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peggyao3 · 20 days ago

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Relic - Pt. 13 "Come not with a Sword"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

A/N: I apologize for the delay, I've been thinking about the Kinktober prompts a little too hard 🥹 But chapter 13 is ready to be served and I want to thank everyone who takes the time to comment because that literally is the one thing that makes actually writing this instead of just playing it out in my head worth it 💕💕💕 I appreciate you so much.

CW: Suicidal thoughts, implied abuse, something like attempted suicide, but also… be not afraidt

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 15

With the opening door breezes a cool rush from the hallway and in comes Lilia, her gold-speckled eyes like coins of color against the black backdrop as she tries to switch off her smile like one might try and fail to switch off the sun.

Mikhail's sharp jaw turns, lips quirked into a crooked grin as the handmaid's shape flutters past him. His cocky eyes drift to the swell of her ass beneath her white servant's robes, his longing glance cut short by the closing door.

"You're in a good mood." The relic ceases the tender rubbing over her healing port and the delicate layer of new skin under the inconspicuous, shaved patch.

"I thought you weren't watching, forgive me." Lilia misinterprets the woman's quizzical look and scrambles to place the stack of new whalefurs and blankets on the lower end of the bed.

"Wasn't I looking right at you?"

The handmaid counters with an openness that might have cost her her tongue with any of her former Lords or Ladies. "Well, sometimes when you're looking right at me, it seems like you don't see me at all." And she doesn't mean the way the hallowed family or the advisors and generals refuse to see her. She feels like she's a ghost to her Lady sometimes, those faraway eyes twitching in hypnotizing patterns like she's a lucid dreamer dancing through a waking dream.

"An old habit. I'm just… Dissociating. Practicing Harkunnin."

"Without looking at any tapes? I only saw you looking at them once."

The relic pulls one of the furs over her crossed legs on the bed. So soft. Her beloved and her new, eight-arm-legged friend will love them. She deflects quickly: "The new guard, do you know him?"

"Oh, uh, in a way!" Lilia turns to the vanity and wipes at an invisible stain with her sleeve. In the mirror, she catches her Lady's glance, this time anything but dissociated. It almost burns her, to be actually looked at by someone of higher standing, but it's a pleasant burn.

Both women are sniffing each other's lies out like a dog does freshly cut meat in the other room, but Lilia breaks first, throwing up her arms in a gesture of giggly defeat. Fine!

"Mikhail's my husband," the maid blushes and lowers her head. "He wants you to know that he's very happy with his upgraded chair."

"Your husband!" The relic exclaims with a bright jolt of her facial features. "Yes, he told me that three times already." She dismissively swats away the talk about the chair. "I couldn't help but notice the look on his face when you passed him. Looked like he wanted to eat you."

"Well, I hope so." Lilia's bold tone contrasts with the way she awkwardly sits down on the vanity stool, one wiggling leg crossed over the other and her chin buried in her palm.

The woman on the bed bursts out laughing and rubs at her eyes, reclining against the headboard. "I feared he was molesting you. If he was, I'd have shown him how we dealt with molesters on Earth."

"I assure you, my Lady, I can give as good as I can get." Lilia's features shift into something as feral as anything living on Giedi Prime is bound to become. Beneath the chiseled mask of unyielding subservience lurk the same baser instincts that incite any organism. The relic has no trouble at all imagining Lilia and her husband fucking each other silly in their sparse free time.

"Oh, good." Snickering, she points at her handmaid with a sweeping finger gun, the motion awkward in its silliness, misplaced among the radiation and murder. "You tell him."

"Mikhail can be all bark and bite until you get to know him. You just need to know how to pet him right," Lilia diligently explains.

"That sounds like Feyd, to be honest."

"Really?" The maid's bobbing leg freezes mid-air. Not only is it improper to talk about the na-Baron in such a demeaning way, it is also deadly. Her shoulders then drop— because it is also true, which almost makes her even more giggly because of the depravity of it.

"Yes, absolutely." The Earth woman's impish smile dissolves into thoughtful tendrils. "But it's not just that. There's so much more that I get to see." The talk of marriage spins the wheel of her thoughts further. "Forgive me the impolite question, but-"

"Nothing to forgive ever, my Lady!" Lilia butts in.

"I disagree, but… I can't help but wonder, did you marry because you were forced to?"

"Oh, no." Trustfully, Lilia scoots closer to the bed, toes wagging and fingers drumming on her own cheeks. If anyone will understand her, it's the woman from old Earth. "We married out of love. Mikhail would throw a tantrum if he knew I told you but… I was the one who asked him to marry me." The ambers that are the woman's eyes spark to life with a golden glow. Nourishing sun beams. "And he said yes."

Something green then springs into bloom inside the relic's chest, a leaf to her tender sapling perhaps. Hope, she finds, tastes pink and yellow— cherry blossoms and lemons. A single goodness is enough to peel away her lurching belief that the universe of her people's descendants is inherently poisoned into badness.

"That is wonderful, Lilia. I'm so happy for you. I will make sure that nothing happens to you or your husband." I will make your life better.

The maid blushes purple, eyes lowered to her own knees.

"But that's our task, my Lady, to protect you."

"I don't think anyone can really protect me, but that's fine." She'll just have to adapt. The astronaut is unhappy with the course of her thoughts, the tender leaf ruffled by the winds that tug on it from all directions. She is almost thankful when her handmaid brings up the silly chair again.

"Sooo, about that chair." Lilia purses her lips with a jolly quiver of curiosity. "How did you…?" Her glance sweeps to the cryo pod before she lowers it shamefully.

An electric charge of wary caution prickles along the relic's nerves and she weighs her words with care. If this knee-jerk act of empathy on a desperate night is going to cost her the revelations of her secrets, she is going to hurl herself off that balcony.

Unknowingly, Mikhail saves her from the explanation, knocking then strutting into the room with his slightly o-shaped gait, toolbox in hand, folded chair under his arm.

"M'sorry Ladies," he drawls with an exaggerated extension of the last vowel. "I am to seal that ventilation shaft, confidentially."

Mikhail doesn't seem to give a shit about keeping the relationship to his wife a secret. He seems to give few shits about the proper tone in general.

"Confidentially?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Na-Baron said so himself, eh." He taps the transponder button behind his ear, its placement quite similar to the relic's fine chip port.

Confidentially. So, the Baron mustn't know that his pet has been taking liberties and befriending the unwelcome guest. Feyd has told her of the many deaths, the many rebirths, Gholas, when he held her tight the other night. Memories embedded in the flesh, a scientific breakthrough lost to a universe's political machinations. It makes her sick as much as it fascinates her.

"You know how to seal a ventilation shaft?" The Earth woman questions with a suspicious lilt.

"I know my way around things, eh. Seen some things, done some things before I joined the troops."

"If it really needs to be done, let me do it!" The engineer quizzically ogles the electrical welder that Mikhail swoops out of the toolbox. 24,000 years later, and some tools haven't changed at all. She's almost yearning to get her hands around it, but Mikhail, whistling something low in his throat, disregards her prompt benevolently.

She hadn't seen to the ventilation hatch sooner, hoping that the being named Glugo would come for a secret visit once more. Now she is forced to watch Lilia's husband climb on the plastic chair (upgraded with an unfoldable flap to rest his legs upon) whose statics are not balanced to carry a standing man.

"The Lady said you were looking at my ass earlier, is that right?" Lilia has jumped up from the stool, sauntering over with a swing to her hips.

"So what if I— huurghh!" She pokes the back of her husband's thighs, causing his ticklish hamstrings to contract into a twitch. "Ah! Woman-"

Mikhail sputters a litany of curses in Harkunnin and Lilia has to grab a whole two handfuls of ass to keep the wiry guard from flying off the wobbly chair.

The relic can't help but laugh and laugh, even when her cheeks start hurting. So alien, that feeling, as alien as the colors green, pink and yellow have become.

"Give me an hour and I'll print you a ladder!"

So, love, after all.

It turns out, real love can be born out of any sort of wasteland.

Day 20

The engagement - canceled! How delightful! Things couldn't be going much better for Vladimir Harkonnen. Though there is room for improvement. His darling nephew still sneaks into the concubine wing with its single, occupied quarters each night. Vladimir hadn't expected Feyd-Rautha to recover from the blow of rejection so quickly.

No wedding! It's only a matter of time until the order of robed poison whisperers comes knocking on his orbit and demands that he make it happen. They might even want to install a witchy pestilence in his palace to observe the process. It puts him in the mood for good old-fashioned femicide, but for now he has bigger concerns.

Because Feyd almost looks happier than before and that is decidedly against the rules.

The Baron is nothing if not a kill-joy, and so he waits, half-afloat in a bog of oily bath water and self-complacence.

To kill her like the sorry graftling, that might be a bit much, though he had entertained the idea as early as when he first saw the needy gleam in his nephew's eyes when speaking of that woman. Wouldn't it be fun to have her killed and remade as a Ghola, the same flesh but unable to remember a thing about Feyd-Rautha?

