#baro scenarios

[nknoxe-n]

╭┈◦•◦❥•◦ Carmel Hearts·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳

The morning rush at the coffee shop was in full swing when Barou stormed in, his presence commanding attention even in the bustling crowd. You, the barista, had seen your fair share of intense customers, but Barou was a different breed. He approached the counter with a determined look, as if about to challenge you to a duel rather than order coffee.

“One double shot venti caramel macchiato with extra caramel, extra whipped cream, and a shot of vanilla,” he ordered, his tone as fierce and commanding

You raised an eyebrow, it's not what you were expecting, but you nodded trying to hide the dumbfounded look on your face “Coming right up...?”

As you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but glance at him. He'd become a regular sometimes ordering more than one drink which is how you learned he had two younger sisters, one that really seemed to like pink-drinks and the other usually taking some sort of lemonade. 

The rate he would drink caffeine was worrying though while his sisters seemed to get some of the less caffeine heavy drinks Barou's regular was some sort of double shot coffee with caramel, it struck you as weird, someone as masculine as him ordering some of the more 'femenine' drinks at Starbucks or maybe the government finally put a chip in your head to think like a sexist person.

“Hey, uh, are you sure you don’t want to switch to decaf?” you suggested gently, handing over the drink.

Barou glared at you, his intensity unwavering. “I need the energy. Got a lot to do.”

You nodded, trying to mask your concern. “Just… you know, moderation is key.”

He scoffed, taking a long sip of his macchiato. “Moderation is for the weak. I need to be at my best, always.”

You watched as he found a seat, the brightly colored drink looking almost comical in his large hands. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something endearing about his dedication—even if it was just to his coffee.

The next day at the coffee shop started like any other, with the usual morning rush of customers and the smell of freshly brewed coffee and fruity sugars filling the air. You were busy behind the counter, taking orders and preparing drinks with practiced ease talking with regular customers, sharing a few laughs here and there. 

Just as you were wiping down the counter, Shoei Barou strode in, his presence as suffocating as ever. He approached the counter with a determined stride, though today there was a slight nervous energy about him that you couldn't quite place, he seemingly refused to meet your eyes.

“One… uh, surprise me,” he said, his voice a touch softer than usual.

You raised an eyebrow, noticing the departure from his usual specific orders. “Sure thing, Coming right up.”

As you prepared his drink, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. He seemed to be lost in thought, his usual intensity tempered by something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, you decided it was time to give him a break from the large caffeine intake, making him an Iced Black Tea Lemonade.

When the drink was ready, you placed it on the counter. “Here you go.”

Barou looked at the drink, then at you, and hesitated for a moment. With a swift motion, he handed you the money for the drink. “Keep the change,” he muttered, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush, before quickly turning to leave.

You blinked in surprise, unfolding a piece of paper hidden amongst the yen, scrawled on it was a phone number, followed by a hastily written note: 'In case you ever need a break from coffee.'

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to see him heading towards the door, his usual confident stride slightly awkward now. He glanced back once, meeting your eyes briefly, before disappearing out into the bustling street.

A small smile graced your lips, it was a cute gesture, and you couldn't help but tuck the piece of paper into the pocket of your pants instead of the apron, completely ready to save it as a contact in your phone. 

[uzurimisery]

this time. / shoei baro x reader

Very rare BLLK piece from me

w.c: 0.8k

Written for the @pixelcafe-network Friday Challenge #5

It’s strangely easy to pack your bags. It should be harder you reckon- you can still remember moving into his apartment. Putting your stuff away, tucking in pieces of yourself into pieces of him. The mixing of yours and his becoming ours.

A sort of languid sadness has been settled in your bones for the past three days but has contorted, and hardened into anger. Or maybe it has sucked up any other emotion you might have felt towards him, chewed it up, and left you void of feeling. Apathy. That’s what you’re feeling. 

The sweaters take up the most room so you pull them out and put them into one of those vacuum bags to shrink them down. Some things are too big in the compress cubes, so vacuum bags. Stuff them full, zip them up, suck the air out, and hope you haven’t shoved too much down that it doesn’t burst at the seams. 

That’s the point you were at. Too much shoving things down, down, down, that they melted under pressure and now you felt like a volcano about to burst when you first saw the lipstick on the collar of his shirt. It erupted out of you in a screaming match with him that resulted in him leaving the apartment, telling you to “cool off.” 

But again it’s no longer anger, that burned out after the first night. Now it was just apathy. 

Apathy to how easy it was for him to continually lie to you. Apathy to how he always promised change. Apathy to how you’d take one step forward and five steps back with him. Apathy to how everyone looked at you with pity. Apathy for how much you’ve struggled to try and change yourself to better fit his tastes again.

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

You supposed it’s better this way, stops the cutting edge of the knife of failure from stabbing too deeply. 

“You actually leaving?” Shoei has just come into the apartment, still wearing his coat with a dozen roses bunched up in his arm. His version of an apology you suppose. You don’t even like roses. 

“Yes. I am.” 

He leans against the door frame and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “That’s what you said last time.” 

“This time I mean it.”

“Sure you do.” It's careless, light, dismissive, the same way he’s always brushes it off. It's impressive how he always does that. It’s depressing that he treats you like this. 

You slam the suitcase shut. “I do.”

Shoei comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Surprising, just how much has changed in the past six months. You never thought that him touching you would make you feel disgusted when it used to feel like home. “Let me make it up to you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on your neck and it makes you squirm. 

How many other women has he kissed the same way?

“Don’t touch me.”  You slide out of his arms and yank the suitcase from the bed. 

“C’mon, doll, why are you acting like this? Let me make it up to you.” He scoffs as you shrug him off again. The mask slips just a bit and you can see his complete disregard, how he really isn’t sorry for what he’s done. “Jesus okay I’m sorry, it was an honest mistake. I was drunk and she looked like you. Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you?”

“No Sho, there’s not making it up to me. I’m done this time. For real.” It sounds like it doesn’t come from your body.  Like it’s an outside source talking. So final. 

“You said that last time. And the time before that.” There's anger brewing in him with the sharp draw of his brown and how his voice picks up in volume, how it gets sharper. “Reality is you’ll come back here crawling, crying, telling me you’re sorry, I’ll forgive you, and then we fuck and were good for a couple of months. Why don’t we just skip the drama, get to fucking, and then go to breakfast? I’ll even buy you those new earrings you’ve been eyeing.”

You don’t move but your shoulders tense. How many times have you done this dance with him to where he thinks it's okay to talk to you like this now? Where is your self-respect? But he’s not wrong. Every time you did come back on your knees and beg for him to love you again.

“Hate me all you want. You know I’m right.” He’s behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head like he always has. 

“No,” You pull forward, unlock the door and open it. “Not this time.”

It slams shut behind you.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[maochira]

Hnngg got big brother Barou on my mind again,,

Requests are open! Masterlist

The way he'd be super protective about you?? Like??? He'd intimidate other people so they don't do anything wrong to you. And if someone even DARES to hurt you, he'd be so quick to beat them up.

He'd call you nicknames a lot. But those nicknames are insults which he means in a loving way.

Omg imagine doing daily life stuff with him like going grocery shopping because your parents told you to?? Barou would walk through the store in the most efficient order to get all the things on your list while you just run around and take random stuff you want. Barou is quick to put the thing he sees as unnecessary back into the shelves, tho. Also, whenever the store doesn't have an item you need he gets frustrated and you'd have to hold him back from insulting the workers there.

Hugs from big brother Barou omg.................... I'd die to get one of those, to be honest. Like. Omg. Just imagine the goodbye hug he gives you when he leaves to go to Blue Lock. He'd probably act like it's not a big deal and whatever because your parents are around and he's kind of shy about showing how loving he is towards you in front of them. But in the end, he can't let go of the hug because he doesn't know when he'll be returning,, He doesn't know when he'll get to see you again which does make him sad but he won't show it.

One of his motivations to win in Blue Lock is so you can say your big brother is the one and only greatest striker in the world!!

[officiallyisagibrainrotted]

Hello could you mabye write a fic about luna (the spanish guy if you write about him) x actress reader. Mabye more of a suggestive scenario of your choice

+My Woman+

⚠️Warnings ⚠️; Suggestive, short, anon I'm am sooooooo sorry this took so long I got caught up in exams and life, I'm so sorry, grammatical errors.

Luna is definitely the jealous type, but he won't show that he is jealous. Once you turn your back he would verbally attack the person till no recovery.

Or if hes in a really good mood then he'll just show them who you belong to right in front of them with zero shame .

So when he saw that you men in your department ketp flirting with you and you just clearly stated you didn't like them and wasn't not interested.

But they didn't get the hint.

So after you were done with your final scene you took a 45 minute break.

And almost immediately the two men began to approached you , but luckily your boyfriend bet them to it.

He walks right up to you not giving you a chance to greet him properly before pulling you into a heated kiss. He turns around making sure the two men were getting the "perfect" angle.

He watches as they blush and figit uncomfortably.

