chest while pouting.

“Absolutely not!” Jisung snaps at him while Jeongin rolls his head back against your thigh before shooting a glare at the older man. The warmth of your thigh against the back of his head makes him feel relaxed even as he feels the soft flesh tense underneath his head. He’s been noticing for the past few months that you’ve been responding differently to any of his actions, it had started the night that he had brought you as his plus one to an award ceremony. You had been nervous leading up to the evening because of all the pomp and prestige of the event, but the night of the event when he had walked out in his fitted designer suit it was almost as if you had lost all thought of your nerves and just stared at him as if you were seeing him for the first time. If he had to admit it the way you had looked at him made him feel sexy and dangerous all at the same time, it was addicting. So that was how he found himself growing bolder with his actions around you and reveling in the way you responded.

Jeongin knew he was in love with you, had been the first time he met you through Chan. You had come off as sweet and unassuming at first but there was a sparkle in your eye that had caught his attention and an understanding dwelled inside him as he saw your subtle smirks at things the boys did around you. You were just as much an agent of chaos as he was, you were kindred spirits and lived to upend the boys day to day going ons.

Take now for instance, you and Jeongin were the only two with the most bought properties in the game causing a lot of turmoil and grief for the others as they tried to play the game. You were very quiet and strategic in your gameplay while Jeongin was loud and boisterous not fearing to brag ot the boys as he bought yet another property. This was why you two worked so well together, you were two sides of the same coin with only slight differences in mannerisms. Jeongin loved it and he loved you, which is why he enjoyed feeling your body tense behind him as he shifted his head back against your plush thigh.

“You’re a sore loser.” Jeongin snips out just as you card your fingers through his hair and he grunts softly at the feeling before turning and nipping at the flesh on your thigh in appreciation. Your leg jolts at his action and he chuckles lowly at the knowledge that you’re affected by him. You tug at his hair slightly in retaliation and he tilts his head back to stare up at you as he groans quietly watching curiously as your eyes widen slightly and your thigh tenses underneath his head. A slow smirk starts to form on his face then and you look down at him with a raised eyebrow in question, you knew him too well not to expect something from him at this point and he grinned wickedly up at you from his relaxed position. “Join forces with me?” he asks suddenly and Jisung cries out in dismay while you quietly stare at Jeongin before a slow smirk forms on your face causing his stomach to heat with desire.

“You can’t that’s cheating!” wails Jisung but the two of you both ignore his loud cries and the other’s agreeing comments as you stare at each other. Jeongin widens his eyes slightly and pouts his bottom lip out watching avidly as your pupils dilate for a moment before your smirk broadens on your face and your own eyes sparkle deviously at him.

“What’s the magic word?” you ask haughtily and Jeongin’s answering grin causes his eyes to close nearly all the way as excitement and desire builds within his body.

“I love you.” he responds and instantly the room silences before chaos once more erupts around the two of you. Chan and Changbin are jumping to their feet shouting and cheering in joyful bursts of happiness, Minho is smirking over at the unaware maknae like a proud parent, Hyunjin and Felix are falling into each other kicking their feet as the squeal and giggle, Seungmin and Jisung are staring at the maknae with disgust written on their faces as Seungmin gags loudly. But none of that registers for either one of you as you both still stare at each other in a silent staredown. Jeongin can see the moment it all falls into place for you and he practically beams from the inside out as he watches you slowly lean forward towards him.

Your hair falls like a curtain around him as your lips press gently onto his in an upside down kiss to compete against the Spiderman one from the movie. The boys all begin to cheer and holler loudly at your action but Jeongin ignores them as he leans up to reciprocate the kiss with you letting all his love and affection speak for himself through his lips. When you both pull away to breathe you’re both panting for air and Jeongin can feel his heart trying to pound out of his chest.

“I love you more.” you whisper against his mouth before leaning past him to place one of your tiny colored houses onto his property and vice versa with his tiny colored house. Suddenly the boys all groan loudly and Changbin throws up his hands yelling that he’s not playing anymore since the two business tycoons have joined forces causing you to laugh with delight. Jeongin smirks to himself before pulling down for another upside kiss as he hears Seungmin gag loudly once again.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken

#my writing #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #jeongin #i.n. x reader #i.n.

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the-ninjago-girl · 10 months ago

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Ya wanna know what I just realized? The overall theme of scarlet and violet isn't actually about our treasure hunt, or making friends along the way,

It's obsession.(and how it hurts those around us.)

In the base game of pokemon scarlet and violet, we learn that the professor,(sada or turo depending on which version you play.) was absolutely obsessed with the paradox pokemon within the scarlet/violet book. They were so obsessed with these pokemon that they wanted, NEEDED to make them a reality by bringing them into our own. Their obsession was so bad, that they not only lost their significant other, but neglected their son to the point of completely abandoning him, all for the purpose of "paradise". Not realizing they already had one with their son.

The obsession has been with the professor since their childhood. As seen in the secret cutscene at kitakami's crystal pool with terapagos in your party, it brings the professor from iirc 10 years before the events of the game start. When they ask to trade for the book ms. Brair wrote they offer their copy of the s/v book and tell you "this book captured my imagination as a child and never let go." They were obsessed. It costed them their life, completely ruined arvens childhood, and almost caused the destruction of the Paldea region because they were too obsessed with having pokemon of the past/future along side them.

Then we go to kitakami, and meet Kieran. A boy who is obsessed with the ogre, a.k.a ogerpon. Kieran believes the two as kindred spirits, outcasts in kitakami because they were different. Though rightly upset at you and his sister for not telling him about meeting ogerpon, takes it too far when he steals the mask from his grandfather. As a result of winning the battle to get the mask back from him his obsession shifts, not really about befriending ogerpon anymore, but about beating you/being as good as you are. He becomes mean and ruthless to those around him in blueberry academy, becoming champion in order to try to be strong enough to beat you.

In the underdepths of area zero his obsession with beating you causes him to seek out terapagos, and catch it so that he can finally beat you.

And finally ms. Briar, obsessed with terapagos and proving it was real. Her ancestor, the original author of the s/v book, heath, was claimed and told to be nothing more than a liar after writing what he had found in area zero. Briar was obsessed, determined to prove terapagos' existence to clear her ancestors name, and that everything in the s/v book was in fact real. In kitakami she was more concerned with figuring out the terastal phenomenon than helping to guide the students from the 2 schools on their field trip.

And once in blueberry, she asks you, carmine and Kieran to join her in area zero to find terapagos. Once in the underdepths she puts herself in danger because of a strangely terastalized glimmora, of which you battle to protect her and the siblings. In the final chamber of the underdepths, she eggs on Kieran to take terapagos(in crystal form) out of the tera crystals around it to finally see the pokemon she's been trying to get to for so long, and then tells him to terastalize the pokemon, putting everyone in danger. As the amount of Tera energy is too much for the little pokemon to control, and thus it goes out of control, destroying the environment around it, nearly causing a cave in.

Ms. Briars obsession with finding terapagos nearly caused the group to get killed because she was so obsessed with finding terapagos. Obsessed with proving that heath was telling the truth all this time.

Pokemon scarlet and violet showed that obsession can hurt and harm those around you. That an obsession like sada/turo, Kieran and ms Briars', will cause the pain of others and themselves in order to reach their goal.

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #pokemon arven #pokemon sada #pokemon turo #pokemon kieran #pokemon briar #pokemon carmine #the hidden treasure of area zero #pokemon terapagos #pokemon the indigo disk #pokemon the teal mask #pokemon the hidden treasure of area zero

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amaranthine-enihtnarama · 8 months ago

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Is This Desire? (Feyd Rautha x reader)

u know I had to tap in 🤭. reader is a noblewoman who has undergone bene gesserit training, there IS smut, there IS sexual tension, there ARE mind games, there IS dubcon (but not really 😉); quote found on Pinterest. None of the media besides the writing belongs to me, including quotes used at the beginning.

Happy Sunday 🤭 finally made it. Strong trigger warning for people sensitive to dub-con situations. There is a significant push and pull dynamic, be mindful of your peace.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen and Tii Sanura Sur-Kar have been lifelong friends since the day they were betrothed as children—-a mutual coldness in the eyes inspired respect and appreciation between the two kindred spirits. On the day of the na-Baron’s coming of age, however, simmering tensions between the pair rise to an all-consuming firestorm as the young Baron attempts to finally act on the desires he has harbored for her, but there is a significant challenge: how he can manage to break past her impenetrable composure; the dispassionate mask of his treasured Bene Gesserit master?

the lovers.

“Love is an ancient force, one that served in its day but is no longer essential for the survival of the species.” -Bene Gesserit Axiom

***

“Do you truly think you could redeem such a beast?”

She smiled. “I know, I am allowing my affections cloud my judgment. But allow me an opportunity before his fate is sealed, Reverend Mother.”

The older woman stared her down through the sheer fabric cloaking her face. “You are a very sharp mind, but your youth may sway you against wiser judgment.”

The young sister smiled. “I will not lose sight of our mission, do not worry. I only wish to test a hypothesis.”

“Be wary of overextending yourself.”

“I would not shame you with such folly. I have no intention of losing control.”

After this, the Reverend Mother Superior was silent, ending the discussion. The Duchess rose, gave a respectful incline of her head, and departed.

No, she would not lose control. They had come much, much too far.

It was simply a mere experiment—-too much risk, and she would end it without hesitation.

She only hoped she wouldn’t have to.

***

Tii Sanura Sur-Kar ran through the subconscious of the na-Baron like a mantra. A dangerous liability, he knew, but considering it was the name of his bride, it was an indulgence he willingly succumbed to at every turn. It was like song, like poetry to him, neither of which he cared for terribly but she adored—if she was truly capable of such a feeling. His betrothed was a shrewd, charming woman. Never terribly moved nor affected, never troubled nor wanting. It hadn’t always been that way, but once she underwent her Bene Gesserit training, the risk-taking, jubilant playmate he knew as a child became a confounding and mysterious woman as the years passed. He was vexed by it initially; her disinterest towards what had once thrilled her, her fixation on scriptures and disciplines, her strangely hypnotic eyes, but he managed to adjust over time. After all, she was a noblewoman with duties and ambitions of her own, not a pet.

Still, she was his. The knowledge that she could not slip through his fingers sated his dissatisfaction with her frigidity. As the years passed, he managed to learn her ways. He was the only one who elicited a smile from her pursed, pillowy lips. He was the only one who could freely request her presence and, eventually, he was the only one—in the whole of the empire, he suspected—that could see the brief cracks in her sagelike mask. He experimented with the pressure points he could catch glimpses of. There was some satisfaction in pulling out the things she was so resolute to conceal from the world around them, to rouse moments of amusement, surprise (a rarity), or, his favorite, timidity.

He lost out on the last one a couple years ago, though, when he had pushed too far during a sparring match, and she surrendered too freely. Her eyes miraculously sparked with the horror of an uncontrollable and unexpected emotion. He felt it for a moment then—the way he could ignite her desire, the way she softened all over beneath his strength. The warmth of her breath, the softness of her skin; he had gotten a taste of it and had needed more ever since.

Thoughts for another time.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen knew how badly his future bride desired him. And vice-versa. It made Tii Sanura retreat as they grew older: more distance, more sarcastic jabs and intellectual pretensions. She knew him well enough to do exactly what would make him tick, to repel the low hum of want that had grown strong enough to overwhelm any other potential experiences they could’ve shared. There had been a time where they had come to an agreement of tentative friendship, but those days were burned to ash under the heat that dared to surface whenever the two were together.

The closer they got to coming of age the more her visits changed. She took longer to come by, and when she was there, she was terse with him if he could get her to speak. In all fairness, though, they did have chaperones since the sparring mishap. She was undoubtedly being discreet about whatever she felt about him, but he knew that despite all the suitors that attempted to sweep her away from him, he had secured her interest. Only he could tell, as difficult a riddle it was to continuously decode. The difficulty became less infuriating as he slowly understood the game being played—he kept testing her resolve and she kept coming back to prove it. The satisfaction he got from poking at her weaknesses barely rivaled hers from besting them. It was almost heartwarming if either of them possessed such a silly thing: he was still her favorite sparring partner.

Tii Sanura had not visited in this year, and it was an important one. The time of his coming of age and hers, the time of their union. He anticipated her usual distance, but not total silence. He tried to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling it caused but there was no cure on Geidi Prime to salve the absence of her silvery voice and sweet perfumes. His pets sufficed for more immediate needs, but there was no comparison. It troubled and fascinated him, the attachment he had to her. He would’ve rid himself of it if not for the fact she still sent him letters, and the fact she could not truly discard him like the rest fueled his want, his need, his hunger to claim his prize. His woman; his wife.

He would not show mercy on this day.

It was all that was truly on his mind as the slave women did their painting on his torso and he inspected his new blades. She would be there, she would be watching him in the arena, and she would be with him tonight afterward. Feyd intended to make the most of such ripe opportunities.

The games were amusing enough, but it was time for them to end. He had spent months envisioning it, the way he would finally best her, conquer her. The anticipation set his teeth on edge so badly it took all of his willpower to not run through slaves and servants like tissue paper. He would not lose his cool, he would adopt the discipline of his beloved, he told himself. He would not imagine ravaging her powerful, lithe frame, bruising her soft brown flesh, envisioning the pain and ecstasy he would conjure upon her unmoved, delicate face. He wouldn’t lose himself. He wouldn’t.

Not if he was going to finally make her do the same.

***

Tii Sanura was bored, as always. She was always amazed by how stupid everyone had to be to not tell the woman she presented them was a fiction. Did they not find her razor-sharp mind the slightest bit incongruent with the mask of a young noblewoman dutifully awaiting her marriage, tastefully enthused to kindly engage with anybody, who always had the perfect compliment and the most ego-stroking remark? Did they not see the void behind the artificial warmth in her gaze? Did they truly think every braindead comment they made amused her?

Of course not, save for a few pitiful monkeys, but the desire to believe the myth and participate bored her all the same. She had forced it into a microscopic container by now, but part of her still longed for the days of swimming naked in the swelling river during the rainy springs in Daquan, riding horses, hours of archery and combat training, studying the history of her ancestors, dressing up in her mother’s priceless gowns and traversing across the oasis-laden desert that surrounded their palace, much to her always gratifying horror. Oh, the tragedies of womanhood.

She was almost perfect. Almost. It made her want to dig her nails into her palms with frustration. The only source of weakness that remained was her betrothed. No matter how she wanted to or tried, the memories, her favoring of him would not fade away like the rest of her old emotions. She could not stay away no matter how much it infuriated her, humiliated her to her sisters. The little machine and her crush, they would tease her. It made her want to smear the walls and floors with their blood, the sounds of their smug tones and the superior air they held around her. It made her furious with her parents for not keeping her and Feyd separate in their youth. Now she had a soft spot in her armor, and the worst part is how he knew.

He provoked her, the bastard. He studied her every time they were together to the point where her only solution was to stop visiting so much. The only company in the galaxy she could stand was now her greatest vex. Just her luck.

The roaring of the crowd in the arena was deafening to her. She hated it, the sounds of fools cheering for their annual performance, for their na-Baron’s holy birthday. She could only imagine how small the Harkonnens’ subjects’ brains had to be to think God was anywhere near this place.

Despite the charade of his arena performance, it wasn’t a detractor from her future husband’s proficiency in combat. His strength was obvious, from the gradual sophistication of his movements, the calculation of his ink black stare…the way his body sculpted overtime to…distressing perfection. Weary of her sisters sensing where her thoughts wandered, she dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came, calmly raising her binoculars to get a better view of the arena.

There was no relief: he was walking out into the center.

The cheers grew so loud they hurt her ears. Her body became rigid as she watched how he stalked onto the arena, claiming the praise and attention so readily offered to him. She spied the strength of his taut arms, his hands that held those blades of his with such natural finesse. He was a perfected killer, through and through. She stifled the sensation that dared to conjure in her stomach with a hint of spite. He was well enough in comparison to a Harkonnen, but he had room for improvement, she thought to herself, cooling down. But then, he did the absolutely unthinkable.

Her mouth dried as his head smoothly turned to look up at her and her Bene Gesserit sisters, blue eyes daring to twinkle something disastrously humiliating as they somehow fixed onto her from an impossible distance. He smiled and kissed one of his blades in gesture to her, then turned his attention to his uncle, bowing deferentially. It pleased the crowd greatly, and Tii Sanura wondered if these arena visits would one day fully strip her hearing abilities away as sisters chattered amongst themselves with a flat amusement Tii Sanura could not stand, but kept from feeling resentment towards. Such a small attempt to ruffle her golden feathers would not succeed. She watched on, her blood pressure stabilizing from its slight disturbance.

The bastard. He never bored her.

The pageant went on routinely enough; two hulking, delirious men stumbled out into the arena—the last of the House of Atreides. The name made the base of her spine tingle inexplicably. Perhaps it is her weakness of favor creeping up again, she would wonder; the thought of her childhood friend, his parents, Duncan Idaho and Gurney Haleck swept away in a harrowing night of fire and blood made her blood chill slightly. Perhaps it was the fragility of power in such a bloodthirsty imperial court; it often haunted her these days, knowing that the lives of her parents, her younger brothers, her ladies in waiting, herself, hung in such a precarious and delicate balance. Knowing the treachery of her near Uncle-in-law. The guarantees of disaster from moments of weakness. All the more reason to be perfect. One slip up, one ignorant action, and she could lose control of the game she was playing.

Still, those weren’t the answers, she knew that. It was something deeper. Something much more primal, animal. Like rats would escape pirate ships in those faraway ancient years. It felt wrong in a real way. But she didn’t let this trouble hover over her long. Only at night, in bed, did she contemplate the tension within her body. She knew it was not fear, so what was it? Perhaps if she could feel more she would know.

The arena’s cheers spiked in volume and Tii Sanura blinked, returning to what was conspiring beneath her. Feyd made easy work of the two drugged men, much to the delight of the ravenous crowds, but one still stood. And she meant that, too—he was standing. He was upright, alert and sharp. Her spine straightened in interest. Finally. Something interesting.

The two men squabbled briefly until Feyd realized the situation his uncle had placed him in. To anyone but Tii Sanura’s surprise and thrill, he removed his shield with a beaming expression. Her skin prickled slightly at the memory the motion conjured. When she came too close—much, much too close. It is agreeable for a Bene Gesserit to be able care for her partner, but what she felt that day was intolerable. The heavy burden of it on her sweat-slick chest, skin glistening with sweat and a few smears of blood, their muscles contracting and rippling as they fought each other with a heat that didn’t come from competition or bloodlust. Desire.

The word made her think of shuddering. There could be nothing more shameful, certainly. Especially for her kind—excellence was the only option, mastery was her only aim—her mother would have thought her a braindead whore if she had seen her that day. It almost made her think of feeling ashamed, but she only felt disgusted at her own laziness. It would never happen again.

Another swell of cheers. Tii Sanura left her mind again and focused on the battle beneath her—Feyd Rautha was at the mercy of his opponent’s blade, the point staring him directly in his eyes. She knew that he could only be laughing, and just to prove her point his blackened smile bloomed across his face. The man struggled against Feyd Rautha’a grip on the blade, trying to deal the finishing blow, but Tii Sanura knew her betrothed was well-equipped to handle such a minor threat. This was mere play to him. In an instant he had turned the blade onto the final member of House Atreides, sinking it into his chest.

She held back the sensation she felt watching it, the blade piercing her, imagining the heat of Feyd Rautha’s enthralling stare as he watched the life fade from his opponent. The man crumbled, and Feyd dropped him to the ground. He turned to his audience, raising his blade in victory. More roaring, almost like the oceans of Caladan themselves. She could hear their roaring. She could hear their ghosts.