No, no, no - The Baron needs to play his nephew like a fine instrument, as tempting as it might be to punch him like a drum with a stick. With well past 80 years of age, Vladimir is slowly growing tired of mind games.

If the Bene Gesserit are telling the truth, the woman has already had her rebirth. A mummy out of the ice. And she might as well be dead to him, the way she stays in her chambers as silent and unmoving as a corpse. That's all right with the Baron. He doesn't need to see the toy his nephew wets his dick with.

But a proper meeting is long overdue.

And so he waits and exhales herbal vapor into the soggy air, the only sounds being the drip-drip-drip of oily, steaming bath water whenever he lifts his heavy arm, and the pistons of his lung machine.

Then, a hollow rumble shakes the bath crypt's vaulted ceiling. The door opens to a rectangle of light from the hallway and a waft of cold air stirs the lazy molecules, quickly swallowed by thick, muggy air.

A figure cuts through the fumes, broad shoulders, dark eyes gleaming past the fog. So anxious that boy.

"Ah, there you are, my boy. You've left me waiting. Too busy to indulge your old uncle in a bit of your precious time?"

There are no guards, no slaves. Feyd-Rautha stands stiff as a board in front of his uncle's tub, knowing what it means. He offers no response.

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with your new toy." The Baron's neck wobbles as he tilts his head.

"So? What's a new toy if I don't play with it?"

Vladimir laughs and laughs until his lungs hurt from the rotting disease inside. The pistons of the bulbous breathing apparatus that hovers like a moon in his back jump up and down with wheezing jolts. "I'm starting to feel a bit neglected."

Anxiety is barely the right word to describe the crippling tightness behind her sternum when she walks down the bug-like bowels of the palace pyramid. After almost three weeks of being huddled up in the illusionary safety of her chambers, her advance down the hallway feels like she had just given birth to herself, more vulnerable even than she had been when the sisterhood freed her from her sarcophagus and she came out spitting the thawed, amniotic fluid.

Guarded by Mikhail, his presence does little to brighten her mood today. And then he stands still in the middle of the corridor, footfall stopping so that the only sound she's left with is her thundering heart.

"Ain't allowed to go closer." His jaws and neck are ramrod stiff as he jerks his chin to the far door. Tall and glinting black, it may as well have led to hell. "But you go. It'll be fine."

Fine is no word that agrees with her when she is invited by the Baron Harkonnen himself without a given reason. She didn't even have the time to have Feyd in the training hall informed.

"Okay," is all she manages with a small voice, not looking at her guard for affirmation. Mikhail is glad for it, because anxiety is ticking in the veins under his temples. He doesn't know what the Baron wants of his new Lady, but he knows of the dead slaves that are frequently carted from the bath chambers to the meat plants. "Please don't let anyone into my room."

"Yes, my Lady."

And so she walks with only a bobbing glowglobe left for company and her gun in its makeshift holster which sits snug against her waist, concealed by a jacket whose armpits have long grown clammy with anxious sweat.

Come quietly, don't knock, the note had said. Gingerly, her fingers wrap around the cold, bulbous handle and quietly push the door open, just a crack so she can slip through.

She finds herself blinded, venturing into the dense fog that nearly takes her breath away. It smells of herbs and metal, the scent so thick she can taste it at the back of her throat. Immediately, her jacket clings to her arms from the humidity. The sound of distant bubbling drones out her quiet footsteps on black, slippery tiles.

The room takes shape and structures emerge from the thick mist, an oval contour, a pale mountain, a person standing at the side. She parts the fog and freezes with a thousand little icicles in her chest.

Feyd-Rautha stands next to his uncle's bathtub, his tunic discarded, his bare shoulders milky and damp as oily, scented steam curls off them, muscles rolling as he turns to face the unexpected visitor. His teeth clench tight, a muscle snapping like a whipcord across his jaw.

Her poor beloved looks at her with such horror, she may as well have been the apparition of her own naked corpse. His hands are frozen at the hem of his trousers, pushed below his hip bones with just the top of his flaccid cock peeking out.

He is the minotaur at the center of a prison-maze and his woman is the gun with its cold muzzle pressed directly at his forehead. Fog slips from the bath chamber into his mind and the world begins to spin.

The woman's dumbstruck gaze sways slowly to the Baron who sits half-submerged in oily liquid. The top of his massive, fleshy chest wobbling just above the surface. Veins are stretched thin across the expanse of skin, each blood vessel leaving a purple imprint against his sickly pallor. Her glassy eyes remind Vladimir of his dear nephew's when he was still young and sweet, afraid and confused.

The Baron smirks, lifts one fat arm on the back of the tub with a playful bat of his fingers, rings clanking on the tiles, as if to say 'Hello, little pawn'.

Glass shatters in her eyes and if she could strike him down with anger, she would. The Baron's meaty finger twitches to his thickest ring that hugs his middle finger like a capsule and the fog around him snaps and ripples. A shield powered by a tiny Holtzman generator, and the first time she sees one in action. The hidden gun at her ribs taunts her with its uselessness.

Helpless like a fly in a web, she averts her gaze from the thick, white tarantula patriarch who mocks her with glinting, beady eyes below his saggy brows. She has no weapon, no tool to obliterate the devastation in her beloved's eyes, the humiliation that has burrowed itself so deep that neither fingers nor knives could claw out its festering tumors.

"Feyd…" Her voice dies with his cold, wet stare.

"Isn't my dear nephew pretty like this?" The Baron drones, stirring the waters with a gooey, fat knee. "But I suppose you've seen him already. Just remember that I've seen him more often." Seen him— and touched him.

Feyd snaps into a crouch, picks up his belt and tunic, long limbs turned into stiff, hard rods. With no sound besides his feverish breath, he rushes past her. The touch of tender fingers on his naked belly makes him jump like a wounded foal and he finds his voice, a low-pitched bellow that echoes off the cavernous chamber walls a thousandfold.

"Get away from me, woman!"

The door bangs open and out the fog bursts a haunted bull, stampeding down the corridor. Veins across his hands and arms are swollen thick from the humidity, blood races through them hard and fast as punches the glowglobe to shards. He slings the belt around his hips and yanks the tunic over his head savagely, his own blood running down his knuckles. Mikhail has wisely removed himself.

"Feyd, I'm so sorry, please wait, please let me—"

"I said get the fuck away from me!" His voice cracks, his uncle's laughter rings in his ears like death knells. The Baron has poisoned her now with an image she will see every time she lies with him, every time she looks at him. Her steps grow quicker. So do his.

"I didn't know what he wanted!" She pleads. "If I had known, I would have killed him straight from the door!"

"No one can kill him!" Feyd-Rautha spits over his shoulder, takes a sharp turn, away from the concubines' corridor, dizzy from the fog, dizzy from the rage. "I've tried, too many times!" Bracing himself against the wall, he runs onward, collecting dirt under his damp soles.

His darling calls for him. This time, he draws his blade and her little footsteps falter at his back. Immediately, his throat draws tight. Wetness blurs his sight and he wants to curl up, curl up with his blade, with his blade tucked against his tummy. His bloodied palm finds the panel to unlock his own chambers.

There is no peace there.

A tiny sob from behind him makes him jolt over the threshold. He doesn't want her pity, he wants her rage. He wants to die.

She is quicker than the closing door and bursts inside his room together with him. A quick glance across the large room, vaulted ceilings, glossy windows with the shutters half closed, the furniture hard and uninviting.

Despite Feyd's build and height, she manages to tackle him to the ground, or rather, he stumbles in his hysterical attempt to pull away from her. He rolls on his back, hand on her tummy in a half-hearted attempt to keep her from crawling over him.

"Please, please, please, you're panicking. I'm here!"

Yes, that's the exact fucking problem. She was there.

Feyd-Rautha laughs, tears streaking from his eyes to his ears, tongue peeking out between his blackened teeth. He presents his blade which gleams in tear-wet astigmatism. Real pretty. It would be even prettier embedded in his neck, dripping with his blood. His darling's belly rises and falls under his palm in quick fearful breaths.

"What d-do you want with the blade? Please, put it down, please put it down, please—"

Oh God, it's not at all meant for her, she realizes when Feyd-Rautha points the glinting blade at his throat. It's meant for him.

Her fingers lock like vises around his wrist, nails digging into the thin, white skin. Feyd giggles, biceps clenched as he guides the knife slowly to its soft target, free hand sprawled across her belly, twisted into the flesh. To push her away or to pull her closer; maybe both.

Is he really trying, or just trying to scare her? Her arms aren't really stronger than his, yet she somehow manages to drag the blade away from his jugular, clutching his wrist so hard, his carpal bones are bruising her palm.

"Stop this, stop this, stop this!" She yells with each hearty tug.

The sharp tip jerks down and scrapes over his collar bone, a little curve, a crescent shape. Feyd gasps a wet little moan, giggling through his stinging tears as blood slips down his shoulder, warm and wet. His woman fumbles for something under her jacket and he finds himself presented with the barrel of a gun made of half-transparent plastic. He nearly goes cross-eyed before he starts laughing.