After about 15 more seconds of practicality harassing your lips he pulls away, making sure the two men got a good view of the thin layer of saliva that kept you two connected before he pulls away causing the clear liquid to fall onto your chin.

And of course him being the gentleman that he is he whips it away.

He takes another glance at the two men to see that they were still watching.

He rolls his eyes. He sighed.

'Just what the hell is it gonna take for these guys to get the hint?'.

He holds you body firmly close to him as you struggle to get away. But his grip was strong, not enough to hurt to .

He was about to give you freedom but an idea came to mind.

"Why are you trying to run away from me?". He whispers this in her ear ." Don't you love when I would you close like this".

The girl proceeds to try and shove him away.

He ignores the girl's protest by pulling her rear against him firmly.

Definitely get the attention of the others in the room.

"We're in public". She whimpered.

"Exactly why is doing this, those bastards over there don't know who you belong to and it's my job to prove it to them even if it means I have to rail you right here and now".

When saying this he makes direct eye contact with the two men causing them to flinch.

"Not to mention this is you favorite position isn't it?".

He says this loud enough for the others to hear ,amongst other things that are far to inappropriate to say even in a room full of adults.

But he has to stop when your manager threatened to have security throw him and and he won't be able to step foot in the studio again.

He doesn't want to ruin one of the only time he can spend time with you.

Of course he gives you one last heated kiss before dismissing himself, He just wants everyone to make sure they know exactly who you belong to.

Once again I'm so sorry for the delay please forgive me!!!😭😭.

I was trying to get everything out before new years but I was busy.

But um reblogs are highly appreciated 👍 and I hope this was to your liking anon and once again sorry for the delay.

[sansaorgana]

— THE GIFT

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You were born to be Feyd-Rautha's wife. You arrive to Giedi Prime to get adjusted to the new environment before your wedding. Your betrothed is trying to court you properly... but he only knows The Harkonnen ways of doing so.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — After a whole month of writing Thrown To The Wolves, I felt weird writing something with Feyd with a different Reader and a different plot. 🙈 But at the same time I was excited to explore a new scenario. 😄

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, death

WORD COUNT — 3,700

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE GIFT

Giedi Prime was an unfriendly place – cold and colourless, nearly lifeless as well. The people you were seeing reminded you of machines more than humans. You were terrified as you realised you’d spent the rest of your life there. The Harkonnens were even worse. Rude, harsh, not very talkative. Your future husband had looked you up and down on your first day in a way that turned your blood cold.

You missed home. You missed your family. But you knew it was impossible to ever go back. You could run away – if you somehow managed to bribe the servants to help you – but it was impossible to hide from your destiny. You had been born to be Feyd-Rautha’s wife, and most importantly, to give birth to his child.

You were a daughter of an important Lord, therefore you weren’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. You knew nothing else was waiting for you in this world and no one would ever let you marry a person of your choice. But why was Feyd-Rautha your betrothed? Out of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be promised to a Harkonnen?

Ever since you had been a little girl, your friends had been teasing you about it. Repeating the dreadful gossip about Giedi Prime and your betrothed who had become a famous and dangerous gladiator in the meantime. And now you were finding out that the gossip was not true – reality was even worse than anything you had heard and expected of this place and of this man.

You were supposed to spend three months on Giedi Prime before your wedding, away from your home and family, to adjust to the environment and the customs. Then the wedding would take its place and you’d become the na-baroness of The Harkonnens.

On your first morning you were woken up with breakfast brought to your bed by the servants.

“Why can’t I eat with my husband’s family in the dining room?” You asked them while sitting up and resting on your pillows.

The pale and bald women looked at each other significantly. Everyone looked the same here, you felt like a freak.

“Baron Harkonnen and his nephews do not eat their meals together, unless it is a special occasion, a banquet of some sort,” one of them explained. “Everyone eats their meals in their own private chambers.”

“I see,” you nodded and sighed at the sight of the food. It was as colourless as everything around. You missed the bowls of fruit and yoghurts you had been getting on your homeplanet.

After swallowing the last bit of your breakfast, you took a shower and let your new servants dress you up. The Harkonnens had requested for you to leave all your clothes and personal belongings at home. They wanted you to be as detached from your old self as possible. You were gifted a whole wardrobe of new outfits instead. All black.

You wondered if they’d ask you to shave your head, too. You dreaded that. Your hair was like an armour you could hide under. Your servants had no idea how to manage it so they left it loose. You brushed it with your fingers since there was no brush.

When you saw yourself in the mirror you thought that on your homeplanet you’d be called a feral woman. In a black, long dress, hair unkempt and dark bags under your exhausted and empty eyes that lacked any sort of emotion.

You were supposed to have classes about The Harkonnen culture. You had been studying it since you were a little girl but they did not trust your progress and they wanted to test you in a more practical sense. Your teacher was an old man with a contemptuous smirk, a close advisor of the Baron and most likely his spy.

He had been asking you questions for the past hour to which you answered perfectly well. It was becoming difficult for him to hide his surprised facial expression.

“You’ve been trained well, my Lady,” he admitted.

“This is all that has been expected of me,” you explained with a nod, your voice was hollow and emotionless as you realised how true your words had been. Your whole personality was limited to be the future Harkonnen Baroness ever since you had been a little girl. You couldn’t possibly tell what you would be like under different circumstances. You had never been given a chance to find out.

“Very well then,” he hummed to himself. “I’d like you to roam freely around the fortress and try not to get lost. Tomorrow during our class you will ask me questions about the things and places that made you curious,” he informed you and bowed down before leaving the room.

You looked around, expecting someone to fetch you but no one was coming. He had to actually mean that you were allowed to roam freely around the fortress. Carefully, you left the room and chose to turn right. You had arrived from the left side of the corridor so you were naturally more curious about the right side and exploring a brand new territory.

You were too scared to try to push any doors, though. You didn’t want to walk in on things that would possibly make someone beheading you for seeing. The occasional guards passing you by were looking at you suspiciously but they were not saying anything. After a while you stopped seeing them at all and realised you were in a dark maze of endless corridors that you had no idea how to get out of.

Trying to go back, you only ended up getting lost even further as you were going deeper and deeper into the maze. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your hands began to shake as they turned cold. The corridor was cold in general – much colder than the rest of the fortress. And it was terrifyingly empty.

You decided to stay in one place and wait. Someone had to eventually look for you, right? You hoped for it to be true. Trying to hug your own self for warmth and comfort, you rested your back on the cold, grey wall, taking deep breaths in. 

Suddenly, a loud and animalistic cry emerged from behind one of the black doors. You were startled by it and your body began to tremble even more. You wanted to get away as far as possible from that door but when you were about to turn around and run, they opened and your heart squeezed in your chest.

To your surprise, it was your betrothed leaving the mysterious room. He was wearing gladiator attire and holding a blade in his hand with blood still dripping. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in his deep and raspy voice.

“I… I got lost, I’m sorry. I’ve been told to roam freely around the fortress and explore on my own but I got lost…” You explained as you shivered.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly like predators approach their prey. You took a step back and felt the wall behind you. You were trapped.

“Lost, you’re saying?” He smirked as he hovered over you. Your heart was pounding so fast in your chest that he just had to hear it. He rested one of his hands on the wall above your head and leaned in even closer. “You’ve accidentally gone underground where I train on my slaves,” he smiled almost playfully, showing off his black stained teeth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to..” You gasped but he shushed you with a soft hiss.

“Did I say it was forbidden?” He asked and you shook your head. “Come, I’ll show you,” Feyd straightened himself and reached out his hand towards you as if he was a proper gentleman.

Everything inside you was screaming to run away and to not follow him anywhere. But you were aware that he would catch you in a second and your attempt would only most likely enrage him. And very soon you would belong to him anyway. You would be his property whether you wanted it or not.

You held his hand and he froze at the feeling of your ice cold and shivering fingers.

“You are cold,” he pointed out. “And scared.”

“I am not scared,” you lied. You had been taught that The Harkonnens hated fear and cowardice.

“And a liar,” Feyd-Rautha sneered and led you inside the mysterious room he had previously left.

It was big and dark like every other room in that fortress. There was a dead body of a servant in gladiator gear laying on the floor in the puddle of his own blood. The walls were covered in all sorts of weapons.

“This is where I train,” Feyd announced proudly. He had to think it would impress you but it only made you sick, especially the sight of the dead man on the floor. You had never seen death in such a brutal and ugly way before. But now you were sure it was not the last time.

Feyd was visibly waiting for your response as he let go of your hand and took a step back to tilt his head and watch your expressions carefully. You realised it was a test of how much you were able to handle as his wife.

You wondered what would happen if you failed all the tests. Would they just send you back home or would they get rid of you? Were they even able to do that? You didn’t want to find out.

“It is impressive, my Lord na-baron,” you admitted with a shaky nod of your head and he winced at your words which made you furrow your brows.

“Don’t address me like a servant, pet,” he clicked his tongue and you nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the way he had called you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “How should I address you then?”

