#au combined legacy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spideyjimin · 29 days ago

Text

Bloodlines entwined: IV | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 10,073

— warnings: sexual tension, some nervousness, strong language, mention of sex, mention of breakup, mention of pain, crying, teasing, pain, screaming, some panicking, and nudity

— author’s note: this is for now my absolute favorite chapter of this series. so many things happen & it’s a very vulnerable one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter 🤗 let me know what you think and thanks from the bottom of my heart for the love shown to this series ❤️

Chapter IV: standing next to you

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

Jungkook is patiently waiting for you at the fertility clinic’s entrance.

Today is a special day.

It’s the first day you’ll meet your little baby. However, it’s also a bit of a terrifying day because there’s a possibility that there’s something wrong with the baby.

The werewolf king hasn’t slept at all, too worried about today. Yesterday, you told him about this appointment, and he asked if he could come. How could you say ‘no’ to him? He desires so much to be involved, you can see it in his eyes.

Now that you’re both on the same page about the baby, it feels like you’re on cloud nine. You’re both going to have a child, except it’s definitely not going to be as planned. You were both planning on being alone, but you have each other now.

Jungkook senses you arriving in your car, his eyes completely drawn to you. Feeling your presence from far away is something very new to him; he never experienced it with anybody else. Not even with Yuna. He keeps wondering if it’s because you’re carrying his child, but that doesn’t seem to make any sense.

His entire being is always captivated by you. Whenever you’re around, you’re the only thing that truly matters. There’s something so different about you that he can’t quite explain. Being with you makes him feel good.

As you step out of your car, his eyes lock onto you, completely captivated by your beauty. You’re dressed in sleek black trousers and a white shirt that hints at your cleavage, an effortless yet striking combination. His gaze follows your every move as you open the passenger door to retrieve your long black coat and purse.

The man swallows with difficulty. He finds you extremely beautiful, he’d even say that he has never laid his eyes on someone this pretty. Yuna can’t even compare next to you. And what makes you even prettier is the little life you’re carrying inside you. You’re the mother to his child which is quite a big deal though.

When you notice him, a bright smile appears on your face. His beauty is quite striking, and you wonder how you’ll be able to live a life with such a handsome man. You hope that the baby will take his good looks, because damn, Jungkook is alluring.

His outfit is a bit more casual than yesterday’s, but it’s still more formal than when meeting him at the town square. He’s dressed in blue skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a checked suit jacket. It’s simple, but definitely a great look.

Once you’ve reached him, you actually don’t really know what to do. Do you simply stay in front of him? Or do you kiss on the cheek? Or do you shake his hand?

“A simple kiss on the cheek is enough.”

Jungkook didn’t move his lips at all although you’ve heard him loud and clear in your head.

“Did you say something?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head.

That’s weird.

However, you decide to follow the voice in you heard—that probably was a hallucination. You get closer to him before pressing a gentle kiss on his squishy cheek. Both of your hearts start beating at the same rapid rhythm. For a moment, Jungkook notices how in synch your hearts are beating, but he doesn’t really give too much credit to it.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you say after the kiss.

“Hi, yn,” he takes a step back to look at you. “Ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” the brightest smile appears on your face.

The two of you head inside the clinic while casually talking about how you’re feeling about this appointment. By the looks of it, Jungkook is more nervous than you. You’re actually not really worried as you constantly hear your child’s heartbeat that grows stronger every day. The only concern there might be is if the baby has any malformation, but even like that, you feel that deep down, you know the baby is just fine.

The doctor—who gave you the extremely bad news of the sample mix-up a month ago—makes her way inside the room after you both got inside. She clearly doesn’t know how to act in front of you, but you decide to smile to put her at ease. On the other side, Jungkook seems closed off, he almost looks pissed.

“Hi Miss y/l/n and Mister Jeon,” she offers you both a smile while she invites you to take a seat.

The two of you sit down before she does the same. Jungkook clearly doesn’t look happy; he seems to still resent her for the mistake made.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks with concern.

“I’m actually doing great,” you inform her.

You look at your right to Jungkook, trying to check his reaction. His dark and intense eyes are fixed on the doctor, leaving you wondering if he’s planning on answering or if he’ll just keep looking at her like he’s about to kill her. By the way his jaw clenches, you assume he’ll ignore her. But, to your surprise, he breaks the tension with a sharp answer.

“Could be better,” he coldly says.

The sharpness in his tone makes you blink. “You could be nicer to her,” those are the words you’d definitely like to say to him, but you resist the urge to call him out. Jungkook turns to you abruptly, his expression unreadable, as always.

“What?” Jungkook asks, his brows furrowing. Your eyes widen as you realize what just happened. He heard you.

“This woman gave me a hundred heart attacks,” he continues. “No way, I’ll be nice to her.”

You stare at each other in silence, your hearts beating rapidly. None of you has moved your lips, but you’ve been mentally talking. This is too wild for you. Jungkook doesn’t understand how on earth that is possible, and you believe that it’s one of those werewolf abilities you’re still discovering.

“Again, I’d like to apologize again for this mistake,” she clears her throat, pulling both of you back into the room. “The costs have been fully refunded to you this week. In principle, you should have already received the reimbursement by now.”

You nod as you remember seeing your bank account increase a lot after receiving the money. It’s honestly so weird to have so much right now, but you’ll transfer most of it to your investment and spare accounts. There’s no way you’ll leave your money to lose value.

While the refund doesn’t erase the mistake, it’s a reminder of how messy this whole situation has been.

“Before we proceed with the ultrasound,” the doctor continues. “I’d like to confirm with you if you’ve made a decision about the pregnancy,” she says.

Jungkook’s unreadable and mysterious face sends shivers down your spine. The energy he radiates is heavier and darker, and you feel the storm growing inside him. He seems to have become a totally different person since entering the room. You know he’s furious at the clinic for their huge mistake, and you understand why. But now, you’ve both decided to keep the baby so in the end, it’s all good.

But still, you need him here, not lost in his anger.

“Yes,” you gently say, offering a small smile before your gaze moves back to the man sitting next to you. “We’ve decided to proceed with the pregnancy.”

“Okay, perfect then!” she seems to relax now.

You can see that he’s holding back, you can sense his anger, but you don’t want to see him like this. You’re about to meet your baby. You place your hand on top of his to gently squeeze it, your thumb tracing soothing circles over his skin.

You instantly see his stiff shoulder relax slightly, and you can sense the heat of his anger vanishing, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. You hold onto his hand, willing him to stay calm. He remains quiet, though you can feel him shimmering under the surface. The doctor stands up and gestures toward the next room.

“We can go then do the ultrasound,” she stands up. “How would you like to proceed?”

You’re both confused about her question, not really understanding what she means.

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing between her and Jungkook.

“This is a pelvic ultrasound,” she explains. “The baby is very small, so we can’t use the standard method.”

“Oh,” you both respond at the same time, the realization dawning on you.

“I’ll leave you then alone,” Jungkook instantly retorts while he shifts in his seat.

“No,” you grab his arm before he can move, your eyes meeting his with determination. “This is your child too. You should be here for the first ultrasound.”

“If you’d prefer,” the doctor starts suggesting. “Mister Jeon can wait outside while you get settled. I’ll ensure your privacy is protected and call him to be next to you once you’re ready.”

You consider her words, appreciating the balance of practicality and respect. This approach seems reasonable, and it might ease Jungkook’s discomfort. You glance at him, silently asking for his agreement. After a moment, he nods.

“Fine,” his voice softens.

The doctor leads you to the room, and Jungkook’s hand lingers on yours for a moment longer before letting you go. Even though he’s not right next to you, you feel his steady presence, grounding you as you prepare to see your baby for this very first time.

Once you’re in the other room, you remove your bottoms. The doctor gestures for you to lie down on the gynecological examination table and place your leg on the stirrups. This is such a vulnerable position, but you’ve been doing this a lot since you started this journey.

This is a room you’ve seen quite a lot, and it almost feels like a second house. The white sterile walls could make you feel uncomfortable, but the soft and calming lighting makes it feel like a warm room. It’s appeasing when you go through this entire process to procreate.

On your right, there is the ultrasound machine and a screen together with the material needed for the ultrasound like the gel. There is also the slim and long transvaginal ultrasound probe. It can look very scary, but it actually doesn’t hurt at all.

“Perfect,” the doctor says once you’re perfectly situated. “I’ll put a little blanket on top to cover you,” she indicates.

You nod with a bit of nervousness. Knowing that Jungkook will see you in this open posture makes you feel a bit anxious. You’ve never come to any gynecologist appointment with any men, not even your exes. It would have felt weird, especially since you were more of a fuck girl. It’s weird to admit it but you’ve always been more comfortable in having sex with somebody than committing to them.

Obviously, you engaged in certain relationships, but it was mostly to try to fill the deep void inside you. There was one man, Elliott with whom you stayed for three years. He’s been the only man who felt right to fall in love with. He treated you right, loved you right, and made you feel right. However, your fear of losing someone special got the best of your relationship.

This breakup knocked you down. You lost someone you deeply loved, just like you lost your parents. Since then, you haven’t engaged in anything with anybody. No dating and no sex. It’s been about focusing on yourself and understanding yourself better. And it’s been two years.

With this entire process of being a mother on your own, it didn’t feel like two years went by.

The doctor leaves for a couple of seconds before reappearing with Jungkook. When your eyes meet, you can tell that this is a first time for him. His facial expression almost indicates some shock to see you in this position. It’s not really glamorous, but for now, that’s how you get to meet your little baby.

Jungkook stands at your left, his eyes going between you and the gynecologist material. A smile grows on your face while you watch him; he looks adorable.

The doctor takes the probe, covers it with a kind of long condom, and puts the gel on it. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he sees it, causing your smile to grow bigger. “Is it going to hurt?” he communicates through his thoughts.

“No, don’t worry,” you answer back before grabbing his hand to squeeze it.

It leaves you wondering how things would have gone if he had done this through surrogacy. Would he be present for the first ultrasound? It would be logical if he was because it is his child, but it would feel weird though. Well, this is probably he will never know since it isn’t about surrogacy anymore.

“Can I?” the doctor asks with the long probe in her hands.

You simply nod, and she proceeds to insert it inside you.

“Just relax,” she tells you.

Jungkook avoids watching down by respect to you, but this is all surprising to him.

The coldness of the device catches you a bit off guard although you should have expected it to be this cool. By reflex, you squeeze Jungkook’s hand, and he obviously starts worrying. However, he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. Just like the doctor, he wants you to relax.

For a moment, you turn to glance at him. His soft expression calms you down, and right now, you wouldn’t want anyone else to be next to you. It’s weird to think that you like his presence around you when you embarked on this journey by yourself. He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. If the samples hadn’t been mixed up, you’d be here alone.

Suddenly, you can see the image on the monitor move. The doctor is looking for the tiny little piece of life inside you. Then, suddenly, a blurry figure appears, and the baby’s heartbeat breaks the silence of the room.

Even though you’ve been hearing their heartbeat since the first day, hearing it loud and clear makes it emotional. The baby is really alive. His tiny moving heart is clearly visible on the monitor. A little tear of joy streams down your face.

The second the heartbeat can be heard, Jungkook squeezes your hand. His baby—or should he say your baby—is thriving inside your belly. This makes it real; he’s about to become a father. A little Jeon is about to join the family, and that fills his heart with a pride he can’t explain.

The circumstances that created this tiny human—and wolf—aren’t the greatest. But this baby has been more than desired by his two parents. The two of you are exceptionally happy to finally see the baby.

Nothing could have prepared you for this moment. It’s unique. It’s incredible. And it’s heartwarming.

The doctor is speaking in the background, but none of you seems to pay attention to her words. You’re solemnly focused on the tiny blurry figure on the screen. None of you speak; you simply embrace every emotion you feel, and your hands intertwined together. As you see the baby, you feel excited for the upcoming ultrasounds to see them slowly growing.

“All seems to be fine with the baby,” those words push you out of your reverie.

This is all that matters. If the baby is doing great, you don’t care about the rest. Life has been so chaotic lately, and this is the best news you ever got in the past few weeks.

“So, this was our last appointment together,” she explains while removing the probe. “From now on, you’ll have to be followed by your obstetrician. We will contact you throughout the pregnancy and after the birth to check up on you.”

Jungkook is relieved that he won’t have to come back to this place. His eyes look down at your fingers entwined; you’re still holding onto each other. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it out loud, since the first second he saw you, he knows what you truly represent to him.

Since he met you, he’s been experiencing things he never did with anyone else. He’s been having such a strong connection with you. And now, you can even communicate through thoughts. That is a unique bond. A bond you only create with one person only. Your soulmate.

But that’s something Jungkook doesn’t want to admit or believe right now. There has been so much going on right now, and for sure, when everything will slow down, it will probably hit him in the face.

The father of your child leaves the room so you can get dressed. Once ready, you join him in the doctor’s office. He’s patiently waiting for you, and it truly warms your heart to see him here. You take a seat next to him while the doctor proceeds to explain certain things about what’s next with the pregnancy. She gives a bunch of advice which honestly seems to be helpful.

After fifteen minutes, you leave her office with Jungkook. It’s a weird feeling to know you’re never coming back here again. For a couple of months, you’d come quite often, but your project is finally taking place. You’re about to become a mother. A werewolf mother.

The two of you walk in complete silence until your car. You’re both still processing what you just saw and experienced. When you reach your car, you finally look up at him. He’s biting his lower lip, clearly lost in his thoughts.

“You’re okay?” you ask.

His eyes finally meet yours. There’s something in his gaze you’ve never quite seen before. You’re seeing a storm of emotions in them.

You see worry, the weight of responsibility already pressing heavily on his shoulders. You see vulnerability, something he rarely shows, he’s always composed under any circumstances. But beyond all that, there is something else. There’s awe, as though the ultrasound was a moment that truly humbled him. It’s as if he’s beginning to grasp the enormity of what’s happening, of the life growing inside you, and of the connection forming between the three of you.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “It’s just something special to see the little life forming inside you,” he admits.

“It is,” you offer him a little smile.

Jungkook looks so endearing right now, and you just want to hug him tight in your embrace.

“Tomorrow night is the full moon,” he then completely changes the conversation’s topic. “If you’re still okay with it, I’d like you to be at my place.”

This approaching full moon is making you nervous. It’s the first one you’ll experience as a pregnant lady, but it’s also probably going to be your first one where you’ll shift into a wolf shape. And that sounds pretty scary, especially since you’ve known about your werewolf heritage for like three days.

Jungkook takes a step closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine, and your heart suddenly beats faster. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to fade away around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek.

Since he has appeared in your life, you’ve been going through lots of ups and downs. He has unveiled the werewolf world to you together with a part of yourself you never knew. It hasn’t been easy, but his presence feels grounding and reassuring. Deep down, you kind of feel that he’s never going to leave you. It’s an unspoken truth that you can’t explain, but somehow, you know.

His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more. But a small voice in the back of your mind whispers caution.

Today, you’ve experienced a lot of emotion, especially since you got to see your baby for the first time. You don’t want this kiss to happen because of the intensity of the moment. You want this first kiss to happen because it’s right, because you both want it with absolute clarity, not as a reaction to the whirlwind of feelings you’re navigating.

His nose brushes against yours, his warmth pulling you in, and your lips are a breath away from meeting when you step back. Jungkook blinks, surprised. His eyes search yours, and you can see confusion and even a touch of disappointment in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he’s definitely too surprised.

“I’ll be at your place tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “Just send me the details.”

Before he can say anything, you jump in your car and slip away, your pulse still racing. As you’re driving, you try to steady your thoughts, pushing aside what almost happened. You’re not ready. Not just yet.

Following Jungkook’s address, your car slows down as you approach an imposing set of gates. Massive iron bars stand tall against the backdrop of the dense woods surrounding the estate, their presence as commanding as the man you’re here to meet.

You stop and glance around from your windshield before you leave the car. Beyond the gates, the large trees hide the driveway and the house. Your imagination starts to fill in the blanks. He’s the king, after all. His home must be grand, maybe even overwhelming.

On the wall beside the gate, a modern intercom system catches your eye. A silver button gleams in the sunlight, its simple design contrasting with the timeless feel of the gates. Your hand hovers near the button as you still look around you. You feel so small, standing here at the threshold of Jungkook’s world; one you’re not entirely sure to belong yet.

Taking a deep breath, you press the button. Barely seconds later, a voice is heard through the intercom.

“Hello,” you don’t recognize the voice. “How can I help you?”

Well, as the king, it wouldn’t surprise you that he has people working for him. He couldn’t possibly take care of his house by himself.

“Hello, I’m yn,” you say. “I was invited by Jung… Mister Jeon,” you answer.

“Hello, miss y/l/n, we were waiting for you,” the voice says. “Please follow the road to the mansion.”

The impressive gates move to let you enter Jungkook’s estate. You instantly jump back into your car before starting the engine. Very carefully and slowly, you drive through the road, your eyes wandering around you. This is definitely a very impressive state, and there’s absolutely no doubt that the father of your child is wealthy.

After a little while, a sprawling, stone-clad mansion with dark and earthy tones comes into view. The architecture is both ancient and timeless, with arches windows, and carved details that hint at its long history. You can’t believe this is where Jungkook lives, and it also leaves you wondering if this is where your child is going to grow up. Well, most probably yes.

An impressive courtyard suddenly appears, and it’s surrounded by well-manicured gardens that lead into the untamed wilderness of the forest. It’s simply incredible.

You don’t really know where to stop your car, but a man dressed in black clothing runs in your direction. In order to not make him run more, you halt and roll down the window. He’s out of breath when he reaches you.

“Miss y/l/n,” he manages to say, and you offer him a little smile. “Please follow me with your car to the parking spot.”

The man starts walking again, and this time you follow his direction. Everything about this seems unreal. A month ago, you totally ignored werewolves existed; you were planning everything to welcome a baby. And today, you’re here. You’re about to enter the mansion of the Werewolf King, and the father of your baby.

Seconds later, the man indicates where you can park. Once you stop the engine, the man opens the door for you. Wow, this is a first time, but you deeply appreciate it even though it wasn’t necessary.

“Thanks,” you say as you step out.

“You’re welcome,” he bows. “Would you have any luggage with you?” he asks.

For a moment, you take a look at the man. This is definitely a footman, Jungkook’s personal footman. Honestly, this feels like being in one of those Christmas movies where a random girl meets a prince or king and they fall in love. However, in this case, you don’t fall in love and you share a kid.

“Yes,” you answer. “But don’t worry, I’ll take it.”

The man shakes his head. “I got personal orders from Mister Jeon to take care of it,” he says. “And I would also never leave a pregnant woman carry her luggage.”

Seems like you don’t have much to say here. He’s following his boss’ orders, and based on what you see, Jungkook won’t allow any rule to be unfollowed. And you’ll also feel guilty if anything happens to this man because of you.

“Okay,” you admit in defeat. “Then, let me just open the trunk.”

The man follows you and instantly grabs your small luggage when the trunk is opened. It’s honestly super weird, and if everything will be like this tonight, you’re not sure you’ll get used to it. For sure, Jungkook undoubtedly grew up in the middle of all this, but this is new to you.

“Please follow me,” he repeats.

Now that you’re closer to the mansion, you get to see every detail. The front features a massive, double-door entrance made of dark and polished wood, with ornate iron handles. There are also some stone statues around the façade, giving an air of mystery and foreboding.

Jungkook is standing in front of the door, with a little smile on his face. Honestly, you weren’t expecting to see him right here. You thought that his footman would guide you to a living room, or a study where his boss would be sitting and waiting for you.

“Thanks, Jinwoo,” Jungkook says to his footman.

The man bows before entering the mansion with your luggage in your hand. As you stand before Jungkook, you realize now that he’s a king. It feels instinctual to bow. Kings are meant to be respected and acknowledged for their status. Your knees slightly bend, and your head dips forward, but before you fully bow, his voice cuts through your thoughts.

“No need,” he murmurs in your mind. “You don’t have to do it with me.”

His voice holds a quiet authority, but there’s also something else. Something unspoken, almost tender. For a moment, you hesitate. Bowing feels like the respectful, appropriate thing to do, but his response leaves you questioning the boundaries of his role in your life.

“Are you sure?”

His piercing and dark eyes meet yours, unwavering and resolute. “I am,” he answers, his tone leaving no room for argument even if he’s speaking through your mind.

The intensity of his gaze makes your breath hitch as if he’s reaching past your thoughts and speaking directly to the very core of you. And then, something changes in the air between you. It’s not just his words that stop you. It’s the way he’s looking at you. His expression is almost wounded.

Now, you wonder if you offended him, and the guilt begins to creep in. You’ve never met someone who held so much power yet dismissed the formalities that come with it.

For Jungkook, the title of king isn’t just about wearing a crown. It’s a mantle he bears with pride and responsibility. But when it comes to you, it’s as if he wants to strip away the formalities, the hierarchies, the distance. He doesn’t want you to see him as a king. He wants you to see him for who he truly is.

With you, everything is simply different. When you met him, you totally ignored that he was a king. Every time you met, you would treat him as anybody else, and honestly, it felt great. He wasn’t a king. He simply was Jungkook.

“You’re different,” his voice softly brushes your mind again.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the tension in your body slowly fades away. You try to let go of the urge to bow even though it feels weird. His strong presence almost commands reverence, but he made it clear: he doesn’t want that from you.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand brushing against your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Briefly, you close your eyes to savor the sweet contact of his skin against yours. This brings you back to yesterday when you were about to kiss. You regret how you walk away, especially since you desperately wanted to kiss him, but it’s better like this.