"Yes, shoot me, my darling!" Feyd-Rautha slurs hysterically, twisting his fingers hard into her stomach. He nearly grows hard from the idea of his rotten brain matter splattering across the gross tiles of this insidious room, finally delivered from evil. No one would be better to do it than the angel from his dreams. She'd have to burn his corpse afterwards, so the Baron can't have him brought back.

He still holds the blade, metal tremoring above his neck, now contained by only the counterforce of her non-dominant hand. Her clammy fingers fumble with the hammer of the gun.

"Put the blade down, or do I need t-to shoot your fucking hand off, Feyd?" She pleads and his eyes snap up with sudden fury, mouth twisting into hardness, eyes spilling over with shiny tears. His arm flexes, pulling her clenched hand right with him in its pathetic belief that she could stop him with the strength of her body. The black-hot tip kisses his neck.

The relic snaps the gun up and points it at herself, the muzzle cold and grounding against her damp temple.

Laughter fades at once. Feyd-Rautha's brows furrow and his grip slackens, deeply disturbed. "My darling… What are you doing?"

"Drop the blade right now!"

He obeys without thinking, weapon clattering across the tiles before his palms find her hips, clinging to them in fear. "What are you doing with that gun? Stop that— You c-can't leave me."

"And you can't leave me." With a deep exhale and smoldering eyes, she places the gun right next to Feyd's knife, a tiny click of plastic on marble. His fingers clench, his belly where she's seated jumps with quick breaths.

"I still love you," she sighs and Feyd-Rautha's entire body goes slack. Maybe that's what he needed to hear all along. "Of course, I still love you!"

Her voice cracks, her shoulders slump. Crying, she throws herself over him, forcing her arms around his neck to serve as pillows for his head. Cheek to cheek, she kisses his tear-streaked skin. Feyd's arms slide home around her back, holding her to him like a blanket.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she murmurs. "It's okay. You're my love and nothing could ever change that." Brief laughter tickles his ear. "When I woke up, I thought I belonged nowhere. But that's not true, because I belong with you and you belong with me. I think I've been floating through space for 24,000 years just to get to you."

He is so ashamed. He never wants to come back out of her embrace.

"I'll find a way," she promises, a sweet whisper against his ear. Already, the gears have started turning in her head and her interface twinkles like a shooting star to make a wish. "We'll kill him."

Feyd wants nothing more than to believe her. His fingers trail up her spine, to the nape of her neck. His flesh burns with vile memories. "Can you— Can you still touch me and make it go away?"

"Of course, my love. I will make it go away. I'll make it better." Her voice trembles from the decision she's made. "I will make it all better."

Come not here in the sun! Come not with a sword! Come not crying over a naked corpse! Come not with a disturbed mind!

- Druth (Hellblade)

A/N: To distract you from your killing fantasies, I think this is the right time to mention that Lilia and Mikhail are my lovely bestie's and my OCs in Dune disguise and I love them so absurdly much, your honor 🥹❤️

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #feyd #feyd rautha x reader #austin butler #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two

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solitude4chiron · 1 year ago

Text

White Ferrari

Miles 42 x black fem reader

Warnings/about: Angst/fluff, Drunk characters, slightly drunk driving, you get attacked by one of Miles’s rivals he feels guilty, frank ocean & skateboarding, caring miles

Slight trigger warning: You get followed and attacked by a rival of your boyfriends, you own a gun and pull it out

& yes this is pt.2 to fashion killa 🫶🏾 thank y’all for the support on my first piece of writing 🥹🥹

Miles took your advice from your last heartfelt conversation, leading his uncle Aaron to take more of the prowler role while he rebuilt your relationship, but after a few weeks off he sadly had to stay out again

During the weeks he had off you felt closer to your villain boyfriend than you ever had before. Him opening up his eyes to your world and you feeling every emotion he expressed he was raised in as a child.

You both went to concerts seeing ASAP Rocky (both of y’all’s fav) JID, Brent faiyaz (Miles’s favorite he sends you lyrics all the time) and kendrick Lamar. You standing in the pit made miles tense up so he would always end up being right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist while dancing to whatever artist was playing, the tight space pressing your butt onto him which made him go feral, but not purposely of course 🙄 so he always ended up whispering in your ear

“Espera a que lleguemos a casa, you want to tease huh?” (Wait till we get home)

After his disappearance, and reappearance you communicated your feelings to him a lot, as he understood that his weight was slightly your weight too, and it stressed you out. Even though his identity was safe and your relationship with him wasn’t too public, you felt someone had a hit out on your head.

“8:35 pm not too late…” and while miles was gone you dragged on your baggy evisu jeans while also pulling on a tight cropped shirt, finishing it off with a hoodie zipping it just far up enough so you could still let others see your bellybutton was pierced. Then you left, skating down the street with bktherula blasting in your left ear (miles always told you to keep one ear open when he wasn’t with you)

After a minute you stopped at a gas station for a drink and while walking to the back for your soda, you spotted a man dressed in all black. Shiesty mask pulled down, his dark eyes glared at you screaming disrespectful things

“Why the fuck do I live in nyc..” you muttered

At that moment you snatched the money out your pocket and slammed it on the counter whilst walking out, hoping the fast payment would put some space between you two. You also text miles. A lot..

“Hey miles baby, you free?” 8:49

“Some dude keeps following me miles” 8:49

“Miles please look at my location, I’ll try to stay in the area please come get me” 8:50

“Baby please answer me” 8:50

“Babe” 8:50

“Babe” 8:53

“Miles” 8:53

Miles POV:

“Aye pass that shi bru we celebrating tonight” I said through intoxicated lips while taking another swig of the hennessy bottle, and for a minute my worries went away, and that minute was actually 30 minutes

“Aye y’all imma head home ! My wife waiting on me” I said with a smug look on my face snatching the keys to my motorcycle off the counter, but my unc ain’t goin for that shi

“Gimme the keys miles, airdrop me your address”

“Alright then dad..” I said sarcastically, but slightly pondered on that sentence because my dad, yeah

While opening my phone to airdrop the address my heart sank to my crotch

Future wife: 7 new messages

Future wife: 16 missed calls

Future wife: 1 voicemail

And immediately I became sober. Hopping on my motorcycle and riding through the oddly warm night climate, leaving my worried uncle behind while tracking y/n’s location

“Sabes que lo siento, I keep fucking letting you down.” (You know I’m sorry baby)

Y/n’s pov:

Although you tried not to acknowledge the man but something about him was familiar? You’re sure you’ve never seen him before but maybe you’ve heard of him

“Come here ma, won’t be long trust”

“Come on you know you want to turn around and look at me”

And in that moment you knew who he was, Sidat. (Sigh - dot) Miles’s little “enemy”. Miles told you about him, but the way he was described to you. Made you feel like he wasn’t a threat. Now you realize he wasn’t a threat to miles, but definitely is a threat to you

“Move nigga, I got a man” you snapped

“I know that already love, fuc him”

And something in you jerked to pull out the gun you tucked in your pants earlier. The gun that had MM (Miles morales) engraved in it, the gun you never realized could swiftly take someone off the earth, the gun that had purple wrapped around it. Personalized for your boyfriends touch

“I said move nigga, damn.” You said, turning around swiftly while pulling the gun out your waist

And you tilted your head, peering down the top of the gun hoping this would be enough to scare sidat away

“You ain’t pullin that shi girl” he said whilst jumping on you pinning you to the floor, you kept the barrel of the gun to his chest but he knew you wouldn’t pull it. You knew you wouldn’t too

He lifted your chin off your chest with his own weapon

“You so fine, miles don’t deserve yo pretty ass”

And in that moment you heard a motorcycle almost a minute away

So he left, and in the snap of a finger sidat was gone

And you shivered on the floor preparing your words for when miles found you. Tears ruining your pretty mascara

“Lo siento, cariño, lo siento, salí y me emborraché y pensé que si bebía no tendría que pensar en nada y..” (I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry I went out and got drunk and I thought if I drank I wouldn’t have to think about anything and I..)