“However you like,” Feyd shrugged his arms and approached you once again, raising his bloody blade slightly as you flinched. It brought a smile to his full lips. Looking deep into your eyes, he licked the blade clean. You clenched your jaw and tried to keep a poker face on but a knot formed in your stomach at the disgusting act.

You hated to admit that he was attractive for a Harkonnen. There was a magnetic energy about him that made you attracted to him like a moth was driven to a flame. Even his harsh and unpleasant voice was leaving you wanting more.

Feyd brushed your hair with the tip of his freshly cleaned blade, carefully, making sure not to cut any strand.

“I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he looked even more intensely into your eyes.

“That would be inappropriate,” you tried to explain. “It’s not considered elegant.”

“I said, I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he repeated like he couldn’t understand why you were trying to argue. He was a spoiled na-baron and completely not used to people disobeying him. So, you just nodded this time.

“Then I will,” you promised. “If I could only get a hairbrush, though. Or a comb. So they don’t tangle,” you pleaded and he squinted his eyes at you as the tip of his blade moved to under your chin. You swallowed thickly at that gesture.

“A hairbrush or a comb,” he repeated your words. “That can be arranged,” he added and you smiled nervously at him. “What are you scared of?”

“Of the blade under my chin perhaps?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, however his hand remained still.

“Weren’t you sent here to be my wife?” Feyd’s smile dropped in an instant. He was serious again and you took a deep breath in, tugging on the folds of your dress to hide how sweaty your hands had become.

“Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“And what do you think of that?”

“I don’t think. I have been preparing for that since I was a child,” you answered.

“I want to be a good husband,” his sudden confession made your eyes widen. In one swift move he took the blade away from you and replaced it with his hand as he held your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “My uncle says that a wife should not be an enemy. He wants me to court you properly,” he explained.

“Is your uncle experienced in marriage?” You asked, curiously. You had been taught that Baron Harkonnen had never been married.

Feyd laughed at your question as his grip on your chin tightened. He moved his face even closer to yours, your nose nearly brushed his and it made you hold your breath.

“Can you think of a woman who would not become his enemy after being forced to marry him?” He asked you and you dared to chuckle at that.

“So, I assume, I do not have to worry about you becoming like him one day?” You bit on your lower lip, realising that he indeed did not want to hurt you.

Perhaps that whole uncomfortable and threatening situation was his idea of intimacy. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“My uncle is not my role model,” he only answered and took a step back, removing his hand from your chin. “I don’t have idols.”

“What do you worship then?” You furrowed your brows.

“Blood and honour,” he answered with all seriousness. “Allow me to give you something, my pet. A gift for my bride to be,” he proposed and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings by refusing.

You expected him to approach one of the walls and hand you some of the weapons. But, to your surprise, he kneeled down next to the dead body laying on the floor and he opened its chest with the sharp tip of his blade. You gagged quietly and covered your mouth with your hand, trying to look away as the metallic smell of blood hit your nostrils, leaving you nauseous.

The sound of his heavy footsteps made you look in his direction again, not wanting to offend him in any way. He was walking towards you proudly with a real human heart in his hands, blood dripping off of it on the floor, leaving a trace. With all your force you stopped yourself from squealing at the sight. No amount of training and studying The Harkonnen culture had prepared you for this.

Feyd-Rautha reached his hands out as he offered you his foul gift. He was staring at you intensely, expecting praise of some sort or admiration. However, you had none. You let the wet organ slip into your hands as you gagged once again at the sensation and a shiver went down your body. Your reaction caused Feyd to tilt his head and squint his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“You don’t like it,” he pointed out after a short while of silence and you got scared of upsetting him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” you started, trying to nervously explain yourself.

“You don’t like it,” he repeated, both annoyed and disappointed.

“I appreciate the gesture,” you tried to assure him. “I will keep it,” you promised.

“Why don’t you like it?” He asked once again, ignoring all your words. You sighed.

“It’s just not something I’m used to. In my homeworld, we don’t give each other human hearts,” you explained softly.

“What do you give each other?” His question was genuine and curious.

“Haven’t you studied my customs like I have been studying yours?” You asked but the answer was obvious.

“My uncle says it is not important for me to know your culture because you are here to become one of us,” Feyd explained. “The only thing I have been studying was the blade,” he added. “So, what kind of gifts do your people give?”

“Flowers,” you answered. “For example.”

“There are no flowers on Giedi Prime,” Feyd pointed out. “No seed blooms in our soil.”

“I understand,” you nodded, nervously. “I am grateful for your gift, Feyd-Rautha. I appreciate your courtship,” you assured him but your voice and hands were shaking as your face was visibly disgusted.

Someone knocked upon the doors and Feyd barked at them to come in. You turned around and saw two guards sighing out of relief at the sight of you.

“There you are, my Lady!” One of them approached you. “We’ve been searching everywhere. Let us escort you back to your chambers,” he bowed his head.

You nodded at him, relieved as well at the sight of them. You wanted nothing else than to go back to the familiar part of the fortress and to finally leave this awkward and uncomfortable situation with your betrothed.

Still holding the heart carefully in your hands, you walked out without even glancing at Feyd-Rautha. The guards took you to your chambers where the worried servants had been waiting. They gasped at the sight of your gift.

“What is it, my Lady?” One of the girls asked you.

“It’s a gift from Feyd-Rautha,” you explained as they all widened their eyes. “I have no idea what to do with it,” you admitted.

“Feyd Rautha gave it to you, my Lady?” The servant swallowed thickly and you nodded. “Do you know what it means, my Lady?”

“No,” you shook your head and handed the organ to another girl. “I desperately need to wash my hands and change my dress,” you said and disappeared into the bathroom where you spent fifteen minutes getting rid of the blood.

You took the stained dress off and threw it on the floor before walking out back to your chamber. The girls were already preparing the heart as they put it in a jar full of some odd liquid.

“It will dry in there, my Lady,” one of them explained. “Na-baron must be really enamoured with you, my Lady, or perhaps he is trying to show his best side to you.”

“Enamoured?” You snorted at her. “It’s gruesome.”

“It’s the most romantic thing a Harkonnen man can give to a woman, my Lady,” the other woman added and you gasped.

“I haven’t been taught that…” You whispered, feeling extremely stupid for the way you had treated Feyd-Rautha before. You had to anger him dearly and his rage was not something you wanted to deal with. “What is the equivalent of such a gift for a man? What can I give him in return?” You asked the servants and they looked at each other’s faces, surprised.

“There is no equivalent, my Lady,” one of them answered. “Harkonnen women do not court. Only men do.”

On the next day, when you were leaving your chambers to go to your class, you spotted the doors nearby opening and your betrothed walking out of them. Your room was in the same area as his so it was no surprise but you didn’t expect to see him at the same time in the morning. At the sight of you, he looked down and walked past you without a word, which made you feel bad for him and for the way you had treated him. But it also made you anxious because his uncle has been right about marriage. You didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to be your enemy.

Giedi Prime was far from perfect and your betrothed was an odd, psychotic creature. You couldn’t change your destiny, though, so you had to embrace it to make it bearable.

“Feyd, wait,” you rushed after him and he froze when you grabbed the sleeve of his robe. He turned around and looked at you coldly.

“I am in a hurry,” he drawled.

“So am I. But I wanted to apologise. I have been studying the Harkonnen culture for years but I have never been told of the meaning of such a gift,” you explained, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to reject you.”

“The heart was of a low quality,” he admitted as his face softened slightly. “Next time I will give you the heart of a real warrior, a real enemy. Not some slave,” he added. “My uncle has already reprimanded me for that.”

You broke a smile at him. It was adorable in a way how this scary and dangerous man was following his uncle’s guide on courtship, trying to be on his best behaviour around you. It was making you feel powerful in a way.

“I would like to return the favour but my servants have informed me there is no such tradition,” you confessed. “What can I do for you to forgive me?”

Feyd-Rautha hesitated for a moment as he looked away, thinking intensely about something. Then he laid his eyes on you again and leaned in to join your lips together. You were startled at first, your heart pounded in your chest. Raised to become his wife, you had never kissed anybody before and saved yourself for him only, however it felt as if his soft lips were truly made for yours. You put your hand on his chest and opened your mouth to invite his tongue in. He devoured you, greedily wanting to explore your mouth and feast on your taste. His hands pulled you closer by your hips and you put your free hand behind his head. Seeing him for the first time in real life two days ago, you had been slightly uncomfortable at the sight of him. But now you did not feel any of that.

Even if you hadn’t been prepared to become his wife, you’d still want him. You had been born to be his.

Feyd’s hands moved up and cupped your face before breaking the kiss and moving away gently. You took a deep breath in as he stared into your eyes and caressed your loose hair.

“You’re forgiven, my pet,” he told you. “By the way, I’ve ordered a hair brush for you.”

MASTERLIST

[cauliflowercounty]

Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion 

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

--

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape.  He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.  

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days?  No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything.  Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had.  Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter. 

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you.  Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now.  Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor. 

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape.  He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment. 

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft.  Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad. 

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him. 

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset.  Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.  

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him.  “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?” 

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want. 

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory.  I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab. 