He met her eyes again. She remained unfazed as she held it. He smiled slowly; it was not the same one as before. She knew that look, when she would politely excuse herself when he was getting a bit too touchy with one of his concubines—pets, he’d call them—and the air sparked with carnal heat.

Hunger. He was hungry. And he wasn’t looking anywhere else but her.

The sister closest to her jested softly. “It seems your betrothed is ready for you, Duchess Sanura.”

“He always looks like a dog in heat,” she cooly remarked, “There is no need to jump to such conclusions.”

Another one spoke again, Lady Margot Fenring, one she preferred out of her sisters, aside from the Reverend Mother Superior herself. She smiled bemusedly, eyeing her with a knowing that made Tii Sanura simultaneously relieved and discomforted.

“I hope you brought something for him to feast on, Duchess Sanura, if you do not want to be the one he devours.”

She allowed herself a bemused chuckle. “A fair assessment, I admit…”

She rose from her seat, undaunted by his dark stare. She slowly cocked her head, a small smirk quirking the corner of her mouth upright, forming a familiar wrinkle in her cheek and exposing her dimples. The arena roared with cheers at the interaction.

“I can assure you; he’s not the only rabid dog I’ve tamed. There will be no devouring.”

“You speak with the confidence of a girl, sister,” she warned.

The Duchess’s smile twitched into something genuine as she turned to look at her.

“He is a mere boy, sister. I have faced much worse than Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

“Worse,” Lady Fenring remarked quietly, “I will must admit, the thought of worse troubles one deeply.”

A soft laugh left Tii Sanura’s lips like a breath. “Wise words, I cannot disagree.”

She turned back to the arena. Feyd was gone, with only bodies and pandemonium left in his wake.

He certainly never bored her.

***

They never strayed from their ritual, no matter how much time had passed. Feyd-Rautha waited patiently in his betrothed’s quarters, eyeing the golden box sat in the center of her bed from a seat in the corner of the room.

She was taking a bit long.

He tapped his fingers against the metal armrest with some annoyance but he would keep his cool; she wasn’t going to toy with him this time. His mind wandered to the events of the arena—her icy smirk, her leisurely movements. The people of Daquan were so fascinating in their complete and utter absence of desire, of urgency. Understandable for a people that have hailed from paradise, but it still fascinated and confounded the Harkonnen.

They were certainly a high-achieving people, a quality clearly displayed in Tii Sanura. With no lack nor sense of imperial ambition, her people tended towards scholarly, military, artistic or spiritual pursuits—the level of wealth on their planet was immeasurable to anyone who had never seen it, alien to those who did not grow up in such sheer opulence. The Sur-Kar were among the eldest of the great families; their dynasty serving critical elements to the foundation of the empire of today—the first planet to possess Spice, although not nearly as potent or abundant as Arrakis. They were a sister planet, in fact, and although the differences in culture and landscape were obvious, they possessed the same treacherous deserts deeper in the Southeast of the planet—in images, the deep desert bloomed out like a scar.

Feyd broke out of his thoughts and let out a heavy sigh through his nose. Instead of pondering Tii Sanura’s planet, it would be preferable to have the woman herself before him.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she entered through the hissing doors, her shoulders far more relaxed than they should’ve been. She let out a heaving sigh of her own, starting to remove her many rich golden shawls and copper-colored garbs. He watched eagerly, unsure if she knew he was there, but he certainly wasn’t going to call attention to himself now. He took in the golden inscriptions on her dark brown skin with all of the awe his cold black heart could manage. She didn’t undress, much to his dissatisfaction, but his eyes feasted with on her bared arms and shoulders, glistening with golden passages from the Daquani’s various ancient scriptures—there were many to give strength, tenacity, to cool the mind and spirit, to bring fortune and blessings, protections, the like. Superstitions that were outdated in a world where chance had been long buried.

“Are you ignoring me, or have you forgotten how we meet,” he asked, gravelly voice creeping along the walls towards her.

She stopped, then slowly turned around. Her golden makeup shimmered on her eyelids, harmonizing with the undertones in the high apples of her cheeks. She glowed like a precious jewel. No matter who he crossed paths with, Tii Sanura was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He would say across the galaxy, if it wasn’t such a foolishly sentimental thing to say. She would throw such a silly compliment back into his face with blasé amusement. Her dark, void-like eyes slowly came to life as a small smile formed upon her lips. He kept his cool resolve.

“Perhaps I do not care either way, My Lord na-Baron.”

He smiled in return, pleased with the biting humor in her tone.

“The only trick you couldn’t play on me is convincing me of such a lie.”

Her mouth barely twitched into a growing smile before she corrected her face and rolled her eyes.

“Oh dear, I see the rumored hereditary madness has set in. Just as I feared.”

He let the insult roll off of his back like water as he slowly rose from his seat, stalking towards her like one of those giant cats from her planet. She had one as a pet, he recalled. He spied the sketches she had drawn in a small pocketbook she used to carry with her when they were younger—he wasn’t sure what it was for—her mood had always improved after flipping through its pages.

“It’s been so long since you’ve visited. Are you afraid?”

Her face softened in amusement. “Yes. I am quite terrified. I’m trembling as we speak.”

“You misunderstand what I refer to.”

She frowned at him as she meticulously folded her shawls and scarves, the brushed past him to set them down in the very chair he had sat on.

“Is there something I’m not aware of?”

“Today is the day we are both of age,” he said, holding back any potential hint of emotion from the phrase, “Our marriage is imminent.”

She didn’t display any hint of being affected, but only nodded. “Hm. Yes, I know. Why would this scare me, exactly? I know everything there is to know about you. I doubt I will have any ugly surprises any other poor noblewoman would have in my place.”

Feyd Rautha studied her closely. She didn’t give it away, but she was bluffing. He could feel it.

“No bridal nerves,” he poked, gaze searingly meandering across her face.

She laughed, brushing past him again and placing a knee on the bed, leaning over to grab the golden box. “What, do you think I’ve been twirling my hair and kicking my feet as I fantasize about the wedding with my ladies in waiting? Or perhaps plucking petals off of flowers in the night, biting my nails down to the cuticle?“

She turned to face him, her voice lifting to a mocking octave. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

She handed him the box, her expression serene and friendly. “I know what is in store. Here.”

He took the box, breaking his intense stare on her and sliding it open. It moved with the unsurprising weight of solid gold—the wealth of these people was borderline obscene.

Within the midsize box was a strange red fruit and an ivory hilted knife, dotted with gemstones of a deep and bloody red hue. He opted to take the knife first—a butterfly knife, upon closer inspection. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, she remembered what he asked her for the last time they’d met; it had been so long even he’d forgotten. In combat, it was obviously useless; he had asked for the gift with the hidden intention of having something equally as tangible as her when she was absent, with the hope she would stop haunting his thoughts if there was a reminder of her readily at his fingertips instead of memories and dreams.

Her eyes held a satisfied glint at his obvious pleasure. “Do you like your birthday gift?”

He looked to her, a devilish grin forming on his face. “Is this all?”

She ignored his suggestive remark with annoyance. “I pray to the gods one day you will manage to finally utter the words thank you.”

“I appreciate this, Tii-Tii.”

She seemed to stiffen a bit at the sound of her nickname, and she broke her gaze from his, moving away.

“Get out, I’m going to change.”

His grin widened playfully. “Certainly you still don’t intend to feign decency now; I am your husband, after all.”

She let out a scoff. “Near husband. I’m not asking again.”

Tii Sanura was the only woman he obeyed.

It didn’t take long for her to have changed and join him in the hall. She refused the assistance of their slaves or servants, insisting on dressing and bathing on her own. He suspected her being wary of constant eyes, but the reason for such a reason wasn’t very clear. He later came to the much more obvious conclusion that she was disgusted by them.

Ever modest, she looked more Bene Gesserit than before in the black gown she had put on: long sleeves that poured past her hands, a hood that cloaked her entire head and face from unwanted view. Of course, the fabric shimmered, as did everything from Daquan. Beauty and Tii Sanura did not wander far from one another. The dress was not stingy with her figure, and Feyd took in the curve of her hips with painfully restrained fervor. He looked away when she eyed him under the glowing light that hovered overhead between them. She brandished the fruit from her sleeve, barely containing it in her palm.

“We’ll need a bowl, you eat the seeds.”

He made a face. “You want me to chew on seeds?”

“I thought you were of age,” she chided, “You whine like a child.”

He shot her a look, and she raised her eyebrows an inch or two, eyes glistening with humor. She loved to annoy him when they were left alone together.

“So sensitive all of the sudden! Perhaps I do need to visit more often, these beaten dogs of yours coddle you.”

“It’s respect,” he corrected with some edge, “At some point you will actually need to show it to your husband.”

She only smiled more, knowing his bluffs of retribution. “Delicate baby boy.”

His eyes lingered on her mouth for a moment, making him slow down their pace to his quarters. Feyd’s jaw clenched as a vision of putting her in her place against the wall burned through his mind. He fought it as quickly as it had come, shaking his head with a slight chuckle as he broke his hot stare. By the time it passed, she had stopped her smiling and was looking away from him, having clearly gleaned what had crossed his mind. The weight of their silence made them start walking again—perhaps sharing the hope of escaping it, even for a brief moment of relief.

He cleared his throat, and the collar of his shirt suddenly felt tight, making it hard to swallow. She tossed the fruit in the air as they winded through the halls of the Harkonnens’ underworld palace, the occasional flashes of white light from the fireworks giving brief reprise from the heavy shadows around them. So much of it felt like a strange dream to Tii Sanura, with all of the darkness and high, shadowy ceilings. She could never get used to this strange, colorless planet. At home, the rich golden suns shone through every window and crevice, kissing her people’s brown skin of various shades. A far cry from the albino appearance of Harkonnens under their black sun.

She eyed Feyd-Rautha discreetly—when they first met on Geidi Prime, she was convinced her betrothed was a ghost. It was one of the few frights he had ever gotten over on her. Before her training, he could sneak up on her and surprise her, getting a laugh out of her high-pitched squeak, but those days had passed. But, once they had made it inside, she saw the fine quality of his features, the pleasing peach-colored hue of his pale skin. His eyes went from terrifying pools of ink to a keen soft blue stare, and soon she felt luckier than most of her peers with the looks of her betrothed. If directly asked (and with enough honey wine), Tii Sanura could not lie about the fact that her betrothed possessed beautiful qualities about his appearance. The older they got, the more he grew into them and the more handsome he had been becoming. It made the idea of intimacy less tolerable and more intriguing.

He felt her stare and looked at her from the corner of his eye, making her look away. She shoved the feelings blooming in her stomach into the smallest box she could and willed it away.

“You still have no qualms about marrying me,” he questioned, gaze now fixed on her hood.

“No, of course not. You’re the only person I can barely stand out of the great houses. Everyone else is just too stupid. I’d end up killing him one way or another—gods forbid such an animal would ever try to touch me, it would be more messy than my parents would be able to overlook.”

His ears perked, and a smile played on his lips. “And if I were to touch you?”

“You have touched me,” she replied loftily, “Or have you blocked out the memories of me beating you into a pulp to salvage your pride?”

She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eye, eager to pounce on an opportunity to shift the mood to something else. Feyd stole a glance at the expression, then scoffed lightly.

He had half a mind to grab her, hold her down, and have his way with her just to see how she reacted. He knew better than to force himself onto her—he’d be kissing his gravestone if he tried—that wouldn’t bring him the pleasure he sought. She wanted him, he knew this. Her humiliated surrender to her need was what he truly hungered for. He wanted the power to unravel her.

She sighed, tossing the fruit again. He started to think of how he was going to begin as they neared his quarters, passing the guards, who Tii Sanura pointedly ignored.

His pets rose in excitement as he entered, but then retreated at his companion’s presence, giving defiant black-eyed stares. Her gaze shifted to them, hiding her expression from his face, and within mere moments they had retreated to the same corner as the slaves. He didn’t know when or how, but she had made her dislike of them very obvious when they were teenagers. He had to replace one of them in the aftermath of this dislike being shown, but never said she was jealous. She didn’t even act particularly troubled by them, but she was clearly revolted by their existence, and, he suspected, their purpose for their na-Baron. After her training with the Bene Gesserit the flashes of proof that she claimed him as he did were resigned to memories. But he didn’t believe they had vanished. Her nose wrinkled slightly in pointed distaste but she addressed Feyd cooly.

“Have you forgotten your manners? You didn’t have your quarters cleaned for your betrothed’s visit?”

He smiled at her, amused by her inexplicable temperance. “Do my darlings still bother you, Tii-Tii?”

“Remove them,” she commanded immediately, eyes fixed on the bald servant woman. “Take them for a walk, or whatever those things do.”

The woman straightened up from cowering under her haunting gaze, ushering the three women from their position and leaving the room. Her eyes moved to the servants cowering in various corners, eyeing her warily.

“You may leave,” she told them.

They quickly filed out, heads bowed and shoulders slumped. Feyd almost wanted to laugh, but knew better than to provoke her—an incensed Tii Sanura with mind control abilities was more dangerous than any atomic arsenal that could be launched at him.

He was glad to have such a woman as his wife.

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as she lowered her hood, face glowing softly in the low, sparse light of the na-Baron’s room. He watched her with barely cloaked intrigue, freeing his throat from his collar as he moved towards her with a light smirk. She seemed oblivious to his demeanor as she continued to reprimand him.

“I’m not surprised by the barbarism your relatives display, but I do expect some semblance of class from my husband.”

“Near husband,” he corrected, stalking up behind her and placing his hand on the small of her back, “Or does your jealousy make you forget?”

She chuckled, moving away from his touch unceremoniously. “I am not jealous of filth. I am tolerant of your Harkonnen ways, but it is unsightly. Hopefully spending time in my court will help refine some of your rougher edges…although I’m not holding onto much.”

He watched with sharp eyes as she took a bowl off of a sleek black table, eyed it, and, after deciding it was clean enough, sat down on his bed and made a gesture for him to sit with her. Gladly.

“You know my pets eat out of these,” he lied, eager to tease a reaction out of her.

“Not yet, obviously,” she dismissed, “Whatever poor bastard’s their lunch just got a few more hours.”

She brandished a small black knife out of her sleeve and handed it to him with a sigh. He chuckled, but took the knife as she carefully undid the barely visible labyrinth of fastened clips and buttons that had apparently held her gown together. He watched her with interest as he sliced the fruit.

“Too lazy?”

“Too expensive,” she clarified, gesturing to her outfit with some annoyance, “I swear, my mother’s trying to drown me in fabric...”

The hood and sleeves were simply elements of a cloak that covered her actual outfit. Feyd was feeling his appetite sharpen by the second. It would prove modest to anyone else, with loose, flowing trousers and a woolen, long-sleeved tunic, but for the Daquani, especially one of her standing, he knew that what he was seeing before him was absolutely not for anyone else’s eyes but his. It was just then he observed her braids had been taken down from their elaborate updo she had at the arena—when, he didn’t know—as they gently spilled over her shoulders and framed her foxlike face. She sighed again, watching him skillfully remove each juicy seed from the fruit’s pale flesh.

“You should squeeze it,” she told him casually, curling her legs up next to her onto the bed, “The seeds will fall out.”

He paused, glancing up at her serene, delicate face before turning the fruit over and squeezing it firmly. Tii Sanura watched his hand contract around it, the seeds spilling out into the bowl as he crushed it in his grip. She felt it again; the heat that set her ablaze from head to toe the final time they’d sparred. It had been then, when he had her on the ground, the flat of his blade pressed against the hot pulse that flowed down her neck, that same hand pinning her wrist to the ground with iron-like strength as their faces brushed dangerously against each other, that she realized they were becoming a man and a woman intended to be married and no longer the youthful partners in crime she could easily maintain a satisfactory internal distance from. It was then she became aware of a new weakness, one that caught her by surprise—she never thought it possible to see him in such a way, but there she’d been, flushed in an immeasurable amount of places, wanting to feel more than his blade against her skin.

There was not a feeling more taxing, more tenacious than desire. She could feel it blooming in her stomach with dread that she put all her will into tempering. His eyes were boring into her in a way that made her want to run away, retreat, but she refused to show such a pathetic display of weakness. He managed to get all of the seeds out, discarding the fruit out into the hall where the servants remained, flinching at his motion before he returned to her, sliding both sides of the blade along his tongue to lick off the juice. She stole a brief glance at the motion, but remained unaffected, her mask solid.

“Hm; what is this?”

“My uncle gifted me some recreated seeds they made in his laboratory. Pomegranate is what they called it.”

“Strange name.”

“All dead languages sound strange if you don’t put down your knives long enough to study them,” she subtly reprimanded.

A soft laugh passed through his nose as he returned to her side on the foot of his silken-sheeted bed.

“Tii-Tii, aren’t women from your planet meant to be less…annoying?”

“I wish I could ask the same about the men from yours.”

The juice of the pomegranate seeds gradually coated their tongues as they chewed on them and continued to make playful jabs at the other.

“I want a pleasant wife,” Feyd proclaimed with the gravity of a command, “A respectful one.”

Obedient was a far-fetched fantasy.

“If you want a pleasant and respectful wife, then you must please and respect her,” she said with the impersonal tone of a proverb, “You must plant seeds to harvest what you desire.”

He eyed her quizzically as she continued eating pomegranate seeds. She didn’t respond to the question in his stare, in fact, she seemed to be avoiding his gaze altogether.

“Tii-Tii,” he began slowly, “It’s unlike you to avoid a subject.”

He watched her shoulders square off with interest. Perhaps he had more leeway over her than he anticipated.

“I don’t—“

“We both know playing coy isn’t a convincing look on you,” he interrupted, a wicked smile forming on his face.

“Whatever you wish to speak about, I will speak on,” she said, “But I must admit I don’t know what you want to discuss.”

“The consummation of our marriage.”

She didn’t miss a beat, tilting her head with a shrug. “Yes, a necessary duty. It will be fulfilled, I will give you heirs. I can guarantee no difficulty in the…process.”

Upon finally meeting her betrothed’s gaze, Tii Sanura fell silent. The heat of his stare was unmistakable, and a shiver went down her spine. This couldn’t happen yet, she thought to herself, no overextending.

“Of course, it will wait until our wedding night,” she clarified, testing the waters of his mood, “Anything beforehand would be improper.”

He didn’t answer her, only took the bowl in his hands and lifted it to her mouth.

“Spit them out.”

Hunger. It was burning off of him so intensely she could feel it against her cheeks, which were growing more flushed by the moment. She stared at him in an oppressively long silence before her eyes shifted away to the floor, then gradually met his again. She was blushing, he realized.

“Feyd, what are you doing?”

Her voice had become much more softer, confused. It made him want to pounce, but that wouldn’t do him any good, not when he was getting her where he wanted her. His silence in response weighed down the air around them with what felt to her like tons—she was cornered and she knew it. There were two options: she could fight him off and swat him away, which would anger him, but he could not resist her Voice’s commands. The other one she dare not think of, lest she forget herself. Slowly, she spit the seeds out, watching him a bit nervously. He couldn’t tell she was nervous, of course, no one could, but he had the air of certainty of a predator closing in on its hunt.

She was not ignorant to the fact her betrothed was dangerous and forceful. He was clever, manipulative, calculating, but ultimately a slave to his desires. The Reverend Mother Superior had appointed the two to one another for just this precise reason: one of the sharpest of her students to serve as a companion and counsel to such a husband, but also to keep him contained. She was well aware of her husband-to-be’s danger, and the genuine hazards that came with the heat of his passions.

Tii Sanura was still confident in her ability to defend herself physically, and she knew he had certainly not forgotten how swiftly she could put him down, even if there proved more struggle in the present day. But no, she realized, Feyd did not intend to force his way through to her at all; he knew he could tug on the threads of physical desire that he intended to conjure within her. She also knew, furthermore, that such a refutation and humiliation of her self-discipline was the gratification he wanted—how long, she couldn’t determine.