“Come on hermosa, I’m so sorry” you saw a tear forming a the bottom of his eyes and you knew if he wasn’t slightly drunk he probably wouldn’t be crying right now

He picked you up and sat you on his motorcycle. Going straight home

Timeskip: At home

“And yeah, that’s what happened. He vanished as soon as you pulled up.” You said through tears and hiccups

Miles tried his hardest to comfort you. He took your clothes off slowly trying not to trigger anything inside of you and wrapped you in the satin robe he got you for valentines. He took you into the bathroom and ran you a bath while rubbing a soapy rag along your body. His eyebrows indicating his regret. He made you hot camomile tea just like how his mom taught him, and he slid your bonnet on your braids freshly oiled for bed while he played your favorite, frank ocean

“It’s my fault” you heard him sigh

“No baby it wasn’t your fault, It wasn’t any of ours I’m not too shaken anyways I promise”

“But I should have been checking your texts, just like you always tell me too…” and he buried his head into your breasts trying to hold back drunk tears, and sooner or later you were being showered with kisses. His breath smelled like liquor but you didn’t care. He made sure that night while you both slept he was directly behind you. Never letting go of your hip

“Care for you still and I will, forever” miles sleepily sang the lyrics of white Ferrari, and you’d wonder if he knew what he sang, or the impact it made in your head. It almost felt like he could only love you this deeply when he was drunk. Maybe he just felt this way the whole time

And through every kiss he apologized, because sober or not it pained him so much someone besides him had hurt you, purposely. The music filled your room and leaked out your shared window freezing time, and all you could do was stare at the boy you loved in awe

Because you never thought he could love someone so deeply

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown x reader #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #y2k aesthetic #fashion #frank ocean #miguel o'hara #Spotify

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watchingblsnowandforever · 5 months ago

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Hello again! =D

Here's Part 1

*looks at all the remaining screenshots and sighs* I really need to learn to take screenshots more selectively-

Warning: long post 😊😅

This is the sole reason Phum chose to ride the cycle, because we all know he brought his car.

I'm not complaining though. In fact-

Peem, give this man all the hugs in this world. He deserves them. <3

HANDS!!

Aunt Pui Live Reaction

She ships them hehe

She's the best wingaunt 😭🫶🏼

Oh, it's his turn with the braincell finally hehe

Oh, that little kernel of insecurity making him question this :(

And it's Phum's turn to immediately refute any doubt about his feelings.

Oh yeah, telling him all the reasons you like him is the only reason you'll "have" to stay over at his place, Phum. It's not like you wanna cuddle him or anything. Pfft of course not.

Peem's reaction is so cute (no pun intended-) oh gods 😭

This is what told me for sure that Phum knows about Peem's feelings.

The way he framed this, the absolute lack of hesitation in his voice, the way he smiled, the way he looked at Peem.

Just because he doesn't confront Peem about it doesn't mean he doesn't know his feelings are reciprocated.

No wonder Peem's reaction looks so genuine 😭 (Pond improvised this part)

What do you do when the guy you like keeps shrugging off your hand? Keep trying of course! And then lock your hands so he can't shrug them off.

Mission Side-Hug Your Crush: Accomplished 😌✅️

Me:

Wait- WAIT, you're gonna leave the cycle right there in the middle of the driveway?! WHY 🥲😭

👀

Yep, same pic.

The moment I saw this I was like where have I seen this before- OH yeah.

See, now Fang isn't hesitating to call him out on it. Now he knows for sure Phum likes Peem, and it's okay to talk to him about it. But he still doesn't prod much, and only takes what Phum tells him.

In conclusion: Fang is a good brother. 😌

Others: Byee! Have a great time!

Chain: I'll play the guitar for you.

Let's be honest, who's the enabler here? Pun might come up with the strangest most complicated plans, but who's the first to go along with it?

ASKFDGHYTRUASKJNCHDFJ

WHAT WAS THIS KISS?!!!! AND WHY WAS IT TAILOR-MADE TO MAKE ME GO CRAZY?!!!!!

WINNYSTANG. I liked you before but to be very frank, I was kinda indifferent, but now you have my full attention. Make me go even more crazy.

Ooh they have a third brother??

See, up till this point, I was willing to ignore their parents (not what they did, but them as people, because they do not deserve any attention) but this? Stopping Fang from going to check on his brother? NUH UH. That's a line you don't cross.

So now, I'm handing Peem and Tan their weapon(s) of choice and letting them have a go at it. The bodies? Oh, don't worry about that, we'll handle those. :)

What I really love about this scene is that Peem hugs first, then asks questions.

Ah I love hugs so much 🥹🫶🏼

No. They can't.

And similarly, our parents can't always be right. They might always want what's the best for us, but that doesn't mean that what they do is always the best for us.

Also- I'm completely normal about the fact that Phum and Fang went to Peem and Tan - their respective safe zones. Very normal. 🥺

AND THOSE 'I LOVE YOU'S BY TANFANG OH MY GODS I-

I could write a whole essay about just these few minutes (of that PhumPeem hug and this TanFang moment) but I don't have that much time or energy 😭

I'll just go sob in the corner because this entire ep was made to attack my heart with fluff but this scene just broke me.

Also- we finally get actual wind-ruffled hair in BL hehe

Isn't he already Golden Retriever enough? 😭

[Also, at this point my anxiety spiked because I had 7 more screenshots, but I'd already done 25, so tumblr would allow only 5 more 😶😭]

Yes.

Peem finally getting his confidence and sass back! Hehe

That peck had me blinking and then smiling so wide and rewatching those few seconds at least four times.

He says no, and yet his face is tilted and eyes closed and he's all ready to be kissed so sweetly.

You betray yourself, Peem *smh*

HANDS!!!!

The day I stop screaming about hands is my last day on Earth.

This broke my heart, but this hug and Peem's reply put it back together. <33

He-

He said it. While he was awake. 😶

Listen, that nose boop and him telling Phum he'd done a good job the first time changed my brain chemistry so much I collected all the stray strands of my nonexistant giffing skills and made a gif just to put it as my header (replacing that scene from Cherry Magic that I've probably watched a million times now, and had changed me viscerally).

AND THEN THEY GIVE ME THIS.

They're playing table tennis with my heart 🥲

Anyways. Love this scene. So much.

BONUS: I couldn't upload the screenshot of this, but that horse riding scene is so funny to me, because Phuwin is the one who can ride, and Pond's the one a little scared (a little like that roller coaster scene except reversed hehe).

Also "I feel like a prince, riding my horse led by my servant." uh huh. no reference here. just a random line in a random series where the main leads acted in a series previously where one of them was a khun chai and the other worked for him. no reference at all.

Finally!

That's it for ep 12, see y'all next week!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have some pancakes 🥞

All my previous We Are posts.

@inonetoomanyfandoms here's part 2 hehe

#we are #we are series #we are the series #thai bl #phumpeem #peemphum #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl

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j-restlessgeek · 6 months ago

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Look who arrived :3

My @kaarijazineofficial arrived 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I absolutely love the cards, reading and looking at all the details and the backside is so pretty too 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰.

The art inside and outside the zine is insane too. Putting my gushing under the line in case you want to see it once your own zine arrives :3.

Gushing begins, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The back of the zine is so pretty, look who is there 🥹🥹🥹🥹. They are all there 🥹🥹🥰🥰.

Oh same about the backside of the cards

The notes have sunglasses 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰, also the tape is such a cute nod towards Jesse 🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹. The amount of detailing in the entire zine is so impressive. Was squealing all the time while opening and going through the pages.

The art inside is so edible like wow 🥹🥹🥹🥹. So much detailing, the colours are so fun and like wow the skill 🤯🤯🤯🤯🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥. The textures are so good 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Some examples:

^Look at this, little chelsea 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻. The one and only. Awwwwwwwww her little bandana looks so cute and häärijä 👀👀👀🥰🥰🥰🥰. Insane how many people are in this without it being crowded 🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰. They are all there, the dancers, the daltons, frank 🦩, häärijä, the bojan and our fluffy queen chelsea 💛💛💛💛🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰.

^This piece even has joker out (they are adorable 😻😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 and so small 👀👀), insanely detailed absolutely love the colours and the lighting. 👀👀👀🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Also Jere has fangs 👀👀👀. The poses are so sweet and energetic.

^You can see the freaking texture in the fabric, i am going insane over it. Like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Wow, also the eyes 🥹🥹🥹🥹. They hold so much light and warmth. The colours are so neat. 💛💛💛💛💛💛

^Hell yeah, Häärijä Show Time, i freaking love the mash up of the dancers and the daltons outfits, absolutely love that, also jere's watafak is everything. The colours are so good too. 💛💛💛💛💛💛🥹🥹🥹🥹. And all the little details like i want a pair of häärijä earrings as well 👀👀👀👀, love that they are in the style of häärijä's merch 😻😻😻🥰🥰🥰🥰

So many jere's/one john (who got a very fancy hat, seriously i love the hat💛💛💛💛)/ one häärijä 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰. Absolutely lovely. So many memories come up seeing all the outfits 🥹🥹🥹. Love the colours too. 😻😻😻

The stickers from @mitamicah are super cool too🥰🥰🥰🥰. A sticker with Jure is there too, i absolutely love the honorary slovene piece 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛.