“Thank you,” you say as you open your eyes.

This sense of equality he’s extending to you warms your heart. Jungkook nods, his eyes softening before he takes a step back. This man is such a mystery, but it’s evident that he’s carrying so much on his shoulder. So much history, duty, and perhaps even loneliness that he tries to hide.

“Hi, yn,” he then says out loud as if you’re speaking for the first time.

“Hello, Jungkook,” you reply with a little smile growing on your face.

“How was the road?” he gestures for you to come inside.

As the gentleman he has proven to be, he lets you walk inside his house first. You’re welcomed with a grand double staircase made of white marble, a marble that matches the floor beneath your feet. Along the walls of the stairs, there are hanging paintings of people. Probably Jungkook’s ancestors.

In the middle, a massive chandelier made of iron is hanging. The walls are impressively high, giving this space a grandiose aspect. This is for sure the kind of place you never thought of seeing in your life. Everything about this room screams ancient and power.

“The trip was fine,” you answer while your eyes get lost. “Although I thought at some point that I got lost,” you explain, your eyes now looking at the man behind you. “This is kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “As a werewolf king, it would be weird if I wasn’t surrounded by a forest.”

“It makes sense,” you admit. “But still, I was really about to call you with despair.”

Somehow, you can see in his eyes that he would have loved that. Saving the damsel in distress, but that’s not for you. There’s no need to save you, you can manage by yourself.

“You were about to call me?” he smirks with evident amusement in his voice. “I wouldn’t have minded. It’s not every day that I get to play the hero.”

You hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t get used to the idea. I can handle myself just fine,” you answer while crossing your arms with a small smile appearing on your face.

Jungkook tilts his head slightly while his smirk deepens. “Oh, I know,” his voice is softer now and his eyes are shining with admiration. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”

At his words, you can feel the heat beneath your cheeks. You weren’t expecting him to compliment you while insinuating that he has a way too big estate, but you take the compliment.

Your child’s father proceeds then to make a little home tour. For sure, he doesn’t show you all the rooms as it is not needed. The first thing he shows you is the bedroom you’ll be staying in tonight. It’s located on the second floor, and the decoration is very simple. It’s a king-size bed with two nightstands and some furniture. Your luggage is already placed on a fancy bench.

A bit further on the second floor, there is the dining room. You’ll be eating here tonight before it gets dark. Apparently, it’s important to eat well and enough before taking a wolf shape. It helps to calm down the hunger, and it lowers the risk to kill someone or an animal.

On the third floor, there is his magnificent bedroom. It’s extremely big, you’d say your entire apartment fits in the room. It’s also very well decorated; there are many pictures and paintings, and the room breaths ‘Jungkook’. However, the most impressive part is the large walk-in wardrobe. He has a remarkable quantity of clothes.

Then, he guides you outside to an outbuilding. It’s a very rustic, ancient, and a big one, but it looks cute even though it’s a bit far from the main house. However, what stands out more is the strong smell. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s something that definitely draws you.

“So, this place was built for the full moons,” he begins to explain. “This is where we shift, and it avoids destroying the prestigious house my ancestors built. It’s also closer to the woods.”

As you get closer, the scent grows stronger.

“My ancestors also placed something in the walls to attract us. When we shift the scent is even stronger than now, and it was made in case we get out of control. That way, we won’t be going to the main house. It was made to protect the humans living in our house,” you nod at his explanation.

Jungkook opens the door, letting you in first. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for a fridge.

“I don’t really use this room anymore,” he explains.

“Do you completely control your transformation?” you ask.

“Yep, that’s the perk of being an Alpha and a King,” he explains. “I’m not influenced by the moon’s phases anymore, but I’ll be with you tonight.”

“And for normal werewolves, at what moment of the full moon do they start changing?” you ask with curiosity.

You need to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming, there are so many unknowns. For sure, Jungkook will guide you every step of the way tonight, but you still want to know what is going to happen.

“As soon as the sun is down,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply.

For a moment, you just look at this empty room, your heart beating crazily in your chest. Seeing this makes you realize that maybe tonight, you’ll shift into a wolf. It’s a reminder of the heritage your parents hid from you all these years. Not only is this extremely scary, but it’s even more because you’ll have to do it without your parents; the people you loved the most.

“I’m scared, Jungkook,” you turn around to look at him. “So so scared,” you admit.

Jungkook comes closer, his right hand grabbing your left one. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, trying to comfort you as much as possible.

“I understand,” his voice is soft. “This is all new to you, and you’re pushed right through the possibility of shifting into a wolf. I’m sorry this is all happening to you, and I wish things were different.”

He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours. “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here, standing next to you.”

You squeeze his hand while you whisper, “Thank you.” His support undeniably means a lot to you, you’re not sure you’d be able to go through this without him.

“If I could, I’d take your place in a heartbeat,” he continues. “I’d take all the pain and carry this burden if it meant you didn’t have to suffer. I wouldn’t hesitate, not even for a second.”

Without any hesitation, you throw yourself into his arms to hug him. Pressing a cheek against his chest, you close your eyes. His warmth seems to melt away all the tension in your body. Jungkook has been giving you the comfort of knowing that you don’t have to face everything alone. He’s taken a bit aback, but he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him.

His lips press a gentle kiss on your head while you remain in this position for a little while. His heartbeat appeases your soul, and it’s the only sound that you hear. In the midst of all this chaos, you’re grateful you found Jungkook.

After dinner, with Jungkook, you go to the outbuilding. But before doing so, he hands you a ‘special’ outfit. It looks like a sporty outfit; it’s made of a black top with black leggings. However, it’s made of a very stretchy fabric.

Jungkook explained that his family developed an outfit capable of resisting the transformation some years ago. Instead of getting ripped off, the fabric detaches when you shift. Once you get back to your human form, you can easily put it back. Apparently, there are magnets inside.

It’s honestly impressive, but, at the same time, not surprising. It’s the royal family that we’re talking about. They have the means to create something like that.

Jungkook’s a big fan of this fabric; all his clothes are made of it. Since he’s not influenced by the moon, he needs adaptive clothes for whenever he wants or needs to turn into a wolf. He also mentioned that it’s very comfortable, which definitely is the case.

“This is impressive,” you say as you’re walking.

The man walking next to you is wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with baggy grey pants. He looks incredibly fine, but you try to avoid looking at him. You don’t want to seem like you’re obsessed with him when you’ve known him for like a month.

“Yep, it is,” he smiles at you.

Jungkook is unable to look away, you look like a damn walking meal. He’s very much aware that he’s attracted to you, otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried to kiss you the other day. But the damn full moon always intensifies any physical attraction. His eyes even still glance at your fine ass. Thankfully, you don’t notice anything.

Once you reach the outbuilding, you put down all the things you brought with you. There are some snacks, two blankets, and extra clothing in case something happens. Jungkook doesn’t fully close the door behind you because if he does so, you’ll be stuck here and might destroy everything.

Since the sun hasn’t fully set yet, you sit down on the floor with Jungkook.

“How was your first transformation?” you ask with curiosity.

“It wasn’t great,” he admits. “It was the day after I turned ten, and I didn’t want to shift. And believe me, resisting it is painful as hell,” he confesses. “On top of that, I was really angry so when I became a wolf, I was out of control. My father didn’t manage to catch me up when I was out in the woods, but he found me when I turned back to human. I was crying like a baby, and I couldn’t remember a damn thing. My father later found out that I had attacked somebody, but thankfully, nothing too bad.”

This doesn’t really reassure you. If Jungkook didn’t have a great first experience, how would be yours? Will you kill someone? Will you also lose control? Also, you’re pregnant so it might be even worse.

“Being a wolf is something I didn’t embrace for a long time, especially since I knew I would eventually become a king,” he confesses. “So for a solid two years, every full moon was extremely painful. Once I accepted it, everything became easier, but I was very young.”

“So our child will also have their first transformation at ten?” you ask, and he nods.

By then, you might probably be able to help your child as you would have gone through ten years of full moons. But that doesn’t change the fact that, right now, it seems scary.

“With my blood, our child will live this wolf experience very differently than any other werewolf. They will be a king or queen so they must be stronger and better prepared than anybody else.”

This kid seems to have gotten the golden ticket to be ‘special’. Merely a month ago, you thought this child would be a totally normal kid, but then, Jungkook proved you wrong.

“The fact that I’m from a different pack won’t have any impact?” you ask.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “The royal blood is stronger than any other.”

“So I’m basically just carrying your child,” you jokingly say. “It’s like I don’t contribute at all.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s in the mood to tease you back.

“Carrying our child,” he corrects with a smirk, leaning in slightly. “And trust me, your contribution is very… memorable,” he whispers in your ear.

Shivers run down your spine, and the playful and cheerful mood has been replaced by something more heavy. By something hotter. And man, you crave so damn much to kiss this man. How will you survive this night with him by your side?

His face is way too close to yours, his eyes now locked on yours. His hot breath caresses your face, and his gaze is filled with lust. The two of you look at each other’s lips with so much desire. The attraction you feel towards him seems to grow bigger and bigger every day. You’re sure you’ll end up giving in, but you haven’t changed your mind. This kiss needs to happen because you’re both sure about it.

You clear your throat before straightening up. Jungkook instantly retreats, sitting the way he was before getting too close.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you say.

In the blink of an eye, the sun goes down, and the moon lights up through the darkness of the night. At first, you don’t really feel anything, you’re even convinced you’ll easily navigate through this night. But very slowly, the pain intensifies as your bones and muscles realign into a form they never took before. Everything inside you is moving. Everything inside you is being torn apart. It feels like someone is pulling you in two different directions. You’ve never experienced this kind of pain.

“Jungkook,” you almost scream as the bones of your right arm move. “Help me.”

Tears run down your face, and Jungkook cups your face in his hands. His thumbs clean the tears on your cheeks. He’s on his knees just like you so he can be at your level. It’s impossible for you to be standing or sitting because of all the things changing in your body right now.

His eyes are full of fear and pain as he obviously can’t do anything but watch you go through this. Obviously, he can understand the intensity of the pain you feel, but he can’t take the pain away. He has healing powers, but they don’t work for this kind of scenario.

“I’m so scared.”

“I know,” he answers. “Don’t fight it, just embrace the pain. Scream at every moving bone. Scream when your muscles tear. But don’t hold anything back.”

You nod, your eyes don’t leave his as they seem to anchor you in some kind of way.

“You can do this,” he encourages you. “You’re so fucking strong.”

The next couple of minutes that feel like hours, you spend them screaming with pain. You understand now why the first full moon is painful. It’s the first time that your body adapts to your wolf shape. A wolf and a human are very much different.

“You’re doing so great, yn,” his thumbs caress your cheeks. “You’re doing so well,” he repeats.

Suddenly, Jungkook sees your eyes becoming blue, and he mimics you, his eyes now turning red. The man in front of you decides to turn at the same pace so you don’t feel alone in this. For sure, it’s not quite the same, but at least, by the time, you’re fully a wolf, he’ll be as well.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Then, out of the blue, you feel the baby moving, and your hand instantly goes to your stomach. Your ears try to find the sound of his heartbeat, but you don’t find it.

“Something’s wrong?” Jungkook is looking at you with worry.

“The baby,” you simply answer, and Jungkook frowns. “I don’t hear the heartbeat.”

“Don’t worry, yn,” he says. “I hear it.”

“But I don’t,” you start crying.

Jungkook begins imitating the baby’s heartbeat to help you find it. Following his voice, you try to find the heartbeat, but you can’t. You never stop trying because right now, that’s what you need. You need to ensure your baby’s safety. This is already very painful and if on top of that, you lose your baby, it’ll be the end of you.

Swiftly, the heartbeat echoes in your ears which appeases your soul instantly. Right there, you notice the claws appearing in your hands. It’s impressive to see it coming from your body. It feels unreal. Your body is changing, transforming into something you don’t know. At the same time, you can sense his hands changing against your cheeks. It doesn’t hurt, but his skin texture is different.

After that, your teeth and ears change as well. Jungkook’s hands leave your face to give you room while you go through this transformation. And for a while, you remain like that, stuck in between your human and wolf shapes. However, the pain doesn’t fade away. It’s still there, but nothing has changed. Jungkook starts to pick up the despair in your eyes. You’re panicking.

“Yn,” he lifts your chin to make you look at him.

His red wolfy eyes meet your blue ones.

“I’m a failure, Jungkook,” you whisper.

Your cheeks are ravaged by the tears that have been running down your face since the beginning. It’s such a heartbreaking vision.

“I can’t even fully turn into a wolf.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he halts you before you add anything else. “Don’t say that. You’re far from being a failure.”

His fingers brush your chin with tenderness which soothes you.

“You’re fucking brave, yn,” he continues. “You tragically lost your parents, you’ve recently found out about you and this heritage, and since you’re ten, you’ve been navigating life in the most heartbreaking way,” he reassures you. “You’re doing way better than a lot of us, and we had at least ten years to prepare.”

His red eyes don’t ever look away from you. Even though they have a wolf aspect, you can see how soft his expression is.

“It’s okay to be scared, but I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

You nod with tears still running down your face.

“Just let this happen, don’t fight it,” his voice is calm. “Take a deep breath and don’t focus on the pain.”

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and you try to focus on something other than the pain. Jungkook’s calm heartbeat invades your senses, and you decide to use it as an anchor. You decide to focus on it to forget about the pain.

Slowly, you feel your body complete the shift. Fur spreads over your skin, your hands become paws, and the clothes covering your body are now on the floor. The world around you now feels vivid and alive.

Your vision is totally different, and your senses are heightened. Everything seems to stimulate you, but somehow, you still manage to not react to everything.

“How do you feel?” Jungkook asks.

“The pain is completely gone,” you telepathically say.

Even if you deeply desire to speak, in this shape, you can’t say much except growl. However, you can still have a conversation with him through your thoughts. It’s honestly quite a useful.

“And everything feels different, but it’s fine so far,” you add.

He tilts his head, slightly confused.

“Okay, this is new,” he says. “Usually, people leave their human side when they turn,” he informs you. “But it’s good if you still have your human side while being a wolf.”

Jungkook shifts into his wolf form, and you’re blown away. A large wolf has now replaced the man standing in front of you. He’s even more impressive as a wolf than as a human. His stature is intimidating yet majestic, exuding both dominance and grace.

His fur is a blend of silvery grey and white, making his red eyes stand out a lot. His eye color adds an intense energy to his appearance, signifying his role as the king and the immense power he holds.

“Like what you see?” his voice echoes in your mind.

Even though you don’t have a human aspect anymore, you still feel your face get hot. You look away with shyness.

“You’re so majestic,” you admit.

“I’m supposed to be the king,” he answers while his muzzle appears in front of you. “I know I have a more imposing stature as a wolf.”

This is all so crazy. Never in a billion years would have you thought this was going to happen. You’ve turned into a wolf with a guy that is a werewolf king. On top of that, you’re calmly speaking with a wolf as if it’s the most normal thing.

“What color is my fur?” you ask with curiosity.

“It’s a deep dark brown,” he says while his eyes glance at you. “Very pretty color.”

Is this man going to make you blush all night long?

“Thanks,” your eyes don’t look away this time.

Jungkook now shows you how to walk, move, and adjust to your new body. Every step feels foreign, it feels like you’re learning how to walk again. As you’re walking towards the door, you have this feeling that you’re walking like an injured dog. But it’s your first time, you can’t be harsh with yourself.

The two of you head towards the door that opens to the woods. At first, you stumble slightly because your legs feel strange. But slowly, you realize that you’re walking. Really walking. The ground under your paws feels solid, reassuring. The more you move, the more natural it becomes.

As you walk towards the forest, you start to gain confidence, and it makes you feel powerful and free. It’s not easy to describe, a mix of awe and exhilaration that courses through your veins. Never in your life have you felt this way. It’s like this new form isn’t just a part of you—it’s always been waiting for you to claim it.

Your heart beats faster, not with fear, but with an exciting sense of possibility. You glance at Jungkook, whose red eyes shine under the moonlight. He senses your transformation is more than just physical. He gives you an encouraging look before he runs, his sleek sliver-and-white fur shining under the moon.

Jungkook keeps looking back at you to make sure you’re following him. However, you take your time because you want to adjust to this new reality. Slowly, you begin to move, your steps becoming steadier with each passing second.

As you enter the depths of the forest, you realize how deeper everything feels around you. It’s like you’re discovering for the first time what it feels like to be walking in the woods. The earthy scent of the moss and leaves fills your nostrils like never before. You feel every blade of grass under your paws, and the night wind brushes through your fur, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

Over your head, the full moon glows in the dark, and its energy courses through you and heightens every sensation. It’s overwhelming but in the best possible way.

You push forward, your paws digging into the earth as you pick up speed. Jungkook slows down, waiting for you to catch up. His glowing red eyes are filled with pride and encouragement, and he swears he has never seen something as beautiful. Watching you discover everything he has taken for granted is heartwarming.

When you finally reach him, you stand next to him for a moment before you run past him. He’s definitely surprised, and soon, he’s running beside you. For the first time, you don’t struggle to keep up. You’re racing with him, your movements fluid and sure. The two of you snake through the trees, your bodies moving as though they’re part of the forest. You’ve never felt so alive, so connected to the world around you.

Jungkook keeps a steady pace beside you, and his presence grounds you in this surreal moment. You really can’t describe the feeling of having the wind rushing through your fur as you run. Eventually, you end up slowing to a stop in a clearing bathed in moonlight. Your breathing is heavy, but your heart has never felt this light before.

Jungkook steps closer, his voice echoing in your mind: “You did it.”

You look at the father of your child and realize this is so much more than just a transformation. It’s a bond, a shared experience you’ll for sure never forget. As overwhelming as it’s all been, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything in the world.

This is your new reality, and it surprisingly feels like home.

“I did it,” you think to yourself, but Jungkook hears it.

The wolf next to you has never felt so much pride over someone turning into a wolf. He was present when his younger siblings made their first steps as wolves, and even though he was very proud of them, with you, it’s completely different. And he wonders if he will feel even more pride once your baby shifts for the first time.

For the rest of the night, you just walk through the woods, flirting with the city’s limits. Jungkook’s own forest seems to know no end, but it definitely gives you all the space you need to freely run. Surprisingly, you don’t meet any other wolf, but you don’t mind. You’re just too thrilled to discover this new body.

“It’s time to go back,” Jungkook informs you as he notices the darkness of the night leaving room for the sun’s light.

The father of your child guides you back to his outbuilding. Since you have no clue where you are, you simply follow him. Very quickly, you reach the large space. This time around, Jungkook closes the door once you’re both inside.

“So,” he stands in front of you. “To shift back to your human form is easier, but it’s more emotionally draining,” he explains. “It’s not painful, but it’ll take a lot of energy from you.”

You nod, it’s logical that it also contains its fair share of difficulty. Now, you just need to know how to go back to your human form.

“What do I need to do?” you ask.

“You need to set free the wolf inside you,” he tells you. “And visualize yourself as human.”

Well, seems easier said than done. How do you even set the wolf free? You’re definitely not very very sure how you should approach this, but you’ll try.

You close your eyes, but all you can think of is how you felt tonight. This has been by far one of the best experiences of your life. It was painful—you won’t hide it, but the aftermath made it worth it. You’d go through that pain again just to be able to walk so freely.

For a moment, it’s all you can think about, and it doesn’t help to shift you back into your ‘normal’ self. Then, you open your eyes and watch Jungkook.

“I don’t know how to do that,” you say.

The impressive wolf standing in front of you seems to think. He doesn’t really know what to tell you, he’s been able to shift so easily for over fifteen years. It’s easy to guide someone through the pain, but when there isn’t any, he simply doesn’t know what to say.

“Maybe try to think of someone you cherish, or a good memory, or at least, something that makes you happy.”

For the second time, you close your eyes. Your mind runs through all the positive events you lived, and one stands out from all of them. It’s a memory with your dad.

When you were little, you’d love to go to the shopping street downtown. There were always tons of people—something deeply annoying—, but you’d love to run through every store window to look inside. Your father would go to some of them to buy ‘grown-up’ things. You don’t remember what it was exactly because you didn’t really care back then. All you wanted was to see everything the store had.

At the end, there would be a pretty big café. If you’d behave well, you had the right to eat a pastry with orange juice. Obviously, you’d always make sure to wear your best behavior because the reward was worth it. For the pastry, you’d always go for a croissant with chocolate in it. Every time, you’d hope that the café would have this croissant. If not, you’d take whatever there was.

Your father would always take an espresso with a cheese toast. The smell of his coffee would always comfort you. Even right now, you can still smell it, and it has the same comforting effect. Those are the most precious souvenirs you have with your father.

After his passing, you never went back to that café. Felix tried to bring you there, but you’d refuse. You didn’t want to replace the souvenirs with your father. This café was your dad’s and yours, nobody else's. A little tear runs down your face as you remember that you’ll never be able to create new memories with him in that special place.

Without realizing it, you slowly shift back into your human form. When you realize it, you slowly open your eyes while standing up. Jungkook is still a wolf, but in a matter of seconds, he’s back to being a human.

Your eyes widen when you’re graced with a naked Jungkook, and you instinctively put your hands in front of your eyes. You weren’t really expecting this, and especially, to see this man naked any time soon. He chuckles, but then, it hits you— you’re naked as well.

“Shit,” you mumble.

Then, his warm hands wrap a blanket around you. You uncover your eyes to look back again at the werewolf king. He’s still very much bare, and you try to avoid staring below his chest. It feels totally inappropriate.