She rose from the bed as he set the bowl down. He was watching her like a panther.

“What’s wrong,” he questioned, voice saccharine with humor, “You seem tense.”

“Certainly…you can wait a few more months for an heir—“

“I don’t care about heirs, Sanura. I think that’s obvious enough.”

The way he’d said her name made her want to reconsider her resolve, but involuntary alarm bells went off as he approached her—his expression was so dark, his stare so heavy on her face that it reminded her of his thrill in the arena today, his sharp, powerful movements as he struck down his opponents. Damn him, she thought, he’s even got the propaganda working on me.

She watched as his eyes raked her body, her face, and his aura got shadowy as he stepped towards her. Bad, bad, was all that she could think, this still couldn’t happen yet. They had to be married. She tried to spin up a diversion with her words, but they were beyond unintelligible, let alone obvious lies.

“I am not like you, Feyd. I don’t harbor such desires, I am not…I do not have lustful wants. I cannot…It’s not right.”

He only held a knowing smile in his eyes as he closed in on her slowly, standing over her and peering down with evident satisfaction. She was too prideful to back away from him, no matter how badly she wanted to. Or perhaps she didn’t want to. He couldn’t tell, and Tii Sanura didn’t know herself right now. He held her jaw gently, making her hold his stare. He could feel her pulse racing under her skin, and she felt it quicken the longer she knew he could feel how fast her heartbeat was getting. It wasn’t right, she could only helplessly repeat to herself, it wasn’t time yet, it wasn’t right.

The more it kept repeating, the less it was starting to matter. The heat coming from his body was beginning to eclipse how stupid and reckless such an indulgence would be, what a delicate night this was, and how she had been avoiding this exact situation for the past year. A new voice spoke in response: and what a miserable year it has been.

“I have trouble with that, Sanura,” he said quietly, grazing one of her flushed cheeks with this thumb, “See, I don’t think you’re telling the truth.”

She lied like breathing. “I am.”

He clicked his tongue, smiling slightly. “No, you’re not. I can smell it off of you. I know my wife.”

“Near wife,” she quickly corrected, brushing his hand aside.

Her pedantry annoyed him, it wasn’t going to distract him from his goal. He knew just how to punish her for it.

“My wife all the same,” he countered, “Just as I am yours. Besides, you think I can’t tell your only weakness? You can barely think straight and all I’ve done is touch you a little.”

She was fortuitous in her composure—he knew the embarrassment that must’ve been flushing through her body at his open recognition of her obvious desire. She held his gaze now without his help; she had the strength of a challenge behind her stare. His mocking smile grew.

“I have no weakness. You are too used to the pathetic women on this planet to understand that.”

“Oh, Tii-Tii,” he lamented with a sigh, “You know I hate it when you lie to me. Do you think I’m as stupid as everyone else?”

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back. There was mild surprise in her eyes underneath her cool expression; she didn’t do it consciously. He felt his pulse starting to rise; she was cracking.

“I am not one of your whores,” she told him firmly, “You cannot have your way with me as you please. You must have my agreement.”

He smiled, eagerly backing her against the wall. “My darling beloved, I already have it. Don’t I?”

Her eyes flared with sudden alarm. “Feyd, what in the gods’ name is making you speak in such a way?”

“I am not a boy anymore, Sanura,” he said, eyes tracing her skin before returning to press down on her gaze, “And you are not a naive girl. You are a woman. You are a…beautiful woman.”

“I will not be demeaned in such a way,” she warned.

“It is not my intention to do such a thing.”

“You are cornering me like an animal.”

He smiled. “Are you cornered? Are you admitting such a thing?”

She blinked, then a sudden wave of anger darkened her features. He knew before she opened her mouth that she was about to use her Voice on him—he clasped his hand on her mouth, caging her to the wall with the rest of his body. He watched fire bloom in her eyes with reverence.

“You could not understand the way I have longed for you,” he spoke, voice too soft for anyone else but them to hear, “I would not disrespect a woman such as yourself with harm or force. But I will not wait any longer.”

Her eyes were alarmed and questioning. He willingly gave her the answer.

“I need you.”

His fingers gently grazed the scriptures that were raised on her soft skin, trying not to let his breath tremble—he did not anticipate being the slightest bit nervous to make his advance, but he couldn’t help it, not when it was her.

“You’re getting goosebumps,” he remarked with a grin, “Now why is that?”

He teased the edge of her waistband gently, watching her chest rise and fall in short, tight breaths. She was so much more easier to toy with than he thought, or she held back more needs of her own than he could’ve imagined.

“I’ve always wondered about that day.”

Tii Sanura felt her heart drop in humiliation, but an undeniable thrill shot through her. Part of her feared he’d forgotten, consider what he could be sticking his dick in every night, but here he was, admitting it had sat as heavy on his chest as hers.

“If no one had the opportunity to stop us…what I could’ve done to you…”

His fingers slid between the waistband and her bare skin as he slowly grabbed ahold of her hip, holding her in place. Her breath shuddered involuntarily, sending a jolt of hunger through his body.

“Mm, see? You aren’t made of stone, my jewel. You are a woman.”

She looked away with obvious discomfort and shame, but Feyd wanted to press a bit more before retreating. He didn’t lie, he would not force her.

“I will wait for you to come to me,” he said, leaning in to speak softly into her ear, “I won’t judge you for your needs, Tii-Tii. I know I am the only man to have ever touched you like this.”

They looked at each other, the pretense of denial have shattered, making their gazes wide open, their feelings and intentions obvious, unable to cloak them from the other. Slowly, he removed his hand from her mouth, a bit worried she would immediately lash out with a command.

She did not. She was silent. Her lips trembled.

He glanced between them and her eyes, his body slowly closing in on hers until he knew she wouldn’t resist him. He kissed her, gently, so as not to scare her too much, taking hold of her waist underneath her tunic. Her body was rigid and he could sense the nervous, confused energy coming off of her. He parted his lips from hers, feeling her trembling breath against his face.

“F-Feyd…”

She was stuttering, her mind seemingly incapable of forming a coherent thought as she frowned. Her eyes seemed to take in his face in a new way, but she couldn’t make the two different images fit. He kissed her lips again. Then her cheeks, then, with a flash of weakness, he kissed her neck, and her breath audibly drew.

“Feyd, please…”

I can’t take any more, is what she didn’t say but he knew what she meant. It made his blood get even hotter, rushing straight to his groin. His fingers dug into her skin, perfumed with roses, and he inhaled the scent greedily with a swallow.

“You think I don’t know the ways I make you excited?”

She stiffened as he forced his leg between her thighs and pressed against her, making her exhale loudly and mutter under her breath, closing her eyes and turning her face away.

“You can’t—I must…I can’t.”

She felt the cold blade of his newly gifted knife caress her cheek before he pressed the flat of it against her face to turn her face towards his, making her open her eyes and meet his gaze in challenge.

“Mm, those pretty eyes,” he said softly, trailing the dagger point down her neck, then chest, “You can’t what, my darling?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your pet,” she demanded, hand closing around the hilt of a blade tucked in her waistband.

“No, no, of course not,” he soothed, voice rumbling in her ears as he tilted her chin up with his jewel-jilted knife, “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Her eyebrows drew together, and Feyd felt a thrill flash through him like a shiver. What will you do now?

He lowered his mouth to hers, eyes burning into hers, challenging her to stop him. She tried to wriggle but it only created friction between their intertwined bodies. Her eyes shut with a grunt at the feeling of heat and a jolt of pleasure blooming between her legs against his thigh. He watched her, tongue grazing his lips.

“You disgust me,” she calmly jabbed at him, trying not to give a reaction.

He chuckled. “Oh. Do I?”

“Get off of me,” she insisted, “I’m only warning you—once…”

Her voice faltered at the feeling of his blade’s tip tracing her bare waist as he pressed harder, his erection pressing against her thigh. It was upsettingly sizeable, just as she remembered when he was on top of her before. She had prayed it was just a trick of her mind.

Fuck, no, no—she couldn’t, definitely not, at least, before they were wed. It was not only beyond taboo for a woman of her standing in Daquan—but a blow against her pride as a Bene Gesserit. She had proven herself to the Reverend Mother, and she was supposed to throw that away, be knocked up under the seductive force of a Harkonnen? It sounded beyond deranged.

“I will not lie with you,” she told him firmly, finding some ground in her desire-afflicted mind. “You cannot force me.”

“Oh, you’re really breaking, aren’t you,” he murmured against her neck, parting his lips afterwards to taste her skin.

Her chest rose high, and her left hand involuntarily grabbed onto him as she pressed her lips together, fighting the soft shudder trying to move through her body. Her right hand had a white knuckle grip on her dagger, but it faltered.

“I will not lie with you before we are wed,” she said, “I will make you stop if I have to.”

He only laughed. “You don’t have to stop me yet, Tii-Tii?”

“Feyd,” she whispered, her tone even. A warning.

“I won’t give you my heir now,” he reassured, “But that doesn’t prevent me from giving you what you need, don’t worry.”

He started to kiss down to her chest, her skin hot against his lips.

“You really do need it, don’t you? I can tell you do, or you wouldn’t be hanging onto me like that.”

The smugness in his voice both made her frustration and desire rise to a breaking point. She parted her lips to speak, but her voice had disappeared as he tossed his blade aside, undoing the top buttons of her tunic so fast she didn’t even get the chance to try and stop him. He still seemed to hold some sense of respect for her sense of modesty; instead of ripping the fabric free from her body, he let it fall slack and open, revealing her torso to him. He took in the new skin, how the golden tattoos adorned her chest, and he couldn’t help but trace the pads of his finger across them, mesmerized.

“I still can’t understand it, what you’ve done to me,” he muttered softly, tracing the tattoos that weaved up her neck. She shivered slightly at the sensation, despite her best efforts.

Her will was starting to crumble as his fingers slid under her waistband, teasing at her undergarment, his touch creeping lower so slowly her legs were becoming weak. He licked atop her collarbone and tasted her skin, her head slowly tilting back as he dragged his tongue across her throat, tasting her pulse, gently grazing his teeth against her flesh. She made a soft sound, the tension in her body softening. Feyd grinned in victory, feeling the tension in her hips slowly loosening. That’s my girl, just as you’re supposed to.

“I can feel your legs shaking,” he said, words coming out in a low hum, “You’re this pathetic, just from my touch?”

Feyd was losing sight of anything beyond this moment. Her weak, bated breath, the moan building in her throat, the heat coming off of her intoxicating skin—it was overwhelming in the most delicious way. Her breath caught as she stared up at him, feeling, with equal parts terror and awe, completely helpless. It was a state of being she never thought possible; she was always far ahead of her peers, enemies, and colleagues. Never, in her lifetime, had anyone put her in such a weak, pliable position—certainly never a man of the Great Houses.

But here he was: her husband, the only one she ever thought close to matching her, doing just that, and about to push beyond it. Her lips slowly parted as her breath evened and he gently brushed his mouth against his. Their eyes fell shut at the mutual feeling.

“Kiss me,” he whispered against her mouth.

The heavy footsteps reached Tii Sanura’s ears before they reached his, and as the doors hissed, she had summoned a surge of strength within her to shove him away and quickly lunge over to the seat her cloak was and tugging it on. He fell back onto his bed in pure disorientation as she fastened a few of the bigger buttons and pulled the hood over her beautiful, precious face. Feyd quickly sat up as he looked from her cloaked figure to his cousin’s hulking frame barging into his quarters. An overwhelming wave of hatred washed over him as he glanced between them both with suspicion and curiosity. The fucking bastard, he seethed to himself.

“Uncle wants you to see him,” Rabban said, “And you, too.”

She ignored him, leaving the room smoothly with her hood up. Feyd watched her slip through his fingers in furious agony. The fucking bastard; he was so close.

“What—“

Feyd’s white-hot glare was enough to make Rabban turn away and leave.

***

Tii Sanura’s aura was dark and heavy as they were all escorted to meet with the Baron. She stalked ahead of the men in silence, her cloaked hands clasped firmly behind her back. Feyd eyed her with a discreet sense of pride while Rabban eyed her warily. Her hooded figure was unsettling to The Beast; there was something about the silence and swiftness of her movements which set his spine straight. This mood troubled him; in the underworld of corridors they travelled, she could easily slip from his sight and do god knows what. He remembered the day she interrupted his training session hours after he had insulted her culture’s customs, and she brutally beat him with just the same coordination and grace as she had in her movements now. Needless to say, he apologized.

Rabban glanced to Feyd, but his cousin’s face, as usual, remained impossible to decipher.

The three entered the quarters of Baron Harkonnen in silence. Instantaneously, Tii Sanura’s entire aura shifted from agitated to perfectly collected. The Baron blew smoke from his hookah, smiling at the sight of her as he reclined in his ink black bath. It took all her fortitude to not allow disgust to creep up in her mind at the unpleasant sight.

“Ah, my dear nice-in-law,” he remarked, “I’m glad you visited today.”

She smiled, briefly inclining her hooded head. “Lord Baron.”

Feyd and Rabban stood by as the Baron Harkonnen and Tii Sanura exchanged disturbing pleasantries with warm smiles.

He chuckled, rising the hookah to his lips. “How did you like your betrothed’s performance today? Did you not find it impressive? He’s improved, no?”

Feyd eyed her as he awaited her answer; she knew better than to refuse the statement or show any degree of affection towards the na-Baron, but there was always a sliver within him that hungered for her approval.

“He has learned well,” she affirmed smoothly.

“Perhaps after the wedding you can test your blade against his again, see for yourself.”

A soft smile briefly spread on her lips as she turned to him, gaze spelling vengeance. Feyd’s gaze tossed the challenge back with a small smirk. Her eyes said something he couldn’t decipher in response. Rabban glanced between the two discreetly, but his cousin still caught his eye, making him avert his gaze. Tii Sanura’s eyebrow rose a quirk as she glanced over at Rabban as well before turning her attention back to the eldest Harkonnen.

“Perhaps indeed, Lord Baron, but at least let him give me heirs first.”

He chuckled lightly, smoke billowing from his lips. Rabban observed the three with split second glances before remaining still, lest their withering stares fix onto him. He never trusted the Daquani girl. She was too clever, too good at saying the perfect things at the perfect time. His time on Arrakis only made him more wary—to come home to a woman so similar to the rats he fought on Arrakis, charming room after room, bathed in gold and glittering jewels, wrapping his Uncle around her finger only spelled trouble to him.

She was skilled at eliciting any paternal affections the soulless Baron Vladmir Harkonnen possessed—her mental acuity and combat skills already made her the bride he’d envisioned for his prized nephew, but her family’s power and prowess bumped her up to god’s personal gift to him. As if to prove his point, the Baron’s expression glowed with the same fondness he looked upon Feyd with—she was already family.

Rabban swallowed his annoyance, and Baron Vladmir’s eyes slid over to him slowly as if he’d sensed it; his expression quickly souring.

“You may leave.”

Anyone who could make Rabban go away in a moment’s notice immediately gained the Duchess’s favor. Feyd watched her back slowly relax as Rabban left, slinking up next to her. She didn’t shift her focus from his Uncle as their hands brushed against each other.

“Now then, enough pleasantries,” the Baron dismissed, “I have spoken with your family this week. I am sure you know Tii.”

She nodded. “Indeed, My Lord.”

“We have agreed that tomorrow is the day you two shall finally unite.”

Tii Sanura’s stomach dropped, and Feyd suppressed a smile. It seems he didn’t need to wait a few more months after all. He could sense the tension in his fiancé, though, and brushed the satisfaction he felt aside. Either she was truly afraid to marry him, or she knew something he didn’t.

She didn’t falter; in fact, she smiled. “I see, when are we to return to Daquan?”

“They intend to send for you tonight. A bit hasty, but I suspect they are a bit protective of their heir all alone on Geidi Prime, all these years aside. We’ve also discussed your living arrangements.”

Feyd eyed his Uncle suspiciously. “Living arrangements?”

“Yes, the Duke and Duchess have generously invited you to live as newlyweds in their court; I see no protest. You will enjoy yourself, nephew; I have heard many stories of the pleasure of Daquan. Consider it another gift for your birthday.”

Feyd’s jaw clenched as he recalled the afternoon attempt on his life in the arena with the Atreides slave with some annoyance. He pondered drowning his Uncle as his expression darkened. His lips dared to part and speak the thought, but Tii Sanura pinched him discreetly to tell him to be quiet. Sensing something beyond his understanding, he obliged his wife.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset, nephew, you proved yourself quite well,” the Baron chided, chuckling, “Besides, I have another gift for your birthday.”

His lips parted into a smile that made Tii Sanura’s blood chill.

“Arrakis.”

The air in the room shifted. Tii Sanura’s mind fell still. Arrakis. The sister planet to her own, populated with a people whose ancestors undoubtedly lived in some semblance of the peace and calm hers did before the Empire discovered their Spice, before the Harkonnens sunk their claws into the planet. She held her composure, but wanted to swallow. The thought of ruling over Arrakis made her throat feel like sandpaper. The thought of Arrakis made her blood pulse and thicken. She wanted to sit, she wanted to leave immediately, she wanted to go back home.

Feyd placed his hand on her lower back, glancing over to her. She resented the way it calmed her. She couldn’t stand it.

“Rabban has obviously proved his incompetence, and I need Spice production stabilized. And you, my dearest niece-in-law, you will undoubtedly find a way to make yourself of use in this effort.”

“Of course, Lord Baron,” she assured, her expression placid.

“Of course, still, there are more talks to be had beyond this, but your union, and our houses’ unions are imperative. Go and prepare for your voyage, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you—I sense your union will be…more than agreeable.”

The Baron grinned, and instinctively Tii Sanura’s stepped away from Feyd’s touch to give a slight bow of respect. She offered a meditative smile, bowing her head slightly again and leaving silently. Feyd-Rautha followed, eyes fixed on her curiously. What did she know that he didn’t?

The moment the doors shut, Tii Sanura whirled around, and her hand shot out and collided harshly with Feyd-Rautha’s face. Without missing a beat, she walked towards her quarters at full stride, frustrations bubbling within her as if they had all come to boil.

“Do not ever touch me in that man’s presence,” she snapped lowly, eyes smoldering with barely restrained frustration, “I will not tolerate such humiliation, and you—“

She suddenly cut herself off as Feyd watched the anger boil over into the darkest glare he’d ever seen on his betrothed’s face. They held each other’s gazes, and a flash of realization passed over Tii Sanura’s face, sweeping away her temper as quickly as it had descended, causing him some dissatisfaction—he had never seen her so alive. She sucked her teeth, giving him a harsh look and stalking off back to her quarters.

The bastard.

As she rounded the corner, Feyd grabbed her and pinned her to the wall, eyes smoldering. Her gaze held heat too, and it flared back at him with upset and desire. His hand closed around her throat carefully, holding her to the wall as he whispered in her ear. She was learning new things about herself today—the second was what the sensation of such a gesture did to her body. His breath fanned against her face before her spoke quietly into her ear, mindful that his voice didn’t carry beyond the dark, empty hallway. To her shock and thrill, her language flowed from his lips as he spoke.

“Don’t hit me like that unless you’re willing to pay for it,” he told her, voice practically a low growl, “When we’re married, the next time you strike me like that, I’m going to bend you over the first thing I see and fuck that attitude right out of you. That’d be just what you needed, wouldn’t it? I bet you need it now.”

Their breaths were heavy as he let go of her throat, grabbing the back of her neck, and pulled her into a heated, aching kiss. She grabbed onto the fabric of his tunic with a soft quaver of her voice in her throat, opening her mouth—her body had nearly taken over her mind with need, and she crumbled into the kiss with almost as much need as her husband-to-be. He had to hold back the satisfied groan that wanted to rumble in his chest at her near matching his hunger before suddenly pushing him back as much as he would allow. Her breath was quiet but heavy. Her eyes were unmistakable, even in the shadows of the Harkonnen palace. Feyd held her tighter, leaning in again and taking another kiss.