Look at these, i am stunned and in awe. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

#käärijä #käärijä fanzine #so freaking happy it arrived here #🥹🥹🥹😻😻😻😻😻#the art is amazing #this fandom is so talented #going a little insane #pretty art #🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹#so very pretty #💛💛💛💛😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻#absolutely love iz #🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

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vestaclinicpod · 4 months ago

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Audio Drama Sunday - 21st July ✨

This week was very very much girlbeingfedpancakes.jpg with so many of my favourite shows coming back from hiatus!! 🥞

👻 @tellnotalespod (S2E13) Here’s the thing: I had the absolute pleasure of meeting Leanne a few weeks ago and took the opportunity to ask when Louisa was going to gtfo of the narrative. I now see why they laughed 😭 While I am happy that Julia has pretty much forgiven Leo, I think she should take a few more mins to realise why she can’t stay mad!! And oh my god, RILEY. I’m joining the crowd of ‘I knew it!!’ screamers! If anyone can shake off a possession it’s Riley fucking Matkins but I am terrified that Leo is going to be put in a position where they have to choose between Riley and Frank. I’m worried it won’t be such a straightforward decision for them…

🌲 @hellofromthehallowoods (159) The assumption at the start of this episode was entirely correct. I also LOVED the little extended metaphor about The Auditor being a scalpel, imagine dropping a line like that in a real confrontation 🥵 I’m so glad to have my beloved hallowoods back, even if a few of the twists in this episode made my stomach twist also (seriously, Marco!!! You have a child!!!!!).

🧳 Travelling Light @monstrousproductions (27) I loved the depiction of alien technology in this episode, I really just want to visit this fish market and take everything in!! Very exciting to hear also that a deal might be coming soon. I have been missing my favourite little Óli these last few eps . . . I hope they haven’t been distancing themself from the Traveller :(

🖥️ The Magnus Protocol (22) okay, so I really love neuroscience and listening to the experiment in this episode was too funny to be scary but what did make me nervous was Sam finally being driven firmly towards investigating the Institute further. I’m sure it’s going to end well. And those names at the end… why are they so familiar…?

🧋I finished E12 of @hinaypod - what a cliffhanger!! I’m disconcerted by this CJ person even if she does seem to be protecting Laura.

🦋 I started @remnantspod this week! I’ve only listened to the first episode so far but, my god, Eira knows how to tell a story. I’m so intrigued and excited to see where this show leads!

🗺 So lovely to have @tales-from-the-low-city back in my ears! It remains one of the most soothing things I have ever listened to, but the music in this episode did a great job of building tension while waiting for the all clear!

I have not yet been brave enough to listen to the first part of The Silt Verses Finale this week, but I am post-nights tomorrow and plan to spend all day listening to both parts and crying 🦀

Also, as a special mention, it’s not really audio drama, but it is: I finished Tell No Tales creator Leanne Egan's book Lover Birds this morning. It is SO cute and so wonderfully nostalgic as I got together with my now wife at around the same age as the girls in the book 🥹 I’m filled with queer, Northern pride after reading it and if you’re looking for a summer read that will pull on your heart strings just the right amount, PLEASE support Leanne and grab a copy!! 🌈

#audio drama sunday #podcast recs #tell no tales #hfth spoilers #travelling light #remnants pod #hi nay #tmagp spoilers #tales from the low city #lover birds

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walli3darl1ng · 2 years ago

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Hey! I was wondering, what about a winged reader? Like the reader has pretty big feathered wings that making flying in the sky very easy.

So like, Wally is strolling through the woods on a windy day when a tree was about to fall on him, and the reader who got lost flying around grabbed the tree before it hit him?

Plus the whole town coming to see them and Sally and Jullie are begging to be flown around 🥺🥺

I just think it would be very cute ❤️

This is the cutest thing ever! I’ll try my best.

Also I would imagine reader’s home to be in a tree or something, so they’ll have to fly up because they feel safer that way🥹

Ps. I’ll write one request at a time, just so I’m not overwhelming myself. Hope you guys understand! I promise I’m not ignoring you guys😅

In the neighborhood it was the same as any other day. Barnaby helping Sally with rehearsal of her monthly play. Julie occasionally helping them or Poppy in baking. Howdy attending his store. Eddie strolling around the neighborhood to deliver mail or boxes. And Frank studying butterflies.

Wally would usually paint but today he decided to take a stroll in the woods to see if anything would be his muse of the day.

Once in the woods wind was picking up rather quickly and he looks up to see it’s cloudy? The neighborhood is never cloudy like this, it looks like a nasty storm. Wally gives a concern look at the sky before deciding it’s best to head home. But there was a crash and light flashing.

Thunder. It struck a tree and was now falling in his direction, he was frozen. He didn’t know what to do, he never felt physically pain. Nothing will happen right?

Next thing he knows, a force pushes him out the way and the tree crashes to the ground. Wally sits up and quickly looks at the tree, once the smoke clears he sees a figure with wings? That’s right, the figure had wings and was trapped under the tree!

Wally quickly rushes over there and sees the winged figure’s wing caught under the fallen tree but they weren’t worried, only up at the sky where the clouds were fading away. They hold their hand up as if to stop the clouds from going away but was met with the warmth of the sun, almost in a mocking manner.

“Are you okay?” Wally snaps out of it, finding the figure now facing them with worried eyes, their halo glowing dimly, reflecting their concerned.

Wally was so confused, the Angel was trapped under a heavy tree and their worried about him? He should be asking that question not them. “I wound be more worried about you, friend. Your wing is under there, don’t you feel the pain?”

“I choose not to. It’s unnecessary, you were in danger.” You give him a painful smile, reaching up and patting his head.

“Wally! Are you here!?”

Wally hums and turns to the direction of the voices and recognize it to be their friends. Probably worried about him. How cute.

“Your friends?”

“They can help you.”

Wally told the beautiful Angel to hold on for a moment while he gets his friends to help you. They were all so nice and reassuring. Telling you, you’re in good hands.

Once the tree was off and your wing was free, you noticed that it was only dislocated and popped it into place, really painful but it was quick. You hold it and told them you need something to tie it with and the star, Sally, offers you her scarf.

With your help, the tree was recycled into making your new home just at the entrance of the forest, up in a tree. It’s been months and everyone loves having you in their community.

Sally and Julie would play with your halo and braid your hair. You would leave them in until they unravel them. They would also always visit you and ask you if you could give them a lift and fly with them. You wound agree and even throw them up and caught them.

Frank is cautious at first but once seeing your wings he wanted nothing more but to touch them and study them. And that’s what you guys will do, he would study your wings or the butterflies while you hang out with him and Julie.

Eddie is an absolute sweetheart, you would offer to fly some boxes while he does the paper mail and after he would treat you to some sweet for the help and you would hug him letting your wings wrap around him.

Howdy doesn’t need help but would let you float about the store and put stuff up if you see it out of place. Honestly you’re just there with him while he does his thing, he does scold you for eating the dragon fruits. If not eating them, just holding them.

Barnaby is you second cuddle Buddy, you guys would just cuddle all the time. Or you would try to pick him up and drop him somewhere but you could never lift him. He’s too squishy.

Now Wally, oh the 12 apple goblin is glued to you. Or at least tries, desperately. When he does get a hold of you, which is everyday, you’re his infinite muse. Anything you do he wants to capture it in a canvas. Wants to feel your wings around him, want to feel you. Would take afternoon naps, you curling around him whit your wings wrapped around the both of you, he always feels safe.

#welcome home #welcome home wally #wally darling #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 years ago

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I love the request that anon did about Matt x adopted son. Could you rewrite the fic but with Matt and Reader celebrating the 12 or 13 birthday of his son? Just if you want to

hii! 🥹 thank you sm! sorry it’s taken so long. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

birthday boy

Matt Murdock x f reader (with their son)

wc || 0.6k

warnings || none

been so long since a Matt fic, really sorry!!

masterlist + rules

taglist

fort stories (in case you want to read the ‘first part’)

Micheal was turning thirteen and neither one of you could believe that your baby boy was about to become a teenager. Not long ago did it feel like Micheal would run around the backyard in his diaper, or when Matt would read a nightly bedtime story. It was all these tiny things that made it hard for you both to accept he was growing up. You were excited for the next step in your parental relationship, but you couldn’t but miss the way he’d fit so snuggly in your arms. Matt was also sad that his boy was growing up, but he was also excited for the next step, excited to develop a deeper connection with Mike.

You originally suggested a quaint backyard barbecue with all of your close loved ones; Maggie, Foggy, Marci and their twin girls. As well as Karen, Frank and their baby boy Ben. You and Matt wanted to share this special time with the people that meant the most, but that being said, it was Micheal’s birthday so you gave him his chance to choose. He had picked a quiet and fun day with his dad, at first you were a little upset but Micheal has always been a daddy’s boy so it wasn’t exactly a shock. Matt tried to persuade him to invite you, but he already had his mind set, just like his father.

To Matt’s displeasure, Michael has recently had a thing for another masked vigilante of New York, who just so happens to be Spider-Man. So you spent the day baking and decorating his birthday cake, working meticulously to get his webbed face mask as neat as possible while Matt played football with Micheal in the backyard. Tackling each other and laughing away.

They had already spent the better half of the day playing video games, using his birthday gifts and eating shitty pizza, so by now, they had plenty of energy to burn off.

You called Matt aside so you could both bring out the cake, singing happy birthday as you walked over to your smiling son sitting at the dining table. You two placed the red-masked face down in front of Micheal which immediately widened his grin. “Mom? Spider-Man?” He excitedly exclaimed, staring at the details.

“Spider-Man? Really?” Matt turns to face you, visibly displeased. Tone flat as he hid a smile. “I’m offended.”