“Thanks,” you offer him a little smile.

To your surprise, his right arm is fully covered in tattoos. Honestly, you would have never imagined him with body art. He doesn’t give the type; perhaps it’s because he’s a king. Actually, you’ve never pictured any king adorned with such markings. And it truly makes him look a million times hotter.

Let’s not even talk about his toned figure…

Your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his body. His squared and broad shoulders look like they were carved from stone, and his muscular torso is just as well mesmerizing. The way his chest rises and falls with each breath is hypnotic, and for a moment, you can almost feel the raw power lying beneath his skin.

Your eyes linger longer than they should, and you suddenly find it hard to meet his eyes again. You can’t deny it—his presence is utterly magnetic, and it stirs something deep within you.

Suddenly, you’re violently hit by the fatigue. You didn’t see that coming, but after this amazing night, it’s normal.

Jungkook grabs the clothes on the floor, and you turn around so you don’t stare any longer at him—or should you say drool over him. He looks way too good for his own good. While looking at the wall facing you, you yawn and rub your eyes. You really need to sleep now.

“You’re tired?” Jungkook asks.

“Very,” you answer.

The man appears in front of you, fully dressed with a smile on his face. His cute face contrasts a lot with his very muscular body.

“Let me take you back home,” he says when he realizes just how tired you truly are. And before you even know it, you’re in his arms while he carries you to his mansion.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bloodlines entwined #bloodlines entwined: chapter 4 #spideyjimin

766 notes · View notes

acstation206 · 6 months ago

Text

I messed up. /j

Introducing...

THE AMAZING DIGITAL ARCADE PARTY!

Yeah, that's right, I caved in.

Basically the exact same show except its established lore and setting is more largely inspired by archive compilations of popular vintage arcade games of the 80s and 90s such as Pac-Man’s Arcade Party, as well as the different takes within the sci-fi / fantasy genre by the likes of Wreck-It Ralph, Tron: Legacy, and Infinity Train.

= BACKGROUND (in a nutshell) 💿 =

In an attempt to save their dying business, C&A developed and manufactured the first hybrid arcade game of its own kind that combined other popular arcade games and home console games with virtual reality. However, just as the company’s luck was turning around, numerous lawsuits from game companies by the likes of Nintendo and families were filed against the company for their product, from apparently “ripping-off” Super Mario Bros. in its entirety to causing many children to either inexplicably fall unconscious or suffer from amnesia after the cabinet’s headset was put on. Just then, as C&A announced they’ll be temporarily recalling the product to fix its issues, a shocking discovery was already made by investigators that would soon bring the company to its demise: the game’s AI had gone rogue, and once a human mind dies from losing one of the games in any way, they are either permanently reincarnated as a personified cartoon character of themselves or just straight up die in real-life depending on the outcome.

= ART N’ STUFF 🎨 =

(might wanna make a separate masterpost for that in the future but oh well)

NES Ragatha

Pomni and Caine redesigns

= Q&As and BOUNDARIES (sort of) 🎙️ =

"Are there any plans to make a full webcomic out of this?" - Uhhhh, mayyybe? I'm not entirely sure, honestly. While there may be a few side comics and artwork from my head I want to get out sometime, I don't really have much plans for this AU that'll be worth telling a full story right now since I feel there is plenty of things that I've yet to figure out and develop in a matter of time, particularly the setting and characters (especially considering the OG show itself has only 2 episodes out as of writing and I only have mobile apps like ibisPaint X to make this all possible at the moment).

"Can I make fanfics and OCs for this AU?" - Of course! I've seen a lot of incredible things from the community, especially in regards to alternate universes, so you're absolutely more than welcome to share whatever's on your mind as long as your heart's in the right place. I can't really guarantee I'll see every bit of it since I do have some personal biz of mine to take care of at any moment, but I'll be happy to reblog them whenever I get the chance. Just tag me and we all good. :)

"Are there any canon ships in this AU?" - Yes. Yes, there are. Well, only BunnyDoll (Jax x Ragatha) to be specific. HOWEVER, you are free to ship whoever you want here! Showtime (Caine x Pomni), ButtonBlossom (Pomni x Ragatha), it's all okay. The choice is yours, a romantic buffet! (Plus, depending on the quality of my writing, I'm not even planning to dwell too much into it for now, aside from the side comics that will.)

That's all for right now. Enjoy! :)

670 notes · View notes

weekend-whip · 1 year ago

Text

NOT THE SLIPPER I'M HOLLERING

I LOVE THESE CRAZY KIDS SM THEY'RE CHAOS INCARNATE

@taddymason @finn-m-corvex @weekend-whip @sharksandjays HEY DAD JAY COUNCIL. GUESS WHO MADE MORE MEMES (totally not to ignore studying)

ENJOY <333

#fynn being the evil finn is hilarious #and quinn's always gotta be somewhere high to assert her dominance #also i just realized quinn would also be able to teleport like legacy!jay #so catch jenna and kaida going at it and quinn just 'nopes' right out of there like the fade out meme snksnksnk #noah always just doing his best out here aaaaaa #combined au #dad jay au #ninjago ocs

58 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 29 days ago

Text

made for me

authors note: so, the combination of roman's hair and seth's fiendish attack on tribal daddy during the rumble inspired one scene that turned into this. i tried super hard to get it to fit with og ltye, but that wasn't happening. so, it's set in the world of this random au i wrote forever ago.

warnings: fluff, angst

words: 5.4k

It’s not that Roman hates Seth and Punk.

Hardly.

No, hate is not a strong enough word to describe what he feels toward those two men. Too much history, too much betrayal, too much pain is imbued in the past and connectivity of all three men for Roman to water it down by just calling it hatred.

They haven’t created a word to accurately describe what he feels towards and about them. The visceral emotion that courses through his big, heaving body as he destroys his entire locker room. Chairs turned over, tables smashed against the wall, the same wall that has a decent sized hole following Roman smashing his fist into it.

Same with the door.

A form of rage burns and rips through him as he lays waste to his room, unable to settle himself and push away the flashes of the interference. Of how he was in the zone, laying blow after blow against his opponent, McIntyre. As expected, Roman was in control, once again proving his prowess in all the areas, his dominance and authority.

All of which was challenged by interference. Fucking Punk and Rollins.

Roman doesn’t know how they made it past security, but someone will die for such a big fuck up. Because they’d tried, and to some extent, jumped Roman. Calling themselves trying to prove Roman’s mortality, trying to deface the legacy and imprint of the Tribal Chief.

It didn’t work, of course, just like it didn’t last time. But, Roman still got roughed up in the process, sustaining a few injuries he knows are only going to be exacerbated by his violent outburst, but he can’t bring himself to care.

This level of…..fury needs to be released.

It has to.

Three, tentative knocks to the door rip Roman from his hateful ruminating while also spiking his irritation. “I said I want to be alone!”

Obviously, someone has a death wish, because the next thing Roman sees is the same door opening slowly. The flustered, red face of his chief advisor—potentially former—appears in the ajar doorway, his eyes filled with well-deserved fear. “Sir—”

Roman has never been so tempted to murder someone so close to him. “Get….out.”

The redness deepens, the fear exponential, as he stutters, “I—si—you—”

Roman starts stalking toward said door when Paul disappears, the door opening wider to reveal that he’s not alone.

Instantly.

Instantly, Roman notices the shift. He feels it more than anything. The way the unlimited rage starts melting ever so softly, still strong and pungent but dissipating.

He’s still livid, still filled with so much fury he doesn't know what to do with, but it’s tucked away just enough for him to grit out. “Leave us.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, his Wise Man disappearing like a thief in the night leaving Roman alone with the one person he both does and doesn’t want to see.

She turns to shut the door. Quiet and gentle. Much like herself. He hears the click of the lock and watches how she surveys the room, expression unchanged. Like the destruction that surrounds them is something familiar and normal to her. And, then she’s looking at him, studying him. Head tilted, small smile on her pretty face, she closes the distance between them.

Roman looks away and closes his eyes when she’s close enough for her sweet, gourmand perfume to hit his senses. Still refuses to look at her as she lifts her hands to his face. Assessing him, assessing the extent of his injuries.

“You need stitches.”

Something he already knew but didn’t care to address, much preferring to unleash all of his rage and beyond in the setting before them.

“What are you doing here?” Because that’s the better question. The most important one. The thing that has his anger spiking once again. She shouldn’t be here, and she knows it, and yet, she stands before him.

But, it’s when she answers quietly, vulnerably, that his anger dwindles just a bit.“I wanted to see you.” Roman sighs. Another thing he already knew. It’s the only reason she would go against the protocol of things. “Afia took me….”

That makes all the sense. He knows how close they’ve become, just like how he knows that his sister-in-law marches to the beat of her own drum. She does what feels right and aligns with her convictions.

Even it goes against all of the protective precautions Roman has set in place.

He ignores the way she lifts her hand to his hair, pushing some of it back and out of his face. “This isn’t the way to see me.” A calm counter to match the soothing effect of her touch, a balm to his vexation. “I don’t….I don’t like you seeing this side of me.”

“And what side is that?” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she transitions to massaging his scalp in that way she knows he likes. Loves, even. “Have you forgotten how we met?”

At that, a chuckle is emitted. The first thing he feels outside of the anger range since the start of the evening.

Never.

Never could he forget that first of many run-ins they had until Roman grew tired of short interactions, grew tired of teases and taunts that led to nothing more but constant wondering and thinking. About her. The way she occupied so much mental real estate should have been studied, especially for someone like himself who never looked for anything more but sexual satisfaction from women.

But, not her.

She was different.

Then

Roman was pissed, a conversation with his cousin escalating into something unnecessary, largely due to the alcohol coursing through Jey’s system. What started as a night of Roman and his two right hand men—and cousins—spending some rare free time at one of the Bloodline owned clubs turned into Jimmy playing mediator, separating his twin, Jey, from their cousin, Roman.

Two titans needing space before leveling the establishment. Hence Roman being the one to walk away, to find a slice of solace outside, aided by the surprising breeze. He’d run his hands over his face, reminding himself that nothing was gained by making an enemy out of one of the few people on this earth he trust.

Jeu was irksome, but he was still family. And at the end of the day, Roman knew this would pass over just as it had the times prior.

Didn’t make it any less fucking annoying to have to deal with the shit though.

Finally feeling settled and calm enough to be around his family without it turning into round two, Roman was making his way back inside the club, going down the hall when he spotted his other cousin, a distant cousin, Tama, talking to a woman. One hand planted on the wall, the other at his side, it was obvious he was trying to sweet talk her, something Roman paid no attention to.

Until in passing them, he heard it, heard the woman’s voice. Lighter and softer than anything he’d ever heard.

“I’m not interested,” she’d protested, something else present in her tone that gave him pause. Fear.

She sounded scared.

“Can you please move?”

Tama said something in that slithering voice of his that Roman always found annoying as shit, but he didn’t move. No, when Roman turned around, he’d in fact moved closer, reaching to touch the woman who turned her head away.

“I said move.” A bit firmer, less scared, but the anxiety was still audible.

Tama said something else, edging closer, prompting her to lift her hands to push him away, but she was too slow. One wrist in his tight grasp. “Let go—”

“Leave her alone,” Roman interjected, his voice surprisingly calm despite the anger flowing through him. The Bloodline has strict rules when it comes to women and children, and his cousin was violating just about every one of them.

Tama looked over, boredom and irritation on his face. “This doesn’t concern you, Roman.”

And just like that, whatever lid Roman managed to cap on his anger was being toyed with. Dangerously close to being lifted.

Roman took a step toward them, the woman turning to look at him. Brown locking with brown. Fear with determination.

For a brief second, Roman found it hard to look away, her beauty something he hadn’t seen in some time.

If ever.

“Did I ask you a question?” Was Roman’s harsh retort as he stared at his cousin. “Or, did I give you a fucking order?” Once more. The last time. “Let…her go.”

The influence of alcohol clearly had to be on his cousin, because the last thing Roman saw was Tama rolling his eyes as he prepared another disrespectful disregard of Roman’s command. “Come on, I’m just—”

Roman never found out just what Tama’s excuse was. He was too busy snatching him up and away from the woman and slamming him so hard against the wall that Roman was certain he was concussed. Lifted up, legs dangling, Roman had his forearm over Tama’s neck, severing oxygen.

His cousin’s wide eyed look of shock and horror much more pleasing than it probably should have been. “When I say to do something, you do that shit, you understand me?”

Tama continued to look terrified, struggling to reply due to lack of oxygen. Roman held him up long enough to see his skin turn red and his eyes bulge until he dropped him.

Tama fell to the floor, coughing violently, as Roman nodded away. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Out the club. Out his life. Hell, out the Bloodline for all Roman cared, so long as he was away from the nameless woman with captivating beauty and enchanting eyes.

That time around, Tama didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he made himself scarce, leaving just two instead of three.

Rolling his eyes, already done with this shitty night, Roman turned to her but found himself staring once more.

Despite his disagreement with Tama’s approach, Roman could understand why his cousin was interested in the first place.

Not only was she beautiful, but the body matched in every way. Nice, full breasts accentuated by the open neckline of her dress, full thighs and a bountiful ass to match. Stacked in all the right places even with her short stature.

It was momentarily distracting, but Roman found it in him to ask, albeit gruffly, “you alright?”

Her eyes were wide this time around, though filled with less fear. More confusion than anything. Still, she nodded, opening her mouth with a quiet reply. “Th—thank you.”

Something unfamiliar filled Roman hearing her voice again. Much too sweet. Far too innocent.

All the intriguing.

Roman’s expression intensified as he found himself unable to keep from asking, “what’s your na—”

“Sola!” Another interruption, this time female, but an interruption nonetheless. Roman turned to see another woman, about the same height as the woman she called “Sola.” She cast him a glance, nervousness unmistakable. Shuffling over, she grabbed the woman’s arm, harshly whispering something in another language. She then offered an apologetic glance. “So sorry to bother you, Tribal Chief.”

The bothering was the interruption of his planned introduction, and Roman planned to say as such when she ushered the woman away, all while continuing to harshly scold Sola.

The same Sola who kept looking back at him.

The same way he was looking at her.

Now

Roman saw her three more times after that, each occurrence happening the most serendipitous of ways.

Then

Jimmy’s ass was always hungry. Had been that way since they were kids, always snacking, wanting to snack, or thinking about snacking.

Always at the most inconvenient times, too. Like, when they’re supposed to be headed to a meeting and time to spare equals time to eat for his tapeworm having ass cousin.

“Man, you know I love Mexican food,” was Jimmy’s excuse as he, Roman, and Jey walked into the Mexican restaurant they spotted while trying to find a place for takeout.

“You love all food,” was Roman’s disgusted resort. He’d much rather arrive ahead of time than right at time, but he was outvoted by his cousins. Hence his presence.

The three of them walked through the partially crowded restaurant, up to the counter where Jey didn’t hesitate to ring the bell.

“Someone will be with you, shortly,” someone, an employee cleaning off unused tables, informed. Jimmy nodded as a sign of thank you, while Roman continued to type on his phone, at least relieved by the fact his Wise Man was already present and waiting.

Some kind of Bloodline representation was better than none.

“Hola!” His head lifted the minute he heard it. The same saccharine tone and the same pretty face he’d laid eyes on a few weeks ago. Their gazes locked, recognition dawning on her end as well. A different setting. She wasn’t as dressed up as she was that night, sexy little dress traded for an apron covering a short sleeved shirt that hugged her ample chest.

Roman hardly ever found himself dumbstruck, but he was most definitely feeling as such in that moment.

“Hola!” Jimmy’s jovial voice broke their stare, something only Jey seemed to notice, Jimmy too consumed by his hunger. Like they didn’t eat before leaving the damn house. “Never been here before, but—” He sniffed the air, rubbing his hands together. “Sure does smell good.”

Shock continued to settle until eventually wavering. “Uhh, yes, sorry. We—it’s good.” She added, almost nervously. “The food, it’s….it’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jimmy winked and looked over at the menu. “Now, uhh, I usually stick with my chimichanga’s, but I’m in the mood to switch things up.”

Jey glanced at her, making a mental note to ask Roman what that was all about once they got back in the SUV. “What do you recommend?”

She was flustered, face turning red as she pushed back flyaways. “Ummm……” Eyes shut, she opened again with a renewed sense of focus, clearly trying not to think of how Roman continued to look at her. Only her. “The Tacos De La Calle are pretty popular.” She turned to point to the menu, and Roman wasted no time setting his gaze on her ass that sat up nice and round in her jeans. “You can get steak, chicken, al pastor or carnitas topped with diced onions and cilantro. And, it’s served with rice or Elote Mexicano.”

Jimmy and Jey shared a knowing glance. “Shit, sure sounds good to me.”

She smiled, and Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something so pleasing. “So you want to try it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Laughter. Laughter that had Roman pushing something down that was foreign, unfamiliar, but also…..light.

She wrote down rapidly on her notepad, asking a few more questions of Jimmy and Jey before her attention shifted to Roman. “And you?”

Truth be told, Roman wasn’t focused on looking at the menu to figure out his order. He was too busy with the woman taking said orders. “Whatever they’re getting.”

She nodded with a small smile, writing something down before informing, “should be up in about twenty minutes.” Turning to leave, Jimmy beat Roman to the question on the tip of his tongue.

Well, one of them.

“Do we pay after or?”

She shook her head, eyes locked with Roman. “It’s on the house.”

Now

Roman was pressed for time by the time the order was ready that he didn’t have the chance to further talk with her, but he knew where she was, and that was all that mattered.

But, it didn’t.

It didn’t because the next three times he found himself “craving” Mexican food, she was nowhere to be found. And because he’s him, stubborn and prideful, he refused to ask any of the workers about her working hours.

On the fifth visit, he stopped trying. He had much more important things to do than to try to track down some random woman.

Even if random woman continued to cross his mind more than he would like to admit.

But, it was while sitting in the back of his SUV, looking out the window, trying to tune out the sound of the twins bickering, he saw her.

She was walking down the sidewalk in front of strip malls, deep in laughter along with another woman. They were both wearing scrubs and holding cups of coffee while making their way past the stores. In the moment, Roman was tempted to order the driver to stop, to take advantage of this most unexpected opportunity. But, it was in being far past her that the thought left him.

Stupid, silly.

What did it look like for him? The Tribal Chief, The Capo, The Head of the Table, to be chasing after a woman?

He had to let that shit go.

And for all intents and purposes, he tried. He tried damn hard.

And, then he saw her again.

Then

Clubbing had never really been Roman’s thing. Maybe in his early twenties, to some extent, to score hookups. But, as a grown ass man in his mid thirties, he was over it. Which was why he was prepared to call it a night, informed his cousins that he was headed home when he saw it.

Saw her.

She was with the woman who’d whisked her away from him that night and the other whom he saw her walking with that day.

The three of them were laughing and dancing, all beautiful, but there was something about her that drew him in, that had him unable to ignore this unexpected opportunity.

An opportunity he found himself feeling fading away when the three of them moved from the dance floor to the bar. He watched how she said something to the other two women before squeezing her way through the bodies, headed somewhere else.

The same place Roman was headed.

He waited to see she was moving toward the bathrooms before also heading in that same direction.

Did he feel like a fucking creep standing outside the women’s restroom, leaned up against the wall, waiting for someone he’d only seen a few times? Sure. Did it stop him from waiting for her?

Absolutely fucking not.

And he felt vindicated with his decision the moment she walked out. The way her eyes initially widened with surprise only to settle into something similar to joy.

Like, she was happy to see him.

As much was confirmed when the corner of her lips lifted into a small smile. “Hi.”

That voice.

Roman should not have been so satisfied to hear a single word leave someone’s mouth. But, he was. “Hey.”

He watched how she looked down, almost shyly before crossing her arms, acknowledging the nature of everything. “We keep running into each other.”

He nodded, agreeing. “We do.”

Her smile widened. “Solana.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with all of the curiosity that’d consumed him since their meeting almost two months ago. “What?”

“You were going to ask my name that night,” she explained. “My name…..is Solana.”

Solana

Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a prettier name.

It fit her.

“Roman,” he offered, noticing the way her smile deepened.

“I know who you are,” she shared, cheeks tinged pink. “Kinda hard not to.”

Fair.

Still, it left him wondering something, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about for the mere fact that it acknowledged the…..complications of the whole thing.

“You know who I am,” he stated.

Not a question, but she answered like it was. “I do.”

Roman kicked his foot off the wall, taking a step toward her. He expected her to step back. She remained unmoved. “And you know what I do.”

Solana lifted her head, needing to do so because of their height difference. The same answer. “I do.”

The curiosity was at an all time high. He had to ask. “And you’re not scared?”

Of him. Scared of him is what he really meant, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to ask it.

Most likely because he didn’t want to know said answer.

Especially if it was anything other than no.

Solana smiled, voice just as soft. “I think if you planned to hurt me you would have done so by now.” Wise words, words that shocked him, even if he maintained a poker face. “So no…..I’m not scared.”

An unexpected answer, but one he was more than pleased to hear.

Maybe even relieved.

“Come with me.”

Roman was unsure what he planned to say to her, how he was going to respond to her confirming a lack of fear, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Something akin to indecision filled her face as she asserted, “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” An honest, rare thing. Roman couldn’t recall a time he’d invited a woman to his place for anything other than carnal reasons.

“And what are you expecting?” The return of her smile was relieving to Roman as he found himself reaching to gently move the back of his hand over her cheek, unsurprised to find she felt as soft as she looked.

His answer was sincere and truthful. “To talk.”