She slowly closed her eyes, her eyebrows briefly creasing before her expression softened into nothingness again. Her body relaxed into a deep exhale, and suddenly, everything became…

Feyd’s world blurred around him. His mind spun as his feet’s hold on the ground seemed to lapse in and out. All he could hang onto was her scent, her heat, the pulsing blood that rushed through her body. Then, her voice. It whispered to him, but she didn’t open her mouth. A Bene Gesserit trick, he realized.

Follow me.

He wanted to be angry at her slight smirk, but he couldn’t; his mind and body were sedated under her cooling presence as she rose from the wall and took his hand off of her throat, linking their fingers to lead him through the darkness. He opened his mouth, but her whispers stopped him.

Don’t speak. You don’t need to. I know what it is you need.

Somehow he could still see her eyes through the shadows that devoured them both. His heartbeat filled his ears—but whispers did, too, whispers he couldn’t understand. He heard her gently laugh, much to his annoyance and stoking his lust. His hunger couldn’t decide if he preferred how she unraveled for him, or how she could assert her will over every aspect of his being at a moment’s notice.

He blinked, and suddenly his mind cleared. They were in her room. His cock strained against his pants as she reclined on her bed, resting on her elbows. He could see the curves of her breasts through her cloak—was she only wearing her cloak?

“Come,” she told him, her gaze dangerous. Another change.

She didn’t need to command him. Feyd knew the danger he had to be in for her to invite her to his bed, but he had no control. He slowly climbed on top of her, wary of whatever she had up her sleeve.

Careful, her Voice whispered. Not a command, but a warning. His mind sharpened with the familiarity of being caught in one of her traps. Her looked over her serene face with confusion.

“The time has come, my friend,” she said softly, “When I am to test if you are simply an animal, or a man.”

The world suddenly grew clear, and he became acutely aware of something pointing at the side of his neck.

“I hold the Gom Jabbar at your neck,” she told him, eyes scathingly watchful, “One move, and I kill you.”

He swallowed, his desires becoming increasingly stoked by the passing moment. She had him bested once again.

“What is my test,” he asked, eyes taking in glimpses of the bare inscribed skin underneath the black, shimmering fabric.

“Focus,” she sweetly reprimanded, “Or you will die by your wife’s hand.”

He held her stare, feeling his cock aching painfully. She moved her sleeve, revealing a small box further up the bed. He moved with her as she slowly reclined until her head was right next to it, and his hand threatened to slide into the mysterious contraption.

“Put your hand into the box,” she instructed, her lips brushing against his.

He was very wary of her intentions now, she was too open, too intoxicating. Hesitantly, he followed her directions while stealing glances at her.

“What is in it, Sanura?”

Her teeth gleamed in the light as a knowing smile curved her full, pillowy mouth.

“Pain.”

The moment the word left her lips, agony overcame his entire being. He knew to hold still, she would kill him without thinking, but his hand felt as if it was being put through multiple tortures all at once—the skin and muscles flaying off of bone, the fire consuming bubbling flesh, the freezing cold making the sinews brittle and dead. It was too much—he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He held his wife’s dangerous, enigmatic stare as his hips slightly thrust against her and his cock pulsed and twitched in his pants. She felt it, but didn’t respond.

“Don’t move,” she warned.

His eyes were seeing white with the overwhelming sensations consuming his body—he held onto his wife’s instruction, trying to find her eyes through the haze. He was certain at this point that his hand was long gone, but the pain continued, telling him otherwise.

A groan filled his throat, and she clicked her tongue.

“Silence,” she told him.

His breath was ragged as he fought it down. This woman would be the death of him. He couldn’t tell if he hated her or loved her in this moment of torment.

He fixed his gaze onto hers, forcefully keeping himself upright with nothing but spite and terror. He watched her smile grow, but then she became blurry, and her whispers filled his ears. He felt her careful touch wipe his eyes so he could see clearly again.

“Very good,” she said.

Tears involuntarily rolled down the na-Baron’s face. He was right at the gates of release as she lowered the Gom Jabbar, visibly pleased. The pain lowered from its mind-frying crest, making him nearly collapse onto her if it weren’t for the tension holding his muscles in place.

“You can take your hand out, now.”

Feyd discovered with some shock that his hand was completely intact. Pristine, even. He swallowed, looking down at his wife in shock as his nervous system slowly stabilized. She was smiling. It was a strange one. Not the kind from games or torment, but unmistakably tender. Feyd’s heart slammed in his chest as he slowly rested his forehead against hers, but she allowed it.

“Very good,” she repeated, leaning upwards to gently press her cool cheek against his hot, teary face.

His words rasped out. “Am I an animal, my love?”

She chuckled sweetly, the devilwoman. He wanted to ravage her right then and there.

“You are an animal of a man, my husband. But you prove a man, indeed.”

“So have I passed your Bene Gesserit test, then,” he asked, eyelids heavy as he lifted himself up and let his gaze pass over her body again.

“Yes,” she said, “And now…”

He pressed his hips into her slowly, desire slowly reviving his traumatized senses. “…Now?”

“Now…”

She slowly lifted her chin, tasting the salt on his cheeks, feeling the hungry tremor pass through his body with satisfaction. His hands balled into fists, gripping the silken sheets in his hands. He inhaled her scent, roses and sweat and lust, mouth nearly watering. She grinned as she spoke into his ear.

“You must leave and prepare to depart for our wedding.”

At the flash of indignation on his face, she quickly changed her tone.

“Now,” she commanded.

Involuntarily, he rose, his face blank. She lied back with a sigh, placing the Gom Jabbar back into its cloth sheath and placing it on the bed next to her.

“I will see you soon, my friend,” she teased, “Perhaps your pets can satisfy you.”

The monstrous woman, he thought to himself as he unwillingly left her quarters. I knew she was jealous of them.

Tii Sanura let out a heaving exhale, lying back on the silken pillows and closing her eyes. It was only then her awareness noticed the pair of servants in the corner, awestruck and terrified. She sat up, covering herself with a bit of embarrassment.

“Oh dear, my apologies,” she said, finally addressing them, “I am usually not so sloppy. That was rather…improper of us.”

The two women eyed her warily. She considered them, then gave a small, benevolent smile.

“You may stand properly. I will be your new mistress, and I do not hail from a house of savagery. I expect my servants to stand with some semblance of grace.”

The two women shared a look of confusion, but quickly separated, timidly emerging from the corner with their heads bowed and shoulders crumbled. They faced her and looked at her, but she quickly realized the slaves of the Harkonnens did not know how to stand properly.

“Oh dear,” she remarked.

The slaves tensed in fear, trembling in anticipation of a brutal punishment. Tii Sanura rose from the bed.

“You must lift your heads, my darlings. Stand as I do.”

They observed her, then, warily straightened their spines, their shoulders squaring. Her expression was calm but warm, and she nodded in approval.

“That is better, but we will work on it.”

She considered them in silence, and the slaves gradually became less tense, unsure of what to do or anticipate from the stranger.

“What are your names?”

They feared her too much to speak. Her eyes softened.

“That is alright. You will decide yourselves when the time is right.”

She clothed herself, then gestured for them to approach. They avoided her eyes, but moved towards her quickly.

“You shall join me in Daquan. Is this agreeable?”

The two women nodded, hesitant to disobey, curious and eager to leave the cruel House Harkonnen to discover the court of their new mistress. She smiled.

“I suspected as much. Stay close to me. I will not allow otherwise.”

***

Feyd immediately sought out his wife the moment they were on their way to Daquan in a rage. His footsteps were silent—habit of a trained killer, but his fury was easily felt by Tii Sanura as she and the two Harkonnen slave women conversed.

He stormed into her quarters, meeting an unbelievably bizarre sight—two of his house’s slaves, smiling, conversing freely with his wife, dressed in the luxurious fabrics and jewels that she was adorning them in. Their faces fell in mortal terror at the sight of him, but his wife was unmoved. His stomach twisted, a new, unpleasant feeling. Something was wrong.

“Ah, hello, my friend.”

He moved to grab the slaves, but his wife’s dark stare stopped him in his tracks.

“Take one step towards them and I will return their suffering to you hundredfold,” she snapped, then smiled, “Do you understand?”

Indignation rose to a peak, he snapped at them. “Out.”

Tii Sanura was clearly annoyed by his addressing of the women, but she remained calm.

“No, no; you may stay. I do not want the Harkonmen envoys near you.”

“What is wrong with you, woman,” he demanded, stalking towards her as the women retreated to share a corner, frozen in silence.

She watched him calmly, her expression serene as always. Her eyebrows rose in mock sympathy.

“You did not ease your affliction with your pets?”

Her eyes flitted over to the women with a playful wink; embarrassment simultaneously infuriated and aroused him, and he glared back at the women. They stood differently, he noticed, and then he realized they were awaiting her instructions. Something was wrong.

“What is this,” he questioned, voice forcibly calmed, “What is happening in this room?”

She seemed to be glowing with a quiet joy, her features no longer held the shadow they did in Geidi Prime. She touched his face.

“Calm yourself,” she commanded gently, “And hear me.”

Feyd’s head swam as his nervous system suddenly slowed down. She guided him to her bed, and the two sat. He had never seem such warmth in her eyes.

“I will give you what you need,” she assured, whispering so as not to reach the ears of the women in the corner, “I can promise you; it will outclass any pleasure you derive from suffering. I will give you something better. Let your anger go.”

Her hand soothingly rubbed his back, a motion he did not understand, but wanted to continue. His confusion under the gaze of slaves made him tense. This was beyond humiliation.

“Feyd, do you trust me?”

Easy answer. “No.”

She laughed softly. “I will change that. But you can. I am fond of you, and our marriage ensures your safety.”

Safety?

The na-Baron knew he was missed crucial pieces of the puzzle his wife-to-be had built, but needed no additional information to understand he was caught in her web, and traveling through space directly into the nest itself.

“I cannot tell you everything until we are wed, and your safety is guaranteed.”

Her fingers caressed his jaw soothingly, and he looked at her. He didn’t know who the woman before him was.

“What are you planning, Tii Sanura,” he asked her, voice low.

“It is not my plan. It is the plan. And Vladimir Harkonnen is not included.”

A conspiracy. Familiar ground. He felt a bit more settled with this knowledge, but still, he was wary.

“I am your hostage, then?”

She laughed. It was a laugh he remembered from long ago, when she teased him for not having eyebrows when they were children.

“There is no need for hostages. The course is set. There is no escape. You are my betrothed. We are marrying, and that is all. They want you to breed. I want you to live.”

The word intrigued him. “Breed?”

She laughed slightly. “You will understand soon enough. I see glimpses of the path, but I will see it all. I will make sure you survive the coming storm.”

He scanned her face, but there was no way to know if Tii Sanura was ever lying, not to mention she was speaking nonsense. Seeing he couldn’t understand her, she sighed.

“Give me a moment.”

She led the women outside, conversing with the guards—no, instructions, Feyd corrected, orders to protect them if trouble arose—then returned inside so they were alone. Her eyes were fond, affectionate. It made his stomach churn. His head was spinning.

“I apologize that I cannot ease your confusion, my friend. Plans have been in motion since we have been betrothed; this is all I can tell you for now. You will learn the rest on your own.”

She went over to him, cupping his cheek in her hand and kneeling before him, resting onto his lap. Feyd felt the blood rush to his groin immediately.

“You have known no other life than the one given to you on Geidi Prime. It is a brutal, unnatural existence, but you have become the best specimen of such a place, which is why I fought for you.”

Fought?

“Your way of life has perfected you for the Baron’s purposes. But I wish to show you new ways of life—better ways. You burn what does not need burning, you strike when you need to caress. You will learn these things in Daquan.”

His heartbeat was slamming in his chest as she slid between his legs, looking up at him as he felt her breasts gently pressing against his lower abdomen, stoking the fires of his lust punishingly.

“I only ask of you to let me show you the way. I believe you can be redeemed. Let me show you the way to redemption.”

“I do not need to be redeemed,” he demanded, placing his hand around her throat, “You insult me.”

She smiled, and chuckled softly. “I will first teach you the ways of unsullied pleasure. Let me demonstrate my first lesson, and we will see how you feel afterwards.”

Her hands freely massaged his painful erection with careful pressure. His head swam his need; his grip tightened on her throat. She placed her hand over his, and he curiously allowed her to guide it elsewhere, lower, where his hand cupped her breast. His inhale was sharp.

“Do forgive my deception; I am not uneducated in matters of sex.”

The smile in her lips guaranteed her apology was false. Jealously lazily flared in him, but faded as she continued to massage his length through his pants.

“I cannot show any weakness in your court, so I had to hide many aspects of myself. I suspect you will be pleased with the discoveries you make in our time together.”

“I…will not be your pet, woman,” he protested, pleasure beginning to dull his harsher intentions. She deserved to be punished for her antics and condescension, but her hands were undoing him.

“No, you will not,” she assured, moving closer to graze his lips with hers, “You will be my husband.”

He kissed her hungrily, thrilled and conflicted by the newfound passion he was given back by his betrothed. He wished to take it from her, but she gave it so freely, and he needed the release so badly he couldn’t care less how he got her to ease his agonizing denial. She was tugging at his puppet strings, he knew this, but to receive whatever she offered, he would accept being bested. For now.

She broke their lips apart, eyes slowly opening, lids heavy in a way that he never thought possible.

“Do you trust me now,” she asked, kissing his jaw, slowly unbuttoning his trousers.

“No,” he muttered, then, after gathering his thoughts, “I don’t know.”

Her lips brushed against his ear. “Surrender this moment to me, and I will show you the beauty of trust.”

He had no protest. She smiled.

“Mm, I thought so.”

“You witch,” he protested at her gloating.

She only chuckled. “I cannot perform magic tricks, but I understand your confusion.”

Her kiss firmly silenced any retort she had as she closed her hand around his clothed length, making his breath shudder.

“My customs prevent me from making any sexual contact with your bare flesh,” she whispered, her voice wavering, “But the scriptures I studied didn’t mention anything about—“

He cut her off, taking her face in his hands and kissing her with unrestrained hunger as she began stroking him at a measured rhythm. He groaned softly into her mouth, and she tasted it eagerly. She spoke against his lips.

“I want you to be my husband,” she said, breathing heavily, “Do you understand? No other man will do. No other man would be my lover. I want you.”

“I knew you wanted me,” he muttered lazily, completely at the mercy of her skillful hands, “You cannot lie to me about this.”

“I will not lie to you anymore,” she said, words flowing from her lips in the heat of the moment, “There will be no need to. We will be together.”

He growled involuntarily at the feeling of his climax approaching as she sighed.

“You—you belong to me,” he said, it was both a statement and a question.

“We belong to each other,” she whispered, “No one will disturb us. No one will want to.”

His hand closed around her throat again and squeezed. She sighed again, no other man would take control like him, even when he was at his weakest.

“You belong to me,” he repeated—this time, it was a command.

She smiled, making sure to draw each word out, the surrender he had hungered for so ardently for so, very, very long. Her voice was soft and sweet in his ear, but strained under his grip.

“I belong to you.”

He climaxed almost immediately. He groaned as his cum spilled inside his pants; it belonged in her hot, wet cunt, but that was a matter for later. She hummed in affirmation as his cock twitched and pulsed underneath her hand, and made a slight sound of surprise as his hips jutted against her chest. She gripped him tightly and slowed her pace, humming along with his groans, smiling against his skin as his choking slowly changed to gripping her jaw to hold her still for his ravenous kisses, then changed to gripping her hair at her scalp to bare her neck to his hungry mouth.

She gasped as he kissed and sucked at her throat like a starved animal, then, to his astonishment, moaned softly.

“Feyd,” she barely said, her words barely intelligible through her growing sounds of pleasure, “Feyd, wait…”

His teeth grazed her skin, and she shivered with a smile, moving her hand away from his spent cock to press them both against his chest. She was being too indulgent, but then again, he had always been a bad influence.

“You want to wait,” he asked, tugging her head back, “You care about some old books?”

She chuckled, then moaned as he left a mark on her skin with a harsh kiss.

“I must—We must wait.”

She gently pushed him back, and he accepted her resistance. He was satisfied by her willingness to express her desire; her surrender to his demand. Hesitantly, he restrained himself and pulled away. She kissed him softly, caressing his head with such affection he would’ve thought a stranger was touching him.

“Without principles, we are no better than animals,” she said, “Not all disciplines are easy, I don’t deny it.”

She smiled at him, a devilish twinkle forming in her eyes.

“But the rewards for such obedience prove much sweeter than without it.”

The na-Baron took in his betrothed’s blissful features with an odd sense of reverence.

“You are a strange woman,” he remarked.

She smiled in amusement. “And you are a strange man.”

They kissed again, with Tii Sanura climbing into his lap as his hands hungrily roamed her clothed body.

“Are my convoys landing with me, my jewel,” he asked between kisses.

She laughed quietly. “They will make it to our realm. Then, I will have them released into the asteroid belt. Is this agreeable?”

Feyd laughed in return. “Yes, I believe it is. But I will require more of your…assistance.”

Her giggles were music to his ears as he hoisted her up into his arms, then tossed her onto her back on the bed, climbing on top of her and pressing himself between her legs.

He would have had no other woman as his wife.

#Spotify #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #my wriitng #amaranthine_enihtnarama #black y/n #fanfic authors #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #feyd x you #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha smut #is this desire?

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year ago

Text

A Game Of Cat And Mouse

Leona Kingscholar and Che’nya x Fem!Jerry Mouse!Reader

Note: Reader is Yuu/The magicless Ramshackle Prefect from another world

I have a ton of WIPs that I really want to complete but to help motivate myself to finish them I decided to write this

So Jerry’s personality seems to fluctuate depending on his iteration so I’m just going to tone down his more sadistic tendencies and make him more like the early shorts where he’s more mischievous and acts when provoked instead of going out of his way to ruin Tom’s life for no reason.

Honestly as a Tom girlie I felt so sorry for Thomas. There were times where that poor cat did not deserve what he went through - even when I was little I would root for him. Though this might just be an oldest child thing since my little sister and mum (who’s the youngest in her family) prefer Jerry.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Honestly, his first impression of you wasn’t the best. Yeah, you’re a girl and he chugs gallons of respecting women juice for every meal but come on - you’re this tiny little mousegirl from another world who can’t even do magic (not to mention that he’s heard rumours that you don’t even speak that much). You’ll get eaten alive!

Then he met you and all of that went down the drain

The meeting went as it usually does: you stepped on his tail, he angrily confronts you (whilst subtly warning you of the dangers of NRC) but then you just give him this flat, unamused look.

“Hey pussycat,” you deadpan, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms as you jut your chin up so you level him with a glare, “maybe don’t go leaving your tail lying around everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.”

Okay, so maybe you weren’t the meek little mouse that he thought you were. Even the predators in his dorm don’t have the guts to talk back to him. Honestly, respect.

Then word gets out that you defeated an overblot and his opinion of you gets more and more favourable.

Long story short, you start dating after his overblot.

And it does cause a few turned heads.

And who can blame them? A lion going out with a mouse. That’s definitely something.

And to the untrained eye, it does sound concerning. But to those who know you (read: have been around you for more than five minutes)? Well, they’re praying for Leona’s sanity because you are nothing more than an agent of chaos.

There was this one time before you and Leona got together where a bunch of Savanaclaw predators were trying to push you, Ace, Deuce and Grim around and without even blinking you just pummelled all of them right then and there. At one point during the curb stomp battle you just pulled a mallet out of nowhere and just started thrashing everyone until they were black and blue.