“Don’t worry, I prefer Daredevil.” You grin, hugging his side. Turning to face Michael, your facial expressions are playful as you shake your head. Whispering. “Spider-Man is way cooler.”

“Hm.” Matt jokingly frowns, turning his attention to Micheal. “Make your wish buddy.”

After Micheal blows out his candles, you and Matt grin and clap, cheering him along. “What’d you wish for?” You ask.

“I can’t tell you, mom… it won’t come true.” He says matter of factly, looking at you as though you had just said the most inexcusable thing.

“Yeah, mom.” Matt adds, playfully mocking as he nudged Michael.

Eyes squinted as you jokingly glared at them both. “Oh, I see how it is… no cake for you guys.”

A few more hours went by and it was now bedtime. You and your boys spent the rest of the evening playing games and video-calling family to thank them for their gifts. Micheal was ready for bed, laying snug under the covers, clearly exhausted from his busy day. He pokes his head up just before you two leave his room. “Hey mom, dad?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” You softly question, turning around to face him.

“Can you read me a story?”

@mattymurdock1021 @she-bleeds-in-white-roses @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @redecoratestan @kpopgirlbtssvt @scarletsloveletter @princess-pebbles-things @messymissy @schneeflocky

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock drabble #matt murdock comfort #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matthew murdock fanfiction #matthew michael murdock #marvel fan fiction

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m1ckeyb3rry · 23 days ago

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HIII!! this is kokomicentral ur #1 sith fan!! 🙇🏽‍♀️💗 i’m sorry this is gonna be long. part of me wants to cuss you out and the other part of me should have expected this. my jaw dropped after reading friedrich...I AM HEARTBROKEN. it's bittersweet they confessed, but it also feels. i don’t want to say deceitful?? just sad for friedrich’s end knowing he was a rebound. not that i don't believe y/n has feelings for him, she definitely loves him sm ik she was just hurt. friedrich promised to stay in the program FOR HER and died protecting her it’s sooo ☹️ he makes my heart ache

our star of the show, colt my baby YOU SURVIVED I'M SO HAPPY YOU GAVE HIM A HAPPY ENDING!!! it hurts seeming them fall out, would it have been different if friedrich was still alive? :(( i love open endings and i'd like to think colt and y/n communicated their feelings in a healthy way/pace without the fear of death looming on them but realistically... i think they’d sadly stay as friends with mutual respect and love for each other 😭😭 right person wrong time strikes again kdjjs

and our devil in disguise y/n. she is the epitome of deserving more. she is resilient and ridiculously strong in all aspects. i never thought of myself as her when reading, i am farrrr from the person you’ve crafted her to be (maybe that’s good in some areas more than others KNDKA). i've always thought of her as her own person 🥹 just seeing the full circle from wanting to run away with the amatas to living with them in the end... my heart is warm. AND THE POMEGRANATES! THE FUCKING POMEGRANATES! OH YOU'RE SO INSANE. SHE REALLY DID COME BACK :(((

since this is not fully written out i am going to choose peace and tell myself this is not canon 😊 thank u x18472 for posting this, this brings 2021 me closure. love this LOVE YOU. to leave this on a happy note, here’s some fun angst songs i like to associate with our fav boys!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

colt - little talks/of monsters and men

friedrich - footnote/conan gray

hadrian - the great war/taylor swift

HIII ALDJSJDHSB OMG I’M GOING TO TAKE THAT AS A COMPLIMENT!! brooo friedrich’s ending is so sad like i hope he had death flags the entire time but even still it’s so 😔 to think that he thought he’d live the longest and literally hated the thought but in the end he’s the only one who dies young

YESSS COLT MADE IT 🤩 agreed i think that they would definitely be friends again!! maybe not as close as they once were but they wouldn’t forget how much they loved one another either yk?? right person wrong universe ngl idk if those two ever could’ve ended up together as they were but in a better and more peaceful world they might’ve 🥹

SITH Y/N MY BELOVEDDD to be frank i agree i feel like the more i wrote her the more she began to feel like her own person and a very bossy one at that 😭 she’s the kind of character that WILL drag the entire plot down if you write her ooc so she’s always given me a bit of trouble but she always does end up carrying the story when i need her too!! going through her thought processes and mentality as she grows up in her conditions was probably one of my favorite parts of writing sith 🥹 she really does deserve more but all told i think she’s as happy as she can possibly be!! she even gets to eat pomegranates and live in athyae again it really is full circle with her

AHAHA i’m glad it could bring you some closure fr!! and thank you so much for reading, i said it before but it really did mean so much to me to get your comments back in the day 🙂‍↕️💖 and AHH LITTLE TALKS I LOVE THAT SONG!! truly is very sith coded…same with the great war…taste fr 🫡 ANYWAYSSS love you more and more!! thank you once more and i hope you’ll stop by every now and again and tell me how you’re doing 🫶🏻

#answered asks #ship in the harbor

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peggyao3 · 2 months ago

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Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Day 5

Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.

Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.

All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?

Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.

"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.

"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.

The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.

"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?

"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."

Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.

Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.

"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."

The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.

Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.

It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body.

The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.

Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.

Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again.

Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.

But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!

In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.

Careful now.

Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.

The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.

"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."

Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne.

It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.

Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.

The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.

It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?

He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?

She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.

Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.

"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.

"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.

"What happened to the other guard?"

"He was replaced, my Lady."

That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.

"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"

"I'm not allowed such luxuries."

"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots."

The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."

"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"

"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."

"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."

The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."

"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"

"You are, my Lady."

"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"

The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"

"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…

Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.

To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.

The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.

Day 6

She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.

The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually.

The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"

A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.

She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!

When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him?

A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.

She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!

"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.

"Hello."

"Can we… talk?"

The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.

So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."

Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?"

"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."

"Have I not been kind to you?"

"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.

Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."

"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?

"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?

"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"

"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?

"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"

"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"

"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"

Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.

"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"

The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.

"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.

"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"

Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.

The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck.

This is how the universe sees him.

Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.

The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.

Shuk! Shuk!

Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.

The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.

Fwump.

Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her.

In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.

Out the door? - Blocked! Death!

Off the balcony?! - Death!

To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.

She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.

"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"

Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.

She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.

Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.

Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.

The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.

The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.

"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.

Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.

Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."

"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.

"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful."

"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.

But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."

A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.

"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"

"Ye-e-es."

"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"

"No."

She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.

Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.

Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.

Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.

"Will you still be my wife?"

"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.

"So, we're no longer engaged?"

"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."

Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.

Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.

"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"

"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.

"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground. "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.

Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.

"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.

How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.

"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"

"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."

She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.

Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?

- Cepheus by Fewjar

A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!

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rescue-ram · 1 year ago

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Finished my rewatch of S1

This has been my first experience binge watching MASH- I don't think I've ever watched more than 4 episodes in a row before, and usually not in order. So it was really interesting actually watching the show this way...

Hawkeye- his characterization stood out to me. While he's definitely not doing a Donald Sutherland impression, his portrayal is closer to movie than late series. Very laconic. In "Bananas, Crackers, and Nuts" there's a line where Frank calls him "a rock" which retrospectively feels like a joke, but in S1 isn't- he's clearly very stable and pretty unflappable.

I actually was tallying the amount of times Trapper and Hawkeye explicitly hook up with nurses and the crimes they commit lol and was surprised by how low the number is for both lol. Between the two of them they hooked up with women in 7 episodes, though they're referenced as doing it more often and they flirt/get shot down/refuse sex a little more often, bringing total up to 12. Only two episodes really featured pranks, which was also surprising

I know Major Fred C. Dobbs is in the running for worst MASH episode but I liked it lol. It was funny and had some quality TrapHawk moments, and the Hawnk kiss at the end made me laugh even as I added it to the rap sheet

Just tallying up the days that pass on screen gets us to just over 3 months, giving me little a hope for my horrible timeline ldkkdjf

I really liked the recurring characters- they didn't have a lot of depth per se but they made things feel fleshed out. It was nice having recurring nurses I could recognize and I will miss my boy Ugly John. God that we lived in the alternate universe where the writers had figured out what to do with Oliver...

Also was thinking about how a lot of the racist moments kinda come from the writers trying to engage in a neutral-to-well-meaning way but alas they were all white guys raised in a white supremacist culture and cannot escape that influence so it comes out horrifically dated, but I think they do try more in the early seasons

I had forgotten what a minor character Mulcahy is in S1. He gets a couple little moments, but I think Margie and Dish have more scenes lol...

Trapper my baby Trapper, he does not necessarily have a lot to do besides be lovable but he does it well. Him providing pediatric care for local kids is deffo going in my note document for Shit Trapper Is Doing lol...

Henry and Radar's relationship 🥹 I really liked both characters, scamp!Radar is so good, and Henry is so funny with these little moments of genuine wisdom and compassion... Good shit

I really liked both Margaret and Frank, not a lot to say beyond that, but they're just so good. Just enough nuance to make 'em pop.