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings. 

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings. 

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.  

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?” 

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love.  It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses. 

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses.  Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering.  As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall. 

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky.  Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar.  The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood.  “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind.  Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity.  The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.  

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process.  “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more.  The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture.  Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker. 

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals. 

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.” 

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd.  “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood. 

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes.  “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine.  “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his.  You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment. 

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.  

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.” 

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff.  A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!” 

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis.  We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each.  The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes.  You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go.  The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body.  He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more.  As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis. 

--

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants.  This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis.  Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off. 

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in. 

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride.  Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen.  As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep. 

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag. 

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning.  What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back.  Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth.  “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”  

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar.  “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now.  I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!” 

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you.  The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips.  “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot  How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror.  Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet.  Now.” 

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.  

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt. 

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss.  “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.  

--

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.  

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk..  “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought.  “I do not know, my love.”  

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return.  “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.   

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him.  Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads.  Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out. 

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins.  “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?”  Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information.  We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes.  They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not. 

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge.  The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.  

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected.  “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.” 

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter. 

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room.  You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners.  You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive. 

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

--

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.  

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies. 

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky.  The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene. 

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.  

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small. 

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon. 

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning.  The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing.  Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.  

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill.  The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal. 

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still.  However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen.  Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife. 

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight.  The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks. 

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb.  Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though. 

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.  

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.  

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind. 

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s  “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage. 

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany. 

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief  “It saved your life!”

 “I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed.  This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall.  Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense.  Memories from the battle flash in his mind.  He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear,  I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you.  I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of.  Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek. 

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist.  Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything. 

-- 

Thanks for reading!  I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers @rougegenshin @itshype@woodland-mist @tian-monique @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @allthingsimagines @meetmeatyourworst @nyaaaaa008 @caroline334 @alana4610 @targaryen-madness

Tags that aren't working for some reason??? @roguegenshin @miaraises

[v4mpi33]

Kissing ࿎

✧ Blue lock boys x Fem! reader ✧

A/N; can’t stop thinking abt bllck boys that just love kissing you, and how they do it!

CW: 2nd scenario is a bit suggestive. (Ass/breast groping)

Word count: 346

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Bllck boys that just love sweet kisses with you. Whenever you’re cuddling they’re either pressing soft short kisses all over your face, (your nose, forehead, cheek, lips, etc). Or they’re begging you (maybe silently) to kiss them all over their face. When you’re cooking, cleaning, doing anything really, they’ll find a way to give you at least one short sweet kiss somewhere on your face. Whether it’s by sneaking up behind you and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, or by grabbing your waist to make you face them and pressing a kiss to your lips. They will find a way to kiss you throughout the day. But you can’t blame them! The feeling of your soft plush lips against their skin, or lips, is so heartwarming, and ethereal. They never want to stop kissing you- or have you stop kissing them.

Nagi (kisses from him are lazy n sloppy!), ISAGI, Gagamaru, Kunigami, Bachira, Baro (he won’t ever admit it), Niko, Aryu, your favs <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Bllck boys that just LOVE making out/tongue kissing with you. Your taste, feel, smell, they’re addicted to it- addicted to you. As soon as they’re home from practice the first thing they do is pull you in by your waist and press their lips against yours in a heated kiss. They don’t care if their hands are sweaty on your skin or shirt, they need to kiss you. Before you go to bed, they’re pulling you against their chest and kissing you deeply, tongue moving against yours in a passionate kiss. Whenever you come home from being out, whether you were at a doctor's appointment or hanging out with your friends, the second they see you walk through the door they’re pulling you into a hug, so they can kiss you. Always swiping they’re tongue over your lips and eventually into your mouth. And, most of the time their hands will somehow slip under your shirt, or maybe into your pants. Playing with your breasts, or your ass!

Rin, Chigiri, REO, Bachira (again), SHIDOU, Raichi, Sae, your favs <3

[milaisreading]

Good day~

Sorry for sending you my request during submission box, Tumblr glitched. So I resend this. As I said, I reeeeeally like your blue lock headcanons! Bullock manager is such an adorable idea. So if you don't mind, can I as you for some more headcanons about blue lock boys simping for their manager?

Have a great day, I wish you a lot of inspiration!~

Thanks for the request! No need to apologize, also sorry in advance I can usually only write HCs with scenarios, soo this might be long. Hope u enjoy it🩷

Pairing: Blue Lock x Reader

Warning ⚠️: none in particular tbh. Reader uses she/her here and manga spoilers Ig

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Today was like any other at Blue Lock, you had Ego roasting everyone, (Y/n) and Anri trying to get him to eat something healthy and the boys doing their own thing with training. By now it was lunch time and the players along with (Y/n) were sent to eat as Anri and Ego went through some papers and plans for the upcoming trainings, as well as the match with the U-20 team.

'I am so hungry... Bachira kept me away from eating the whole morning. Why did he ask me to watch his dribbling even?!'

The girl blinked as she walked towards the cafeteria, cringing as she heard loud screaming from her friends.

"I am not dealing with this today. I think Ego-san has left some unattended yakisoba in the fridge." The girl said with a bittersweet smile. As much as they were annoying at times, she held the team close to her heart.

'They are good guys... but I am not dealing with their shenanigans today.'

Now the cafeteria wasn't like this the whole time, since 20 minutes ago it was very quiet and the boys were honestly minding their own business. Well that was until Nagi logged into his phone and saw a rather peculiar post. He raised his eyebrow in disgust as he read the caption on the post.

'Going to meet this cutie soon🩷'

"How did Oliver Aiku get a picture of our manager?" Nagi whispered to Reo, who was sitting next to him. The question caused his friend to spit out his drink and look at Nagi in shock and confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"He posted this... now that I look at the picture more, it could be the one when she went to help out during a JFU press conference."

"Give me that!"

Nagi let Reo take his phone, while he was seething on the inside.

'Now I regret not sneaking off that day. With my frame nobody would have gotten a picture of her.'

"This can't be for real... Oliver Aiku, the biggest player Japan witnessed!" Reo groaned, catching the attention of Aryu and the former Team Z members.

"What is it with Oliver Aiku?" Aryu asked, walking over to the table.

"Don't tell me you are afraid of playing against him." Chigiri teased.

"It's not that... just look." Reo groaned, showing Aryu the post. The boy stopped playing with the ends of his hair when he read the post, looking in horror at the pro-player's post.

"Not him of all people! We need to keep (Y/n) as far away as possible! He is too ugly to be in her presence. "

"I know! But how?"

"This is such a hassle... can I just hit him in the head with the ball or something?"

"What is this about (Y/n)? And what does Aiku have to do with her?" Baro questioned, the cafeteria now completely silent when they mentioned the girl's name.

"Oliver Aiku seems to have some interest in her. Look." Aryu sighed, giving Baro the phone. The long haired boy sat down as what was left of Team Z approached them.

"What do you mean? How does he even know about her?" Bachira pouted, while Kunigami and Gagamaru were on high alert.

"This isn't good, we can't let that bastard near her." Isagi added as Chigiri nodded his head.

"Especially with his history with women... Yeah, (Y/n) is way better off not knowing him." Otoya added, a little annoyed that the pro-player knew of their manager.

"So what's the plan? It's not like all of us can stay around her all the time."

"Are we fighting?" Kurona and Karasu came, curious as to what they are supposed to do.

"We can't really do that. There will be a lot of cameras, and with Oliver Aiku being as popular as he is, they will follow every move." Yukimiya said, adjusting his glasses as the rest groaned. Rin kept quiet as he searched for the said post to see it with his own eyes, and sure enough it was there. What made it worse in Rin's eyes was that even his own brother, Itoshi Sae liked it. That pretty much set a blaze of anger off and Rin got up from his seat.

"Well that's the only option we have. Some of us will be on the bench or be called for a switch. We need to keep that guy away from (Y/n)." Rin said to the group, who all nodded their heads.

"Alright then! It's settled, we are doing our best to win against the U-20 and keep Aiku away." Isagi said after he finally calmed Bachira down.

"Of course. Can you imagine that asshole near (Y/n)?" Baro tsked, not liking that image in the slightest.

"Right! (Y/n) is so sweet and kind, Aiku is totally not for her." Aryu sighed as the others nodded along.

"Right, she is suited for someone like me." Otoya added suddenly, earning glares from his fellow teammates.

"Hell no! (Y/n) doesn't even know you that well! I am more her type, she is so calm and collected, perfect for me!" Bachira said, sending a warning glare to the white/green-haired boy.

"Her type? Bachira you are rough and wild, there is no way (Y/n) will want to be with you. Me on the other hand, I am the perfect gentleman." Chigiri said smugly. Kunigami rolled his eyes at the redhead's comment along with Gagamaru.

"Then I am the perfect candidate, also physically I am superior too, who else will protect her when it's necessary."

"Now when we talk about physique, I am far superior than you are. My queen would be much happier with me." Baro said, getting into Kunigami's face.