She agreed to leave with him, to go back to his place where they did, in fact, talk. They talked almost the whole night. Roman learning that the two women he’d seen her with were her cousins, one on her mom’s side, the other on her dad’s. Her best friends, was what she called them.

He also learned the reason he didn’t see her again at the restaurant was because she only worked there occasionally. It was owned by her grandma and where she worked all throughout high school and college, so her returns were solely when her grandma requested extra help.

And, that was one of those days.

She told him how her main job was at the local hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse. There was no missing the way her face lit up as she discussed her love for her job, for her family, even her dog, Dulce.

And Roman soaked it all in. Took in every bit of it. Absorbed her light and radiance, such a contrast to his world.

She was so different from his world.

And, he found himself liking it. Liking her a lot. Liking the way they ended up on the sofa, her perched up against him, his finger trailing up and down her arm as they spoke, learned anything and everything about each other.

It was then he knew she was special. That this, whatever had already been building between them, was special.

And, that he didn’t want to lose it.

Lose her.

It was why he found himself cutting right to the part he’d been dreading the moment he realized this was more than just random run-ins and that she was more than just a random woman.

“You know if we do this….” He’d started, waiting for her to look up at him. “It can’t be public.” Her confused expression forced him to elaborate. “You being with me automatically puts you in danger. I won’t have that, so if we do this, it has to be in secret. We can’t go out in public. I can’t have you seen with me, because it puts a target over your head, and I don’t want that.”

Just hours of actually being able to talk to Solana, to get to know her, had Roman already convinced he’d be fucking sick if something happened to her. And her being paraded around as someone close to him, let alone a romantic partner, would bring on exactly that.

So, it would have to be just as he described. All of their interactions with one another, dates even, would have to take place in private. They could never have a traditional relationship.

Ever.

He studied her, assessed how she took in his explanation, as she was mulling it over in her head. Part of him was prepared for the most obvious response. That that wouldn't work for her, and he wouldn’t fault her. It wouldn’t work for most women.

But clearly, she wasn’t most women.

Smile small, voice lightly teasing, she replied after a good two minutes of silence. “It’s a good thing I like being low key then, huh?”

Now

Looking back, Roman is almost certain that was the same night he fell in love with her. He didn’t know it then, of course. Just knew he liked her, enjoyed her, enjoyed being around her even if the moments ended up being spaced out as time went on due to his schedule as well as hers.

Regardless, in the times he couldn’t be with her physically, he made sure she always knew that she was always on his mind. He spoiled the hell out of her, surprising her almost daily with delivered flowers, chocolates, and any and all designer items he could think of. She wasn’t materialistic. Liked simple things like art, books, and music, but she also appreciated the things he did for her. He could always see the appreciation in her face whenever he could go visit her.

She didn’t ask for it, didn’t expect it but was utterly thankful and grateful. Though what most pleased her was the time they could spend together, in person. He craved that too and took advantage of every opportunity that arose to do just that.

To see her.

To feel her soft body pressed against his.

Even the nights where he stayed over at her place, stayed with her throughout the night. That was the other thing about it, that made it all so different.

Sex.

There was no sex in the relationship when it first started. Solana had confided in him that she was still a virgin and wasn’t prepared for that to change. Not for someone she’d just met.

Another way Roman knows he’s loved his girl from the moment he laid eyes on her, because no way in God’s green earth would he ever pursue a relationship with someone he couldn’t fuck.

All he did was fuck. Sex was just a thing for him, an enjoyable, pleasurable thing. But, what he easily found more enjoyable was her, just spending time with and being around her.

It was almost as if that absent part of the relationship didn’t make a difference so long as he could just be around her.

That was what he wanted from her. Just her time. That was it.

But, it didn’t take away from the way their relationship reached a completely different level, became something deeper, something stronger, something unbreakable almost when intimacy was added into the mix.

The night she allowed him to take her virginity, the first time “I love you” trickled out of both their mouths as she held onto him while he thrust into her, vowing his love and devotion for her, the same way she voiced the same for him.

That was the night he knew.

The night he realized he couldn’t live without her.

The night he realized he wouldn’t.

That next day, he started preparations on her ring. Custom. Of course. A month after that, said ring was done and ready. Roman can still recall the sound of her scream that awakened him from his sleep as she stared at him and then the stunning engagement ring he’d slipped on her finger while she slept atop him.

Yes.

Her answer was yes.

And a month later, after deep, honest discussions as to what they wanted their big day to look like, they tied the knot in front of only their closest family and friends. The few people who knew of their relationship.

He didn’t care, because truth be told, Roman would have married her in a fucking gas station if that’s what it took to make her his. To give her his last name.

To make her his forever.

Roman moved her out of her condo and into a beautiful mansion about half an hour away from his penthouse. Not too close, but not too far. Not his preference considering she was now his wife but a necessity for her safety, because that was what mattered most. Keeping their relationship a secret from the public.

Keeping that target from appearing over her head.

Solana lifting her hand to his temple pulls Roman from traveling down memory lane. She frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not concussed.”

He’d be surprised, too. That fucker Rollins stomped the fuck out of his head. But, that’s not a priority right now.

“Sol….”

“I know,” she sighs, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but like I said, I wanted to see you, Roman.” At that, he finally looks at her, opening his eyes and taking her in. “I’ve missed you….”

Three words that leave her mouth more than he’d like to admit.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he shares, quiet and true. Resolve crumbles as he brings his hand to the small of her back, pulling her to him. With an almost sense of hesitancy, he takes his other hand and moves it under her baggy hoodie. There’s an indescribable feeling that showers him the minute his palm rests against the smooth skin of her swollen belly. “How is she?”

Solana’s smile is bright as she moves her own hand over his. “Good.” Solana guides it around, clearly wanting him to feel the movement. “She’s definitely active….”

More or less the same thing Solana has shared with him via their phone calls, texts, and Facetime conversations. All normal symptoms for his six-month pregnant wife. Symptoms he’d give anything to be able to experience in real time with her.

Not being present for her during this exciting time in their lives has also had his stress levels on the higher end. Hence the shitshow that was tonight only exacerbated things.

Roman darts his focus to her, asking with all seriousness. “And you?”

He sees it, the way she’s clearly downplaying her answer. Watering it down. “Always better when I get to see you.”

It’s not a direct answer, but it’s an answer, nonetheless. Roman will revisit the conversation later. Right now, he has other priorities he’s put off long enough.

Solana bringing one hand to the back of his head, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck is exactly the soothing gesture that he needs. He sighs, content and comforted. “You always make me feel better…..”

More than better.

Loved.

She makes him feel loved.

Solana’s eyes twinkle with something close to adoration. “Then my job is done.” She leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Stroking his beard, she asks, “let them tend to you….please?” A heavy sigh followed by a nod of agreement. Another kiss as she moves back to her feet, Roman’s hand never once leaving her belly that houses their firstborn. His little girl. “I—I’ll go back to the house.”

“No.” She frowns, prompting him to take his free hand not feeling her baby bump to her face, cupping her cheek. “Wait for me.” Her face lights up with some form of excitement. “I’ll stay the weekend with you.”

Roman sees it. Sees the relief and appreciation that fills her pretty, glowing face. “Really?”

He nods and leans forward, kissing her temple. “Give me an hour.”

Roman can’t recall the last time he spent more than a day and a night with her, always having to leave, never wanting to stay too long. To risk too many people inquiring and wondering where the Tribal Chief disappears off to.

His wife.

He disappears off to be with his wife and unborn child.

The same as he’ll do this weekend. To get away from it all. To continue to cool down, to find sanctuary and solace in the one person who always provides him so. Unlike anyone else.

Because no one else can.

He’ll stay with her, continue to help her with the nursery that’s just about done, narrow down options for his little girl’s name, finish going over safety protocol for when she gives birth and just be with her.

Because as hard as he tries, he can’t give her everything.

But this, he can give her this.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

136 notes · View notes

queenofcandynsoda · 10 months ago

Text

A part about combining that Dad For One and Inko Shimura AUs is that it means that All For One was able to track down Inko, like he had done with Kotaro, and managed to marry and have a kid her while taking in her other grandson as a very petty way towards ruining Nana's legacy

#all for one #dad for one #dad for one au #inko midoriya #izuku midoriya #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #inko shimura au #hisashi midoriya #all for one is hisashi #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki

167 notes · View notes

roguegambitweek · 11 months ago

Text

Rogue/Gambit Week 2024

Hey y’all!

It’s time for what y’all have been waiting for—Rogue/Gambit Week 2024. We’re looking forward to a great week celebrating our favorite Southern couple. Here’s the information you’ll need to participate.

Rogue/Gambit Week 2024 will be held June 16-23, 2024. Yes, that’s right, we plan to have eight days of full of Romy goodness.

Prompts:

Day 1 - Sunday, June 16 - Alternate First Meeting | Robin Hood AU

Day 2 - Monday, June 17 - Roof Top | Steampunk AU

Day 3 - Tuesday, June 18 - MojoWorld | Merfolk AU

Day 4 - Wednesday, June 19 - Rogue and Gambit are physically separated | Fantasy AU

Day 5 - Thursday, June 20 - Legacy as a Concept or Character | Noir AU

Day 6 - Friday, June 21 - Space Adventure | Pirates AU

Day 7 - Saturday, June 22 - Reunion | Power/Role Swap or No Powers AU

Day 8 - Sunday, June 23 - Free day!

Alternate Prompts

Alt 1 - T-shirt Collection

Alt 2 - Hair—Braiding/brushing/cutting/etc.

Alt 3 - Vow Renewal

Rules:

This is a celebration of all things Romy! Your fanworks may cover any point of their relationship—from their early flirtations to their life together as an old married couple, from friendship to lovers.

Rogue and Gambit do not need to be in a romantic relationship (friendship is great too!), but their relationship should be the primary focus.

Feel free to draw inspiration from any medium which they appeared (the comics (any corner of the Multiverse), the animated series (XtAS, WatX, Evo), the movies, etc.)

Please tag your posts #rogue/gambitweek2024 or #rogue/remyweek2024 within the first five(5) tags so they can be easily found and re-blogged on the Rogue/Gambit Week blog. You may also tag our posts @roguegambitweek . (This often makes finding posts easier).

Fanworks are not limited to fanfic, fanart, and fanedits. However you create, that is also a part of what makes a fanworks week successful. Yes, fic, art, and edits are the most common, but I’ve seen amazing fanworks accomplished in other ways. In our fist year a short video was shared concerning what Gambit keeps in his pockets. In another fandom, I’ve seen someone share why a particular musical score reminded them of the couple. I’ve seen people make text conversations between characters focused around that day’s prompt. Handcrafts, music, photography, cosplay, and countless other creative ventures can also be part of a fanworks week. Have fun creating. Please feel free to share your talents and Romy-love with us.

The fanworks you share should be created by you.

Any NSFW content must be placed under a ‘read more’ break, otherwise it will not be re-blogged.

You don’t need to post something for every day/every prompt. Feel free to participate in as many days as you you feel inspired. If you have created something, but are unable to post it on the assigned day, please post it when you can. It will still be re-blogged.

You may combine days (as in cover two or more prompts with the same entry).

‘Regular’ prompts may be set in an AU universe. ‘AU’ prompts could be set in a canon universe. Let your creativity run wild and have fun with the prompts.

Have fun. Try something new. Create something new for an old favorite. Remember, the goal here is to share the Romy love and create more Romy content for all of us to enjoy.

If you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask.

Have fun creating!

#rogue/gambitweek2024 #rogue/remyweek2024 #rogue #gambit #romy #fanworks weeks #fandom appreciate week #anna marie lebeau #remy lebeau #fanfic #fanart #xmen #prompts

210 notes · View notes

deusvervewrites · 5 months ago

Note

Ask Game AU

All Might and All For One kill each other in their first battle, leaving behind no successors to the legacies they’ve cultivated.

The Dawn of Quirks and subsequent era of chaos resulted in near-complete anarchy until All Might emerged. With the governments basically powerless and widespread panic, crime flourished. This resulted in organizations like the MLA and AFO's syndicate. But there was another organization that emerged at this time, the White Court, comprised mostly of people with weaker Quirks looking for mutual protection

While many other organized criminals forged allegiances with All For One, the White Court instead went underground, spying on and manipulating other gangs to weaken opposition and turn profit. This worked out great for the White Court when All Might started dismantling organized crime in Japan as part of his longer-term strategy to cripple AFO's criminal empire.

From the perspective of All Might and All For One, pretty much everything in this AU is canon-compliant up until their fateful battle. All For One died there after having his head caved in. All Might was rushed to the hospital but his wounds were too severe and he succumbed not long after, taking One For All with him.

All Might's death was publicized, which, combined with the sudden power vacuum in the underground, destabilized Japan. Not to the levels of post-Jaku Canon but it's not great. Heroes are retiring, criminals are emboldened, the MLA is siphoning political power from the floundering HPSC. It's rough.

Midoriya Inko is the current White Queen, leader of the White Court. In the decades since its founding, the White Court has ties to most major powers in Japan and a few beyond. The White Court's unmatched prowess in espionage, information, and sabotage has allowed them to subtly direct politics and crime in equal measure. And with the new golden age of organized crime about to start, she's going to have her work cut out for her.

+1. The White Court are the ones who saved Nedzu from experimentation. He subsequently joined the organization and due to his brilliance shot up the ranks. As chief strategist, he is the organization's White Bishop, Inko's right hand man and personal friend.

#asks #ask game #ask game series 22 #white court au

66 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (1)

ー☆ Chapter 1: The death of peace of mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: light cursing ー☆ Word count: 6.9k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hii, first chapter is out, hope you all enjoy it! I hope the lyrics aren't confusing, I went ahead and tried out something new with this story, hopefully it's as enjoyable as I planned it out to be. Please do check the playlist as it'll be updated with each chapter and I also advise you listen to the song before or while reading the chapters, it'll have a different feel. Taglist is open, thank you for showing interest! Please leave feedback and enjoy now!

Taglist: @orshii @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog

⟨Series M.list ⟩

♫Playlist♫

『I made another mistake

Thought I could change, thought I could make it out』

The rustle of paper, the zipping of a pencil case, the drying scent of freshly used paint, and the oily feeling on your fingertips after using acrylics, the slight burn against your middle finger after having held your pencil tightly for hours were all things I was used to, familiar with. I bit my lower lip as my eyes were stuck to my A5 sketchbook, the paper thick, entranced by the black charcoal forming a way too familiar shape. The outline of the person was dark, shadows creeping around his body, faceless. I didn’t have it in me to put too much detail into his face, my mind kept wandering. I was feeling slightly lost. The weather was getting worse day by day, the sky dark, casting a gloomy feel over our heads. It didn’t help that I haven’t slept well for three days in a row, but perhaps that had something to do with the full moon—or so my mother has said while cooking dinner yesterday.

A sigh left my lips as my fingers itched to trace another line against the paper, to perfect the stray strand of light-colored hair falling against the man’s forehead. My shoulders were hunched over and I only now registered the soreness in my neck and lower back, having been sitting at this stool for almost two hours now. When I was drawing, or painting, time seemed to fly by in a wink, leaving me completely oblivious to everything happening around me. It was a means to calm my mind, to soothe my feelings, and a means to existing without wondering, dwelling, or feeling the dread of not being good enough—and perhaps the worst thought which quite often recurred in my scattered mind was that I didn’t know what I would do with myself once I was done with University. Opening an art club for all the art lovers was a small step in feeling a little accomplishment, however, that would be gone as soon as I was out and away from this place. Who would take over then? Were there students who were interested enough, loved art enough, to continue the little legacy I would leave behind? Those were pressing questions in the back of my mind sometimes, and I knew I was worrying about insignificant things, but they felt very crucial to me. If I could leave a little piece of me behind everywhere I went, nobody would be able to forget me, right?

“Bye, Y/N!” The sudden chirping of my name combined with the greeting finally snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked up, a small smile forming on my lips as I waved at the leaving students. They weren’t my students per se, I was only an Art major, but I did view them as my little apprentices. They were ambitious and determined to learn everything they could, eager to contribute as much as they could. I appreciated their effort and felt glad that people like them existed, it gave me hope in humankind. Not that I had much with everything going on in the world, but I could only appreciate and admire those who found a little kindness in their hearts to share with others.

I finally felt like I was done with my drawing as I sat back, rolling my shoulders back and cracking my neck as the last few students left the room, leaving me alone with the approaching girl with a grin on her face. I turned my head and watched her as she giddily approached me, gripping her sketchbook to her chest.

“Wanna see?” She asked with a chuckle and I nodded with a smile, eyes falling on my best friend’s drawing. I instantly recognized the features of the older woman and I chuckled as I took in the smaller version of my best friend, grinning up at her mother as she held a little flower up to her. She never stopped amazing me with her beautiful creations, and I couldn’t help but clap for her briefly.

“This is gorgeous, Seulgi, I’m in love.” I said as I reached my hand out and lightly traced the leaves of the willow tree in the drawing, making my best friend grin happily. She had her hair down today, her black curls falling around her shoulders. Her hair has gotten long, but she didn’t want to cut it, said she liked it more like this. It did suit her and gave her a younger look; her colorful outfits complementing her personality and overall looks well.

“What did you draw?” She asked and I glanced over at my own drawing, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. I really shouldn’t have drawn him again, but doing so brought me comfort. It always did. Despite the heartbreak he left in his wake, Yunho was a person whom I have deeply loved and found shelter in once—my drawings of him only reflected that. I have anticipated Seulgi’s reaction as I took my sketchbook off from the drafting board, turning it around and letting her eyes rake over it as she sighed, giving me a slightly disappointed look as she placed one hand on her hip. I looked away and quickly closed my sketchbook, getting off the stool. My hips and back protested in pain as I stretched my arms overhead, letting out a groan when my stiff muscles strained and vertebras finally popped.

“I thought we agreed you would stop drawing Yunho…” Seulgi trailed off as she watched me start packing away my things into my dark green backpack. Oh, well, she certainly wasn’t wrong, but I got carried away today—I haven’t even realized I was drawing Yunho until I was done with the outline of his body.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered slightly embarrassed as Seulgi shook her head and closed her own sketchbook, balancing on one leg as she unzipped her backpack and placed it against her thigh, “But we talked about the feeling of comfort today and a place or person whom makes you feel safe and—I got carried away, sorry.”

Seulgi gave me a sympathetic look as she had forced her sketchbook inside her backpack and lowered her leg, swinging her bag around her shoulders, “And you couldn’t have drawn you—mother? Or teddy bear from third grade?”

Her offhanded question made me chuckle as I looked at her amused, my backpack hanging off my shoulders as I only wore one strap.

“Mom would flip if I drew her and made even the smallest mistake. I’d rather avoid getting scolded about making her eyebrow darker than it actually is.” Seulgi and I shared a look before we both started giggling as I recalled the one and only time I drew my mother, swearing to never do it again as she found every single little detail wrong about her features, pointed them out to me, and then proceeded to ignore me for the next three days. Thinking back on it, it is a quite hilarious memory, but back in that moment she made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, talented enough, making me doubt my skills for a very long time. Until I met Seulgi and she started freaking out about my art, calling me phenomenal.

“Yeah, perhaps drawing your mom wouldn’t be the smartest, but seriously, Y/N, how long has it been?” Seulgi seemed to think for a second as we started for the door, “Five years? You certainly should be over Yunho by now.”

Hearing his name left a sour taste in my mouth even if it shouldn’t have. Despite the passing of years he somehow still made me feel bitter about everything that’s happened between us. I hate that feeling, but I couldn’t get rid of it and it was frustrating.

“I am over him.” I muttered as we left the art studio and I locked the door, making Seulgi hum next to me sounding not too convinced. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I pocketed the key, then we started walking down the empty hallway, headed for the exit.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Seulgi decided to change the subject as she bounced on the balls of her feet, a huge grin appearing on her lips. I raised my eyebrows at her sudden excitement and thought for a second before I shook my head no. We turned the corner to the left, having arrived in the musical studies department. The hallway was littered with doors on both sides, which were studios for the music majors, private little rooms where they could record and write whatever songs they wanted.

“Cool,” Seulgi grinned and suddenly gripped my hand, her lips falling into a pout, eyes slightly widening. Oh, I knew what was coming next, yet her honey like tone still made me cringe, “Come with me to the Outlaw? Please?”

My eyebrows furrowed hearing the mentioned place. It was famous amongst our university’s students. It was a run down and cheap pub where degenerates gathered to have fun almost every night, drinking their night away, wasting their money and braincells on unimportant things.

“Why would I go there?”

“Because I’m asking?” Seulgi raised an eyebrow, “And because the Noir Zenith are playing tonight and I really want to go—”

“What is a Noir Zenith?” I asked confused, making Seulgi’s eyes widen to the point of bulging out. She looked funny as she let go of my hand and gasped as if I had sworn out her mother or someone she really cared about.

“It’s the coolest band from our university! Are you telling me you haven’t heard of them?” She asked outraged making me laugh, “I’m speechless.”

“Well, you know I don’t waste my time by drinking my sorrows away in a shitty pub surrounded by even shittier people who try to chase fame with scratchy and awful voices. Is the band made up by some music major students?”

“They do not have scratchy and awful voices, Y/N!” Seulgi looked outraged by this point, making me raise my eyebrows in surprise, “God, they are one of the best bands to ever exist—”

“Yeah, right,” I rolled my eyes as we entered the main hall of our university, “Go on and disregard all of the previous phenomenal bands to ever exist, nice one, Seulgi—wait, is this about Wooyoung? Didn’t you say he’s part of a band as well?”