Gaaaaah many more thoughts than I can type, but in conclusion I Love MASH

#mash

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linnetagain · 5 months ago

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Hello dear Linnetagain,

First, this is going to be a long ask, I am afraid. I was just planning to send an ask to you about The Season, but suddenly it turned into an ode to Linnetagain post. Sorry in advance🥹.

I would like to extend my most sincere thanks and gratitude towards you. You capture Astarion and Gale’s energy in the most unique and magical way. The Bloodweave fandom sets a considerably high bar when it comes to the quality of fan works, but yours hit differently. When I first read “The First Light,” it was like an epiphany. Oh man, I am still amazed by the selection of the poems and what a good match “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night” and Hozier’s “First Light” make together. To me, that was the core of Gale’s aesthetic. Still, remembering this fanfic so fondly and embracing a character so deeply makes me question my sanity sometimes, lol.

Anyway, this series has a special place in my heart. The way you grasp Gale’s characterization amazes me. To be frank, this applies to every piece you wrote for them. I know you have many WIPs lined up next, but please do not feel pressured to update anything in haste. Your works are truly inspiring. I read “Howl’s Moving Castle,” and finally, we are at the reason why I want to send this ask.

I keep thinking about who is who in this story. I mean, in an aesthetic sense, Gale should align with Howl more, right? But Astarion’s dashing and quirky nature, his tendency to lapse into petty vanity, makes me wonder if he’s better suited for Howl. But what really consolidated my opinion was that both Astarion and Howl are cowards at heart. They tend to avoid conflicts and escape from the consequences of their actions. I don’t know if it’s wise to describe Howl as a “no-plans guy,” but their deflective attitudes are quite similar.

Thank you so much!!! You are the second person to tell me you've read Howl because of Season and that is genuinely one of the greatest compliments I think I've ever had!!

They definitely both have things in common with Howl - other than being hot and annoying ;) I can absolutely imagine Astarion being a bit of a player, as well as having a breakdown over his hair being dyed the wrong colour lol. I don't think he'd run around in a Welsh rugby jersey tho! Similarly for Gale, I can absolutely see him making a pact with Calcifer and giving up his heart for power, but I can't then see him refusing to use that power and running. I think he's far more likely to use and potentially abuse it. They do both have the traditional outline of the hero's journey to their character arc though, as does Howl!

Also thank you for still remembering First Light!! It seems like an age ago that I wrote that, I'm so glad that it lives on beyond my writing of it! I will eventually finish And All Things End, too, I promise!

#bloodweave #the season #first light #and all things end

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maretinelli · 5 months ago

Text

AND I WANT YOU

Billy Russo X fem!reader

Summary: They met in the navy, and from then on they became best friends. However, there was always an extra feeling within the two of them.

Words: 1.6K+

Warnings: Mentions of sex, harassment, navy, injuries, but cute and protective Billy.

Author: Always remembering that English is not my first language, I apologize if there are some errors in the middle of the story. And second, I made this story just before bed, I hope you like it🥹

MASTERLIST

Billy and Y/n had been friends since they went to the navy together.

Of course, at first the man kept hitting on her and that irritated Y/n deeply. Well, she was there to save the country, not have sex with a man in her platoon.

As much as she found him terribly attractive and even hot.

She didn't have much interaction with him in the first few weeks they went to serve. It was a few exchanges about the service and other than that, Y/n avoided talking much as she was the only woman in the group that was assigned.

Which made her life very complicated.

However, there was a day when Y/n had injured her rib and had to remove the top part of her uniform to see how the injury was. Thus, having to just keep the black top he wore.

Which caused some stares from the men who were in the tent with her.

Billy Russo was also in the tent that day. But he was avoiding looking at the woman, or making any comments, as he knew the woman needed space and was tending to the wound.

And it would also be rude to joke about this kind of situation.

"Nice waist, Y/n!! I bet she has a lot of mobility in bed" One of the guys from Y/n's squad says when he enters the tent and looks at her shirtless trying to bandage her rib.

"Shut up, Thompson!!" She says through clenched teeth.

The last thing she wanted right now was harassment.

Billy, who was organizing his supplies and helping Frank with his bandages, turned around, ready to tackle the man if he said anything else.

"Calm down sweetie, I'm just praising you" the guy comes closer to Y/n and she shrinks.

"Will you please stay away from me?"

"Stop, don't you love it?" He gets closer to Y/n.

"SHE ALREADY SAID TO LEAVE!!" Billy appears behind Y/n and says loudly to Thompson.

"Look, look. It looks like the female in the group has already found her male to take care of her."

Billy tries to lunge at him, but Y/n drops the bandage and punches Thompson in the face.

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU, SHUT UP" she says and then flinches. "Fuck..." She falls to her knees on the floor and sees more blood coming from her rib.

The other guys forcibly remove Thompson, while Billy kneels next to Y/n on the floor.

"Hey, hey. It's okay!! Let's take care of this" he says softly, helping Y/n get up so they can take care of the wound.

After that, a beautiful friendship between the two was born. Or maybe, some more feelings too.

Right after they got out of the navy, Y/n helped Billy found Anvil and he made her the vice president of the company.

Both grew up in the company and their friendship had lasted for a number of years. They became practically inseparable.

They went out drinking every Friday night, one Saturday a month they would have lunch or dinner at their favorite restaurant, there was also a movie night, and sometimes they would even go out in similar clothes. Anyone who didn't know them would bet they were a couple.

What one of them always wanted, after that day in the tent when they were in the navy. But seeing Billy parade around with a new woman every week made her suppress her feelings and keep them under lock and key.

Until one day, drunk on a Friday night. She ended up falling under the CEO's charm and sleeping with him. The next day they were both confused, but admitted they liked it. Which resulted in them being best friends with benefits. Every time one needed the other physically, it was just a matter of making a call.

However, besides Y/n. Billy also had feelings for her and after that night, everything blossomed even more.

Well, for the moment. It was a Saturday morning and Billy was in his office at Anvil. While Y/n was in her apartment, preparing for a hearing.

Because, before she was vice-president of Anvil and before volunteering to work in the navy, the woman had a degree in law and worked in the New York forums.

Billy was still dealing with paperwork when the office door opens and then closes. Thus, feeling a presence there.

"No one asked if I could authorize you to go up" Billy says, with a smirk, already knowing it was Y/n, who had entered the room desk.

"No need for that, everyone loves me." She says and then sits down in the armchair in front of Billy's desk. "Besides, I'm the deputy owner. I don't need anyone's authorization" She says carefree, while going through Billy's desk. Taking some papers and reading or messing with decorations.

"Damn" Billy looks at her laughing. "You're attacked today, right?? Is it a lack of sex? I'll sort that out" she says, lining up some papers and standing up.

"Ha.ha.ha. Very funny you Billy Russo. But as much as I want to" She puts her hand on her chest. "I don't need sex today. I'm just mad because my car broke down and I had to take it to the mechanic. It's going to be there for the whole next week" she plops down in the armchair and turns to see Billy walking around the room.

"Ah, that's why you came here then. You want a ride to lunch" he smiles.

Y/n gets up and stops in front of her best friend.

"What do you think, honey?" Y/n says patting his shoulder and whispering close to Billy's mouth.

He smiles his mischievous smile and Y/n walks away laughing.

"Let's go, I'm starving. Not to mention the stress that this hearing is putting me through" Y/n says walking to the door and Billy stops behind her.

"hey, hey, hey!!"

"What it was?"

"Are you wearing jeans??" He asks holding back a laugh.

Billy knew the woman hated wearing jeans. She got so used to wearing dress pants due to hearings and attending forums, that she ended up hating wearing jeans.

"Ahh. Yes, I had to use it" Y/n complains, throwing her head back and making room for Billy to walk through the door and out of the office. "All, but ALL, of my formal clothes are due for washing and all I have left are these jeans and a long-sleeved shirt." She says walking to the elevator, with Billy following behind. "I don't know how I'm going to go to the hearing in the afternoon"

"That's your problem, because you look hot in those pants." He slaps her ass with his hand and she laughs, entering the elevator.

"Wow, this helped me a lot. Thanks Bill!!" She says holding back a laugh and then they move on to another topic, until they arrive at Billy's car.

“But then…” Y/n begins, as she buckles the passenger seat and Billy starts the car. "How are you with Madani...?" She says more seriously and Billy notices.

"Ah. It's going..." He says with the car running, but still not driving. "I kind of broke up with her..."

Y/n quickly looks at him, scared.

"What? I thought I was in love with her." Y/n says looking at Billy, who had both hands on the steering wheel. "I know you said it was just for work. But lately you've been talking about her so much, I thought you were falling in love."

"I've never fallen in love with anyone" He says looking at her.

Y/n feels a pang in her chest. As if someone had put a knife to the heart and turned it around.

"Ah..." She looks away.