"Well, (Y/n) might not be into muscles. Besides, with the way she is always so kind and sweet to me, I am sure I am winning."

Isagi's comment irritated Rin and the younger Itoshi got into his face now.

"You winning next to me? We all know the best striker wins here, and that is me. Keep your hands off of her."

"You all are acting as if I am not in the clear win here, after all I am the richest. I could offer (Y/n) anything her heart desires." Reo added with a pout as Nagi shook his head.

"I think she would prefere a calm and quiet life. So I am the ideal partner there, you lose."

"Nagi, shut up!"

"I think (Y/n) and I would be a good match too. She looks happy when talking to me." Gagamaru commented while his face turned red.

"That's in her glamorous nature, Gagamaru." Aryu added while sighing.

By now the whole cafeteria was in total chaos, a mix of arguments over who the better match for (Y/n) was or singing praises about the girl.

Outside, (Y/n) and Hiori were playing rock, paper, scissors on who will yell at them to stop.

"What even started the argument?" (Y/n) asked, sighing at her loss as the boy shook his head.

"I don't know. I was practicing my dribbling and then came to you." Hiori said, blushing a little at the closeness.

'She smells really sweet today~'

As the day of the U-20 and Blue Lock 11 match approached, (Y/n) grew more and more anxious, hoping the boys will be able to handle the pressure. The whole of Japan was watching and she did her best to be on the call as soon as one of her friends needed help. Barely paying attention to anyone outside of her team, (Y/n) never noticed how every time Aiku tried to approach her or how one of the boys, usually Baro or Kunigami would whisk her away or glare at the player.

[okkalo]

can u do a drabble/scenario with bllk boys ( nagi, baro, isagi, rin, sae and any other you’d like) where they gift their s/o hand made gifts

like i definitely think kunigami or chigiri would know how to crochet so they’d make their s/o a blanket or book cover

thankyou!! and have a great day!!

hi again!! yes i can do that :) i can definitely see chigiri doing some crochet idk about kunigami though,, he would def learn though!! anyways i hope you enjoy and have a good day!! 🫶

also on my blog scenarios and drabbles are two different things so i’m gonna assume you mean writing with no headcanons;;

characters: nagi, barou, isagi, rin, sae

nagi

honestly, nagi was not one to do crafts. he wasn’t one to do anything at all, really. the only reason he decided to do something is because he saw someone doing origami and the teacher wouldn’t let him sleep. besides, he’s heard you talk about how cute handmade gifts are, so, why not?

he ended up making a cat. a really bad cat. none of it was symmetrical and the face he drew on could give you nightmares. you were careful not to say anything about it when he handed it to you when walking home, knowing this is a once-in-lifetime opportunity.

“you made this for me?” you asked, examining the poorly folded cat. nagi hummed in agreement, hand sliding down to take yours. you made sure to give him a kiss on the cheek as a thanks.

“don’t expect another one,” he mumbled, eyes struggling to stay opened in the bright sunlight.

“i wasn’t expecting another,” you replied, giving him a small squeeze on the hand. he actually might make another one just to get another kiss on the cheek.

barou

the best you’ll get out of barou is him fixing your clothes. he’s never been one for giving gifts, especially one’s that he hand makes. he feels too stupid doing it. he’s always one to give you flowers, just never anything made from him.

however, he will absolutely fix your clothes to how you desire. lost a button? immediately sews it back on. got a rip in your shirt? fixes it like a pro.

he can also make you a piece of clothing if you beg. he would rather not, though. and don’t even think about teasing him for any of this.

you had just gotten out of the shower to retreat back to your room and you were met with the pants you had given up on sitting on your bed. you had been complaining about the button popping off, upset due to losing your favorite pair of jeans. now, suddenly, they were sitting nicely in front of you with a button. you certainly didn’t do that. you know exactly who did though.

“barou? did you fix my pants?” you ask, trudging into the living room to see him wiping down the coffee table. he barely looked up, too focused on the task at hand.

“yeah,” his gruff made you smile, skipping over to sit down next to him. you gave a sweet kiss on his cheek, hugging him afterwards as well.

“thank you.”

isagi

he saw you fanning over people making flowers out of pipe cleaners and decided to give it a go. actually enjoyed it so much that he started making more than he needed. gave you a full size bouquet at the end of the day.

your jaw dropped at the colorful pipe cleaners all bundled together to make a bouquet. you excitedly took the bouquet, flashing your boyfriend a huge smile. “isagi, i love these! did you make them all?”

he sheepishly nodded, scratching the back of his head, “yeah, i didn’t realize i made a lot until all the green pipe cleaners were gone.” his confession drew a soft laugh out of you, his cheeks tinting at the sound.

“it’s a perfect amount, thank you,” you drew him in for a kiss, him loving to feeling of your upturned lips against his.

rin

he had to hear nights worth of your gushing over small crochet plushies until he finally decided to try it out. little did he know, he was getting into a lot. absolutely struggled with the hook, muttering cusses every time something didn’t go his way.

rin, however, was not a quitter. he finally finished one, though severely disappointed with how bad it had looked. rin was also a perfectionist to heart. so, he gave it another go, this time paying attention to every small detail. finally, weeks later of hiding his project in drawers you never check, he presented you a small hello kitty plushie.

“oh my god! rin this is adorable! you seriously made this?” you squealed, immediately taking the small plush in both of your hands to examine it.

“yeah,” he spoke nonchalantly, heart secretly jumping in joy seeing you so excited for something he did. you jumped up to give him a big hug, giggling all the while.

“thank you, my sweet boyfriend,” give him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. he loves it when you do it. don’t mind his sigh.

sae

you knew better than to expect a decent gift from the heart from sae. that didn’t stop the leap your heart did once he handed you a piece of paper saying that he drew you. your poor, poor heart.

he drew you alright. just in the worst way possible. at first you wanted to believe he actually tried but was just horrible at drawing, but the more you looked at it the more you could tell he couldn’t have given less of a shit what he drew. he watched your face changes in joy too, seeing how your excited smile turned into a weird squiggle and then to a plain frown.

“sae, you did this on purpose,” you looked up to see his smirk, your heart officially dropping.

“i think i drew you perfectly,” your whine only made him feel better. give him the cold shoulder later and he might just think about apologizing while holding you close.

unedited thanks for reading!

[thejollyorangeartist]

Sweet Talk

This is a little crossover I thought of between two candy land rulers.

When I saw the Amazing Digital Circus sneak preview of the Princess Loolilalu character, she immediately reminded me of Baroness Von Bon Bon from the Cuphead Show. They both have a similar physical appearance with creative looking dresses and hair made out of candy, desert foods, and even a bit of fruit.

I also appreciate how Loolilalu's personality is different enough from Baroness Von Bon Bon so that they didn't feel like the exact same character. Whereas the Baroness is crazy and addictive, Loolilalu feels more innocent and controlled.

Plus it helped made me come up with this scenario of the Baroness looking very "eager" to be around the princess. Although a part of me does wonder if both of them were hungry for each other...I'd imagine it'd be like that Tex Avery cartoon where the two vultures try to eat each other.

[borom1r]

WAILING @theshakespearetrash sent me 2 ask memes for Boromir asks (who is very much Not my OC skfhshfjjs but I will Always do character analysis I love character analysis so much. rotating him so fast in my brain. microwaving him on high)

+ not to be a kinnie on main (voice of a man who is always a kinnie on main) but I will be answering these all w/ a sort of Boromir-lives scenario in mind -w-

anyways ask meme 1 + ask meme 2

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

ok I feel like it’s the cop-out answer to say “his fall to the ring” but I feel like Boromir is the sort of person to.. not like stew on things but very much takes the stance of “good or bad, all my choices got me to the current moment and made me who I am.” + I feel like there’s so much tangled up in his fall completely beyond his control where that’s the only memory that he’d like. actively want to erase from his mind

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

HM. good with kids. I think unless you’d seen him with Faramir/his cousins when they were younger you wouldn’t guess (he’s a soldier and a very plain man when he’s not putting on a show for his father), but he’s just genuinely great with kids

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

loves too much + quick to lose hope. painfully aware of this

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

fight response. 100% the kind of man who gets kicked out of a haunted house for punching a scareactor even though he knew a scare was coming. Faramir and Aragorn have both almost gotten throttled bc they unintentionally snuck up on him

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

OOO. When He Is Of Sound Mind, not actually very far. he was raised with the knowledge he would be giving his life to Gondor, whether he died in battle or sat on the throne as steward. add to that the act he puts on for Denethor, everything he does to protect Faramir— he’s a man born to serve. his own wants come last

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

it would take. a DESPERATELY long time and an almost complete degradation of his mental state. Boromir arrives in Rivendell in October 3018, and the very next day is the Council, at which point he sees the ring and is IMMEDIATELY influenced by it. yet he doesn’t fully fall to it until the end of February 3019. he’d been fighting its pull for almost four whole months by the time he does anything malicious. resisting the One Ring for FOUR MONTHS. <- reasons why if I see someone call Boromir weak for falling to it I will see red.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

teehee obviously again Boromir is not my OC so I will take this as an excuse to Be A Kinnie + say, I do remember Boromir being returned to us sometime after my coronation. so that’s one way my memories differ from canon, which is sort of an answer to this prompt snfjsjfj

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

OH YEAH. I mean yeah if we’re talking like actual criminal murder and not just Slaying People On A Battlefield like. yeah 100% he would IF he was within Minas Tirith. you know Denethor would do everything in his power to cover that up lmfao

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

YEAH YAYYYY I GET TO MAKE MORE PPL LISTEN TO CROM AND BARONESS!!!!

anyways “have you ever seen a man so strong have you ever seen a man so great when he fights time stands still and everything seems so unreal but deep inside of him this man is torn” what if I bit things about this song

+ also listening to Magnolia and Shock Me by Baroness with Aragorn/Boromir in mind makes me ill. im Unwell.