At the mention of said boy all anger and incredulity disappeared from Seulgi’s face and she shrunk back, hiding her face behind her hair, “Yeah, he’s actually a vocalist of the band. Noir Zenith.”

“Oh,” Was all I could say as I watched her push her hair behind her ears, face almost as red as a tomato. I tried not to laugh at my best friend, her crush on the boy painfully obvious, “And I assume you want to go watch them perform tonight?”

Seulgi nodded wordlessly as she pushed open the double doors for us, “At Outlaw?”

She nodded again and I hummed, raking my brain for any plans I had made for tonight, but I found none. I had zero excuses to refuse Seulgi for so I glanced at her as we ascended the few stairs, licking my lips as I dwelled on the idea of being seen at such place. I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, right? After all, it was just a band singing from our university and I would be out of there the second they were done. That sounded pretty reasonable and alright to me, so I hummed, and smiled at Seulgi.

“What time?” Her eyes widened as she whipped her head towards me as we were headed to the bus station.

“Oh, my God!” She shrieked and flung herself at me, almost throwing us off balance, “You’re the best, I love you! Seven, you should be ready at six thirty, and I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive there together—oh, my God, I’m so excited! Wooyoung said they’ll be performing their newest song and he said it’s so fire! Mingi wrote the lyrics, and Wooyoung helped with the chorus, he actually showed me a snippet—do not tell Mingi that—and it was so good, oh, my God—I’m rambling, sorry, but you said yes and I just—”

Seulgi cut herself off with a shriek as she let go of me, leaving me partially deaf as her shrill voice rang through my right ear, making me wince. Of course, I wouldn’t tell Mingi, whoever that was.

“Alright, I’ll be done by six thirty.” I muttered as Seulgi skipped ahead, sitting on the bench by the bus stop, grinning from ear to ear as she took her phone out of her pocket, starting to type furiously. She was probably texting Wooyoung, but I couldn’t be too sure, they had periods when they would talk all day and night, and then periods when they would go radio silent for a week or so. Their relationship was interesting but Seulgi never talked too much about it, having once muttered that if she thought about Wooyoung for too long she’d fall for him—or something like that, I couldn’t be sure, Seulgi says a lot of things which she only half-heartedly means.

『Promises break, need to hear you say

"You're gonna keep it now"』

The pub was exactly like in the stories of others, and an exact replica of what I had in my mind. Which was bad, so being right here only made it worse as I allowed my eyes to travel to the ceiling, noticing all the uncovered pipes traveling above our heads. The lights were dim and there was almost like a light fog in the air, thankfully there weren’t any foul smells, like cigarettes or something else. The room was spacious, which was the only alright thing I could find about this place, as the walls were made of burgundy brick, a few falling out here and there. The dark wood floor seemed to be rotten in some places and I could only hiss as the front of my boots caught in an uneven plank, sending me slightly forward. Seulgi threw me an amused look before continuing her trot towards—I didn’t know where, but I decided to follow her blindly as I really wasn’t vibing with this place. Posters hung from the brick wall here and there and some graffiti covered it where the bar was. Chairs and tables were littered around the room, all looking quite old in age as I noticed one chair missing a leg, chuckling at the idea of someone toppling over once sitting on it. Seulgi gasped quite loudly and stopped walking for a second, making me crash into her back and throw her an unamused look as she swiftly turned around, lips pressed together and hands cupping her cheeks.

“Do I look alright, Y/N?” She blurted out, eyebrows furrowing, “Or am I too much? Do you think—did I totally miss the vibes with this outfit? I look ridiculous right now, don’t I—”

“No, Seulgi, you don’t.” I decided to cut off my best friend’s panicked rambling, placing my hands on her shoulders. I allowed my eyes to take in her outfit again and I smirked at her as we made eye contact. She was wearing black nylon bomber pants paired with fishnets which were peeking out above the waistband of her pants, her white crop top stopping at the middle of her torso. A black bomber jacket was thrown around her shoulders, matching her pants, and her white boots reached just underneath her knees. She had straightened her long hair and I helped her by making a smokey eye for her, accentuating the depth of her beautiful eyes, sharpening her stare. She looked absolutely gorgeous and I needed her to stop second guessing her outfit, “You look fucking hot and anyone in their right mind would want to devour you right now.”

“You included?” Seulgi flirted cheekily and I pretended to gag as I pushed her playfully away by her arms, making Seulgi laugh as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders, “Alright, I believe you.”

“Very well.” I grinned and allowed her to grip my elbow as the crowd was slightly denser here as we made our way towards the front of the room, headed to where the small stage was. I could see a drum set up on the dark stage, and suddenly I was veered to the left, almost getting whiplash by the force Seulgi pulled me after herself. I took in the people around me and decided that I definitely wasn’t part of this crowd, and it was showing. One, I was painfully sober and they weren’t; two, I certainly missed the point of this being a pub dominated by rock lovers, and my outfit had nothing to do with it. Against my better judgement, I have decided to wear a tight black skirt which barely reached the middle of my thighs, paired with high heel boots which reached my knees. A white tank top peeked through the burgundy long sleeved blouse I wore over it, having discarded my leather jacket in Seulgi’s car out of fear of losing it. All in all, the outfit was awesome, it’s just that it didn’t really match with the place in question I was at. I was slowly starting to regret coming here as we finally stopped walking and Seulgi’s hand, which brought comfort, disappeared from my elbow. I suddenly became aware that we have stopped by a table, and my best friend’s arms were around a guy’s shoulder as the two hugged each other—rather tightly, might I add. I allowed my eyes to fall on the guy and realized, only because Seulgi had shown me countless pictures of him, that it was Wooyoung. The only reason we were here, her crush. I tried to hide my snickering as they pulled away from each other and I have noticed Seulgi’s flushed cheeks, which was probably wise as Seulgi’s eyes were instantly on me, holding a warning in them.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” She said sweetly as she lightly pushed Wooyoung towards me, “Y/N, this is Wooyoung the—vocalist and guitarist of Noir Zenith.”

“Cool name.” I muttered half-heartedly as Wooyoung extended his hand to shake, I was only speaking because I had to say something if I didn’t want to come off rude. A huge smile broke onto Wooyoung’s face at the praise of his band’s name and he eagerly shook my hand, making me force a smile onto my face when he held my hand for an unnecessary long time. The guy was just around my height and seemed to be buzzing with energy as he tapped his foot against the ground, sneaking glances towards Seulgi before finally facing her. His jawline was sharp and nose high as I took in his profile, his pretty eyes focused on my best friend. His hair was longer at the back and had two colors, black and blonde, it certainly didn’t look bad on him. He seemed to be the only one, besides myself, not dressed fitting for the place, and suddenly I didn’t feel as singled out as I had been moments prior, thankful for the light grey extremely baggy jeans littered with glitter he was wearing and for the grey and black faded out loose shirt hiding his frame. The front was slightly tucked in and a maroon belt held his pants to his hips, matching the color of his sneakers. The guy wore a few earrings and I just heard Seulgi complimenting them, making me chuckle. I knew she wanted to talk to him, so I didn’t bother them and instead looked around again, feeling slightly awkward, before I rested my gaze on the other two sitting at the table.

One guy was looking down at his phone, completely immersed by it as his long fingers were typing quickly, his wavy black hair falling into his eyes. He wore a very intricate white shirt, the material seemed to part at his shoulders and only covered his upper arm, cuffed and puffed out at his wrists, leaving the rest of his arms bare. A black corset like looking fabric was wrapped around his torso, stopping right below his chest and everything was neatly tucked inside black dress pants, an expensive silver chain hanging under the neckline of his shirt. The outfit was something I would’ve never thought of putting together, yet, it looked fabulous on the man and for a few seconds I found myself gawking at him. But I quickly caught myself and looked away awkwardly, hoping that nobody noticed my staring, instead, I found myself looking at the third guy, taking him in. His demeanor screamed confidence as he wore a smirk on his cherry red plush lips, jawline visibly sharp as his head was turned to the side, his nose tall and long. His tan skin glistened underneath the shitty lights of the pub, yet you were able to spot a few covered up blemishes around his jaw. His neck was heavily decorated with silver chains of various dimensions, a shinning silver pick dangling lower on his exposed chest as his black tank top was low cut and form fitting. The guy had a big midnight blue jacket over his frame and it had an interesting design, his jeans ripped at the knee and black like his tank top. Silver chain like bracelets wrapped around his wrists and I found my eyes drawn to his hands as he was pushing his glass from one hand to the other, fingers littered with smaller and bigger rings, the one with a red gem catching my eye. His nails seemed to have dirt scribbled over them, that is, until I looked harder and realized it was chapped black nail polish. I couldn’t deny how nice this guy looked and as I looked back up at his face, I found him looking back at me. My heart somersaulted but I played it off—hopefully my face really didn’t show any emotion—as I steeled my gaze and allowed blankness to settle over my features. His black hair was shorter and fell over his eyes, covering his forehead. The guy’s eyes were sharp and his gaze intimidating as his face remained unexpressive, features cold as he seized me up, suddenly the smirk back on his face. My eyes narrowed as the guy continued watching me smugly, and I just noticed the little something which looked like a smudge of something on his right cheekbone. Did he smudge dirt on it? Was he even aware that it was there? The possibility of him not knowing his perfect face was tainted brought a smirk on my lips and an eyebrow of the guy’s flew up, his gaze almost challenging as our stare down was abruptly stopped by a chair scraping backwards. My gaze went back to the very handsome man and I was surprised by the friendly gaze sent my way.

His features were soft yet sharp at the same time, his eyes big and warm as his lips were plump and looked soft. His skin was tan too and the highlighter reflected off his cheekbones, giving him an ethereal feel. There was a small piercing in his nose and I was slightly alarmed as he suddenly walked around the table, approaching my side. My body tensed and I glanced towards Seulgi, who was deep in conversation with Wooyoung. I assume these three must be friends since they were sitting at the same table.

“I’m Seonghwa, Wooyoung’s friend.” The guy finally spoke up, his voice was definitely softer than I expected it to be, and I reluctantly shook his extended hand.

“My name is Y/N.” I answered politely and retracted my hand from his as fast as I could. Seonghwa continued smiling as he looked towards Seulgi and his own friend, “Oh, uhm, I’m Seulgi’s best friend.”

“I figured,” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. The aura this outfit gave him certainly didn’t match his current attitude, “Wooyoung mentioned Seulgi coming by and bringing her friend, it’s nice meeting you.”

“Oh, you too.” I offered him a lopsided grin and clasped my hands together in front of myself, Seonghwa’s demeanor not as off putting as most guy’s—or like the other guy’s who just stood up from the table and started approaching us. I watched him, eyes falling on him involuntarily as there was something about him which demanded attention as he came awfully close to Seonghwa and I, towering over the both of us. Seonghwa was a tall guy too, but this third guy’s height seemed to loom even over him, but I didn’t let that affect me in any way as I looked up at him with a bored expression.

“Found another little fan of ours?” I gulped at the hear of his voice, which somehow matched his face, it was deep and slightly raspy, however, the tone he used rubbed me the wrong way. My eyes narrowed at him and before Seonghwa could answer him, I fired an answer his way.

“A fan of yours?” I chuckled drily, “You certainly can’t be as self-centered as to think every female around a mile radius would instantly throw themselves at you, no?”

A beat of silence followed before Seonghwa started snickering, hiding his mouth by his hand as the other guy’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t look pleased by my question and he leaned down to be at the same height as me, gaze boring into mine. When his face was blank, his eyes seemed to get sharper and it somehow made my heartbeat pick up, but I ignored it. It was just the adrenaline, the annoyance, probably which threatened to seep through my bloodstream sooner than later.

“And who are you again?” The guy’s voice was quieter, dropped lower as he tried to belittle me with his stupid question, but I just rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Don’t think I introduced myself to you before,” I snapped and the guy clicked his tongue, “Who are you, first of all?”

“You don’t know who I am?” His eyebrows suddenly furrowed as confusion washed over his face and for a second—but just that one little second—I thought the guy looked cute as his features softened.

“No, I don’t.” Him lowering himself allowed me to see whatever that was on his cheekbone better, and I could make out that it was some sort of logo, however, I have never seen it before, “And you have some dirt on your face.”

I pointed at my own cheekbone and Seonghwa’s sudden loud laughter alerted Seulgi and Wooyoung as they finally seemed to realize there were others around them, especially me, as Seulgi quickly stepped close and gripped my shoulder.

“That’s not dirt!” The man exclaimed and for someone with such a deep voice, his tone went incredibly high, “That’s my signature, bro.”

“Okay, bro, you’re self-centered, like I said—” Before I could really go off on this guy Seulgi gasped and laughed loudly, awkwardly, as I threw her a small glare.

“Aren’t you two hitting it off right the bat?!” She tried to diffuse the tension as Wooyoung chuckled, amused by the situation as Seonghwa was grinning too, “Y/N, this is Song Mingi, the bass player, singer, producer, lyricist, founder of Noir Zenith—be nice.”

The last part was only whispered to me and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked back at this guy, Mingi, who stood back up straight and threw a glare my way as I scoffed, shrugging my shoulders, “What a waste of talent on such personality.”

Seulgi’s eyes widened to saucers as Wooyoung inhaled loudly before breaking out into an ear-piercing laughter, making me wince, while Seonghwa had to cover his mouth again as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Y/N—that’s—” Seulgi stammered but I hushed her and smirked up at Mingi as he seemed lost for words for a second before his eyes hardened and he pulled his shoulders back, jaw clenching.

“What are you doing here if you don’t even fucking care about our band?” He hissed and for a second the viciousness in his tone took me off guard, but I didn’t let it show as I wrapped my arm around Seulgi’s shoulder and pulled her into my side. She looked mortified and tried speaking again, but I beat her to it—to my pleasure.

“My lovely friend, Seulgi, dragged me here because her and Wooyoung are friends, happy?” I felt Seulgi slightly relax in my grip, but she still subtly poked my side harshly, making me bite my lower lip to keep the groan of pain inside. Wooyoung had stopped laughing, thankfully, and was looking very amused as he punched Mingi’s arm weakly.

“I think you got a little bit humbled, dude.” He whispered loudly—probably on purpose—and Seonghwa giggled again as he quickly adjusted the front pieces of his hair.

“Why would anyone who doesn’t even listen to us come here?” Mingi muttered more to himself as he turned around and sauntered off towards the bar, throwing a glare every so often my way, making me giggle as I found it amusing. Poor dude, couldn’t handle a little humbling, but he definitely needs it.

“Y/N is a little bit—of a bitch—ow!” Seulgi hissed as she rubbed the spot on her arm where I had punched her, “You didn’t let me finish! She’s a bitch, but she’s my bestie and she doesn’t mean harm. I’m sure you guys will charm her by the end of the night.”

Charm me my ass. Maybe Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Mingi not—for sure. Not now or ever. Not that there will be another time and another chance for him to do so.

『It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down』

The music coming through the speakers shook the little pub as I sat at the table the three boys have claimed as theirs earlier. Seulgi was by my side, but she was standing up, and she was jumping to the beat, somehow knowing the lyrics to the band’s newest song. I had a feeling Wooyoung had shown her already everything, but she did ask me not to tell Mingi—to whom now I could associate a face—and I had no desire to speak to him ever again, so she really had nothing to worry about. I couldn’t help but admit that they were good—not that I would ever say that out loud, especially not to Mingi—as the rock music blasted from the stage, purple and white lights illuminating the boys. Mingi stood in the center as he gripped his microphone, face scrunched up and the veins on his neck straining as his raspy voice involuntarily covered my skin in goosebumps.

『For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about』

My fingers were tapping the rhythm of song, chin placed on my palm as I rested my hand on the table, watching each boy with curiosity. They all seemed to have different personalities and styles, yet up on the stage, they blended together and they worked well. Their voices complimented each other, where’s Mingi’s was raspy and low and harsh, Seonghwa’s seemed to be lighter and raspier, but then Wooyoung would jump in and his was powerful and high, and yet it still felt like a soft caress of a whisper at times. Their outfits, despite being so different, also made them look exquisite and gave the band a special and unique touch. As I glanced around I noticed how taken everyone seemed by their music, hanging onto every note they played as Seonghwa played the drums at the left side of the stage and Wooyoung the guitar to Mingi’s right.

『I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break』

Mingi was gripping his microphone as his eyes were closed and nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing as the words slipped through his lips smoothly, his raspy voice soft and tender, like a steady but soft caress of your cheek, the light flutter of your eyelashes as if he was right by your side, whispering the words to you, trying to seduce you.

『Your makeup running down your face

The way you fuck, the way you taste』

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he looked out onto the crowd, locking his gaze with mine. I was about to grab the glass of water and take a sip, but I froze as a smirk slipped onto his lips, mixing in with his voice and very obviously making him sound smug. My jaw clenched just as the people, especially the girls in the front row, started cheering loudly, enjoying Noir Zenith’s performance. I tried to convince myself that I was just imagining things, but I could’ve sworn Mingi’s gaze remained on me and only me, singing the words from deep withing his chest, all kinds of emotions and feelings plastered over his face as he took his microphone out of its stand and started walking around the stage, crouching down and pointing at the girls close to the stage.

『When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

When the curtains call the time, will we both be satisfied?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind』

They played two more songs after their newest, the crowd going wild as they sang along and I could feel all those unslept nights catching up as my eyes threatened to shut closed at any given time. Seulgi noticed and grew concerned, but I reassured her that I was only tired and would head soon home if she didn’t mind. She insisted I wait at least until the boys finish their performance in order to not be seen rude as I have, probably, already offended them. Not that I would mind, even though Mingi is the only one who actually deserves it.

Once they got off the stage everyone was swarming around them, congratulating them and offering them drinks, and I watched as Seonghwa kindly turned down all of them, meanwhile Mingi carelessly accepted almost all as Wooyoung was pushing his way through the crowd, eager to get back to the table. His cheeks were flushed by the time he reached us and Seulgi sprung onto her feet and went to hug Wooyoung but suddenly paused, looking awkwardly at her feet, until Wooyoung went and pulled her into his embrace instead. Seulgi’s face lit up and she started animatedly talking, but I couldn’t hear as the crowd was loud. Seonghwa seemed to be nowhere as Mingi managed to make his way through the crowd and now was grinning smugly at me, one eyebrow crooked as I rolled my eyes, still not impressed at all by him. He said nothing as he sat down next to me and took a sip of his drink, eyes falling on me. I could see him staring at me from the corner of my eyes, but I ignored him, and instead reached for Seulgi’s jacket to get her car keys so that I could fetch my jacket before leaving. As I felt around her pocket I became aware of two people towering over me as they had stopped behind my chair. I turned my head around and raised my eyebrows at the two girls as they were giggling, waiting for Mingi to notice them. And when he did, that irritating smirk was back on his lips and he greeted the girls with a wide smile, biting his lower lip as they started praising him.

“Mingi you are so cool!” The brunette exclaimed, grinning at him, “I swear to God, this new outfit concept is so hot on you.”

If I could, I would’ve died from the second-hand embarrassment these two girls were giving me, but instead, I decided to stay just a for a little bit longer and see what nonsense they manage to sputter so that I can use it against Mingi later.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you singing so passionately like tonight, Mingi, the new song is so good I’m already obsessed with it.” The blonde chimed in fast, throwing a slight glare towards the brunette. I guess the friendship between them flies out the window the second they step closer to a relatively attractive male—not that Mingi is attractive or good looking.

“Ah, you two…you always know how to flatter me.” I possibly have thrown up a little bit in my mouth because of Mingi’s sultry voice and narrowed eyes—he partially looked like he was about to pass out and partially like he would inhale one of the girls, if not both.

“You so deserve it, Mingi!” The blonde quickly exclaimed and placed a hand on his bicep, “Who is your new song about?”

My breathing faltered for a second as Mingi glanced my way, but then I threw him a glare and rolled my eyes, realizing this was our first time meeting. Why did I even think for a little second that the song could’ve been about me? That sounded crazy, and now I felt crazy as I shook my head and downed the glass of water I have abandoned like half an hour ago.

“Someone who won’t leave your mind and makes you want to crawl up the wall, thoughts filled with them, desiring them like no one else before.” Mingi’s voice dropped a few octaves and I couldn’t help but look over as I smirked, abruptly standing up.

“Oh, girls, not to disappoint but he’s said that to like—three other girls before you two, and I don’t think that’s entirely what the song is about. Or maybe Seonghwa was talking about another song…” In fact, I have lied. Mingi hasn’t talked to anyone since he sat down to the table, but the lie was worth it, because the girls expressions dropped slightly, “You know men are usually more desperate to get laid than women, I suppose it makes them say all kinds of things, doesn’t it, Mingi?”

Mingi’s jaw clenched as the two girls looked unsure as they looked back at him, and he chose to laugh it off as if I have said the funniest joke on Earth, leaning slightly forward as he looked up at me, “I suppose someone wasn’t really paying attention tonight to our performance.”

“Right,” I hummed and stepped around my chair, “I prefer listening to real bands and good music, not to some wannabes wailing to a crowd of drunken and high as fuck university students—have a lovely night!”

I only caught the irritated huff of air Mingi let out as I headed towards the bar, where Seulgi and Wooyoung were talking to some people I didn’t know. I didn’t want to disturb them for long, but I had to tell Seulgi I was leaving and would get my jacket before going home.