Congratulations the entire Savanaclaw dorm is terrified of you

All that training with Big Cousin Muscles really does wonders

NRC have two new rules: 1) don’t even think about going after the nagicless prefect because you will lose and even if you try to use magic she will dodge and it will be your funeral and 2) DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES hurt Ace, Deuce or Grim because that will probably be the last thing you ever do (memories of Jerry completely annihilating Tom after he hurt Nibbles are resurfacing)

One thing he admires about you is your cunning and intelligence and how you’re always a step ahead of everyone no matter what their plans are. Even when you do find yourself in trouble

Even Rook Hunt has trouble trying to catch you. Don’t worry though, he’s far too fond of ‘petite mademoiselle souris’ to be irked by that.

He does get jealous of how close you are with Ruggie though. Since the hyena is also a greedy little thieving bugger like you, you have found a kindred spirit in him. The two of you bond over raiding the NRC kitchen and making off with as much as you can. And also taking the mickey out of Leona.

You also get along great with Cheka. He’s noticed that you have a soft spot for children and other animals. The pro is that he gets his nephew off of his back by pawing him off to you (who he knows will make sure that no harm will come to him) the con is that you get along too well and your chaotic natures mixing will probably send him to an early grave - if your mischievous and provoking nature doesn’t already.

One thing he loves to do is tease you over your mouse-like qualities. Yeah, anyone with eyes can tell that you’re nowhere near as innocent as you look but those mouse ears, wide eyes, squeaks and cute little tail are objectively and indisputably adorable. He takes great pleasure in telling you how cute ‘his little mouse’ is, especially when you give such sweet reactions when you're flustered.

Though he does get taken aback by how bold you are. You definitely did that thing Jerry does where he holds mistletoe above his head and made kissing noises at Tom.

Your high pitched laugh makes his heart melt and he definitely uses his rich boy money to buy you all of the expensive cheese you can eat.

CHE��NYA

He loves you so much. Finally, someone he can be chaotic with - you’re a match made in hell.

His interest in you starts when he tries to sneak up on you whilst invisible but you pull one over him and just turn around, look directly into his unseeable eyes and sprAY WATER RIGHT ONTO HIS FACE-WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET THAT SPRAY BOTTLE FROM????

At first he was pleasantly surprised before his face broke into a Cheshire Cat grin. He felt cupid’s arrow hit him square in the chest and he just looked at you with heart eyes.

By asking Trey and Cater and hiding in the rose maze, he gathered enough information to decide that you are his future wife

Turns out that your troublemaking antics have you paired with Ace and Floyd for the position of ‘bane of Riddle Rosehearts’ existence’. Mainly because everytime you break a rule you always, without fail, evade punishment by avoiding getting caught - even when you are clearly the culprit

Trey has bribed you with so many cheese based baked goods to stop you from sneaking into Heartslabyul and causing mayhem (you felt sorry for him so you promised him that you’ll only steal from the main kitchen near the cafeteria. That’s not what he meant but he’ll take it)

One day he catches you kidnapping the dorm’s pet dormouse before an unbirthday party so that you ‘can help your fellow mice by freeing them from their subjugation’. He shrugs and nods in understanding before asking you if he should let out the flamingos and hedgehogs from their pens as a distraction.

And so a beautiful relationship was born as the two of you ran off with a tray of choux pastries and a bunch of angry card soldiers chasing you.

The two of you have a competition over who can sneak into and stay in Heartslabyul the longest without getting caught and you’re currently the winner.

He loves that you’re not scared of anyone and you’re not afraid to stand up to people that are almost quadruple your size. In fact, he’s there cheering you on whenever you fight back or plot your revenge (he does know that he has a whole other school to attend, right?). One time you showed him one of your revenge plans and he even helped you set the traps and everything. Oh the two of you working together has NRC running for the hills.

Like Leona, he does like to tease you but what do you expect? He’s a cat, you’re a mouse - that’s nature. Though he does love the fact that you’re always one step ahead of him whenever he does try to outsmart you. He loves a good puzzle and you certainly keep him on his toes.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #che'nya x reader #fem reader

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trans-pickles · 3 months ago

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idea that i've been brewing but probs won't have time to write but based off my terrible kieran was part of the gang/it was the o'driscolls that killed eliza and isaac - isaac lives but is raised as an o'driscoll with a sort of paternal relationship with kieran and tries to rescue him from the vdls - which is when arthur finds out he's alive. kieran and arthur awkwardly forced into co-parenting situation and fall in love along the way

tbh it makes sense to me, from what kieran says in game colm is no stranger to pressing prisoners into service. love the idea that it's almost this dark mirror of arthur's situation with dutch, where colm would act like isaac is a son to him but only when he really needs something from him which is actually almost exactly like dutch oops but it's this sort of implicit threat that with the o'driscolls, you pull your weight and make yourself useful, otherwise, you know...

isaac doesn't exactly have anywhere to go so when kieran "joins" he immediately finds a kindred spirit. maybe colm has taught him to shoot and fight and kill, but kieran teaches him about horses and fishing and bird calls. at this point isaac doesn't remember much about arthur. maybe he resents him for leaving him and his mother to die. maybe he kind of holds him on a pedestal and keeps this childish idea that someday his dad is gonna save him but he's starting to get a little too old to believe it as much as he did. maybe it's all just foggy in his mind. either way, after kieran is captured isaac is furious. colm shows no intention of going to save him and isaac is STEAMING when colm has the audacity to say that kieran better not talk.

if colm isn't gonna do something then isaac sure is, so he susses out where the gang is holed up and does his very best to free kieran. but obviously he can't get far with a malnourished and somewhat delirious straggler and he refuses to leave him behind. he's caught obviously, and in the scuffle kieran calls his name, and of course when something goes wrong arthur needs to be called over, and through a whole bunch of shouting (and afterwards, some awkward conversation) everything is pieced together.

isaac being an o'driscoll is kind of what clues them in to the fact that kieran wasn't really lying about not being a huge fan of colm himself. i mean, if they would kill eliza and keep her young son prisoner then they'd certainly keep kieran on after killing his old gang. he gets cut loose without even being threatened with gelding! and by now he's more willing to talk anyway - isaac being under the vdl's protection and thus unable to be caught in the crossfire makes him more willing to sic them on the o'driscolls. he barely even processes the REASON they've suddenly started trusting him until he actually listens to some of the breathless questions arthur is asking as he practically shakes isaac.

as soon as he hears isaac's name arthur is struck with a pang of sadness. but then he sees the kid, does some quick math in his head, remembers how there was only the one grave... it's seeing isaac's face that clinches it for him. dark grey eyes like his mother's, a scowling mouth that must look just like arthur's as he shouts at bill to let him go. arthur realizes just in time that oh yeah, this guy is invading their camp and he's dangerously close to losing his son again so he screams at everyone to put their goddamn guns away and immediately just assaults isaac with a barrage of questions.

it's a very long night for everyone. when everything is cleared up and after arthur has finished crushing isaac in his giant hug he has to accept the fact that someone else raised his kid. he doesn't know whether to resent kieran for having isaac's affection or just be happy that at least in these past few years he's had a better role model than colm (depending how long kieran has been with the o'driscolls... idk what's better, him joining up when isaac is already a teen or him being colm's whipping boy when isaac is first encountered). but arthur of course has to play nice with kieran but he slowly grows to appreciate the calming influence he has on isaac.

kieran for his part is having mixed feelings on actually meeting arthur for the first time. whatever feelings isaac had about arthur, kieran DEFINITELY was told about them. it's odd to finally meet the man in the flesh, especially since he's the one who KIDNAPPED him and threatened to kill him!!! but he kind of starts seeing how hard it is for arthur to accept the whole situation and starts tentatively trying to get closer to him. he doesn't want to... give him pointers, exactly, for fear that arthur will think he's being patronizing, but he'll sort of gently mention things isaac likes, and in turn arthur starts to swallow his pride and seek kieran out for these things.

the funniest thing is isaac seeing the two of them slowly start to get along and realizing exactly what's happening. i imagine he'd get into some kind of parent-trap shenanigans to try to speed things up and they somehow work despite them being horrendously planned.

#isaac morgan #arthur morgan #kieran duffy #colm o'driscoll #rdr2 #kierthur #kinda ran out of steam at the end but kierthur co-parenting is now like. living rent free in my headdddddd #verdemoun #eli got an ask

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infosphere · 1 month ago

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The Silent Guardian - A Bat man story

Gotham City was eerily quiet, an unsettling hush that seemed to wrap around its darkened streets. In the heart of the city, atop Wayne Tower, Bruce Wayne stood, contemplating the latest threat to his beloved Gotham. It was not the typical villain causing mayhem but something far more elusive: an unknown entity referred to only as "The Whisperer."

Reports of criminals disappearing without a trace had started circulating. The city's underworld was abuzz with rumors about a silent guardian who moved like a shadow, leaving nothing but whispers in their wake. Determined to uncover the truth, Batman set out to investigate this new player in Gotham's dangerous game.

One night, as Batman patrolled the city's rooftops, he felt a presence trailing him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but he knew he wasn't alone. Using his detective skills, he set a trap, luring the elusive figure into the open. To his surprise, it was a woman dressed in a sleek, all-black suit, her face obscured by a mask.

"You've been following me," Batman said, his voice calm yet commanding.

"I am The Whisperer," she replied, her voice barely audible. "I've come to help Gotham."

Skeptical but intrigued, Batman listened as she explained her mission. She had no grand vendetta or tragic backstory; she was simply someone who had lost too many loved ones to crime. The Whisperer had trained in silence and shadows, using her skills to incapacitate criminals and leave them for the authorities without a trace.

Intrigued by her methods and motivated by a shared goal, Batman proposed they work together. Their partnership was tenuous at first, but they quickly realized their combined strengths made them an unstoppable force against the city's criminals.

One night, they received word that the Scarecrow had returned, unleashing his fear toxin on unsuspecting citizens. Batman and The Whisperer split up to cover more ground, each tackling different parts of Scarecrow's operation. As Batman confronted the Scarecrow, he found himself ensnared in a hallucinogenic nightmare, the fear toxin warping his senses.

Struggling to maintain control, Batman fought through the visions of his darkest fears. Just as he began to falter, The Whisperer appeared, her presence a calming influence. She spoke softly, guiding him through the nightmare with her unwavering voice.

"Remember who you are, Bruce," she whispered. "You're stronger than your fears."

With her support, Batman overcame the toxin's effects and together, they apprehended the Scarecrow, dismantling his operation and saving countless lives. As they stood victorious, a mutual respect and trust had formed between them.

"The Whisperer," Batman said, "Gotham needs you. We need you."

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the determination they both shared. "I'll be there, in the shadows, watching over Gotham."

As dawn broke over the city, Batman knew he had found not just an ally but a kindred spirit. Together, they would continue to protect Gotham from the darkness that lurked in its streets, their partnership a testament to the silent guardians who watch over the city.

By InfoSphere

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tinydefector · 8 months ago

Note

*jumps in again* i love how you write and im starting to feel like a bother to request some more😭 but but if you don't mind, ultra magnus x gn! reader where he's scolding them for being reckless and sneak off to go meteor surfing with Rodimus. He's not mad, just worried sick for em then reader just storms off and he didn't bother to chase after em, wanting to give them space.

Later, he bumped into Megatron and had a lil chat when Megs pointed out how Magnus is treating reader like his kid(sparkling). Mags denies it but then later connects the dot, like "omg, he's kinda right" que to him went off to find reader which in their room, distracting themselves with some work and he apologize for yelling and vice versa with reader for sneaking out.

Also, if you want, you can add like a bonus bit at the end where Mags praise reader for the excellent report they turned in and reader accidentally say "thanks dad" make it worse if some bot was around when they said that *cough* roddy *cough*

RULES OF PARENTING

Took me longer than expected to write this out.

Platonic/ Parent and child with Ultra Magnus and Cybertronian Reader. Slight hints to Megatron x Ultra Magnus as a treat.

Other information I decided to write the reader as an Outlier but their ability, form and everything else is left up for the reader to decided themself. Other than the fact they are the youngsters on ship and smaller than the larger bots nothing else is stated.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Ultra Magnus Masterlist

______________________

laughter comes from around the corner, Rodimus and his friend bolt through the ship. "Keep up Rods!" The younger bot yells out. Their hoverboard is servo while they both bolt towards the shipping bay. It wasn't often the two got the opportunity to go asteroid surfing.

Rodimus hurries after, pushing his engines to keep pace through the twisting ship corridors. His intake splits in a fierce grin.

"Hey, wait up!" he calls back, At the threshold they transform, Rodimus jumps onto his board, taking off into the asteroid field. "Alright runt, you asked for it!" Blue optics glint with loving malice. "First to finish a loop and back wins! Loser takes the others reports."

He peels out with a throaty roar, engine howling, not waiting for the start. Cheating? Maybe, but racing was war, and all was fair in love and circuits blown! Let the games begin.

"Your on Roddy!" They shout back at Rodimus before taking a leap out onto their hoverboard. "Wooooooohhhhhoooo" the shout out. They both tear out of the shipping bay on their hoverboard, darting nimbly between support struts like a razorwing on the hunt. Their wild grin is audible even without comlink.

Rodimus bellows a rival cry, engine snarling as he rockets through the asteroids in a shower of blue sparks. Every sensor hones to the night-shadowed chase before him, picking out the board's glints between outcroppings as their rider zig-zags across the field like liquid mercury. Shouts of challenge fly between them over the comms, goading fierce competition.

Adrenaline sings in Rodimus' lines as he closes the gap, swerving within reach, laughter falls from the two as they race and chase each other. Two kindred spirits living utterly within the moment, simply living for the speed and freedom the stars grant.

From the command centre, Megatron observes the asteroid field feed with keen optic. Movement on the edges draws his gaze - two familiar signatures darting nimbly amid the tumbling rocks, weaving hazardous loops and stunts with the heedless abandon of youth.

A low growl rumbles in his powerful frame at their recklessness and endangerment. But watching closer, caught by flickering motions on the monitor, even his hardened spark must soften.

Laughter crackles through the open commlines as they toss chunks at each other in joyful battle, dancing dangerously along the rim. It sparks memories of ages past, when he himself was prone to such reckless ventures in the mines.

He returns grimly to his charts. But the ghost of a smile still plays about unyielding faceplates, echoing wild laughter across the stars. The loud steps of Ultra Magnus making his way towards command has megatron debating. "Rodimus, I'd recommend you both make your way back to ship, less you want Magnus to lecture you again" He calls out, trying to make sure Ultra Magnus doesn't catch them.

Through the open comm, Rodimus and the other bot share a look of mingled dread and mischief at Megatron's ominous warning. Their daredevil games come with risks.

"Slag it, it's Mags," hisses Rodimus. "We better scram before he throws the book at us!"

Their laughter follows, swerving nimbly aside as Rodimus roars past in a spray of grit. "Like he ever lets us have any fun! Race you back, slowpoke!" With that taunt, they gun their board, kicking up plumes of dust under newly ignited thrusters.

Rodimus snarls a challenge, punching his engine into overdrive to give chase. Though his massive frame handles with ungraceful power, the Captain drives with a fearless intensity rivalled only by Megatron himself in his glory days. "You're on!" He shouts at them.

From the bridge, Megatron watches their mad dash with a derisive snort. Fools to the last, but at least they snatched excitement where they found it, consequences be damned. A trait he can almost respect, Rodimus is a wild sparked bot and the young bot wasn't much better taking after the Prime as if they were batch mates. But Rodimus was fiery protective of them and that's all Megatron could ask.

As Magnus walks in he glitches out when he sees the two bots bolt across the asteroids on hoverboards. Magnus' commanding boom fills their comm channels, causing them both to flinch. "By Primus What are you two doing!, Do you understand the danger you are putting yourself in, not to mention protocol!" He shouts

"That sounds like Big Mags alright," chuckles Rodimus, danger-circuits alight. He guns his engine recklessly, tempting providence with stunts that wring pained static from Magnus' voice.

Beside him, the other bot is all bravado, doing tricks that ought to terminate mere mortals. "Lighten up Mags, we're just having fun!, Megatron's providing supervision" Their laugh is wildly carefree as they swerve through spiralling space debris, back to the shipping bay.

Magnus' reply is a wordless warp of wrath and protocols violated. On the bridge, Megatron observes with sardonic amusement.

Their elated whoops echo into the sullen ship as the two bots land, laughter is passed between them both, they knew they were in for a lecture but neither of them could really care at that moment. They both make their way through the ship.

Megatron watches as Magnus starts having a meltdown, seeing the smaller bot out in the asteroids.

From the command deck, Megatron observes Magnus' escalating tirade with sardonic amusement.

The security director paces like a caged turbofox, field frothing with protocol violations as he excoriates Rodimus and his cohort.

"Reckless endangerment of themselves! Disregard for safety protocols!, I expect this from Rodimus but not from them!" Magnus huffs, massive hands clenching and unclenching. His plating vibrates with barely contained voltage.

Megatron's red optics follow the scene with cynical mirth. It seems some things never change, no matter the millennia - law-bound enforcers and daredevil upstarts will always clash.

He cuts off Magnus' tirade oft. "Let the youngsters play. A little uncontrolled chaos now and then builds character. They aren't causing any harm, primus knows they could be doing worse things, circuit boosters, waging wars" His chuckles.

When Rodimus and the young bot make their way through the halls Megatron and Ultra Magnus are making their way towards them. And Rodimus decides to tease them over getting in trouble.

"Well well, look who's in trouble now," he rumbles, teasingly as he nudges the other bot. One massive hand snakes out to gently tweak an audial fin, eliciting a stubbornly stifled giggle.

They try to swat him off, armour fluffing out in a mock display of aggression. "Back off toaster, you're one to talk!" But their field reflects only playful antagonism toward their mismatched partner in crime.

Rodimus laughs, low and smooth. "Oh, I'm not the one Magnus has his pelts in a twist over. You're the lawbreaker here, delinquent." He buffs their chevron condescendingly with a knuckle plate.

Magnus' grumbles as moves closer. The younger of the two delinquents makes a startled peep, ducking behind Rodimus for scant protection. Their field sparks with mischief and apprehension in equal measure.

Rodimus' engine rumbles a chuckle. "Face your punishment like a mech, squirt. I'll see you in the brig... cause i know thats where im heading" And with that, he steps aside, leaving the young to the Security Director's.

"Rodimus you sell out!" They hiss, Rodimus takes off running before transforming and disappearing around the corner.

Magnus begins going off over both their stupidity and the danger that they had put themselves in.

"Rodimus! When i catch you!" Magnus bellows, at the retreating autobot. His field boils with tightly restrained indignation.

The younger spreads their servos innocently, though poorly banked fires still smoulder behind their smug optics. "What? I was just having a little fun."

"Fun? You call endangering yourself and flouting safety protocols fun?".

"Do you have any idea the liability you've incurred with your selfish stunts?" Magnus huffes, he's not angry just disappointed.

"We were just blowing off some steam. No harm done" they try to defend themself, it was harder when Rodimus wasn't here to back them up.

Magnus optics bulging. "The rules exist to protect life! One mistaken twist could've terminated you both. Do you not understand that" He looms over them, servos gripping their shoulder plating. "Explain yourself. What do you have to say for putting yourself in harms way like that, this is something i expect from Rodimus but you, im drawing a line, no more hoverboard"

"Magnus I'm not a sparkling!, I can have fun, you can't just take my board!." The huff out in anger, "we didn't do anything bad, we just went asteroid surfing, what's the big deal!, Megatron was watching the whole time!" They shout stopping their pedes on the ground as they squint at the enforcer. Magnus' jaw works soundlessly, circuitry spluttering at such blatant insubordination.

Megatron's low rumble cuts through the charging tension. "Easy there, scraplet. Magnus they are right they aren't sparkling, let them enjoy their youth" he states trying to calm down the situation.