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

HMMMMM The Frankenstein Chronicles gave me brain worms so I might write a Frankenstein-inspired thing at some point. sth sth consequences of divine resurrection

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

RAAAAGH. AUTISM TIMEEEEE.

Boromir uses a hand-and-a-half arming sword (meaning it’s balanced for single or double-handed use, with a crossguard). it’s a really elegant sword, very simple and utilitarian. speaks to an adaptable combat style as well. but, interestingly? Boromir carries a Rohirric shield, and if you notice Rohirric swords don’t actually HAVE crossguards the way Gondorian blades do. this tracks, and was common with Roman and early Germanic swords— BECAUSE these cultures were Also relying on shields for blocking.

and an additional note, Faramir’s sword is single-handed. so we’ve got a ranger who prefers the use of a bow and hasn’t experimented much with his sword combat, and his brother who prefers a sword and carries a very versatile blade with 1) a Rohirric shield and 2) a ranger’s vambraces designed to protect his arms from a (nonexistent) bowstring. I just find Boromir’s mix of protective gear so interesting, esp if you consider he and Théodred as at LEAST friends. like Boromir carries so much of the people he cares for with him into strange lands even when he (arguably) has little need for such gear

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

yes and no. I think, not consciously? but he absolutely values himself lower than the people he cares for. he goes to Rivendell to keep Faramir out of danger, he takes multiple arrows to the chest and keeps fighting to defend Merry and Pippin. I think if there’s a risk of someone he loves getting hurt, all self-preservation goes out the window

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

oh I would be staring at him like a predatory animal and trying to psychically convince him to lay on me in full armor

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

HGH. ok I don’t think he necessarily. does?? and this is generally a Silly Little Headcanon bc of a comment a Most Beloved Friend made abt how everyone gets their autism from their dad (real+true) + now in my head “haha Faramir got his autism from Boromir instead” BUT. like genuinely I don’t think Boromir has an actual image of himself in his head or like processes that ppl perceive him, necessarily. and particularly when his father is holding him up as this aspirational figurehead for Gondor, like… I think he’s just himself, in his head. idk how to describe it well for the neurotypical ppl in the room snfskfjs sorry. like I don’t process myself as having Traits so ppl tell me they think I’m cool or funny or they enjoy being around me and it’s always like “!!! oh!” + I think Boromir is the same way. I think Faramir could describe Boromir to him + Boromir would just be like. “huh.”

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

it’s Sean Bean + it will always be Sean Bean. sorry other Boromirs you simply pale in comparison

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

VERY high by necessity. he’s a soldier he’s absolutely patched up his own injuries before, at least to hold over until he could see an actual healer

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

ahh. I wrote a very personal fic exploring self harm urges w/ Boromir, so I suppose that

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

very personable, when he’s of sound mind sndnsj

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

oh he’s a silent anger type for sure. just seethes quietly. hello, consequences of spending time in an environment where you have no actual outlet for your anger + must simply sit there and Stew.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

again, When He’s Of Sound Mind, no. the man’s got a big heart and life’s too short to be petty

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

hitting him with the autism beam bc I can. I do also think he’s lost at least partial use of his arm in a Boromir Lives scenario, considering where the first arrow struck him

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

HMMM neutral good. he’s not chaotic enough to be.. chaotic (lol), and I think he’s too willing to go against Gondorian Popular Opinion to be lawful.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

HMMMMM pain, actually. or “weakness.” I think if he can quantify it in his head as “showing weakness” then it’s getting stuffed in a mental box and Not Addressed

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

ok well. None. I think with his circumstances he had zero choice in his path. HOWEVER. I am deeply DEEPLY fond of Boromir learning how to play an instrument after the war ends. I STILL struggle to blow my wassail horn that shit takes SKILL that I do not currently have and Boromir was the BEST at blowing his horn?????? I think he deserves to learn how to play an instrument, esp bc Aragorn, Merry and Pippin would ALL be delighted to have Boromir play while they sing. Boromir learning hobbit folk songs????? Rohirric songs, to honor Théodred?? yeagh.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

HES SO. FUNDAMENTALLY LOVING. love is such a core aspect of his character he is so wholly loving that the ring has NO CHOICE but to try to twist that love. bc it’s all Boromir has. love. im going to throw up abt him.

AAAAAAAAAND:

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

has he ever BEEN completely alone? mm, no. has he ever felt that isolated? I think absolutely, by the time the fellowship leaves Caras Galadhon. obviously he doesn’t deal with it well el oh el.

as for how he acts when no one’s around to see him… I don’t think much changes, tbh. he’s not the kind of man to Perform for anyone except his father, and then with the express purpose of placating the man and keeping his ire towards Faramir to a minimum

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

been betrayed? hm. truthfully, no, though I’m certain he felt betrayed by Aragorn’s reluctance to be anything resembling a king.

has He betrayed someone? Technically Yes, though again, if we apply the qualifier of “When He’s Of Sound Mind” the answer is no. his betrayal comes under the influence of a Malicious Magical Artifact Which Has Been Fucking With His Mind For Months, so.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

ooo, hm. I think not, actually, though it is a fun little idea for angst

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

gestures wildly at canon. I mean that’s his lowest. we’ve all seen it.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

again, canon— to see his people safe. he’s very open with that desire, lol

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

AH. canon again. though what he does to move past it… mm. quite a lot of atonement, I think. perhaps of the self-destructive, working-himself-too-hard variety. I do think speaking with Faramir about *his* experience with the ring would help, because Boromir is the first to hold Faramir up as this sort of paragon of Goodness. so I think to know *Faramir* was tempted would help him better ground his experiences as, like…. Not A Deep Moral Failure Exclusive To Himself

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

ehehe. this is one thing I’ve touched on in a Faramir-centric fic, but the idea that the ring showed Boromir visions of Faramir dying at Denethor’s hand should he fail to return with the ring.

had Boromir lived to discover Denethor had nearly burned Faramir alive…… Mmmm. mmmmmmmm.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

worst possible? if he’d actually managed to claim the ring. I shan’t elaborate -_-

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

MM. his own actions. dead friends, dead loved ones. though if you mean literally, haunts him, I do like to think that Théodred’s Oðr pays Boromir a visit every now and again

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

see above. handles it?? mm. atonement, again. direct action. he accepts it and does what he can to make it right

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

HATE? Orcs, probably. Sauron. that tentacle motherfucker outside Moria. he’s not a hateful man, so. shrugs.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

that ended badly in the interpersonal sense? mm, unlikely. more ended badly in the “somebody fucking died” sense.

I do think he had One (1) fledgling romance in Dol Amroth that ended with the other squire dying and that was sort of the catalyst for “ah. If I love people they’ll Probably Die, so maybe I won’t do that” baggage that he didn’t really unpack until, I think, Théodred. add the additional layers of Denethor Being Denethor and Boromir having such great standards to live up to…. with all the love in my heart, that relationship only happened bc Théodred saw Boromir, went “I need to fuck that Gondorian so bad it makes me look stupid” and proceeded to work his way through 1700 layers of gondorian mental bullshit just so he could suck some dick (me too bestie)

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hm. my first instinct is to say “not much” but ultimately I think he’d hide anything he can quantify as “weakness.” his own distress, any physical pain if he needs to be up and moving, etc. he’s only able to share that earnest moment with Aragorn in Caras Galadhon bc of Galadriel’s influence. he’s not used to being seen. so, if there is sth that would hold him back from fulfilling his duty as a soldier it is absolutely getting hidden/ignored.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

hm. not necessarily Hunted, but I do think he is followed by Denethor’s expectations. it’s sth I’ve talked abt in another ask + that I go into in the costuming doc but such a key element of Denethor’s design is his son’s motifs but Richer, Grander. so… I do think Boromir is constantly alert of, like, how his father will perceive him, bc there is this very insidious sort of competition, this need for Denethor to show his sons up (whether a conscious need or not). and I do think that would weigh on Boromir quite heavily

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

mm again I think he only really wears a mask/performs for Denethor. anyone else would be too much effort for too little reward. at least if he plays Golden Son for his father, it keeps Faramir from being harassed as much

however, as for who gets to see him when he’s.. not just unmasked but actually RELAXED… Faramir, his uncle and cousins, Théodred, Aragorn, the others in the fellowship but particularly Merry and Pippin