『You come and go in waves

Leaving me in your wake』

By the time I have gotten home it was very late and despite my body feeling tired, my brain was relentlessly swirling with thoughts and replaying tonight’s happenings, so after fifteen minutes of laying in bed and staring up at the dark ceiling I realized sleep wouldn’t come easy neither tonight. I sat up and turned on the lamp on my bedside table and grabbed my smaller and thicker sketchbook, flipping it open to an empty page. I sighed as I grabbed a pencil and pressed it against the paper softly, letting my wrist curve whichever way it wanted as I started doodling, humming to myself a melody which sounded slightly foreign yet somehow familiar. I knew I have heard it before, probably recently, but I couldn’t figure out just which song it was.

『You come and go in waves

Swallowing everything』

It didn’t take me long to have the outline of something, which was starting to look an awful lot like eyes staring back at me, and I continued tracing lines and shading in the spots where depth needed to be added. I licked my lips and narrowed my eyes as I pressed the pencil harder against the paper, tightening the frail lines and finalizing the quick drawing of the eyes. I extended my arm and stared at the eyes, which almost felt like they were glaring at me by how sharp its stare was, and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized the eyes looked nothing like Yunho’s. I couldn’t remember the last time when I drew anyone else that wasn’t Yunho and for some reason that scared me as my eyes bore into my drawing, my humming coming to an abrupt stop when I realized who’s song it was. Noir Zenith. And the drawing, the sharp and glaring eyes, were of Song Mingi’s. I gasped and without a second thought started scrawling at the drawing, heart racing and mind an awfully lot quiet. What was I thinking singing his song and drawing his eyes? But there it was, the answer, I wasn’t thinking. And I was sleep deprived. I needed to sleep, like right now. I threw my sketchbook to the floor and jumped back underneath my blanket, pulling it over my head as I screwed my eyes shut. Sleep, I must.

『Are you satisfied?

Love's the death of peace of mind

Mine

Mine』

❱❱ Next chapter

246 notes · View notes

dimepdf · 2 years ago

Text

★ 𝐈𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒, 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. your small town was known to those who carried money in their pockets, especially attention-grabbing men like Miguel, who needed a place to stay in town for the night. luckily, your hostel-owning cousin is willing to make just the perfect bargain for the traveler.

─── ☆ notes. oh brother here we go again. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4k (30 minute read)

THE POPULATED TOWN of Edgewater was a place you called home. It was strange when it came to its fair share of travelers, from coin-hungry merchants to empty welding warriors and the cobbled roads that stretched from land to the seashore.

Edgewater was known for its lively community, always something happening from dusk till dawn, the moon only encouraging those of the night to linger on.

Most would call it anarchy. You would call it a pisspot full of people who didn't know what else to do with their lives, so all they could do was drink.

Your uncle, who had owned one of the town's most sought-after local love hostels, catered to the sleazy travelers that would stumble their way into the heart of the town with more coin than they knew what to do with, calling the grotty drunken things that would come through looking for an easy way to settle their darkest desire good for business.

Your uncle, who wasn't actually your uncle but had been the closest thing you unfortunately considered family since the day you could first remember, had always been guided towards the promise of good wealth. He was a grimy older man you had been stuck with since he had first adopted you after your mother's unfortunate passing. She had been one of his workers who had collected more debt than the men she would have ever bedded combined.

Debt that had been carried on down like a tragic legacy, leaving you shackled as the one and only handmaiden forced to clean whatever was leftover from the men you would envy as they had the ability to actually leave. Your forced imprisonment was the main reason why you would snide at every man that would struggle through the front door, drunk fools with not enough coins in their pockets to pay for rent or take care of their families back at home, yet just enough to come to your uncle's love hotel and buy off one of the mistresses to give them a temporary good time.

You thought them to be all the same, balding drunks running away from their lives off with some mistress that falsely tolerated the disappointment that they used to think with between their legs for the coins in their pockets. You couldn't blame them for their jobs. In fact, you preferred to be the one scrubbing the aftermath, then bed with some of the toothless, grimy slobs considered customers your uncle would welcome as if they were his old friends.

You would even consider the fact of having some sort of liking for your job. Being considered a lowly maid came with its rare but useful perks. Other than not being a lady of the night because you were too busy wiping the stained cum from sheets, you were allowed to dawn more comfy drapes, allowed to eat whatever you pleased without your uncle chastising you about your weight since your body wasn't his to display, and lastly, the best part of it all: the eavesdropping.

The town was big with gossip, word to mouth was how normally word would spread throughout businesses and homes faster than the ink would dry from the papers being passed out. Since you were the only real task hand in the love hostile most upkeep jobs besides cleaning were included in your wages. During afternoon runs through the market, you oh so loved to keep an ear out for bickering couples, big-mouthed children, or even merchants that would slip their tongues of secrets.

Said way was also how you caught word of an interesting wanderer that had stepped foot on the town's soil. With whispers of a dark-skinned, broadening warrior that stood out from the rest, hipping an iron sword and battle scars, you heard word that he was merking somewhere around for a place to rest for the day, along with some supply trading.

Your brow almost raises at the mention of places to stay the night. Edgewater was a place where you could murder someone and then sell the clothes off their back for a nice dime, not necessarily the place you could go trusting just about anyone to stay the night, especially if you were lugging around the type of gear the merchants already had as big as the target on your back as this guy did.

This is why you were surprised later in the night to see two men ram their way through the front door of the building. You were working on sweeping some of the dust from the wooden floorboards near the entrance, almost flinching out of your own skin as the doors slammed open. You quickly collected yourself, holding back from muttering something rude under your breath instead of turning to greet the guest.

An older man, who you had assumed to be the cause of the door hinges being in their last life, stumbled in and almost slumped over if it weren't for the man beside him carrying his drunken dead weight as he rambled on and on to the other man he leaned against about how great this hostile was for the eye candy and how he whiffed on and on about how he could get them both discounted personal rooms just to prove his point. The other man made you halt in greeting, almost choking on your words as you took in his appearance.

You were starting to understand how he had managed to grab the town's attention now that you were able to see him with your own eyes. He was a much taller man compared to the other, you only assumed he'd be taller in his own height if it weren't for his hunched structure, practically lugging a grown man on his left shoulder. He had been a fit fighter for the warrior description, with his broadened shoulder and the peak of muscles from his sleeve being yanked up as the dark curtain of hair that shields most of his face from where you stood. Though his clothes were tatted and worn-looking, on his hip was sheathed a sword.

His presence alone would suffocate you alone if it weren't for the awkward situation of him babysitting some bubbling idiot. It only took seconds for your uncle to come budging in, greeting the two and settling them into separate rooms. He had managed to even squeeze a little more coin out of the newcomer, your uncle offering him a place for the entire night since he heard he had nowhere to stay "out of the kindness of his heart." You almost snorted at his fancy act of knocking up the prices and throwing in packages that didn't exist to the poor mystery tourist.

Since the unnamed stranger's arrival, the powder room has erupted into a fit of frenzy. You hadn't seen this many of the women chatter about being excited and happy since a few years back when a strangler of men came back to town with their hunt earnings and decided to make the poor decision of blowing all their newly earned money in one night.

It was sad to say that the excitement would slowly die out more and more as the night progressed. Even though who you considered the most stunning women to come back with pouty faces and empty pockets cussing the new handsome-faced fellow's name under their breaths, the man had managed to do his rounds of rejecting just about every working lady in the hostile, much to your uncle's dismay, who at first just waved his dismissal off as him being just being another picky man with a type.

Your uncle wanted to charge him for more than just the bed he had offered him, yet no matter how many times he would send a new girl to his doorstep, the man had gotten to the point of annoyance where he wouldn't even bother to have the courtesy of not slamming the door closed in their face before they could utter a word. Unfortunately, due to their demise for failed flirting, you were the very last option at your uncle's attempt at ringing money out of the warrior's pockets. You put up a quiet fight, making every excuse under the sun until your uncle flat out struck you across the face and spat that he would threaten to stop giving you pay and instead add the wages you've collected to the long list of debts you were trying to pay off.

The threat was enough to have you taking your sweet old time, shuffling your feet against the floorboards, making your way down to the stranger's door, your hands tracing over the soft throb of the cut he had lifted, marked in a scratch from the backhand of one of his rings. You hadn't even bothered changing out of the clothes you had been working in all day. Instead of protesting with what was left of your pride in your hands, you held some spare straw pillows that your uncle gave you to use as some sort of excuse to coax you into at least opening the door.

You lightly tapped your knuckle against the wood for a moment before you knocked once more with just a bit more force, "Excuse me, sir." You hadn't even finished your sentence before the door creaked wide open.

By the slight raise of his brow, you guessed that he too wasn't expecting to see that you were the one behind the intrusion. Your words shriveled down your throat at the towering sight of him. Now standing tall in his full glory, his height almost reached up to the top of the door if he hadn't been using the frame to slouch against, very shirtless.

You took a step back out of instinct, taking in his muscled torso, bared with scars and marks you could only imagine the battle he earned them from. In Between the distance that parted you two was another beat of silence, his as he stared down at you, his features now plastered with what you could only assume was boredom as you gaped up at him, your mouth parting like you were some type of fish as your brain struggled to form the words you wanted to come from your throat.

"Uh, sorry, just—would you mind if I….offered company?" Your voice trembled as you couldn't make the request sound more awkward, forcing the strength surging through your veins to hold you upright as his eyes shamelessly traveled down your body as if you were some sort of prey ready to get swallowed up.

"And what company would you ever have to possibly offer me?" An annoyed grimace soon followed as he spoke, making it difficult for you to even process if the question was supposed to be insulting.

"I offer an exchange. You take these pillows and let me hide out in your room—at least until you leave, so my uncle stays off both of our backs." In the offer, you lifted the pillows towards him, watching as he scanned them with the same expression of boredom as if you were offering him vegetable soup.

"I should mention that if you do not accept, my uncle will be more furious with me than you." Clarifying the stakes you were taking, the beast of a man gave your face a once-over, his expression softening to something that you could only guess was a pity as a sigh parted his lips, gesturing you inside with a careless limp wave. He had not bothered moving over, only raising his arm to let you walk under and into the room before closing the door and making his way to the bed.

You could only watch, standing close to the other corner of the room, as he slouched, sitting against the headboard almost too comfortably against the creaking wooden mattress to what you assume he continued his interrupted task of sharpening his sword.

The room, besides the moonlight that leaked onto the floor from the open curtains. Had the room been poorly lit, a light orange from the oil lamp that sat on the crate-made nightstand illuminated the man's figure and sword dangerously. The light kissed his muscles and tanned auburn features, basking in the handsome aura that he was intertwined with, reminding you of the portraits you would see strung up in royal galleries of oil-painted men ascending from the parted clouds.

Your staring had not gone unnoticed. The man's dark eyes flitted over to you, gazing upon all the scabbed, light scars that riddled up from his torso to his face as if they were tattoos. "Could you at least give me your name before undressing me so unkindly with your perverted eyes?" he offered out another vague-sounding insult, dipping his sword back into its sleeve as he reverted his attention to you. The raising of his thick brow was the demise of any offense you could have possibly reacted with. You spoke your name softly, almost as if you were in the blink of forgetfulness, falling under whatever spell came with him bearing his charming canines.

"And I, Miguel," he returned, easing back his shoulders slightly, bowing his head, and reaching his arms out for you in a small polite greeting, which you could only assume to be considered manners outside of your town. Your steps were skittish, pausing for a moment before your legs processed the placement that you stood away from had to be closed for you to shake his hand. You had practically wisped across the room with the light of your feet as your hand ghosted close to his.

He took the first step in closing the distance, reaching for your hand and pressing the back of your palm against his lips. To say that the gestures had not stirred something inside of you would be a deep lie as you caught your eyes following his mouth. Your hand flinched under his gentle hold, molding against the callus of his fingers before you had even realized it. Your fingers brushed up against the scar that stretched against the end of his brow.

Miguel yanked back in a wince as your breath hitched, his brows knitted together, and a large hand fisted around the bend of your wrist, yet his hard stare never left the same mouth your fingers had just rudely traced over. "Just what is going on in that perverted mind of yours?" His tone held a strong accent that made every word sound condescending yet more gentle than the last time he spoke, his grasp planting you just beside the bed between his legs.

You wanted to call him out on his insulting accusation. If it had been any other man on the street, you probably would've given him an earful by now, yet there was just something so alluring about Miguel that left the bend of your knees threatening to wobble as he glanced up at you with his dark, intimidating eyes. "I bet you're not even going to apologize. How rude."

Your own lips parted in hopes of a response, yet shut quickly as his hand interpreted you once more, guiding your hand by the hold on your wrist back to his face and letting your palm rest against the curve of his cheek. Your fingers dance against all the small scabs and smudges he had yet to clean from his face, almost as if he were caressing himself with your own hand. You didn't bother pulling away, letting his warmth dance under your palm at his grasp. Your thumb graced under the most prominent scar caught close to the side of his lip, tracing the mark and pausing at just the underside of his mouth.

The very inmate exchange had opened a portal of doors for your hands to explore the curious marks on his body, from dark specks of moles scattered against his brown skin as if they were constellations to the ugly scabs dug on top of his abs from wounds that healed over from his troubled past. Spread against his skin were stories and experiences, all of which you could never imagine from the bubble of your small rural village.

Miguel let your curious fingers wander on their own, the palms of his hands coaxing around your hips and guiding you into his lap. Not once did you break contact with the light gleam in his dark eyes, not even when you realized that you were practically straddling yourself over just one of his spread-tensed, muscly thighs.

There was no point in squirming away. You had no desire to lean back now, no want to back now, backing away from the control of his cosset, instead melting into the warmth that engulfed under his touch until you were supporting yourself up by the brace of your swung arm around his neck to stabilize yourself.

All senses are overcome with sheer curiosity, with your fingers tracing every ridge and mottle, following the rise and fall of his bare chest. There grew a stained festering of want, a need now revealing its restlessness growing tight within you, so much so that your initial fear was soon drowned out by the heat shifting within your core.

Miguel did just about everything, yet so little to entertain your touch, letting your eyes swallow him whole, knowing just what he was doing and pressing just the right amount of pressure into his fingertips that held around your waist.

His expression had shifted from that bored and somewhat tired look to something more heavy that you could not quite decipher in the low light. You would have been mistaken for thinking that he hadn't had any interest in the fact that you were sitting in his lap if it weren't for the faint throbbing reaction you felt pressing against your thigh.

You were all for self-respect and protecting your dignity, but you just couldn't help but yank that fucking bar down to the dirt and throw yourself at him. If anything, it was more of a freefall you took, leaning in and pressing your lips against your body to cut through the thick tension.

It was your nervousness fading at the sooth of his hands, bringing you in closer by the waist, your back arching to press closer to his chest. His kisses were as rough as you thought they would be, from everywhere his lips grazed, from your mouth to the curve of your collarbones. They left your nerves jolting at the brush of his sharp canines brushing against a sensitive spot close to your jugular.

The whiny small pleads of encouragement were all that could part from your kissed lips, his hands unknotting from the hold on your hips to slowly undoing the buttons to your nightgown, exposing more of your skin for him to assault, his hands cupping your breast through the cotton fabric, groping and suckling at your budded nipples through the fabric of your arching body with a drooling obsession.

With your eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back, drowning in pleasure, already putty under his touch, it was easy for him to lay your limp figure down against the uncomfortable hay-stuffed mattress your uncle would be too cheap to call a bed.

Hiking your thigh over his shoulder with a quick yank, his clean-shaven face smooth against your spread thighs, burying himself between your legs. The ghost of the ghost wanting to admit to it being your first time caught in your throat, cutting through the thick cloud of your worries and insecurities. The moment he brought his mouth close to your mount, his tongue was practically savage against your poor clit.

The vibration of his grunts as your nails knotted around a handful of the hair that curled around the nape of his neck, shifting your hips against the rhyme of the roll warmth of his tongue. A sigh was launched down your throat the moment his thick dark lashes fluttered open, instantly latching onto your gaze, a shiver running down your spine at the lewd scene of the man between your legs desiring your pussy with his mouth.

In the back of your mind, you found it ironic how you were practically close to screaming out Miguel's name as if it were a praying plea for your life, yet in an earlier time in your life, you would always look on in disgust at the moans that would leak through from rooms your coworkers serviced, swearing to yourself that you would never find yourself behind those same doors, yet there you were climaxing under a handsome stranger's tongue as he lapped your twitching cunt through the hard ripple of your orgasm.

His lips tasted like you.

That was the first sense that welcomed you back down from whichever cloud you were floating on. Miguel's tongue invaded your mouth, and swallowing whatever breath you tried to pant out, the struggling continued. He pressed your thighs apart enough to slot himself in between them as a tensed string itched in your lower thigh muscles, your legs trembling under his fingers.

The head of his cock was intrusive and rude, to say the least, bumping his girthy length against you, shamelessly shifting his hips, covering himself in the wetness of your legs, kissing back every whimper that came up your throat at his fat tip, threatening to breach between your lower lips without any proper hopes of a graceful welcome.

The stretch of his fat tip parting you open left a cry falling from you as Miguel grunted into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath against your sweat-clad skin. Your back arched up against his broad chest as the lewd size of his cock overtook the rest of the sense you had left within your fogged spirit, his dawning pace merciful with experimentally slow strokes deep enough to make your toes curl against the scratchy duvet bedding to a rough pistoning rhythm against your core.

Your fingers clamping tight into the straw pillow at the all too familiar tensing knot forming in your stomach, begging with each harsh thrust, you let outpaced, panting, punched-out moans, following the lead of Miguel's hips, who barreled through your tight cunt as your second orgasm rudely yanked you back to bliss. Your body trembled from exhaustion under Miguel's unsetting ramming hips. The minutes flew by as your brain struggled to do anything but cry out unfinished sentences leading with his name.

Using your noises of encouragement, Miguel chased after his own pleasures, slowly drifting into a less rhythmic pace. His hips buried themselves as he rutted deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his size, snug enough to twitch his cum into where he lay with one last low, strung-out, stuttering groan.

With each other's hearts hammering, you and Miguel fell fatigued against one another, welcoming the slug of his weight as a comforting weighted blanket, neither bothering to curl away from the other nor making any effort to pull himself out, instead using the strength that you deemed to be infinity for him to reposition you on top.

His arm wrapping around the lower part of your torso and nuzzling his chin against you with a tired breath, more than content with spending the night in his room, knowing that your wobbling legs would betray you the moment you stood on your own, closing your eyes and slumbering against his chest in comfort.

Maybe that was why you shifted away with an aching start, the bruising mark littered across your skin a shade of a hinting purple and red, as well as the mess between your legs painted as a lone reminder of the acts you had committed last night. Miguel had apparently gone after sunrise, leaving the spot in which he lay empty with a stricken feeling in your chest and a defeated spirit after hearing your uncle congratulate you for milking enough money out of the visitor to pay off all of your debt completely.

★ @xylianasblog / @knightlythoughts4 / @tanith13 /@niyizh /@maki-z / @inspace1 / @marzipaanz / @inumakiiz / @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom / @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo / @dressycobra7 / @pondering-peach / @foxymask001 / @haitaniwhor3 / @creamyarishi / @iheartlinds

tap here to be added to taglist.

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ]#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel #into the spider verse

411 notes · View notes

novaursa · 5 months ago

Text

Of Gods and Men (the gift)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: daenys

- Next part: resurgence

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Two days had passed since the forces of House Atreides and House Targaryen had established their temporary base together on Arctis. The bitter cold still clung to the landscape, but the combined forces had made steady progress in securing the area from the Harkonnens. Targaryen banners now flew alongside the Atreides hawk, marking a temporary alliance born of necessity rather than trust.

Inside the main command tent, Aelor Targaryen, Duke Leto Atreides, and Duncan Idaho stood over a holographic map of the underground hatchery—the ancient structure that had become the focal point of the Harkonnen presence. Aelor’s expression was resolute as he traced the coordinates with his finger, his voice calm but insistent.

“We should commence an orbital strike on the underground hatchery,” Aelor proposed, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Once it’s destroyed, the Harkonnens will have no reason to stay on this planet.”

Duncan, standing to Leto’s right, crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “It’s odd,” he said, his voice laced with suspicion. “The Harkonnens have already lost most of their ground here. Their operation is compromised, and they’re outnumbered. So why are they still here, insisting on these ground skirmishes?”

Leto nodded thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on the map. “There must be something else they’re after,” he agreed. “With the Harkonnens, there always is.”

Aelor’s violet eyes flickered as he looked between Duncan and Leto. “Regardless of their plans,” he said firmly, “the hatchery is the key to their presence here. If we destroy it, we leave them with nothing. They’ll be forced to withdraw.”

Leto considered Aelor’s words carefully, his mind turning over the possibilities. “An orbital strike is a risky move,” he said slowly. “But it might be our best option to force them off this world for good.”

As the council continued their discussion, you stood nearby, observing from the edges of the room. The tension between the two Houses was felt, but for now, their common enemy kept them aligned. Not far from where you stood, Gurney Halleck sat on a low bench, adjusting the strings on his baliset. His fingers moved deftly over the instrument as he listened to the council’s debate, though his eyes occasionally flicked toward you.

You caught his gaze after a moment, and he gave a small nod in your direction before speaking, his voice casual but curious. “So, lass,” Gurney said, not looking up from his baliset, “how does someone like you get caught up in a mess like this?”

You smiled faintly at the question, though there was no amusement in it. “I’ve been in far worse situations than this,” you replied, your tone steady. “This is just another battle.”

Gurney raised an eyebrow, his hands still moving over the strings. “Is that so? You’ve certainly got the fire in you, but I can’t help but wonder how a lone Targaryen ended up giving Harkonnens so much trouble.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering your response. “We don’t have instruments like this on Albiron,” you said, gesturing to the baliset. “But my father often asks me to sing during our celebratory events.”