"That is NOT the point!" Magnus hisses through clenched denta, glowering down at the insolent youngster. But the outliers field remains resolute, tiny hands fisted on hip joints. A sigh like rupturing turbines escapes Megatron where he observes, unseen, from command. Stubborn fools the both of them.

Magnus flashes incandescent, but dares not defy a direct order. With stiff, grinding steps, he departs, field boiling.

Only the younger bot and Megatron remain. "Rules exist to guide, not imprison. Life's greatest lessons often arise from...bending them, on occasion. Try not to give Magnus a spark attack please" Megatron states while standing waiting for them to walk with him.

"I know Megs but he's been up my Tailpipe over everything I do, reports not being right, having fun, primus I can't even hang out with Rodimus without him getting grumbly at me, 'don't do that, don't do this, no you can't go out on this planet it's too dangerous ' he's not my Sire! " They hiss out in anger, plating rattling lightly from pent up frustration.

Megatron chuckled. He strides the corridor in heavy, purposeful pauldrons, field enveloping smaller frame protectively. "Take it from one who knows - authority stems more from fear, you're the youngest on board, it's only natural that older mech's will try and protect you. Though I do believe Magnus does need to take a step back"

Red optics regard the young mech keenly. "Stand tall. Pursue your passions . And should he overstep, remind him in no uncertain terms who you are. Your strong sparked"

He crouches fluidly before them , digit gentle as steel beneath a chin. "You were made for greatness, little one. Never forget, don't let him stifle your youth, but try not to make him short circuit" A ferocious grin spreads across their face before they take off down the halls.

Ultra Magnus sits in his office, the enforcer's helm is pressed to his servos as he lets out a groan, he has overstepped.

Megatron's mass fills the security office like encroaching gloom, eclipsing what little light permeates the sparse, regulation-bound space. Magnus senses the ex warlord's intrusive field and looks up wearily through digits.

"What do you want, Megatron?" The enforcer's usually stalwart voice holds only exhaustion. Heavy pedes carry Megatron before the desk, where he looms over Magnus imperiously. Yet when he speaks, his tone resembles dark mirth more than threat.

"Come now, Director. Is one impudent youngster truly more than you can handle?" Crimson optics gleam with sardonic amusement. "Your methods lack finesse. Rebellious sparks respond better to understanding than oppression."

Magnus' field flares defensively. "With respect, keeping order is rather outside your expertise. Some of us prioritise crew safety over spectacle."

One of Megatron's digits raises Magnus' chin, forcing optic contact. "Order through fear is a leash, not leadership. True power stems from willing allegiance, not force alone. It took me along time to learn that Ambus"

"Energon for thought. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more orders I need to read through to make sure Swerve isn't trying to order EnerGULP or Biofuel to try and fake as Energex " he states while beginning to type away on the data pad.

"Megatron, they are reckless and going to get themself off-lined or worse" Magnus tried to argue back.

"Ambus you'd be rather harsh to them, they are young, I'm aware of that, but you're treating them as if they are your sparkling" Megatron states. As the enforcer's optics go wide Megatron stifles a chuckle.

Magnus meets Megatron's scarlet gaze with quiet defiance. "My role is keeping order on this ship, not coddling delinquents."

"Yet it seems you have been coddling one rather too much, they are at that stage, if you keep a lock and chain on them they are going to rebel,be glad it's only Rodimus, Tailgate and Drift they tend to be with. Would you rather they be around DJD" Megatron asked with a raised optic.

"Absolutely Not!" Magus shouts.

"My point stands Ambus, perhaps spend some time with them, learn what they enjoy doing, they are rebelling because they don't have the option, they are stuck in a ship with nothing to do, they see Rodimus as friend, batch mate." are his parting words. Magnus watches Megatron's departing form with troubled optics and churning processor. His counsel, however cryptic, raises discomfiting points...

With a heavy ex-vent, Magnus pulls up files on the youngsters in question. The youngest and Rodimus - one a scrappy outlier, the other a wild spark flouting authority at every turn a prime. Opposites yet drawn together like magnets. Why was he so invested in protecting this little outlier

They young outlier sits in their suite, sulking. After the fight with Magnus they had decided it was easier just not being around other bots, they had shot Rodimus a quick message stating that they wanted to be left alone for the rest of the cycle.

They fidget with their data pad huffing in annoyance as they try to fill out their reports.

When the doors open and they see Magnus they grumble. "What do you want?"

Magnus stands silent in the doorway, emanating not wrath but uncertainty. His field broadcasts a cautious olive branch amid pulsing regret. "May I enter?" His tone holds none of the usual stern command,

When they shrug off tired assent, Magnus steps within cautiously, a massive frame filling the space.

Optics rove the bare walls and solitary form, glimpsing an existence circumscribed not by choice but necessity. His tanks churn anew. How had he failed to see the cages, invisible yet profound, binding errant sparks aboard this vessel?

Gingerly Magnus lowers himself to one knee, meeting their averted gaze evenly. "I came to apologise," he rumbles slowly. "My conduct toward you and Rodimus has been...regrettable, I'm sorry."

The young outlier watches guardedly, searching that earnest regard for signs of tyranny or deceit. Magnus also acknowledges his protectiveness and worry over the younger cybertronian.

A sigh escapes Magnus' vents, massive shoulders slumping. "You must understand, my role demands ensuring all under my protection remain safe and functional."

"Then why do you treat me differently?" They shoot back. Magnus goes quiet for a moment. His optics hold a gentle light as they find the younger bots. " When I see you, youthful audacity, venturing into dangers I endured long ago...it stirs memories best left buried. I watch the war wipe out so many sparklings, outliers taken and used for war"

His field pulses rueful ghosts of harsher times. "I never meant to curb your spirit, only shield you from hard lessons learned too soon." Massive fingers lightly brush an audial fin in a gesture both paternal and penitent.

"Perhaps...I allowed duty to eclipse my function as guardian to all aboard." A bittersweet smile tugs at plating. "Megatron, of all mechs, said i needed to step back"

Optics meet in earnest appeal. "If you'll permit it, I wish to walk a new path, try and be better, it won't stop my worry but you don't deserve to be caged ." His field pulses only patience, regret and stubborn care worn soft by wisdom's dawning light. Care for the future of this young bot.

"I know I'm a young spark, but I'm not a sparkling Ultra Magnus, I know I'm the youngest on ship but I'm not a sparkling " they states quietly. The two sit beside each other.

Magnus nods solemnly, settling beside the young mech and curling his field around their smaller frame protectively.

"You are right. I treated you as one much younger, when your spark burns as fiercely as any aboard." A massive hand rests gently on a plated shoulder.

His gaze holds Tiny's earnestly. "From this moment, consider me not a jailer but guardian here to ensure your path remains lighted, not bar it. To advise and shelter, if you'll have me, I... I will try not to short circuit over your dangerous activity." A beat of silence as understanding passes unspoken between them. Then Magnus offers a small, indulgent smile.

"I've much to learn as well, little one. I'm sorry, I have been as Rodimus calls it a stick in the mud" he states and it makes the younger burst out laughing.

"Can you help me with these reports, I'm struggling with understanding what you want, the words keep moving around and I just don't understand" they state while holding out the data pad. Magnus leans in closer slowly reading over everything before trying to break it down for the outlier.

Things are peaceful for once between them, he helps with the small things and realises a lot in that time. But when he does eventually leave he catches a small slip up from them. "Thanks Sire" they call out, it makes him stiffen but a smile crosses his face as he leaves, he wouldn't tell anyone how it made him feel.

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aquillis-main · 20 hours ago

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One of my biggest problems of removing Maria's disease is... now, she actually has no reason to be at a top secret military base meant to research and look into an alien creature. With a nearly incurable disease and Shadow being the Ultimate LifeForm in the games, her being at the research facility like the ARK meant that she was also being researched into, which gave both Maria and Shadow sort of a kindred spirit in having to deal with doctors constantly poking and prodding them in order to understand what the disease is and how to cure it.

Now... ask yourself this question: by removing said disease in the movie, why is Maria living with the research staff in this top secret military facility Underground? Wouldn't that make it problematic for a kid - who's probably gonna spill secrets that the government was working on to ANYONE, even the government's enemies - to be in? Not to mention all the ways said research could get lost or damaged, let alone how much danger she was in from all the chemicals and warfare stuff!

At least the games it made more sense for Maria to be on the ARK - most sterile place to monitor Maria's condition, far away from Earth itself to help manage and study her immune system easily - and it also helped explain why Maria was with Gerald on the ARK. With the movies, it makes Maria being there stranger and out of place from a military and medical standpoint.

#Aquillis Monologues #Maria Robotnik #Sonic the Hedgehog Movie 3 #Sonic Movie 3 Spoilers

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andauril · 3 months ago

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Chapter Title: No Rest for the Wicked

Chapter Summary: The party finally leaves the Shadowcursed Lands behind, but the Absolute gives them little time to enjoy the sun.

(art by @/dafna-winchester)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

A nightmare. It had just been a nightmare. But one that could come true so very easily. Even now, her fingers wanted to twitch, her muscles tensed to whip around and … He would look so pretty with his throat torn open … Oh, his blood would clot like precious gems around his neck, a gorgeous necklace for a gorgeous corpse … She pushed the thought as far away as she could. It was harder than before. The image of him, almost beheaded by her dagger, bleeding from a deep wound in his neck, would not leave her mind. Her fingers itched for a blade. She balled them into a fist and turned around. His eyes were open. “Good morning.” His voice was light, almost casual, but there was a tense edge to it. “Is today a ‘I will wed with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls’ kind of day? Because you look rather unwell, love.” He knew her so well by now. Her stomach twisted. And twisted again, realising he’d been aware of the danger and had still stayed in her tent with her. She didn’t deserve the trust he showed her. Just another reason that he could never know how she felt. She needed him safe and free. All she could offer was pain and death. It was selfish enough to want to keep him anyway. “I dreamed.” She managed to stop her fingers from twitching as she reached for his face and gently traced her fingers along his jawline. He rumbled a low hum of approval and leaned into her touch. “This is why I prefer reverie. Mine might be distorted, but I can make sense of them. Dreams are worse …” “For you, perhaps. I don’t have many pleasant memories to relive.” He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Cazador made sure of that.” “He will pay for it.” She wanted to promise him that they could make new memories, memories he could relive with fondness instead of fear, but that wasn’t a promise she could give. No matter how much she wanted to. But she could promise him vengeance, at least. It was the only thing she was good at. Her touch brought death, and death was the least Cazador deserved for all he’d done to Astarion. A part of her wanted to peel his skin from his bones even now. Plunge her nails into his eye sockets and watch them pop. He would look even prettier dead. But he wouldn’t. She wanted to be safe for him. She wanted to be someone he could trust, without reservations. It was what he deserved, and it was what she could never be. He deserved better than her.

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maniacwatchestheworld · 2 years ago

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A Basic Guide to Harvey "Two-Face" Dent for Misha stans

With love, from a Two-Face fan who hasn't watched Supernatural and doesn't really intend on watching Gotham Knights.

Now before getting into this, you need to keep in mind that Harvey Dent (at the time of his creation, Harvey Kent) was a character first introduced to comics in 1942, and even within Batman canon, he is one of the most wildly inconsistently written characters. If you pick up any two stories that feature Two-Face in them at random, you are very likely to get two entirely different characters. As such, there are dozens of entirely valid ways of interpreting and writing his character, so what I write here is either based off of general consensus or my own personal opinion on the character.

If you are already a Two-Face fan who is reading this, I'm not trying to diminish your preferred way of interpreting the character and would be perfectly happy with discussing our differences in opinion in a separate post, but here I'm just trying to make a somewhat digestible guide to his character for newbies based off of my own perception of him and what I've heard about his character from Gotham Knights and what might appeal to his fans. If you disagree, you're welcome to write a similar post about him yourself.

Overview

Harvey Dent is Gotham City's District Attorney. He's actually a legal genius and savant. (He is also just generally DAMN smart when written well!) He became District Attorney at a very young age (~26 years old, making him the youngest District Attorney that Gotham has ever had,) and is the best damn lawyer in all of Gotham! At his best, he was locking up criminals left and right no one could stop him, and this ended up ticking off Gotham's criminal underworld. As District Attorney, he would work alongside Batman and Commissioner Gordon to make his convictions stick, which is something other District Attorneys before him couldn't do. For this, the public loved him. This also makes Arkham Asylum and Blackgate Prison exceedingly dangerous places for him to be, as a good percentage of their residents are there because of him.

Harvey Dent is Bruce Wayne's best friend. Sometimes they are even childhood friends! At the latest, they became friends after Bruce had already become Batman, but usually they are long-time friends, sometimes meeting as kids, though also often meeting in college. (They both went to Gotham University.) I think there are some iterations where they're even college roommates! They tend to have been very close in college. Regardless of when they met, they found kindred spirits within one another as they each sought to bring justice to this city that they love in their own ways. Because of this kinship, the two got extremely close and were the best of friends before Harvey's incident.

Harvey Dent is an abuse survivor. When he was a kid, Harvey's father would beat him and his mother. But his father made a game of it. The details sometimes change a little, but in essence his father would flip a coin. If it landed heads, he would beat Harvey. If it landed tails, then he wouldn't have to be punished. The coin was heads on both sides.

Harvey Dent is neurodivergent. Most iterations of Two-Face have OCD and many (but not all) are plural, presumably with some form of Dissociative Identity Disorder. It is generally thought that his childhood abuse caused him to have these conditions. After leaving his father's control, Harvey was able to get a handle on his OCD tendencies and deeply suppressed his one other disassociated identity. However, if Harvey experiences high levels of stress or anger over a prolonged period of time, that could make these two conditions show themselves again. When the incident that melted half of his face off happened, these conditions came back to stay. He is indeed legally insane. But this is because of his OCD (specifically how he flips a coin to make all of his decisions), and NOT because of his plurality! Note: Plurality is more common that you probably think it is. It's estimated that 1-5% of people are plural. I've also spoken to at least 2 people who are plural or system members that dearly love Two-Face as a character. Two-Face is very unusual as a system (you are a lot more likely to find a system of 12 members than one of as few as 2), but I have no doubt that systems that work like him are out there. Because of all of this, I try my best to be sensitive and understanding towards plural people at all times while in this fandom space. I can not speak for them as I am not plural myself, but I am always trying to listen to plural voices and learn from them. I would ask that while you're in this space that you try to do the same. All of the plural people and system members that I've spoken to and know want to be thought of and addressed to as different people, and therefore I try to think of Harvey and Two-Face the same way that I would a real plural person, and see them as different characters. When I say "Harvey Dent" (full name) I'm usually talking about the general character and in-universe legal identity or the body. When I say "Two-Face" I usually mean their shared criminal identity or Harvey's "dark side" as this is the generally accepted way to refer to him by. For the sake of this post I will try to generally refer to "Harvey's dark side"/"Two-Face" (the character) as "Harvey's associate" or "the Associate" to more clearly differentiate him from Harvey. Harvey is Harvey.

Duality and the Number 2

Since Harvey and his Associate have OCD, they get compulsions and obsessions that they can't entirely control. In their case, they have a particular fixation on the concept of duality and the number 2.

They often theme their crimes around the number 2, be that having them take place on the 2nd or 22nd of the month and starting at 2:00 am, the locations having 2 in them like 2222 Doubleday Street or the Second National Bank, or conceptually relating the to number 2, like kidnapping twins, or stealing two-of-a-kind, matching artifacts. If the scheme can do two things at once, like receiving a payout AND killing Batman (killing two birds with one stone), that's even better!

They think in very dualistic ways and try to apply those themes to themselves. Harvey is good, the Associate is evil. Harvey is clean and calculated, the Associate is messy and unpredictable. Harvey is friendly and polite, the Associate is mean and rude. The Associate might also do things that he knows Harvey wouldn't for the sake of 'balance' or being Harvey's opposite. They might also try to apply this duality when it comes to their relations to other characters. Batman is good, they are evil. Batman represents order, they represent chaos. Whether these statements are actually true or not may not reflect the reality of their characters, but they want it to.

Expect lots of puns around the number 2 and for them to get agitated when other numbers that don't relate to the number 2 to get brought up.

The Coin

The origin of Two-Face's coin varies between iterations. The original story from 1942 had it as a piece of evidence. It was the good luck charm of a mob boss that Harvey was trying to put away and was a piece of evidence that placed said mob boss at the scene of a crime. This mob boss was the same one that tried to melt Harvey's face off. Harvey would keep the coin after the incident, for some reason. Later on, the coin was rewritten to previously belong to Harvey's father as I wrote about above. In this iteration of the coin's backstory, Harvey's father gave Harvey the coin and Harvey kept it as a good luck charm.

The coin is usually a silver dollar, minted in 1922 and has the heads side on both sides. However one of these heads has been defaced and is all scratched up, making the coin fair again. Clean heads is considered to be the 'heads' side and is often referred to as 'good heads.' The scratched side is considered to be the 'tails' side and is often referred to as 'bad heads.' Harvey and his Associate feel a kinship with this coin, Harvey being represented by the good heads, and the Associate being represented by the bad heads.

Often times their OCD leaves Harvey and his Associate unable to make decisions and so they have a compulsion to flip their special coin to make their decisions for them. This will sometimes be used as a tie-breaker between Harvey and his Associate- if they get good heads, they do what Harvey wants, if they get bad heads, they do what the Associate wants. Other times when it comes to more neutral decisions, good heads will represent yes and bad heads will represent no (Example: Do we talk to this person? Good heads, yes. Bad heads, that person can fuck off). However most famously, they flip the coin to choose the morality of their actions with good heads being they do the moral thing and bad heads meaning they do the immoral thing. They are known to flip their coin to decide whether or not to kill. Good heads, the person lives. Bad heads, the person dies.

Because of their compulsion to flip their coin to make decisions, they will often end up doing things that they don't actually want to because the coin told them to. This also does occasionally lead to Harvey and his Associate helping Batman out and actually doing the right thing.

About the cooler Harvey (aka "Harv", "Two-Face", "Big Bad Harv", "Harvey's Associate" or "Harvey's dark side")

In plural terms, the Associate usually starts off as a Protector- a system member that protects other members of a system from harm (external or internal), but has become a Persecutor- a system member who does harm to others, be that to the body, other system members, or people outside the system, often because they think this will somehow help the system.

It is very likely that the Associate also holds Harvey's anger and trauma, and may have experienced the brunt of the abuse they have been subjected to. Because of this, the Associate is known to lash out and hurt others.

Before Harvey becomes Two-Face, his Associate will sometimes come out to the front, but only a little. He may pop up when Harvey is under a lot of stress for a long period of time or when he gets exceedingly angry. He may also come out any time Harvey gets into any kind of physical altercation with someone.

Where Harvey usually keeps his temper under control and is not likely to fly off the handle, the Associate has MAJOR anger management issues! The Associate WILL fight you with his fists if you provoke him enough.

The Associate is NOT nice! He is mean and cruel and sadistic. He is usually more brutal and violent than Harvey. Where Harvey might want to do things nice and clean, the Associate isn't afraid of letting things get messy. When they kill, you can usually assume that the Associate was the one to pull the trigger.

The Associate HATES Harvey for suppressing him for so many years. The Associate tends to see Harvey as weak, ineffectual, and a coward, unable and unwilling to do what actually needs to get done. For this, the Associate does not like it when Harvey gets to front and will often do what he can to shove Harvey into the back. Because of this, Harvey may not be seen fronting for long periods at a time.

The Associate and Harvey are often seen to be co-conscious and may co-front.

In many iterations of these characters, Harvey has often tried to get rid of his Associate, but it never tends to stick.

The Associate often REVELS in their compulsions where Harvey is upset and disturbed by them.