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

does he have nightmares? oh definitely. what he does in the small hours of the night? depends. if he’s on campaign/traveling/otherwise away from Minas Tirith he will either lay there in his bedroll and Think (bad) or get up and write letters. depends entirely on where he’s stationed/who he’s with. if he Is at home in Minas Tirith, I expect he just goes for a walk + looks at the sky

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

I think I’ve pretty much answered all of this above, so skfjsjdh

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nah, he’s not ❤️‍🩹

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

answered w midnight for the most part— I’ll just add that no, he wouldn’t really talk about his nightmares. that requires showing vulnerability lol. I think Théodred and Aragorn are the only two who could coax him into speaking about his nightmares/fears (he wouldn’t want to burden Faramir with such nonsense)

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

answered sorta (yes he has a high pain tolerance) but worst pain? gonna go with three orc arrows to the chest

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

HMMMM again I don’t think there are many secrets. I do think if Denethor found out he liked men it would be disastrous

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

hm. I think he’s generally at ease with himself, or at least content with Not Thinking About These Things. I think, had he directly survived the arrows, he would have to grapple with like. the idea that he did prove Aragorn’s fears about men correct (whether Aragorn would agree with him or not)

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Four Months Of Slow Mental Degradation Due To An Accursed Magical Artifact!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

(no he wouldn’t torture anyone else)

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

hm. He would say mostly physical wounds. I’d argue a mix of both. he’ll accept as much care as he needs to stay on his feet and fighting. worst wound is definitely still arrows lol

[shiyosugi]

Hello!

I just read your "Blue Lock guys carrying you" headcanons and I thought they were cute!

I was wondering if you could write a scenario in which the reader and the guys get caught in the rain in the middle of their hangout/date?

Can you write for: Baro, Kuon, Aryu, Iemon and Gagamaru?

I don't know which characters you're comfortable writing for so feel free to leave out any you don't want to do.

Thank you! I wish you a nice day!

I'm comfortable with writing EVERY characters, to be honest. I appreciate this request! Sorry for any inaccurate stuff- and going off topic... I guess?

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE RAIN WHILE [HANGING OUT/ON A DATE] WITH BLUE LOCK BOYS

Picture from: Pink To Habanero - Chapter 3

CHARACTERS Shoei Baro, Wataru Kuon, Jyubei Aryu, Okuhito Iemon, Gin Gagamaru I will make part 2 if this got attention, which I actually might do, for now I will stick with what anon asked for! Oh, and I actually the date option, but I guess it can be seen as hanging out only as well... Well, up to you to imagine that! Also, I mostly write fem!reader, but sometimes when I wrote this kind of stuff it's gender-neutral friendly.

SHOEI BARO

"Tch." you heard Shoei as you finally turned your gaze away from your phone to him that was sitting next you. He looked pretty upset as he crossed him arms while you two were in a cafe, waiting for the rain to calm down a bit. It was clear he was upset by the rain.

You sighed and then gently placed a hand on his arm, "Hey, don't get annoyed now." you said with a small smile, he looked at you and then sighed. He had planned something for this day and how unfortunate for him, the rain ruined his planned.

"How can I not?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you and then looked away.

"Well, being all annoyed isn't going to help the rain to stop." you said with a slightly joking tone, he sighed at your statement.

He placed his hand on top of your head and then gently patted it, "I know." he simply said, he was still looking at the outside, hoping that it will stop raining soon.

"I really should have brought my umbrella with me before going out..." you said quietly as you looked down at your handbag, regretting that you didn't even bother to check your bag properly before going out.

Shoei looked at you and then shook his head, placing his hand on your shoulder now, "Well, none of us are going to expect the rain when it was literally all sunny when we went out." he said with his deep voice sounding somewhat gentle.

You were about to say something when he suddenly added, "I'm glad that you didn't get that wet." you stared at him for a moment before looking away, relaxing your body against the chair.

"But I am still wet." you said, rolling your eyes, a bit annoyed that you did get wet from the rain.

Shoei himself got wet from the rain but he was being more cautious about you, he didn't want you to get sick. "Yeah." he shortly replied, touching your hair that was slightly wet from the rain.

"We're going straight back home once the rain subsides. I hate seeing you like this." he said, referring to your wet hair which earning him a light punch on his arm from you.

"Do you really have to use the word, hate?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. He stared down at you and then simply looked away. "I say what I want to say." he replied.

Eventually, when you got home he immediately told you to take a warm bath and helped you warm yourself up even more. He didn't want you to get sick because of going out with him.

WATARU KUON

While walking through the city's downtown and talking with Wataru, you suddenly a water drop on your head. Wataru felt it as well which made him looked up at sky.

It was shining bright a few moments ago but it was covered fast by the clouds as if they have just appeared out of nowhere and the weather changed fast from a clear day to a rainy one.

"Oh no..." you heard Wataru said as he took your hand and started walking quickly to find a decent place to cover from the rain.

You can see that he was upset from the sudden change of weather. You two were quick to get soaked by the rain when he finally found a good place to cover from the rain.

You didn't mean to but you made frustrate sound as you look down at your wet clothes. Wataru looked at you, he had an apologetic look upon hearing your frustrate noises. He looked down at the ground, watching the raindrops that fell from the sky hit the concrete floor.

"I'm sorry. I should have brought an umbrella with me before going out." he suddenly said, making you looked at him and saw his upset face.

You sighed quietly and then leaned forward a bit to take a good look at his face, "No need to apologise, I didn't bring an umbrella as well so you're not the only one regretting the decision of not being sensitive enough about the weather." you said with a straight face.

He looked at you, but when his eyes(that are opened in this situation), met with yours he immediately looked away. He still felt nervous to look at you in the eyes, especially with how serious you can look sometimes.

"But, I've told you that you can trust me on having fun spending time with me today..." he said in a quiet voice, eyes not wanting to meet yours. However, that won't happened as you placed your two fingers on his cheek and then turned his face to look at you.

"Jeez, no need to be like that. I trust you, but this is something you can't predict or control and you know it." you simply said, your expression softened a bit to reassure him which he noticed and that made him blushed. A rare sight of you.

"Y-Yeah- I know." he said quietly. As you were pulling your hand away from his cheek, he suddenly but gently held that hand. He stared at you for a while without saying anything which made you wondered what he wanted to say.

However, when he opened his mouth to speak you were rather disappointed with what he said, "You're really are wet from the rain." he said, looking at you, soaked by the rain.

"I can say the same to you." you replied back to him, he just laughed softly at that.

JYUBEI ARYU

You didn't even need to look at him to know his reaction at the sudden rain, "No! My hair is ruined now!" he said as he looked down at his hair, all wet and not stylish anymore.

Your sigh caught his attention which made him examined your hair that was also wet, "Your hair is ruined also. Your soft hair..." he said as he touched your hair that he had helped to make it as stylish as he preferred it.

He had spend quite a time to do his hair, as well as your hair so getting it ruined by the rain annoyed him. Well, you were annoyed as well but not having the same reaction as him.

"I'm sorry, I should have considered of bringing an umbrella..." you said, looking down at the ground feeling a bit bad that his work on your hair had to be ruined since he spend most of his time doing his hair and yours.

He looked at you and then shook his head, patting your head, "No need to apologise." he said, leaning down a bit so that his face near yours his face that you have always found pretty was close to yours.

You slowly looked at him, turning your head a bit to look at him, "Don't put that face on, it's not stylish." he said which earning him a soft laughter from you. He preferred that face on, it might not be stylish in general but for him, it was.

OKUHITO IEMON

He felt bad that you were now soaked by the rain, he thought that you have put some effort into your looks today so getting it ruined while spending time with him made he felt a bit responsible somehow.

"I should have brought an umbrella along with me." he said as he guided you to a covered area.

"Don't worry, it's fine. Not a big deal." you said as you dried your face using your handkerchief that you always have around for some reason.

"But I can see that you put some effort into your looks so..." his voice trailed off, you just stared at him before chuckling.

"Some effort? Not really. I just try to look decent." you said, and then handed him your handkerchief which he took it and then wiped his face as well.

"Well, that is still an effort..." he said as he gave you back your handkerchief. After you took it back, he looked at your appearance once more. "I thought today will be a good day for us to spend time together, I guess I was wrong." he said while shaking his head with a small laugh.

"Don't worry about it, being with you counts as well." you said which made him looked at you again, a shy smile can be seen on his face.

"Well, it could have been better." he said but you simply patted his shoulder.

"Hey, I said don't worry about it. Stop bringing down the mood." you said with a slight joking tone before laughing quietly.

He looked at you as you laughed, you were always a sunshine to him even in the rain. He loved that fact. He almost forgot about how he felt a bit uncomfortable because of his wet clothes and the cold wind.

GIN GAGAMARU

He didn't react much to the rain but looking down at you who looked annoyed by it, he immediately looked around for a shelter and when he did, he immediately dragged you there with him. You didn't even get to protest on his action since he simply carried you there.