Gurney’s gaze softened at your words, his thoughts clearly drifting elsewhere. His expression turned somber, and for a moment, he seemed lost in memory. “My sister used to sing,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. “She had a voice that could silence a room.”

There was a brief silence between you, an unspoken understanding passing through the cold air. In that moment, you saw something of Gurney’s grief, his memories of loss that mirrored your own.

Just then, the council’s discussion came to an end, and Aelor approached you, his posture relaxed but purposeful. “We’re moving forward,” he said, his voice resolute. “Prepare yourself. We’ll commence the final strike against the Harkonnens soon. Once the hatchery is destroyed, we’ll leave this planet.”

You nodded, your hand resting instinctively on the hilt of your sword. The time for words had passed. Now, the battle would decide the future.

As you turned to leave, Gurney’s voice called after you, gentle but firm. “Keep your guard up, lass. And maybe after all this is done, you’ll give us a song.”

You smiled slightly, but your thoughts were already on the coming battle.

As the command room slowly cleared, Leto Atreides stood quietly, watching as the Targaryen siblings, Aelor and you, left together, heading off to prepare for the final strike. The storm outside seemed to have found its echo within the Duke's mind. Aelor’s proposal had merit—destroying the underground hatchery could force the Harkonnens to abandon the planet—but it wasn’t just the military strategy that weighed on Leto now. It was the woman, Daenys Targaryen, you, who had caught his attention in more ways than one.

Leto’s gaze lingered on the spot where you had just been standing, the memory of your composed yet fiery demeanor still fresh in his mind. It wasn’t often that someone from another House—especially one with such a complex history—captivated him in such a way. There was something about your presence, something he couldn’t quite place, but it gnawed at him nonetheless.

Turning to face Gurney Halleck, who was still adjusting the strings of his baliset, Leto allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. “I heard from Duncan that Daenys gave you quite the chase.”

Gurney looked up from his instrument, a wry smile playing on his lips as he met the Duke’s gaze. “Aye, my Lord. The lass is more capable than she appears. Gave me the slip more than once before I caught up to her.”

Duncan Idaho, still seated at the console across the room, reviewing the latest reports on the Harkonnens’ movements, chimed in without looking up. “She’s not just capable. She’s fast, strategic—trained, no doubt. And there’s something about the way she moves… like someone who’s lived their entire life preparing for moments like these.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued further by Duncan’s assessment. It was one thing for Gurney to acknowledge your abilities—Gurney was seasoned, but also sentimental. Duncan, however, was practical, and his judgments carried weight.

“She’s more than just a survivor, then,” Leto said, his voice contemplative.

Duncan finally looked up from the reports, his eyes steady as they met the Duke’s. “Much more. She’s a Targaryen through and through. I’ve seen plenty of soldiers—both natural fighters and those trained from birth—and Daenys? She’s got the instincts of both.”

Gurney nodded in agreement, his expression turning more thoughtful. “Aye, my Lord. There’s more to her than what we’ve seen on the surface. I didn’t know what to make of her at first, but after that chase and seeing her in action, I’d wager she’s been through more than we can imagine.”

Leto paced slowly, his mind working through the layers of implications. House Targaryen’s sudden return, the alliance of necessity between them and the Atreides, the Harkonnen threat—all of it pointed to a shifting balance of power. But Daenys added an entirely new dimension to it. She wasn’t just a pawn in the game, but a player in her own right. And now, she and her brother had drawn the Atreides into something far larger than they could have anticipated.

As Leto’s thoughts continued to turn, he paused by the table where the holographic map still glowed faintly. “Regardless,” he said, his voice more resolute now, “we have a mission to complete here. The Harkonnens won’t let this planet go without a fight, but once the hatchery is destroyed, they’ll have no choice.”

Gurney’s eyes followed the Duke’s movements, his tone more cautious. “And after, my Lord?”

Leto looked up, his gaze steady as he met Gurney’s eyes. “After we return to Caladan, we’ll be facing more than just the fallout from this battle. The political implications of our encounter with the Targaryens will be enormous. It will shake the very foundations of House Atreides.”

Duncan nodded in agreement, his expression serious. “The Imperium, the Emperor, the Bene Gesserit—they’ll all take notice once they learn that the Targaryens are not only alive but allied with us, however temporary that alliance may be.”

Leto sighed softly, knowing the weight of what was to come. “And that’s what concerns me most. We’ve just become part of something far bigger than a fight for control of a frozen world. If the Emperor catches wind of this, if the Harkonnens spin the narrative in their favor… House Atreides will be caught in the storm.”

Gurney, ever loyal and steadfast, leaned forward slightly. “We’ll face whatever comes, my Lord. House Atreides has survived worse.”

Leto allowed a small smile, though the weight of his thoughts was still evident. “Yes, Gurney. We have. And we will again. But this time, it feels different.”

He cast one final glance toward the door where the Targaryens had left, his mind already turning toward the future. They had a mission to finish here, but the real storm—the political storm—was waiting for them back on Caladan.

And Leto knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same after this.

The cold air of Arctis was heavy with anticipation as Leto Atreides, Duncan Idaho, and Gurney Halleck stepped outside the command tent. All around them, the soldiers of both House Atreides and House Targaryen moved swiftly, making final preparations for the upcoming strike. The combined forces had reached a tenuous but effective alliance, and now the time had come to push forward and bring an end to the Harkonnen presence on this planet.

Leto’s sharp eyes scanned the flurry of activity, his mind already calculating the next steps. His soldiers, disciplined and ready, were preparing to launch their assault on the Harkonnen defenses above the underground hatchery. The Targaryens would lead the initial charge, breaking through the Harkonnen lines, and once the Atreides troops disabled the jamming equipment, they would evacuate, leaving the Targaryen starship to fire on the exposed target from orbit.

Hawat joined Leto at his side, his expression as always calm but observant. “Everything is proceeding as planned, my Lord,” Hawat said quietly, his eyes flicking over the battlefield preparations.

Leto nodded, his voice steady. “The Atreides troops will rush in to disable the Harkonnen jamming equipment above the hatchery once the Targaryens break through their defenses. As soon as that signal is disabled, we’re pulling out. The Targaryen starship will fire from orbit on a clear target.”

Duncan and Gurney, standing nearby, exchanged quick glances before turning to Leto.

“We’ll get it done, my Lord,” Duncan said firmly. “We’ll make sure the Harkonnens don’t get another chance.”

Gurney’s grizzled face was set in determination as he tightened the strap on his rifle. “We’ll push through, one way or another.”

Leto offered them both a nod of confidence. “Good. Get to your men. We don’t have much time.”

With that, Duncan and Gurney turned and rushed off to join their respective forces, leaving Leto and Hawat standing among the flurry of soldiers preparing for the battle ahead.

As the activity around them intensified, Leto’s eyes were drawn to a different scene just across the field. Daenys Targaryen, along with two of her people, was crouched in front of a Targaryen Ornithopter, working on a device that was unfamiliar to him. The Ornithopter itself stood ready for launch, its sleek, dragon-like form glistening in the pale light of the storm. Leto’s curiosity piqued as he watched the Targaryen woman, her focus sharp as she adjusted the device in front of her.

Without a word, Leto began walking toward her, his steps purposeful. Hawat, noticing the shift in the Duke’s attention, gave him a curious glance but said nothing, following him in silence.

As you worked on the device, making the final adjustments, you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. Looking up, you saw Duke Leto approaching, his expression one of curiosity. You stood, wiping the snow from your gloves, and offered him a respectful nod.

“Duke Leto,” you greeted him, your voice even despite the cold. “What brings you here?”

Leto’s gaze shifted from the device in front of you to your face, then back to the intricate piece of technology. “What are you working on?”

You gave him a small smile, gesturing to the device. “This is something that will help your men disable the jamming signal faster. Once we break through the Harkonnen defenses, I’ll leave it for your soldiers to use. It should save time.”

Leto’s gaze lingered on the device for a moment, impressed by your initiative. His eyes then flicked to the Ornithopter standing behind you, its design so different from the machines he was used to. It was sleek, elegant, and undeniably alien in its construction.

Sensing his interest, you tilted your head slightly, amusement flashing in your eyes. “Curious about our Ornithopters, Duke?”

Leto’s gaze returned to yours, surprised by your question. “I am,” he admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like them. I’d be interested to see how they fly.”

Your smile widened, a flicker of excitement in your eyes. “Would you like to join me, Duke Leto?”

He hesitated for a brief second, caught off guard by the offer. But the thought of experiencing one of your people’s advanced machines firsthand was too intriguing to pass up. “I would,” he said, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I’ve always been fascinated by technology. It would be a welcome distraction before the battle.”

You nodded, satisfied with his answer. “Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

Hawat, standing just a few paces behind, watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. He was too perceptive not to notice the small, almost hidden smile on Leto’s face, a smile that revealed a spark of excitement—something that rarely showed itself in the typically composed Duke. Hawat allowed himself a brief moment of amusement at his lord’s expense.

“You seem eager, my Lord,” Hawat said quietly, his tone neutral but with an edge of teasing.

Leto shot him a quick glance, his expression composed again but not without a hint of warmth. “Perhaps I am, Thufir. It’s not every day one gets to fly in something so… unique.”

With a final glance at the soldiers preparing for battle, Leto stepped forward toward the waiting Ornithopter, his curiosity and anticipation momentarily eclipsing the weight of the coming conflict.

As you finished adjusting the device, you nodded to your fellow Targaryen soldiers, signaling them to secure the equipment for transport. Then, without another word, you climbed into the Ornithopter’s cockpit, turning back to see Leto and Hawat following closely behind.

As the Duke settled into the co-pilot’s seat beside you, you glanced at him, a glint of challenge in your eyes. “Hold on tight, Duke. Our Ornithopters aren’t quite like anything you’ve flown before.”

Leto chuckled softly, his hands hovering over the holographic controls that shifted to standard Galach symbols aromatically as he prepared for takeoff. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The Targaryen Ornithopter lifted gracefully into the icy skies of Arctis, its sleek, dragon-like wings humming softly as they cut through the stormy air. Despite its size—large enough for both a co-pilot and a passenger—the craft moved with an effortless precision that left Duke Leto Atreides momentarily awestruck. He settled into the co-pilot’s seat beside you, a smile playing on his lips as he examined the holographic interface that floated before him.

“This flies… beautifully,” Leto murmured, his hands hovering over the controls, though he knew better than to interfere with your navigation. The neural feedback system was unlike anything he had ever experienced in Atreides technology. Every movement of the Ornithopter felt intuitive, as though it were responding to his thoughts as much as your commands. The interior, like the exterior, was silent, a stark contrast to the noisier, more mechanical machines he was used to.

He couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship, his eyes tracing the sleek lines of the console and the way the control surfaces shimmered with a soft, amber glow. “There’s almost no sound at all.”

From your seat, you glanced at Leto and caught his expression, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Our Drakaopters, as we call them, are powered by drakaon crystals,” you explained, your tone steady as you focused on the controls. “Just like the rest of our technology. The crystals provide nearly silent propulsion and ensure our ships are undetectable by conventional sensors.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Behind you, Thufir Hawat sat in silence, his sharp eyes observing everything. His analytical mind was cataloging every detail, from the neural feedback system to the seamless way the other Targaryen Ornithopters—smaller, more nimble craft—flanked them as they ascended higher. The Targaryen technology was light years ahead of what the Imperium used, and that knowledge alone weighed heavily in Hawat’s calculations.

As the Ornithopter climbed into the sky, the flickering light of explosions in the distance caught your eye. You glanced at the holographic map in front of you and your expression hardened.

“Harkonnen troops are approaching,” you said, your voice suddenly sharper as you adjusted the controls. The Ornithopter’s plasma cannons began to warm up, their energy readings visible on the interface before you.

Leto’s gaze shifted to the horizon, where he saw the black dots of Harkonnen ornithopters growing larger, rapidly approaching from the east. At the same time, the ground forces below were beginning to clash—the Atreides and Targaryen troops advancing toward the Harkonnen base while their enemies tried to dig in and defend the hatchery.

You activated the plasma cannons, the hum of energy filling the cabin as the weapons powered up. The shields surrounding the Ornithopter shimmered momentarily, absorbing and dispersing the energy of the oncoming fire from the Harkonnen forces.

“Brace yourself,” you warned, your tone cool and focused as you maneuvered the Ornithopter into position. The smaller Targaryen craft flanking you began to engage the enemy, plasma bolts lighting up the stormy sky as they tore through the incoming Harkonnen ornithopters.

Leto watched in awe as the energy shields absorbed the blasts with ease, shimmering faintly as they dissipated the impact. He had never seen such seamless energy defense systems in action before, and it left him with a newfound respect for Targaryen engineering.

Just then, another squadron of Harkonnen ornithopters appeared on the horizon, larger and more heavily armed. Leto's eyes narrowed as he noted their formation. “Another squadron, coming in fast.”

You nodded, adjusting the controls to bring the Drakaopter into a more aggressive stance. The smaller Targaryen Ornithopters around you quickly peeled off to intercept the new threat, their plasma cannons firing in synchronized bursts that tore through the Harkonnen forces.

“We’ll punch through,” you said, your voice calm despite the chaos around you. With a quick motion, you locked onto the ground-based anti-air cannons positioned near the Harkonnen base and fired the crystal-tipped missiles. They streaked through the air, glowing a faint gold as they zeroed in on their targets.

The ground cannons exploded in a brilliant flash of light, the crystal-tipped warheads shattering the hardened emplacements with ease. Leto watched as the Harkonnen anti-air defenses crumbled, leaving the base exposed.

“Ion disruptors engaged,” you continued, your hands deftly working the controls as the Drakaopter’s disruptors activated. A wave of yellow energy rippled from the ship, crashing into the Harkonnen systems below. Leto watched as the disruptors caused their further defenses to sputter and fail, disabling their communications and rendering their systems vulnerable.

Leto was beyond impressed now. He had seen many battles, but never had he witnessed technology like this in action. “Your technology,” Leto said, his voice full of awe. “It’s beyond anything we’ve ever encountered.”

You didn’t look at him, your focus still on the task at hand. “We’ve had centuries to perfect it. And it’s the only reason we’ve survived this long in exile.”

Leto nodded thoughtfully, his admiration clear. But there was no time to dwell on the implications. The battle was far from over.

As you guided the Drakaopter toward the Harkonnen base, you glanced at the holographic display, noting the positions of the Atreides ground troops. “Once your men break through, I’ll land,” you told Leto. “We’ll take out the jamming signal and evacuate the planet.”

Leto gave a nod of agreement, his gaze locked on the battlefield below. “Let’s not waste any time, then.”

Behind you, Hawat observed quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had seen the Duke’s enthusiasm for battle before, but there was something different about this. Perhaps it was the technology, or perhaps it was the presence of Daenys herself, but either way, Hawat could see that Leto was more engaged than usual. It amused the Mentat to see the Duke so captivated.

“Shall we?” you asked, glancing at Leto with a hint of challenge in your voice.

Leto returned your gaze, a faint smile crossing his lips. “Lead the way.”

With that, you accelerated toward the Harkonnen base, ready to finish what had been started. The final push had begun.

The Atreides forces surged forward, their precision and discipline cutting through the Harkonnen lines like a blade. The chaotic din of battle rumbled beneath the clouds of Arctis, plasma bolts lighting up the gray sky. The sound of explosions echoed through the air as Harkonnen defenses crumbled one by one, and now, with their anti-aircraft cannons destroyed and the Atreides troops pressing hard, victory seemed imminent.

In the distance, your Targaryen Drakaopter descended, landing gracefully in the midst of the controlled chaos. The wings folded in with a mechanical hum, the sleek craft setting down without a sound. As the hatch opened, Duke Leto Atreides, Thufir Hawat, and you exited, your eyes immediately scanning the battlefield.

Leto’s gaze hardened as he took in the scene. His men were doing well, but they didn’t have much time. The Harkonnens would regroup, and they needed to disable the jamming signal before reinforcements arrived. His mind was already calculating their next move, but before he could speak, Sergeant Kellor came rushing over, his face tense but determined.

“We’ve secured the perimeter,” Kellor said, his voice sharp as he motioned to the area ahead. “But we’ve only got a short window to disable the jamming signal before the Harkonnens can regroup. We need to move fast.”

You stepped forward, your expression calm but focused. “That’s enough time if you use this device properly.” You handed the small but intricate piece of technology to Kellor, who took it with a careful grip. His eyes flicked over the device, trying to understand its function as you quickly explained.

“It’s simple,” you said, your voice clear despite the chaos around you. “This will interface directly with the Harkonnen signal disruptors. Once you get to the jamming site, activate it by pressing here.” You pointed to a small, glowing node on the device. “It’ll overload their system and disable the signal in seconds. But you have to be precise—don’t give them time to recover.”

Kellor nodded, his expression determined. “Understood.”

More Atreides soldiers joined, forming a protective perimeter around the small group as Leto, Hawat, and you prepared for the final push. Leto turned to Kellor, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “We’ll give you as much time as you need, Sergeant. But the moment the signal is down, we retreat. The Targaryen ship is ready for the orbital strike.”

Kellor saluted before turning to his men, issuing orders with quick efficiency. The group of Atreides soldiers moved out, heading toward the jamming site with the Targaryen device in hand. They disappeared into the rocky terrain, their silhouettes blending into the storm.

You stood beside Leto, your gaze following Kellor’s team as they advanced. “I’ll help with the defense,” you said, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. “Once the jamming is down, we start the retreat immediately.”

Leto glanced at you, his face a mixture of admiration and resolve. “Agreed. But we have to make sure Kellor’s team gets through. If the Harkonnens stop them, we lose our window.”

You nodded, drawing your sword with a swift, practiced motion. The familiar weight of the Valyrian steel in your hand felt steady, grounding you in the midst of the battle. Around you, the Atreides forces prepared for the next wave of Harkonnen resistance.

Hawat, ever vigilant, stepped forward. “We’ll need to hold the Harkonnen forces here until Kellor can disable the jamming. Once the signal is down, we retreat. The orbital strike will be swift, and we can’t risk being caught in it.”

Leto turned to his men, his voice carrying over the noise of battle. “Hold the line! We give Kellor and his team as much time as they need. Once the jamming signal is down, fall back to the transports.”

The Atreides soldiers responded immediately, their formations tightening as they prepared for the final push. Plasma fire rained down from the sky as the Harkonnens sent in reinforcements, desperate to hold their ground, but the combined forces of House Atreides and House Targaryen were relentless.

You took your place beside the Atreides soldiers, your sword at the ready. The Harkonnens advanced, but you met them with the ferocity of a dragon, cutting through their ranks with swift, precise strikes. The Atreides forces fought with discipline and determination, but your presence on the battlefield was something else—an unmistakable force that turned the tide.

Leto, armed and resolute, fought alongside his men, his every strike calculated and efficient. His eyes flicked to the horizon, watching for any sign of Kellor’s team. Time was running out.

Suddenly, a bright flash illuminated the sky, and the distant hum of energy signaled that Kellor’s team had succeeded. The Harkonnen jamming signal went dark, their defenses crumbling as the disruption ended. The time had come.

“The signal’s down!” Hawat shouted, his voice rising above the chaos. “We need to move—now!”

Leto turned, his voice commanding. “Fall back! To the transports!”

The Atreides forces began to retreat, moving quickly but with precision as they made their way to the transports. You turned to follow, your sword still in hand, as Leto gestured for you to keep close.

The battle was won, but the clock was ticking. Above, the Targaryen starship loomed, its weapons primed for the orbital strike. The Harkonnens would soon face the full fury of dragonfire from the stars.

You met Leto’s gaze briefly, a shared understanding passing between you. “We don’t have much time,” you said, your voice steady.

“No,” Leto replied, his expression resolute. “But we’ll make it.”

Together, you and the Duke of Atreides moved toward the transports, the sound of the orbital strike looming in the distance as the final chapter of the battle began.

As the transport hurtled across the icy landscape of Arctis, Aelor Targaryen's voice came through the comms, his tone calm but firm. "The orbital strike is in progress. All forces, stay clear of the target zone. We'll be hitting the Harkonnen base shortly."

The announcement was met with silence, save for the occasional murmurs of soldiers securing their weapons and gear. You sat near the front of the transport, your sword still in hand, resting against your knee. Leto sat beside you, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon, while Thufir Hawat stood nearby, scanning tactical readouts.

Suddenly, a blinding amber light filled the transport, casting everything in a harsh, surreal glow. The grand rumble that followed shook the very ground beneath the transport, causing it to jolt violently. The entire cabin rocked as the orbital strike hit its target, the shockwaves from the impact reaching even this far.

In the chaos, soldiers braced themselves against the walls and seats, gripping whatever they could to avoid being thrown around by the tremors. You felt the transport lurch beneath your feet, and your balance wavered as the violent shake threw you forward.

Before you could fall, Leto acted quickly, reaching out to steady you. His strong hands gripped your arm, pulling you back against the seat and holding you upright as the transport continued to shake. Around you, the Atreides soldiers did the same, steadying themselves as the rumbling subsided.

"Thank you," you said, your voice calm despite the intensity of the moment. You met Leto’s gaze, a flicker of appreciation in your eyes as you settled back into your seat.

Leto gave a small nod, releasing his grip on your arm but keeping his attention on the aftermath of the strike. "We’re not through just yet," he said, his voice steady but carrying a note of caution. The amber light from the blast still lingered in the distance, fading slowly as the transport pushed forward.