"No one until they see you" Billy says and turns to her. Y/n looks blankly at Bill. "Ever since I saw you in the tent, when we were assigned to work together in the navy, a part of me fell in love with you. Even though you hated me and fought with me for the annoying flirtations" he says laughing. "However, after that day that I saw you vulnerable with the wound on your rib and with Thompson on your foot bothering you, I realized that I was feeling something for you. There I realized that I was in love. And in those years that we spent together as best friends were the best I've ever had. And when I knew I loved you, that's when I saw you wake up next to me, after that wonderful night. And I also knew that I couldn't tell you because it would be ruining our friendship and I don't want you. away from me. So yeah, I used Madani to try to forget you. But girl, you're not easy to forget" Billy says with a laugh and some tears in his eyes. Which was rare to see.

Y/n had been crying softly for a while now and that last sentence made her laugh, relieving the tension.

"Billy, I love you" She says and then he looks into her eyes "I've loved you for years, and I didn't know I felt the same way. That night in your apartment made it all blossom even more in me."

Billy smiles.

"I feel relieved" he smiles awkwardly. "I thought I would lose you forever"

With that, the car was off again.

"You'll never lose me. I'm here, right here. And all yours if you want" She says running her hands over Billy's cheeks.

"And I want you" He says and then breaks the space between them and gives Y/n a completely passionate kiss. A different kiss from the one that happened that night in his apartment.

They separate as soon as they run out of air. But Billy puts his forehead against Y/n's.

"What are we now? Best friends? Friends with benefits and lovers? Boyfriends??"

"I don't know..." She says. "But we can know. Take me on a date first. Let's start from the beginning"

Billy smiles and moves away from her.

"Okay. From the beginning..." he smiles and puts one not on the steering wheel, but still facing her. "My name is William Russo and I'm completely in love with you. No, better!! I'm loving you"

Y/n laughs at the phrase and Billy looks even more in love.

Author: I can't see any hot men, which I already want to write about😚🪄

#fanfiction #y/n #romance #ben barnes #lovers #imagines ben barnes #benjamin barnes #imagines billy russo #billy russo #frank castle #the punisher #marvel #one shot #imagines #anvil

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luthienne · 2 years ago

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hey lovely hi! I wanted to ask you something about writing. First of all i love love love the way you write matt and Frank! So on point and detailed and so well observed. I wanted to know how do you understand them i mean what are your ways to study a character?

I hope I'm making sense and im sorry for being a bother 😭 love you.

hi first of all i love you sm for this oh my god?? you're not a bother at all, i could talk about matt forever. writing him true to character is the highest compliment i could ask for 🥹

several thoughts come to mind — first i think of the characters as they are individually, then as they are tied to one another; once tied together through the threads of the story, there is no separating them. just as there is no separating the choices they make now from all the choices in the past that led up to this moment. where do the boundaries of the character as laid out in the source material brush up against the boundaries of the character as i understand them & what archetypal role are they fulfilling (if relevant).

also the mutability of the boundary between archetypes: i.e. matt descends into 'hell' to bring frank out, orpheus role; matt hears & carries everything, god-like role; matt accepts this as a call to action, hero; matt takes it upon himself to punish these 'evildoers', devil; matt takes these sins upon himself, christ figure; matt is wounded in his noble pursuit, martyr figure. & how do his roles change in relation to the characters he shares a scene with — fisk (god-like in seemingly limitless influence) / matt (hero/martyr).

what life is there for a hero outside of their duty in a story like this? what room is there for him to be human? that's what i want to know. so i take what we know from what we've been given:

matt is the son of a boxer -> he grows up with the inherent understanding that two things can be true at once: hands capable of love can also be capable of violence

matt, as a child, saves an old man and loses his sight -> he accepts at a very young age the concept of heroic acts & their consequences (inevitability)

matt’s father chooses to die a 'hero' rather than live as a flawed but present father -> better to be a hero, to live and die by those familiar consequences than to be a flawed but present person (2nd ex. of heroes and their consequences, inevitability)

matt’s next father figure is violent but it is through that violence he learns to navigate an overwhelming world -> violence = love

stick leaves, like his father left, like his mother left -> to love is to lose (inevitability)

matt is only human, after all, it's what's most compelling about him as a character. and the show really did let us sit in those long moments of quiet witness to matt's undeniable humanity. he is flawed, he stumbles in fights, he can’t catch his breath, his faith buckles under the weight of his grief; he doesn't understand how to be human, how to maintain relationships, how to reconcile the darkest parts of the world and of himself with his faith in humanity and belief in redemption. the world is overwhelming to him on every sensory level. every touch is a modified blow? he lives that. he looks outside of himself for light (foggy, faith). when he reaches his breaking point, he breaks rather than turn to the people he loves because of the lessons he internalized as a child. stick left because matt loved, despite everything. despite everything, his love > his rage (bc his rage is his grief & his grief is another face of his love).

even after foggy finds out matt's secret life of physical violence, he still refers to him as "my soft-hearted partner" because it's true, matt cannot help but love & recognize humanity in others. it's because of this that he feels called to balance two unsustainably contradictory lives: using his voice to fight for redemption in court; taking it into his own hands when the law fails. taking their blood onto himself, by himself.

and that is the only touch he allows himself to experience—violence. blood on his knuckles, in his mouth, in his throat. and when his body is torn open and his secrets bared through his wounds, we get another glimpse into the reality of heroes and their consequences. foggy is not treated as an audience stand-in to giddily marvel at matt's abilities and how cool they are, he's heartbroken. he’s fucking devastated. his best friend is bleeding out on his apartment floor. he doesn't want matt to die. he doesn't want matt to be daredevil, he doesn’t want matt to be a hero — because foggy, more than anyone, understands matt's humanity and mortality. and foggy, more than anyone, selfishly wants matt to be his friend first. let hell’s kitchen take care of itself. why should matt die for a community that doesn’t love him like foggy loves him? that doesn’t know him like foggy knows him? he knew matt before he became a story. their time at columbia grounds their friendship & grounds matt to a life that is as close to normal as any comicbook story. they stay up late studying, they drink a little too much, they live together and achieve a kind of domesticity that comes easy to foggy but utterly incomprehensible to everything matt knew before foggy. we see a glimpse at a life with foggy that represents a gentle kind of safety and happiness — everything matt has been denied in his life until then. everything that the momentum of the story demands matt cannot keep (as hero).

and then there's frank. composed of rigid codes and immovable beliefs, just as much as matt, but on the other side of the line matt has drawn in the sand. that line represents matt’s faith in humanity and belief in redemption. despite living the worst of it, despite bearing the brunt of it. matt can't lose frank because matt never had frank; and yet matt and frank hold an inherent understanding of one another that no one else can. two sides of the same coin: unwavering & fatal sense of duty that walks them in a winding but inevitable line toward their respective fates; acceptance of the roles life has given them in what life has taken from them. it's not that they want to die, it's just that they’ve lived so long in the depths of their own private grief that they can’t see living outside of them.

so of course foggy doesn't want to matt to be a hero because there is no story where the hero comes home unscathed, there is no story where the hero is not brought to his knees. to love matt is to accept he could lose matt. either through death or through his inevitable transformation into something foggy may not recognize.

(now matt's unwritten rules by which he lives are bleeding into other characters' lives, consequences spiraling outward & outward)

a perilous thing began with wanting to explore this idea: a story that revolves around the moment when the hero is brought to their knees (figuratively & literally) that marks the separation of who they were before and who they must become after (transformation), if there is to be an after -> internal vs external consequences; forced passivity; how does the hero come back from that & who is he if/when he comes back from that. is he recognizable? i also wanted to look at the hero & the story through someone else's eyes, someone who could be more objective than me, more objective than foggy (whose love for matt clouds his observations, as it did in light perception). and who could objectively understand matt's actions & motivations better than frank? the anti-hero and matt's foil.

so i first look at the character through the lens of the story that’s been told and then the story i want to tell, i look at him through the lens of other characters and i assemble a picture from there. i look at matt through the events of his life, through his relationship with violence & his relationship with his very mortal body. unlike other superheroes he is not invincible, he is not bulletproof, he is not capable of flying, or softening a long fall; he is not capable of throwing his adversaries across a room, he is barely capable of saving himself from his own self-destructive choices. he has a damaged & unbearably human body. everything he can do he has fought tooth and nail for. he doesn't have superpowers like telekinesis or lasers that come out of his eyes; he has loss, he has grief, he has rage. we can all relate to that. he has a voice that is capable of giving a second chance to others (in court) but he lives and dies a thousand deaths inside of the silence at his core he can't find his way out of. his inability to communicate his grief or desires in a bearable way.

perhaps he finds redemption through saving others because he doesn't believe he, himself, is otherwise worthy of redemption. if he did, he would relinquish his duty as hero, he would live a quiet & happy life of domesticity with foggy. perhaps in another world he does. he lays down his mantle, or he lives in a world where he never had to take it up. he's just matt, foggy's soft-hearted partner.

#ask #anon #daredevil #mm #also lately i've been thinking about the parallels between foggy & matt w judas & jesus. as one does #i have so many more thoughts but this has already gotten so long. but matt finds meaning in being wounded torn apart etc #try try your whole life / to be righteous and be good / wind up on your own floor / choking on blood !!!! the mountain goats get it

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