While the Associate is often a viscous and cruel thug, that doesn't mean that he is entirely unsympathetic. The instances of him being genuinely sympathetic are rare, but they are out there! Therefore he should be thought of as more than just an 'evil alter ego.' Just like real life Persecutor system members, they shouldn't be considered to be purely malicious and evil, but should rather be a character who deserves understanding and help just like any other system member character would!

Harvey Dent's Love Life

Just so you know, BruHarvey/TwoBats (Bruce Wayne/Harvey Dent) is indeed the most popular ship that Harvey has. To you people who immediately started shipping the two, just know that you're not alone in feeling the gay vibes from them and that these two do indeed refuse to be straight about their relationship in a lot of the media that they share! Most Harvey fans that I know do indeed ship BruHarvey, and there is some good media out there that have a lot of BruHarvey vibes!

Harvey is often married or engaged at the start of his story. His wife is usually Gilda Gold who (when we know that she has a job) is a very skilled sculptor. She likes sculpting Harvey's face because he's beautiful, even sometimes calling him by the nickname "Apollo."

Gilda may or may not be the Holiday Killer- A serial killer who targets mobsters and kills them on holidays (Christmas, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, etc).

In the current mainline DC continuity, Gilda is dead. Harvey is a widower. In previous continuity they had gotten (understandably) divorced.

Other characters that Harvey has dated include Poison Ivy (who wanted to kill him) and Catwoman (who wanted to steal from him). Given that and how Gilda is sometimes the Holiday Killer, and you can comfortably say that Harvey has questionable taste in women.

Harvey falls in love HARD and FAST! As an example, in Batman: the Animated Series, he knew Ivy for a week before proposing to her. He does something similar with a different woman later in the series (a Gilda analogue, so that one partially works out).

Often Harvey wants to have kids. He seems pretty down with the idea of adopting.

Harvey Dent's relations to other characters that may appear

Dick Grayson (1st Robin): They hate each other. Early on in his career as Robin, Two-Face almost beat him to death. Dick has decidedly not forgiven him for this.

Jason Todd (2nd Robin): Not always the most friendly with each other, but have worked together in the pages of Task Force Z (which is a specialized Suicide Squad task force that consists of undead supervillains). In Task Force Z, there were kinda vibes that Harvey was the team dad who was just trying his best (but sucked at his job) while Jason was his angsty son with anger issues. Jason's biological father was killed by Two-Face (he worked for/owed money to Two-Face. He didn't pay back, so he was killed), but at this point Jason doesn't really seem to hold a grudge over it. Probably Two-Face's favorite Robin since he's the second Robin.

Tim Drake (3rd Robin): The story that introduced Tim Drake (A Lonely Place of Dying) was a Two-Face story, so in a way, you could say that Two-Face pushed Tim into taking on the role. (Otherwise I personally don't know much about their relationship.)

Commissioner Gordon: They used to be good friends back when Harvey was Gotham's District Attorney. They used to work together a lot, but now they seem to have 0 issues with the idea of killing Gordon.

Other notes:

He has almost no consistent visual design outside of 'male,' 'face is half messed up,' and 'split suits'. While he's usually supposed to have brown hair and green eyes (to make him look different from Bruce), this isn't always stuck to. Hell! There are a handful of iterations of Two-Face that are black!

Harvey Dent/Two-Face are decently influential characters within popular culture. You know the quote, "You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." ...? That quote comes from The Dark Knight (2008 film) and is said by Harvey before he becomes Two-Face and ends up being about him. Also the quote of "He isn't the hero we deserve, but he is the hero we need" relates to Harvey as well, though it's spoken about Batman. Also apparently this is a meme that exists and was apparently popular on Reddit, and I only just now learned of it soooo... Pop culture contributions yay?

Recovery is precedented for Harvey! In his original appearance in the 1940's, Harvey actually decided to turn away from his life of crime for the sake of the woman who became his wife and got his face fixed after she proved that she still loved him in spite of his disfiguration. Apparently in the 1980's newspaper strips, Harvey went on to recover there as well! And he even kept his scars that time! (You can actually read this story on Tumblr here!) However in most iterations, when Harvey 'gets better' he usually takes the turn for the worst at some point and sadly goes back to being Two-Face again. But for the most part, Harvey wants to recover and get better, but his Associate wants them to get worse.

A long post, I know. But I hope that you find this helpful or at least mildly interesting! If you have any other questions, feel free to ask! I'd be more than happy to try and answer to the best of my ability! If you made it this far, color me impressed! And if you are indeed a Misha stan who's new to this space, I'm happy to see you here! I hope you have a good day! Love you!

#long post #harvey dent #two face #misha collins #misha #two-face #twoface #This took a hot sec to write... >.<

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fairilia · 6 months ago

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San’s perspective (Chapter 3) | Unlikely Allies ⛓️🔥

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

San watches y/n as she leaves the private room of the upscale bar. The smooth operation of the mission, the calm under pressure, and the undeniable presence she exudes have caught his attention from the start. It is rare for someone to step into his world and handle themselves with such composure.

Sitting back in his chair, San swirls the whiskey in his glass, replaying the night’s events in his mind. He can’t shake the feeling that y/n is different. There is a spark in her, a depth that goes beyond mere professionalism.

San has built his empire on understanding people—knowing their strengths, weaknesses, and motivations. Most who come into his orbit are easy to read, driven by greed, fear, or ambition. But y/n is a puzzle, a complex blend of determination and mystery that intrigues him deeply.

Their first meeting had left an impression, but tonight has solidified it. San admires how y/n has handled the assignment with efficiency and intelligence. She has shown not just capability, but an innate understanding of the stakes and the subtle nuances of the game they are playing.

His mind drifts to the moment their fingers had brushed. The brief contact had sent a jolt through him, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. There is something undeniably attractive about y/n’s confidence, the way she holds her ground without flinching. It is a rare quality, one that he finds himself drawn to more and more.

San takes another sip of whiskey, contemplating the conversation they had shared. Y/N’s motivations for justice and making a difference have struck a chord with him. It is a stark contrast to his own world, where power and control dictate actions. He can’t help but respect y/n’s ideals, even if he views them as dangerously naive.

Yet, there is more to it than just respect. The way y/n had looked at him, with a mix of defiance and curiosity, had sparked something deeper. There is a chemistry between them, an unspoken tension that lingers in the air. San knows it is dangerous, this growing attraction, but he finds it impossible to ignore.

For someone who prides himself on control, San feels a rare thrill in the presence of someone who can match him in wits and courage. Y/N isn’t just another pawn in his game; she is a formidable player, one who could potentially change the rules. This realization both excites and unsettles him.

San sets his glass down, his thoughts turning to the future. He knows that getting close to y/n is a double-edged sword. Trust is a fragile thing in his world, and while he admires y/n’s skill and determination, he can’t afford to let his guard down. But the allure is strong, and he finds himself wanting to know more about the person behind the mask.

As San gazes out at the city lights, he makes a silent vow. He will keep y/n close, not just for the advantage she provides, but because he wants to explore this connection further. There is a danger in desire, a risk in letting emotions intertwine with business, but he is willing to take that risk.

In the end, it is more than just curiosity or attraction. It is the recognition of a kindred spirit, someone who can challenge him and stand by his side. And as the night wears on, San can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation for what the future holds. Y/n has entered his world, and nothing will ever be the same again.

When San handed her the white rose, he watched her face closely. The surprise and the softening of her expression pleased him more than he cared to admit. White roses symbolize new beginnings and respect, and he felt both when he handed it to her. It is a small gesture, but one laden with meaning.

"Be careful, y/n. In my world, desire can be as dangerous as any enemy," he whispered.

The way her eyes sparkled with unspoken understanding and perhaps a hint of something more ignited a spark within him. He knows this connection is perilous, but it also feels incredibly right. As she walks away with the white rose in hand, San can’t help but smile, anticipation coursing through him for what lies ahead.

—

��: what do you guys think about this? 😍

#kpop #fluff #angst #ateez #ateez choi san #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez san #ateez scenarios #choi san #ateez x reader #choi san x reader #san x reader #san fic #san fanfic

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abraxosdreams · 14 days ago

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Midnight Swan ~ ACOTAR fanfic

Love forged in shadows, secrets veiled in grace.

────୨ৎ────

Valerie Black has perfected the art of surviving. At Belle Étoile Ballet Academy, her every move is a blend of ruthless grace and defiant strength, each performance a testament to the darkness she’s clawed her way out of. But beneath the facade of poise and elegance lies a girl haunted by the ghosts of her past, scars hidden behind every spin, every leap. Darkness is her constant companion, and she’s learned to wield it like a weapon, a shield against a world that has already taken too much.

Nesta Archeon, a fellow dancer with eyes that can pierce through steel and a spine as unbreakable as her will, is both a rival and a reminder of the sisterhood Valerie never thought she’d have. Their connection is forged in shared pain and silent battles, a bond built on the understanding that strength doesn’t always mean being unbreakable—it means accepting the darkness, learning to live alongside it.

Then there’s Azriel. All brooding intensity and hidden storms, he crashes into Valerie’s carefully controlled world like a force of nature. A drummer whose past is a collection of wounds and shadows, Azriel sees beyond Valerie’s armor, recognizing the fractures she’s kept so well-hidden. And in him, Valerie sees a kindred spirit, someone who understands the way pain and longing can shape a soul. Their connection is raw, electric, a dangerous game of trust and vulnerability that neither of them can resist.

As Valerie and Azriel begin to confide in each other, sharing secrets they’ve never dared speak aloud, they discover that some ghosts refuse to stay buried. The darkness they’ve both fought so hard to control begins to close in, threatening to tear apart the fragile connections they’ve built. Together, they must confront their haunted pasts and decide if love can truly be stronger than the shadows that haunt them.Midnight Swan is a story of fierce sisterhood and the delicate balance between strength and vulnerability. It’s about embracing the darkness within, and the healing that can come from finding someone who sees your broken pieces and chooses to stay. In a world where every pirouette is a battle, and love is a risk as beautiful as it is terrifying, Valerie and Azriel must decide if they’re brave enough to dance with the darkness—and each other.

────୨ৎ────

Prologue | Chapter 1

I've always known that my appearance leaves an impression—an effect I’ve come to embrace, or at least use to my advantage when the situation calls for it. My long, dark brown hair falls in glossy waves, framing my face in a way that almost feels deliberate, even when it's not. There's a shadowy allure to it, a kind of mesmerizing beauty that I never quite asked for but learned to wield. My olive-toned skin carries an earthy warmth, a strange contradiction to the air of mystery I seem to radiate. Freckles sweep delicately across my nose and cheeks, a softness that contrasts with the sharper, more defined lines of my features. My full lips are often pressed into a thoughtful line, though sometimes, if I'm feeling bold—or when the world deserves a little mockery—a faint smirk tugs at the corners.

Then there are my eyes. A rare shade of violet, they’ve been called intense, haunting, even ethereal. I’ve watched how people react when they meet my gaze—captivated, unsettled, or sometimes both. I suppose it’s fitting, since those violet depths hold more secrets than I’d ever care to share, reflecting the darkness and complexity I keep buried beneath the surface. My lashes are thick, framing eyes that can be a weapon of their own, giving me a hypnotic, almost guarded stare. It draws people in, even if I often use it to keep them at a distance.

Adornments add to my look, and each one means something—bold, deliberate choices that mark my story on my skin. The medusa piercing, a subtle silver stud resting above my lips, adds a touch of edge to whatever softness remains in my features. A sternum tattoo stretches across my chest, intricate and personal, often barely visible beneath low necklines. It’s art born from pain, a permanent reminder of the things I’ve endured and transformed.

My right arm is my canvas, inked from shoulder to wrist in a full tattoo sleeve that tells a thousand silent stories. The patterns are delicate yet dark, intricate lace designs weaving into henna-like swirls that reach down onto my hand. Feminine, but fierce. Soft, yet unbreakable. It’s an artwork of resilience, a testament to everything I’ve survived.

My body holds strength in its curves—an hourglass shape honed and refined by years of ballet. I move with a poised, almost regal grace, every step and gesture controlled, purposeful. There’s power in how I hold myself, how I command a room without saying a word. I’ve come to embrace the dark elegance I embody: a beauty forged from pain, shaped by resilience, and unapologetically shadowed. Because these shadows are mine, and I no longer care to hide them.

────୨ৎ────

My toes bled beneath satin ribbons, each crimson mark a testament to beauty born of pain. I wore resilience like a second skin, and though the world saw grace, I was a storm hidden behind a veil of elegance. I pushed through the ache in my limbs, the raw sting with every step, until the edges of the stage faded, leaving only me, and the darkness, and the quiet hum of my own heartbeat.

As I bent into a final arabesque, I held that moment, stretching it out until time itself seemed to pause. In that silence, I felt the ghosts drift away, as if granting me a peace I hadn’t asked for, but somehow deserved. I had danced with my demons, not banishing them, but accepting them as part of the same rhythm, the same breath, the same pulse that kept me alive.

I lowered myself into a bow, my head dipping into the shadows pooling around my feet. The stage lights dimmed, but I didn’t need them. The darkness was mine now, a reflection of everything I had embraced, everything I had fought to become.

────୨ৎ────

I was the last one left in the ballet studio, lingering in the shadows with nothing but the quiet creak of the floorboards and the steady hum of my own breath to keep me company. The others had left ages ago, their laughter and lightness fading down the halls. But I liked it this way—the silence, the solitude. Here, under the dimmed lights and surrounded by mirrors, I could let the day slide off me like an unwanted layer, feel every ache and bruise as proof that I’d earned my place.

That’s when I noticed him.

Standing just outside the studio’s glass doors, barely a silhouette against the darkness of the hallway. Tall, leaning against the wall with a casualness that might have looked disinterested if not for the way his gaze locked onto me, a heat and intensity in it that felt like a slow burn. He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch under my stare, his dark eyes cutting through the shadows to meet mine with an unwavering focus that made my heart trip over itself.

I turned, refusing to let him think I’d noticed. Whoever he was, he wasn’t here for me. Probably a friend of one of the dancers or some new tech worker lingering too long out of sheer boredom. I adjusted my posture, forcing my mind back to the routine, lifting my arms, finding the balance that had felt just out of reach all night.

But his gaze didn’t waver. I could feel it, a weight against my skin, as if he could see through the veneer I kept so tightly in place. And it took every ounce of control I had not to glance back at him.

The doors creaked open, his footsteps soft but certain, and then he was in the studio with me, the quiet, charged air folding around him as if it had been waiting for his arrival.

“You don’t need to put on a show,” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. The kind of voice that seemed to settle into my bones, like he could speak directly to the parts of me I kept hidden. “I’m just watching.”

I turned slowly, keeping my expression blank, guarded. “You’re one of those types, then? The ones who lurk in doorways and think they know everything.”

He let out a soft laugh, a dark, lazy sound that had no right to make my pulse flutter. “Only the important things.”

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “And I’m supposed to believe that includes me?”

He stepped closer, the dim light casting shadows across his face, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw, the hard set of his mouth. “I think you already know it does.”

There was something about him—something I couldn’t quite place. A stillness, a sense of control that bordered on predatory. But there was warmth there, too. And it was the way he looked at me, like he’d already seen everything I tried to hide, every bruise, every scar, every ghost I kept locked away.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his gaze never wavering, like the answer mattered more than anything else in that moment.

I lifted my chin. “Valerie.”

He seemed to savor the name, rolling it around in his mind before he nodded, as if committing it to memory. “I’m Azriel.”

“Why are you here, Azriel?” I didn’t want to ask, but the question slipped out before I could stop it, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He held my gaze, his mouth tilting into a faint, knowing smile. “Maybe I wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?”

“About the dark-eyed dancer who never leaves until the lights go out,” he said, his voice almost a murmur, something soft and dangerous that curled around me. “The one who dances like she’s trying to forget, or maybe… trying to remember.”

A shiver ran down my spine, and I hated that he could see that. That he could see me.

“Rumors are usually half-truths,” I replied, forcing a smirk I didn’t feel.

“Maybe.” He didn’t look away, his eyes holding mine with that steady, unbreakable focus. “But I think I’ll stay and find out for myself.”

I could’ve told him to leave, could’ve turned away, pretended I wasn’t intrigued by the mystery he carried, the darkness that matched my own. But instead, I held his gaze, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t look away.

Because there, in his eyes, was a flicker of something I knew all too well. A quiet, relentless storm, waiting to break.

The silence thickened between us, stretching out until I could practically hear my own heartbeat echoing in the empty studio. I didn’t turn away, didn’t let my gaze waver, even though every instinct screamed at me to retreat, to put up a barrier between myself and the intensity in Azriel’s eyes.

But then he did something unexpected.

Azriel’s gaze drifted to the center of the studio floor, to the dimly lit space that was empty save for the dust motes swirling in the low light. Without breaking eye contact, he stepped further into the room, his boots clicking softly on the polished wood, the sound somehow grounding in the silence.

“You ever get tired of dancing alone?” he asked, voice soft, yet challenging.

I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me, or if there was a hint of… understanding beneath his words. Like he, too, knew what it was like to move through the world as if no one was watching. As if there was only you, and the shadows you kept hidden from everyone else.

“Why?” I replied, lifting a brow. “You think you could keep up?”

Azriel’s mouth curved into a lazy, dangerous smile. “Try me.”

I didn’t know what possessed me to cross the floor, to step into the center of the room with him, where the dim light cast shadows across our faces, blending together like we were part of the same darkness. But I did it anyway. And for a moment, we just stood there, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough to catch the faint scent of something dark and woodsy.

“Show me,” he murmured, his voice a low command, daring me to let go of the defenses I kept so carefully in place.

My heart thundered, a beat that pulsed through my veins like the rhythm of a song only I could hear. Without thinking, I took a step back, lifting my arms, letting the movement flow through me—slow, controlled, each step, each curve of my body deliberate, a part of the story I knew so well but had never told out loud.

And Azriel… he didn’t look away. He stayed rooted in place, watching as I moved, his gaze following every turn, every extension, like he was trying to decipher the secrets I’d woven into each step. There was no judgment in his eyes, no mockery. Only that same quiet intensity, as if he understood what each movement cost me.

Then, before I could stop myself, I turned, extending a hand toward him. An invitation. A challenge.

He hesitated, just for a breath, and then he took my hand, his fingers warm and solid against mine. He didn’t know the steps, didn’t know the routine, but he moved with a grace and confidence that surprised me, his movements rough around the edges yet somehow perfectly attuned to mine. He let me lead, matching my pace, his hand firm against my waist as we turned together, spinning through the shadows as if we were the only two people in the world.

Our breaths mingled in the stillness, our bodies moving in tandem, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t feel the need to hide, to hold back. I felt seen—truly seen—and it terrified me.

As the dance came to a slow halt, I found myself closer to him than I’d intended, my heart pounding against my ribs as his hand lingered at my waist. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the intensity of his gaze as his eyes searched mine.

“What’s it like?” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, his thumb brushing my waist in a way that sent a shiver through me.

“What’s what like?” I breathed, barely able to get the words out.

“To carry all that weight. And still dance as if you could leave it behind.”

The question cut deeper than I’d expected, a blade to the part of me I thought no one saw. But somehow, he’d seen it, as clearly as if he’d been there in those moments I’d danced alone, chasing ghosts and shadows.

I pulled back, slipping from his hold, feeling the sudden urge to put space between us before he saw too much. “Maybe one day I’ll let you find out,” I said, forcing a smirk, though my voice betrayed me with its softness.

His gaze lingered on me, that smirk returning to his lips, dark and knowing. “One day,” he echoed, as if it were a promise.