You glanced out the viewport, watching as the fiery remnants of the orbital strike’s devastation glowed on the horizon. The Harkonnen base had been obliterated, reduced to nothing more than rubble and smoke. The dragons of House Targaryen had, once again, left their mark on the battlefield.

After a moment of silence, you turned back to Leto, your expression shifting as the reality of the situation sank in. "My ride awaits," you said, your voice tinged with a sense of finality. "At specific coordinates. Once we reach them, we part ways."

Leto studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the gravity of your words. "And you’re sure this is the end of our path together, at least for now?" There was something in his tone, a subtle note of regret, though it was buried beneath his usual calm exterior.

You nodded, your gaze steady. "For now, yes. Our paths will diverge. The strike was successful, and we’ve achieved what we set out to do. But House Targaryen still has its own battles to fight, and we have a world to return to."

Leto considered this, his eyes flicking briefly to the horizon before returning to you. "Your House… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. And yet, there’s something familiar in the way we fight—something shared in our desire for survival."

You gave a small, thoughtful smile. "Perhaps there’s more in common between us than we realize, Duke Leto."

The two of you fell into a brief silence, the rumble of the transport continuing beneath your feet. Around you, the Atreides soldiers were focused on their tasks, but the weight of the moment hung between you and Leto. The alliance between your Houses had been forged in the fire of battle, but as you both knew, such alliances were rarely permanent.

"Where will you go from here?" Leto asked, his voice softer now, as though the question carried more meaning than just the practical.

You turned to meet his gaze again, your violet eyes calm but resolute. "Back to Albiron, for now. But the galaxy is a vast place, Duke. And I have a feeling our paths may cross again."

Leto smiled faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. "I’ll look forward to that day."

The transport began to slow as it neared the designated coordinates, the vibrations beneath your feet softening as it approached the drop point. You stood, sheathing your sword with a practiced motion, and glanced once more at Leto before heading toward the exit.

Hawat, ever observant, watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. As you prepared to leave, he stepped closer to Leto, his expression unreadable but perhaps tinged with amusement. "You seem particularly interested in the Targaryens, my Lord."

Leto didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on you as you moved toward the door. After a beat, he glanced at Hawat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How could I not be, Thufir? They’re more than just an ally—they’re a mystery we’ve only just begun to unravel."

Hawat chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Leto. "A mystery indeed."

As the transport came to a halt, you stepped outside, the cold air of Arctis biting at your skin once more. In the distance, your Targaryen transport awaited, sleek and silent like a shadow on the horizon.

You turned back one last time, meeting Leto’s gaze from the doorway of the Atreides transport. For a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding between you—a shared respect, perhaps even a shared future, though what that future would hold remained uncertain.

And with that, you moved forward, heading toward your ship and the path that awaited you beyond the frozen world of Arctis.

The Atreides spaceship hummed quietly as it ascended from the frozen surface of Arctis, carrying Duke Leto, Thufir Hawat, Duncan Idaho, and Gurney Halleck safely back toward the stars. The planet below slowly disappeared from view, the battle now a distant memory as the crew settled into the familiar routine of post-mission debriefing.

But something was different this time. The atmosphere on the ship felt heavier, as though the weight of what had just transpired still lingered in the air. House Atreides had won a decisive victory against the Harkonnens, but it was their encounter with House Targaryen that now dominated their thoughts.

As the Atreides ship entered orbit, the massive Targaryen spaceship came into full view. Its sleek, obsidian-hued hull reflected the faint light of the distant stars, its design elegant and mysterious. The ship was larger than anything Leto had seen, far more advanced than even the most powerful vessels in the Imperium’s fleet. It was a sight that left an indelible mark, one that would be difficult to forget.

The comms system crackled to life, and Aelor Targaryen's voice came through, calm and composed. "Duke Leto, this is Aelor Targaryen. On behalf of my House, I thank you for your assistance. Together, we’ve defeated the Harkonnens here, but our paths must now part."

Leto stood at the command console, his eyes fixed on the Targaryen ship as he listened to Aelor’s words. "It was a hard-fought battle," Leto replied, his voice steady. "But I believe we both gained something from this alliance."

There was a brief pause on the comms, and then another voice came through—one that made Leto’s heart skip for just a moment.

"Duke Leto," you said, your voice softer but still clear through the comms. "I wish to thank you personally. Your men fought bravely, and for that, House Targaryen is in your debt."

Leto’s gaze flicked briefly to Hawat, who watched the exchange with quiet curiosity. The Duke’s expression softened slightly as he heard your voice, the memory of your parting still fresh in his mind.

Before he could respond, you added, "I’ve left a small gift of goodwill with Gurney. Consider it a token of our alliance—and a reminder of our shared victory."

Leto turned slowly, his brow furrowing in mild confusion as he looked at Gurney, who stood just behind him. Gurney smiled knowingly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small, carefully wrapped sachel. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he handed it to the Duke.

"I believe this is what she was referring to, my Lord," Gurney said, his voice low and filled with a certain fondness.

Leto took the sachel, his fingers brushing over the soft material. Slowly, he unwrapped it, revealing the contents within. His breath caught as he lifted out the object that lay inside: a dragon egg, petrified and turned to stone. The intricate markings on the surface glistened faintly in the ship’s artificial light, and despite its stony exterior, Leto could feel the weight of history and power in his hands.

The room fell silent as the Atreides crew gathered around, their eyes fixed on the stone egg. Even Hawat, ever the pragmatist, seemed momentarily taken aback by the sight. The dragon egg was more than just a symbol—it was a piece of House Targaryen’s legacy, a relic of a time when dragons ruled the skies.

Leto stared at the egg for a long moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what it represented. The Targaryens were more than an ancient, forgotten House—they were alive, powerful, and still connected to the legacy of their dragons.

Just then, a bright flash of amber light illuminated the viewport, and Leto looked up just in time to see the Targaryen ship vanish from view. It was gone in an instant, leaving behind nothing but the cold, empty void of space.

The crew stood in stunned silence, watching as the last traces of the Targaryen ship disappeared from their scanners. Leto, still holding the dragon egg, felt a quiet sense of loss. The alliance had been brief, but it had left a profound impact on him and his House.

He whispered softly to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship. "Goodbye, Daenys."

His fingers tightened around the egg, feeling the smooth, ancient surface beneath his touch. The weight of the stone was a reminder not only of the Targaryens’ power but of the connection that had been forged in the heat of battle. A connection that, despite their parting, felt far from over.

Hawat, ever watchful, stepped forward, his eyes studying the Duke’s expression with quiet understanding. "A gift, indeed," he said, his voice low.

Leto nodded, still holding the egg as he turned back to the viewport. "A gift," he repeated, though he knew it was much more than that.

The soft hum of the Atreides starship filled the silence of Duke Leto’s quarters as the vessel made its steady course back to Caladan. The quiet was almost soothing, but the Duke’s mind was far from calm. He sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the petrified dragon egg resting in front of him. The smooth, stone surface seemed to shimmer faintly in the low light, as though it held the weight of centuries within its hardened shell.

Leto’s thoughts were miles away, lost in the memory of his brief encounter with Daenys Targaryen and the strange, powerful House she represented. The Targaryens were more than a legend—they were real, and they were dangerous in ways the Imperium could hardly comprehend. Yet, there had been something else about them, something that left Leto both intrigued and unsettled.

The door to his quarters slid open with a quiet hiss, and Thufir Hawat stepped inside, his sharp eyes immediately assessing the Duke’s posture. Leto didn’t stir, his attention still fixed on the dragon egg, though his expression was unreadable.

Hawat cleared his throat lightly before speaking, careful not to break the Duke’s deep concentration too suddenly. "My Lord," he began, his voice measured, "we should consider formulating a response for when the Emperor’s inquiry reaches us. The events on Arctis will no doubt draw attention."

Leto’s eyes remained on the egg, his fingers brushing lightly over its surface as he answered absently, his voice distant. "Yes, Thufir, I know."

But Hawat could tell from Leto’s tone that the Duke’s mind was elsewhere. His thoughts were still with the Targaryens, perhaps more with Daenys herself. There was a flicker of something in Leto’s gaze, something Hawat rarely saw—an almost wistful contemplation.

Hawat stepped closer, his analytical mind working through the implications of what they had just experienced. "Young Paul will no doubt be intrigued by this gift," Hawat remarked carefully, his eyes on the dragon egg as well. "Our new… friends have certainly left us with much to consider."

Leto’s lips twitched slightly, his gaze softening as he thought of his son. "Yes, Paul will be fascinated." His voice was quiet, and there was a warmth there when he spoke of his son. "But Jessica will be… less than pleased, I imagine."

Hawat’s brow furrowed in slight surprise, and he turned his full attention to the Duke. "You don’t intend to tell her?"

Leto glanced at Hawat for the first time since he’d entered, his expression more focused now but still guarded. "If there are no inquiries from the Emperor, then there’s no reason to speak of this to anyone. Not even to Lady Jessica."

Hawat’s surprise deepened. The Duke had always been relatively transparent with Jessica, despite her ties to the Bene Gesserit. This, however, was different. It took the Mentat only a moment to realize why Leto would be cautious in this matter. "Ah," Hawat murmured, understanding dawning. "You wish to avoid the involvement of the Sisterhood. They would take a keen interest in such an encounter."

Leto’s face hardened slightly as he nodded. "Precisely. The Bene Gesserit would insert themselves quickly, and I’d rather avoid that. The Targaryens are… unpredictable. There’s no telling how they would react to Bene Gesserit involvement. For now, this stays between us. If the Emperor or the Landsraad does not ask questions, we will let this fade into obscurity."

Hawat nodded slowly, his sharp mind already calculating the risks. "And what of the Harkonnens? Surely they won’t reveal their plans to the Emperor. It would expose their failure and their hidden operations on Arctis."

Leto allowed himself a small, tight smile. "Exactly. They’ll have no interest in informing the Emperor. We’ll report the events on Arctis as nothing more than an ordinary skirmish between our Houses. Routine border conflicts. Nothing more."

Hawat nodded in agreement, his mind already cataloging the steps needed to manage the situation. Keeping the Targaryen encounter under wraps would be a delicate task, but it was one the Mentat could handle.

Just as Hawat turned to leave, Leto’s voice stopped him.

“Thufir,” Leto said quietly, his gaze returning to the dragon egg. “What are the chances… of us encountering the Targaryens again?”

Hawat paused, considering the question carefully. The Targaryens were enigmatic, elusive, and far more powerful than even the Atreides had anticipated. Their sudden appearance had changed everything, and their departure left a trail of unanswered questions.

“I’d say, my Lord,” Hawat began, his voice measured, “that the chances are higher than we’d like to admit. They are not a people who vanish easily.”

Leto nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “No… they are not.”

With that, Hawat gave a slight bow and left the room, leaving Leto alone with his thoughts once more. The Duke stared at the egg, the weight of its significance heavy in his hands. He whispered softly, as if to himself—or perhaps to you.

“Until we meet again, Daenys.”

The thick, oppressive atmosphere of Giedi Prime clung to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen like the oily, polluted air that filled every corner of his home planet. As his shuttle descended toward the capital, the dark, industrial landscape stretched out beneath him, a grim reminder of his family’s iron-fisted rule over their wretched domain.

Feyd’s jaw tightened as he gazed out the viewport, knowing that this return would be far from triumphant. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen had already received news of the failure on Arctis—of the defeat at the hands of the Atreides and, worse, the reveal of the Targaryens. His uncle’s rage would be visible, and Feyd knew he would be the primary target of that fury.

Yet, there was something else—something Feyd clung to. They had achieved a sliver of what they were after. The Targaryens had revealed themselves, drawn out from the shadows of obscurity. The Baron may not be pleased with the overall outcome, but Feyd believed that this failure could still be turned into something useful.

As the shuttle touched down in the landing bay of the Harkonnen stronghold, Feyd took a deep breath, straightened his uniform, and prepared himself for what was to come. The heavy doors hissed open, and he stepped out onto the cold metal floor, his steps echoing down the corridor as he made his way to the Baron’s chambers.

The familiar scent of grease and decay filled the air as he approached the grand doors of his uncle’s throne room. The walls of the fortress were adorned with dark tapestries depicting the conquests and cruelties of House Harkonnen, reminders of the family’s ruthless ambition.

Inside the chamber, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen sat on his hovering chair, his corpulent form draped in luxurious, dark robes. His pale, bloated face was twisted into a sneer, and his small, pig-like eyes flickered with barely contained rage. Standing beside him, the ever-brutal Glossu Rabban, Feyd’s brutish brother, looked on with a mixture of amusement and impatience.

Feyd stepped forward, his chin held high despite the weight of his failure. He knew better than to show weakness in front of the Baron.

"Uncle," Feyd greeted, his voice calm but respectful, bowing slightly as he addressed the Baron.

The Baron’s sneer deepened, and his eyes gleamed with malice as he leaned forward in his chair. "So, my dear nephew," he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You return to me a failure, do you not? After all, your mission on Arctis… did not go as planned."

Feyd met his uncle’s gaze without flinching, though he could feel the simmering anger in the air. "Yes, the Atreides interfered, and we were forced to retreat, but—"

"But?" the Baron hissed, his bloated fingers gripping the arms of his chair. "But? There is no ‘but,’ Feyd! You lost. You were humiliated. The Atreides and those damnable Targaryens bested you!"

Rabban chuckled darkly from his place beside the Baron, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "A failure is a failure, brother. There’s no excuse for that."

Feyd clenched his fists but held his composure. "We may have lost the battle, but we achieved something important," he said, his voice steady. "We drew the Targaryens out. They revealed themselves, showed their hand. That was the true goal, was it not?"

The Baron’s sneer faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considered Feyd’s words. He leaned back in his chair, his expression momentarily thoughtful. "Ah, yes. The Targaryens. The ancient dragons who were supposed to be long dead. And now… they return, do they?"

Feyd nodded. "Yes. They are more powerful than we anticipated, but they are no longer hidden. They’ve shown their faces, and that gives us an advantage. Now, we know what we’re dealing with."

The Baron’s face darkened again, though his rage had softened somewhat. "Perhaps. But make no mistake, Feyd—this failure is still yours. You did not eliminate the Atreides forces. You allowed them to gain the upper hand. You are fortunate that the Targaryens revealed themselves, or I would not be so lenient."

Rabban grunted in agreement, his brutish face twisted into a grin. "You’re lucky, brother. Very lucky."

Feyd ignored Rabban, his focus on the Baron. "I understand, Uncle. And I take full responsibility for the setback. But I believe we can use this to our advantage."

The Baron raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Go on."

Feyd stepped forward, his voice lowering slightly as he spoke. "Now that the Targaryens have shown themselves, we can manipulate the situation. The Imperium will take notice, especially if we… steer the narrative. House Atreides is already under suspicion by the Emperor. If we can make it seem as though they are allied with the Targaryens—an ancient, unknown threat—then the Emperor may act against them. We could use this to weaken both Houses."

The Baron’s eyes gleamed with interest, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of his chair. "Hmm. You may be right, Feyd. The Emperor is always wary of rising threats. And if he believes that the Atreides are conspiring with the Targaryens… it could work in our favor."

Rabban, ever the brute, looked confused for a moment but eventually nodded in agreement, understanding only the basic idea. "Sounds good. Let the Emperor deal with them."

Feyd allowed himself a small smile. "Exactly. We use the Targaryens’ return as a weapon. Let the Emperor and the Landsraad turn their gaze on the Atreides. And when they fall, House Harkonnen will be ready to take their place."

The Baron’s laughter filled the room, deep and malevolent. "Ah, Feyd. You may have stumbled, but you’ve shown some cunning after all. Very well. We will pursue this path, but make no mistake—you will not fail me again."

Feyd bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I won’t, Uncle."

The Baron’s laughter faded, and he waved his hand dismissively. "Go, then. Begin preparing the groundwork. We’ll let the Imperium know about our new friends, the Targaryens. But we will do so on our terms."

Feyd nodded once more, then turned and left the room, his thoughts already spinning with plans and schemes. He had failed on Arctis, yes, but the game was far from over. And the next time, he would make sure both the Atreides and the Targaryens paid the price.

As the heavy doors closed behind him, Feyd allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk. This was just the beginning.

...

The vast throne room of Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV was cold and silent, save for the soft echo of footsteps as Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam and her attendants led the Red Woman into the chamber. The priestess, dressed in tattered crimson robes, her flame-colored hair spilling over her shoulders, had been a mystery ever since her arrival on Arrakis. Now, despite all the efforts of the Bene Gesserit to break her will, she remained unresponsive to their usual methods of interrogation.

At the far end of the room, Shaddam sat on his gilded throne, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the Red Woman. Beside him, an array of documents and reports lay scattered across a marble table—conflicting accounts of the events on Arctis. One report from Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, claiming his forces had been ambushed by House Atreides, painted the Duke as an aggressor and the unexpected return of House Targaryen. The other report, from Duke Leto Atreides himself, painted a different picture—one of defense against Harkonnen treachery. Neither report fully aligned with the scarce updates from House Ix, who had remained curiously evasive since they had delivered that parchment with dragon seal to the Emperor.

Shaddam's frustration simmered beneath his composed exterior. This was not how things were supposed to go. And now, with the Targaryens resurfacing, the entire balance of power in the Imperium was at risk.

The Red Woman was brought before the Emperor, her face serene despite the chains that bound her wrists. Her eyes, fiery and unwavering, met Shaddam's without fear. Mother Helen stood just behind her, her presence a quiet threat.

Shaddam leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "You have defied the Bene Gesserit and refused to answer their questions. But you are in my presence now, priestess. And I will have answers. What are you doing on Arrakis, and what is your connection to the events on Arctis?"

The Red Woman's lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. "You align yourself with serpents, Emperor," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "The Bene Gesserit whisper in your ear, guiding your hand, but they do not serve you. They serve only themselves."

Mother Mohiam's face tightened in anger. "Careful, woman. You speak to the Emperor."

But the Red Woman did not flinch. Her eyes remained fixed on Shaddam, her gaze burning with an intensity that unsettled even the most seasoned court attendants. "The time of false kings and the Sisterhood's shadowy plots is ending," she said, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of fire. "The Lord of Light has sent me as a warning. You think yourselves rulers of this universe, but your reigns are but flickering candles in the darkness. The true prince will come, and he will burn away the corruption that festers in your Imperium."

Shaddam’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I asked for answers, not riddles. What do you know of the Targaryens? Of their return?"

The Red Woman’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, her smile never fading. "The dragons are of the flame, born of the same fire that will cleanse this universe. You cannot stop what is coming. You will either bend before it, or you will be consumed."

Mother Mohiam stepped forward, her patience long gone. "Enough!" she barked, her voice filled with frustration. "You dare speak in riddles and prophecies while defying the Sisterhood? You are a servant of chaos, and you will answer for your insolence."

The Red Woman’s smile only widened, her eyes gleaming with something almost otherworldly. "The night is dark and full of terrors, Bene Gesserit. And you are blind to the true threat. Your whispers of control, your breeding programs, they are nothing in the face of what is coming."

Shaddam's eyes narrowed, his annoyance boiling over. "Enough of this. Remove her from my sight," he ordered, his voice cold. "She is no more than a madwoman spouting false prophecies."

Two guards stepped forward to take the Red Woman away, her chains rattling as they pulled her toward the exit. But as she was led from the room, her parting words echoed through the chamber like a curse. "The time of shadows is ending, Emperor. The Lord of Light sees all."

When the doors slammed shut behind her, silence filled the room once more. Shaddam stood from his throne, pacing slowly, his hands clasped behind his back.

Mother Mohiam approached, her voice cold and accusing. "You knew of the Targaryens' presence long before the Sisterhood did, didn't you? And you said nothing."

Shaddam stopped in his tracks, turning slowly to face her, his expression hardening. He had known about the possibility of the Targaryens' survival for some time, though he had kept that information close, using it to his advantage when necessary. But now, with conflicting reports, he realized someone had leaked sensitive information.

"It seems," Shaddam said, his voice measured but edged with annoyance, "that certain reports have slipped through the cracks. There has been a leak, and the Targaryens' presence has become known before I intended."

Mother Mohiam’s eyes narrowed. "The Sisterhood could have acted had we known sooner. Now, the situation is slipping from our control. The Targaryens are a threat we cannot afford to ignore, and this… priestess has stirred up resistance on Arrakis. Her followers are growing, undermining our groundwork for the Kwisatz Haderach."

Shaddam’s patience wore thin as he rubbed his temples. "I have a plan to deal with the Targaryens, but it will take time. As for Arrakis, your order should focus on securing the situation. We have little time left before things spiral further out of control."

Mother Mohiam’s lips pressed into a thin line. "The groundwork is already in place, but the presence of these servants of the so-called Lord of Light is complicating matters. They are spreading dissent among the people, speaking of a prince that will come to save them."

"Then fix it," Shaddam snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "The Bene Gesserit have manipulated rulers for centuries. Surely dealing with a few religious zealots is not beyond your capabilities."

Mother Mohiam’s expression darkened, but she said nothing further. The tension between them was palpable, but she knew that the Emperor’s patience had limits. With a final curt nod, she turned and left the chamber, her robes billowing behind her as she exited.

Shaddam stood alone in the vast room, his gaze once more settling on the conflicting reports before him. The Targaryens, the Atreides, the Harkonnens—all were playing dangerous games. But in the end, Shaddam intended to be the one holding the strings. Time was running out, and soon, all the pieces would need to fall into place.

But first, he had to deal with the shadows lurking within his own empire.

45 notes · View notes