And as I turned to walk away, feeling his gaze follow me even as I disappeared into the shadows, I couldn’t shake the feeling that one day was already much closer than I’d ever planned.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #azriel #nesta archeron #pro nesta #valerie black #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #rhysands sister #there is much more I have written #but does this interest anyone?#please let me know

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catboyfics · 1 year ago

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Lure [part I]

oh my god thank you so much when i saw your request appear i literally got so happy

i started from before the king of spades appeared cause that made it more interesting, but also made it quite a bit longer, so i've split it into two parts. the second part will be when the actual fighting starts.

you also have a great day/night :D

𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑰𝑰

𝑭𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑴: Alice In Borderland

𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮: chishiya x gn reader

𝑮𝑬𝑵𝑹𝑬 & 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: angst; gender neutral reader; spoilers for aib season 2, violence (nothing too bad yet), death

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺: 4k

You'd been following Niragi for quite a while now. You'd seen what he's like. You'd seen what he's like. He disgusted you, but it took you by surprise when he stopped.

There was an overhead, blocking you from the light. You were on one side, with him on the opposite end. He faced away from you, towards an open area - a street crossing, you thought. You reached towards your gun, hanging from it's holster at your hip.

Carefully, you pulled it out, careful to be quiet as to not alert Niragi that you were there.

Suddenly, there were gunshots and you jumped. You peeked out from behind the pillar, but Niragi still was facing away from you.

"Yo!" You heard him shout, and you peeked out again. In the distance, you could vaguely make out a figure. The man you'd been following seemed occupied so you decided to approach.

Carefully, gun in hand, you made your way under the overhead, rubble crunching ever so slightly under you feet.

"It makes me pretty damn happy to run into you here." He continued, his voice booming. He sounded dangerous, malice dripping from every word.

You stepped forward again, ducking behind trucks and other vehicles to avoid being seen. You didn't think he would turn around, but you could never be too careful, especially with someone like him.

From you closer position, you could vaguely make out the one who Niragi was talking to. They were tall and wearing a white shirt. At first, nobody came to mind, but you quickly realized that the description matched Arisu.

Your eyes widened, and you inhaled sharply. Niragi was shooting at Arisu, and maybe someone else as well. That wasn't good.

"You intentionally didn't kill me with that shot." You heard someone say. This voice, you immediately recognized as Chishiya. Your expression soured, what he'd said to you before clouding your mind.

You'd only ever been anything but kind to him, but he was always brushed you off. He seemed annoyed with you, for no reason at all. It pissed you off.

"I wasn't going to end this with a surprise attack." Niragi declared in response to Chishiya's words. "Okay, let's begin: a game of shootout. Now that the three of us are back together, that seems most suitable."

You tensed up. Between players? What was the point? You understood that Niragi was angry, or maybe just insane, but that would only reverse the progress you had all struggled to make.

"A game between players?" Chishiya asked, voicing your thoughts out loud. You crept closer, their conversation interesting you profoundly.

"The three of us are very similar." Niragi started, "We're oddballs who can't fit in with society. Even so, our need to feel alive is much greater than most people's."

And then, Niragi coughed again, what was likely blood splattering against the ground. Finally, you figured out what was probably the reason why he was proposing this.

He was dying anyways. And he wanted to drag as many people down with him, to go out with a bang.

"I haven't got much time left, so let's do this." He declared as you exited the overhead. There was a building of some sort, it's intended purpose now lost to vegetation. You rushed there, hiding behind it. Niragi didn't seem to notice, but you couldn't guarantee anything for Arisu and Chishiya, and whoever else might be there.

"As kindred spirits, join me in one final game!" He cried manically before tossing one of his guns on the ground near Chishiya.

From your new spot, you could see better. Chishiya was lying on the ground, clearly hit by the bullets released earlier by Niragi. Arisu was standing facing the ex-militant, a shotgun hanging off his shoulder.

There was movement in the corner of your eye, making you look over. You could see Chishiya getting up to go grab the gun a few feet in front of him on the grass.

"I like it." He declared, hand still resting on his side. That must've been where he got shot. "Join us, Arisu."

Arisu was clearly surprised that Chishiya was on board with Niragi's plan. In all honesty, so were you, but you didn't know what he went through. Maybe it would be better for the white-haired man to die, anyways. It was clear he didn't have any empathy.

"I'm sure you despise me as well. Use this opportunity to take revenge." He continued. "Let's play a game, the three of us."

"Are you insane?" Arisu asked in a shaking voice, nervously grasping his shotgun. You tensely held your own gun, standing defensively, peeking out from behind the wall of the building.

"Come on, you've got a gun too. Take aim!" Niragi persuaded, taking a couple of shaky steps towards Arisu.

"Do we really have to do this?" The man trailed off wearily, swaying ever so slightly.

All of a sudden, a gunshot echoed through the crossing, making you jump. Another, though quieter, one echoed. You peeked out again from your hiding spot and say both Niragi and Chishiya shooting at Arisu as he ducked behind a car.

The ex-militant jumped aggressively onto another car, shooting at Chishiya as he rushed behind a red car.

Bullets exploded out of Niragi's gun, the gunshots echoing out through the area, making you jump each time.

"Niragi! Stop this!" Arisu cried. You couldn't see him because of the car blocking his form. He likely couldn't see you either, so you rushed out of the building behind you, using the gunshots to cover any noise you may make.

"I'm simply doing what I want, the way I want!" Niragi started, "You guys are the same! It's always 'me!' with you two, it's always about what you want! You aren't experts on life just because you saw a bunch of people die! 'Living for others'? That's such bullshit! All we really care about is our own selves! As long as it's good for us, that's all we really need!"

Everything went quiet. No one said a word. Niragi was right. You all did only live for yourselves. People had died because of you. You had hurt others, you weren't good people. That didn't mean you should kill each other, though.

"Yeah." Arisu finally said. "You may be right. Killing each other here might just be appropriate for us."

You gritted your teeth. If Arisu gave into this bullshit, they would all die. You couldn't let that happen.

"You're all idiots!" You yelled, aiming your gun for Niragi's calf. Grimacing, you pulled the trigger, the force of the gun making you stumble backwards.

The bullet nestled itself in Niragi's leg, making him stumble on the car and eventually fall to one knee. You hated using guns.

"Sure, we deserve to die! Niragi surely does! But by resigning ourselves to death, the only thing we're doing is being cowards! I don't know about you, but I've regretted enough of my life. I'm done with that shit! If I'm going to die, it won't be in cowardice, it'll be in an attempt to protect those dear to me!"

You gun was still pointed at Niragi, clammy hands grasping it and you finger hovered over the trigger. You wouldn't die here. Not now.

Suddenly, you saw Arisu stand up from the corner of your eye.

"I'm not doing this." He declared. "I won't pull this trigger just to help myself." A dark humor made itself apparent in his voice, making you laugh darkly.

"This shit is ridiculous. I don't care about your shitty fantasy, asshole." You spat at Niragi, gun still pointed at his face.

It was quiet. Nothing was said. Niragi looked back and forth between you and Arisu, face blank with surprise. His gun was still pointed at Arisu, but his arm was relaxed, not ready to shoot.

"That sure put a damper on things." Niragi said with a chuckle, his gunning arm dropping down to his side.

"Arisu?" You heard a voice call, recognizing it as Usagi. "What are you doing?"

You chuckled darkly. What were you doing? It was all pointless, you couldn't believe the people you respected most were nearly dragged down with Niragi.

"Oh yeah... There was you too." Niragi said slowly, voice dripping with contempt as he raised his gun again, aimed at Usagi. He shot at her feet, missing her by mere inches as she jumped to the side, another bullet rushing at her.

"You asshole." You growled under your breath.

"Stop it! Usagi has no part in this!" Arisu screamed as he aimed the shotgun over the car, pointed right at Niragi.

"Every game needs a heroine to make it more exciting!" The ex-militant cried manically, and at this point, you were sure he'd gone insane.

"When the two of you are dead, the three of us can go back to being kindred spirits!" He yelled, looking crazily between you and Usagi. "I can't stand to be alone anymore." He said finally, quietly, before raising his gun to point to Usagi.

And then the sound of his gun firing rung into your ears, the man before you turning quietly and pointing his gun at you. Anger fueled you, rushing through you veins like lava.

You shot him in the shoulder, face blank as his own bullet grazed your cheek. Arisu had shot him as well, blasting him off the car. He landed pathetically to your right, you walked over to him and stepped on his wound, making him groan.

You grimaced, stepping dismissively over him as you rushed over to help Usagi, wiping your cheek on your sleeve on the way. Right as you mind cleared, you saw that Usagi didn't get shot. Chishiya had stepped into the way.

You cursed, starting to run. He couldn't die, he was an asshole, but he was important. You rushed over, ready to help him. Blood stained the side of his shirt as he grimaced, but otherwise, he seemed fine.

You breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders shaking as you took another step closer to him.

Arisu both rushed over, Usagi walking around from behind. He gingerly lifted his shirt up, showing that the bullet had grazed his side.

"Hey..." Arisu started, suddenly remembering that Chishiya never finished what he'd been saying. "What were you going to tell me earlier?"

"Chishiya made a noise suggesting he'd forgotten and had just remembered. "Oh, yeah."

"To me," He started, "people who live life seriously seem like fools. Those people who strive so hard... I just want to curse them. All their goodwill was repugnant to me. But I must've been jealous. They had what I didn't. It seemed like they were criticizing me for being such a vain and vulgar person. I was afraid of them."

The monologue sent chills down you spine. You nodded solemnly.

"I get what you mean." Arisu said sadly. You looked down, knowing the feeling all too well.

"Guys..." Usagi started, her voice shaking. "The King of Spades is coming."

You all looked up, the blimp overhead.

"Shit..." you cursed, you'd thought you would finally get a break. "We need to go."

Usagi went with Arisu and Chishiya went with you, hiding behind cars and trucks, trying to find cover from the King of Spades' guns.

Your gun was heavy in your hand. You could see from your side of the street that Arisu had kept the shotgun, and Chishiya was holding the pistol he'd been given by Niragi.

"We should try to find the others!" You shouted across the street to Usagi and Arisu, seeing them both nod back.

You kept running, continuously hiding behind vehicles and the sides of building.

"We can't go farther until the King of Spades is defeated! We need to kill him!" Usagi declared, looking nervously at you and Chishiya. You looked towards him, gaze anxious.

"We should at least try." He whispered. You nodded, looking across the street to Usagi.

"Let's do it!" You yelled, hand tightening anxiously around the gun. You and Usagi made eye contact before rushing up ahead, trying to get to where the King was.

Suddenly, Arisu yelled. "Kuina! An!" You looked up ahead, and, lo and behold, there they were.

They looked around for a moment before seeing you, starting to run towards Arisu and Usagi.

You decided to make your way across the street to communicate better.

"Are you guys okay?" You asked once they arrived, receiving a nod.

"It's so good to see you guys though. Good to know you're all okay." Kuina said, breathing heavily from running from the King.

"Yeah, you too." Usagi agreed.

"The King of Spades is trying to end things here." An said once things had calmed down slightly and greetings had been exchanged.

"Let's defeat the King together." Kuina finished for her, making everybody nod in agreement.

"We were thinking the exact same thing." Usagi said.

Suddenly, the King shot at the car you were hiding behind. You peeked over the top of the car, seeing him approaching. He was always so calm, keeping a walking pace.

You gulped, clammy hands gripping the gun tightly. You had to end it here.

Three other players sprinted to the car beside you, trying to hide behind it. Two of them made it, but the other was gunned down before they could get out of the way of the bullets.

You gulped, peeking over the top of the car again and seeing the King even closer. You gestured to everyone to go, sprinting away from the King.

You made it to another car, hiding behind it to catch your breath, when you noticed Chishiya gesturing for you to go to him. You took another deep breath and sprinted as fast as you could.

He'd been kinder to you recently. You weren't sure why, maybe he grew up a bit and realized that having enemies in this god forsaken country wasn't a good idea.

You made it to Chishiya, who was only one or two cars in front of you when An tripped. You stopped, turning back to check on her.

The King was only three or four meters away from her, making you cry out.

"An!" You heard Arisu say as well, making Kuina stop.

The King approached her menacingly, you raising your gun in an attempt to save her.

She took out her own gun, trying to shoot him in a desperate attempt but he grabbed it away. She tried to scramble to her feet when the King grabbed her shirt and shot aimlessly at Arisu and Usagi, forcing them to move out of the way.

Just as you were about to shoot, the side mirror of a car hit the King's head. Kuina kicked it, you put together. Finally, the King's attention was drawn away from An, giving her a chance to grab her gun and run off, hiding behind the car you and Chishiya were behind.

"You alright?" You asked, An nodding in reply.

You waited for a little bit, letting An catch her breath. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, like what a car emits. You peeked out from behind the car you hid behind, only to see another car running into the King and driving him into, well, yet another car.

They burst into flames as people stopped hiding to see if the King had finally been killed.

The group who you presumed were in charge of the stunt started celebrating. Then, bullets found their way into their leaders chest. The King wasn't dead quite yet.

From the flames, he stood up. Nothing had caught fire, so you figured his gear must've been fire resistant. He stepped onto the roof of the car that had crashed into him and started shooting at everyone who'd been watching.

You gulped and crouched back down behind cover. You wouldn't die here. Once the shooting finally stopped, you peeked out again and saw that he was taking off his cloak. Underneath it, he was wearing a bulletproof vest and a full face mask.

Then, he took off his mask, revealing a shaved head. It was scarred, and when you looked closer, you realized he only had one functional eye. His appearance sent chills down you spine.

His face was expressionless, emotionless. He felt no guilt, no mercy at killing so many people. You gripped your gun tighter, though it offered no sense of security.

He turned around, his eye finding yours before you ducked into the cover of the car. Eventually, his gaze landed on Arisu and Usagi, who stood petrified, out in the open. He raised his gun, shooting mercilessly. They were only barely able to duck out of the way as they rushed behind a car.

They quickly started running, Arisu ducking behind the cover of a different car to take offensive as Usagi ran, fully utilizing her climbing skills.

Eventually, the shooting stopped as the King had to reload, and Arisu took that chance. He peeked up over the car and took a shot at the King, who rolled out of the way.

Everything was quiet for a while as the King reloaded. Once he was finished, he peeked out from behind the car, gun loaded and ready to fire. Then, suddenly, an arrow shot itself into his side. It penetrated the bulletproof vest, but it didn't get through it.

The girl who had shot the arrow started to load another into her bow when the King started shooting at her, forcing her to run into cover. The King ducked behind the car again to remove the arrow from his vest.

You took the chance to run out of you hiding spot, sprinting down the street. You ducked behind the cover of the cars on your way, gun gripped tightly in your hand, always held close to your chest.

Eventually, there was a building in front of you. You saw Arisu and Usagi duck in, motioning for Chishiya to follow you - at some point, the two of you and An and Kuina had separated. It was dark - the lights weren't on - but it seemed safe and offered good cover.

You rushed in, ducking to the side where you couldn't be seen. Finally, you relaxed the grip on your gun and slid down the wall. You lungs heaved, not used to running so much.

"Jesus..." You muttered under your breath, eyes closing. You'd been having trouble sleeping, and it was a conscious fight not to succumb to rest. You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, taking deep breaths.

Kuina and An came in from the back, putting your mind to rest. Everybody was accounted for, everybody was safe.

"Arisu." Someone called. It was a girl with bow and a quiver of arrows, who you reasoned was the person that had shot the King.

"Heiya." He replied, looking over. They seemed to know each other, though you weren't sure how or why.

"You're Usagi?" The girl - Heiya - asked. Usagi nodded, looking at the newcomer in surprise. "Yes."

"Nice to meet you."

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out. Despite the voice being familiar, it felt like you hadn't heard it in ages.

"He's about to run out of his spare magazines." It was Aguni. You'd known him from the Beach, he'd been the leader of the militants. He should've died in the ten of hearts game, though. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Clearly, the others echoed your own feelings, breaking out into questions. He was probably the best person to fight the King with, though.

"Aguni? How'd you get here?" Usagi asked, watching him confusedly.

He rushed to somewhere with a little more cover from the King before answering.

"I followed you."

It was silent for a little while, the man's words processing through everyone's minds.

"You must like me." Heiya said with a little smile.

Aguni seemed to skip over what the girl said, moving over to get closer to all of you.

"He's still just a human. He's not omnipotent. His guns are the same, they can't be fired forever. When he's out of rounds, he reloads, same as us. The blimp probably sends more round down for him."

"We've got weapons." Arisu remarked, lifting his shotgun. You felt your grip on your gun tighten, a slight reminder it was there. Everybody checked their own weapons, Chishiya having a quick look at the gun he was given by Niragi, Kuina readying her fists, An taking a quick look at her own gun.

You weren't helpless. You had weapons, you had the means to do this.

"But these are all the rounds we've got." Aguni finished your train of thought.

Suddenly, Kuina remembered something. "I've also got this." She said, pulling a can out of her pocket. "A good luck charm." You looked at it questioningly before Chishiya said something.

"Oh yeah. I've already used mine, though."

"It's a bomb Chishiya made." Kuina answer the silent question hanging in the air.

"What good is that?" Aguni scoffed, looking at Chishiya.

"Lure him in and use it close." The man answered quickly. "It's made with kerosene, shoot it and it'll go."

"So an ANFO bomb." An remarked.

"That won't make much of an explosion." Aguni challenged. It wouldn't but if you could find, maybe, something flammable, like alcohol it would work great. Maybe if you lured the King to a gas station? You weren't quite sure.

Arisu answered your question for you. "There's a drugstore over there. If it's closed off and filled with aerosol fumes, the explosion will be amplified." He finished with a proud grimace.

"You sure of that?" Aguni said skeptically.

"Maybe." Arisu answered back. It wasn't a foolproof plan, everyone would have to play their parts.

"In other words, someone has to lure him in there." Kuina put together.

"Yeah." Arisu agreed. "I'll wait in the store for him and set it off." That was even riskier, though. If he was in the store when the bomb went off, he'd surely die.

"You'd die." You said warily, not ready for such a loss. Usagi seemed to have the same thought as you, saying something similar.

"No." He said confidently. "I'll get away."

"How?" Chishiya challenged amusedly.

"On the second floor," he started, a slight grin appearing as his plan formed. "Even if I'm blown outside, I can still survive." There was a little while of silence while he gauged the other's reactions to his plan before he added something on. "Maybe."

Chishiya nodded, and you agreed. It was reasonable, probably wouldn't kill him. Might seriously injure him enough to get him killed later on, though.

"This is nothing but 'maybe's." Heiya remarked suspiciously. It wasn't the best plan, no, but it was probably the best you had.

"It's worth betting on his maybe's, though." Aguni argued.

"Let's not bet too much, though. This plan isn't foolproof, it'll probably go wrong at some point. One or two people should stay back and interfere if it's going to shit." You declared, gaze sweeping over everybody as they looked at you.

"I can do that." Chishiya said, offering you a his signature grin.

"I'll join him, then." Kuina decided.

"Now that we have our two people to stay back, who's going to be the decoy?"

"This time, I'll be the decoy." Aguni said to Arisu, clearly referencing something in their shared past.

"It's reckless to lure him alone." Usagi noticed.

"I'm enough." Aguni pushed, but Usagi stayed put.

"Let's all be decoys." She finally decided. You were up for it, you were far from weak. Everyone else seemed to echo your feelings, - except Chishiya and Kuina of course - nodding.

Aguni scoffed, clearly defeated. He rolled his eyes, but otherwise, seemed on board with the plan.

"Okay. Let's go."

i'm so sorry this ended up getting so long and i didn't want to have a huge wall of text so i'm splitting it into two parts, i hope it's ok so far though :)

remember to drink water :>

#chishiya x reader #chishiya x male reader #chishiya x female reader #chishiya x gn reader #chishiya x gender neutral reader #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland x female reader #alice in borderland x male reader #alice in borderland x gn reader #tw: death #alice in borderland season 2 spoilers #part 1 #gender neutral reader #gn reader #male reader #female reader #reader #jasper's fics

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