While he was at it, he sort of covered your head a bit, a cute gesture that you appreciate. After reaching the covered area, he placed you down and then helped you to wipe your face off with your handkerchief that you handed to him before he could use his shirt.

"You still look good." he said as if to make you feel better about how your looks got ruined a bit. You looked at him and then smiled a bit.

"Thank you." you said, he looked down at you with his usual seemingly blank face.

"Here let me..." you took the handkerchief from him and then tried to reach up for his face which he noticed and then leaned down a bit, allowing you to wipe his face off.

While you did so he stared at your face, admiring your beauty. You didn't mind that, you were used to his staring so it was not really a bother. After you were done, you patted his cheek which he then leaned back.

"Thank you." he said to you and you gave him a smile, you might didn't see it but he was a bit flustered by your gesture.

"I'm sorry... Our plan have to end up this way." he said, you shook your head.

"No no. It's nothing. Don't worry." you said, he slowly nodded at your statement. While waiting for the rain to subside, he tried to entertain you which he always managed to do.

[themonotonysyndrome]

hello my lady!

how are you? i hope you are well.

i hope you know i adore your writing 🫶🏻

do you happen to have a part 2 to that oneshot? maybe another scenario of castin and the baroness when things were still icy? i’d love to hear things from castin’s pov as well.

unrelated, but i love the idea of the baroness being an absolute badass at combat. like being able to take down his men. and castin just being in awe.

anyways!! hope you’re well

thank you for all you do, you are so appreciated

Good evening, Anon! As I'm writing this, it's raining heavily at 10:12 PM, and my Bluetooth speaker is blasting Hit 'em up style by Blu Cantrell while sipping on some orange juice, cold and munching on sweets.

It makes me really happy.

Hmm... I wasn't thinking of continuing that oneshot, tbh, but you caught me in a good mood, Anon. We can explore that scenario a bit more!

do you happen to have a part 2 to that oneshot? maybe another scenario of castin and the baroness when things were still icy? i’d love to hear things from castin’s pov as well.

I'll be focusing on this since I've explained in an ask that while Celica can fight, it's mostly for self-defence and only when she's desperate. She wasn't trained to be a warrior; she's trained to fight dirty like an assassin.

So let's get to it!

-

"Rhett."

"Beloved."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw your bro into the lake for making my girl upset."

"Castin does not make for a good fish food. Do you really want innocence to die from indigestion?"

"Can... can fish even get indigestion?"

The King of Intacia promptly snapped his mouth shut. A look of genuine contemplation is clear as day on his face. Normally, Isolde would've laughed and kissed him silly. It's just like her husband to be affronted over a piece of knowledge he lacks. Now? In this instance? On this day? On this beautiful day blessed by the Divine Couple themselves?

She's mad. Like, real mad. Mad enough to personally confront Castin, no bullshit. No King, no husband, no servants, no guards, no entourage and no pretence that it would be an amicable meeting.

If Isolde could see her reflection right now, she would've flinched in shock, but since there's none - only Rhett - the world remains blissfully unaware of how terrifying the Queen Ascendant truly is.

Rhett reaches out to her with a tentative hand. "Beloved..."

"No! No, Rhett! Don't you fucking dare try to pacify me," Isolde hisses, emerald-like eyes glowing with magic untamed as the ocean. "I gave not only Castin a chance but you as well. Forget about support from House Anesidora; if Castin made Celica cry? I'm finna be on a ship back to the Empire with her! 'Cause what the fuck, Rhett?"

"Anything that I say now regarding Castin will only sound like excuses - "

"Damn straight!"

" - and even though the Baroness has agreed to marry Castin - "

"Say sike right now. Rhett, I swear to the Conqueror, that better be a fucking joke."

"..."

Somewhere in the Palace, a fountain suddenly exploded. The unfortunate servants and nearby foreign dignitaries screamed and scatter like headless chickens. It's chaos.

"I'mma talk to your bro real quick."

Isolde forcefully yanked her hand free, her shoulders taunt with tension. Rhett scrambles after her, just barely able to stop her march. "Ok, look, I know this is not what you want to hear, but may I make a suggestion?"

"You're right - I don't."

"That is fine! Completely fine, Isolde. Then, I will speak to the air; don't mind me. Ahem. Sometimes, good intentions can go awry. It happens, right? Can we agree on that, please?"

The Queen Ascendant growls. Right. If Rhett wants to save Castin, he needs to watch whatever he says next carefully; every word counts. So he centres himself and has clear his thoughts. He ponders the bigger picture. What is truly important here? Uniting Intacia and the Coastal Empire. That has always been and will forever be Rhett's goal in life. His wife, friends and family deserve to grow old without war looming. But has he fallen into a tunnel vision? Did he nearly sacrifice the goodwill of his loved ones to accomplish that?

The answer had him pale, eyes widening in realisation. Suddenly, weariness seeps into his bones.

Seeing how defeated her husband looks broke Isolde's heart. She sighs, feeling just as defeated and so lost. She steadies him, and together, they sit on the ground. She couldn't care less how their clothes are dirtied.

"Rhett, I need you to listen to me very carefully here, ok? I know that your heart is in the right place; I do! It's one of the things that I love about you, sans kidnapping and all that. But the point is, in theory? Hooking our friends up and watching them ride off into the sunset in their wedding fit is awesome, great, a fairytale come to life. But we're not living in a fairytale, babe. Castin and Celica are just too different. They exist on opposite extremes, and you can't force them to change their nature."

The King is silent. His beloved's words are heavy and true. And then, he finally speaks, "We shouldn't interfere with them anymore. If the Baroness decides to revoke her agreement to marry Castin and withdraw her support, then... then that is her right and I will no longer darken her doorsteps. I will ensure her passage back home is safe. It's the least I could do. Could you please deliver my most sincere apologies to her? For the moment she steps foot on Intacian shores?"

Isolde pats his shoulder comfortingly. "There, there, Rhett. Don't be so sad. We're not gonna interfere with them anymore but let me talk to Celly first; check how pissed off she is because we might need to up our security."

"What on Earth for?"

"So you better let him know that if he mess up, you gotta hit 'em up."

-

Castin messed up big time. Major.

He lashed out at a woman who is not only the Queen Ascendant's bestie, but also the love of his life. Not that she knows that and at this rate, never will.

Ever since their telephone game turned into a trainwreck, flame and all, Baroness Anesidora never once left her assigned bedroom in the Palace. Her food is delivered when everyone knows King Rhett invites her to sup with the royal couple daily. She turns all but the Queen away when her friends come by for a visit. The maids in charge of cleaning the suite and attending her whisper that she's practically monosyllabic. No one but Castin, Isolde and Rhett knew the reason why.

Speaking of Isolde...

The Queen had chosen to have dinner with the Baroness this evening instead of her husband. Castin wanted to keep his brother company since things were still tense between him and the Baroness. Much to his dismay, however, Rhett wanted to be alone and ate his own meal in the office. This sucks - everything sucks!

And there's no one to blame but Castin.

He hates this. He hates himself for pushing the Baroness to a corner where she's forced to unsheath her claws. Again! He hates the chasm he created between Rhett and his wife. He hates how that little boy is still crying because he just can't fit in with the other Intacian boys.

Insecurity is a bitch.

He needs to make things right, and for that reason, he's been stealth-camping on the Baroness' balcony, patiently waiting for the Queen and the maids to bid her good night. When it's finally quiet inside, Castin continues to wait. A Noblewoman like Celica has a whole routine before she gets ready to turn in for the night and he didn't want to catch her mid-undressing. He doesn't want to create another international incident.

When he notices that only a single flicker of a candle is still lit, Castin finally takes his chance and slips into the room. He had already broken the lock when he heard the water running in the bathroom.

What he sees, however, made him feel shittier.

Baroness Anesidora is fast asleep at a table. Her head is cushioned by her arms, and books, journals, and documents are everywhere. She must've been working. It's a humbling experience for Castin since he only sees her in the morning, dressed to the nine with an arrogant smile. Seeing her now makes him want to grovel at her feet for refusing to believe that someone as strong and prideful as Celica Anesidora could ever get hurt by someone like him. A warrior with a mountain of baggage.

It takes considerable willpower for Castin to force himself to move, to do something. And so he snatches the duvet, and when he so gently covers the Baroness to ensure she stays warm, he sees what she has been working hard on:

New Intacian-Coastal Empire trade tariff proposal with rates that favours Intacia underneath carefully written lines of negotiations. A protection treaty for foreign investors regarding their assets ensures non-interference from the local aristocracy, including House Anesidora and covers disaster contingencies. On top of a stack of paper beside the Baroness' head is a financial incentive document designed to attract international entrepreneurs specialising in all sorts of industry; notes scribbled below outline tax breaks, subsidies and funding for foreign innovators, especially those from Steelgate. Lastly, a legislative document to be proposed to the King and Queen outlined Intacia's commitment to protecting foreign merchant fleets and caravans from threats like pirates, rogue Ascendants, and political rebellions while traversing to and from the country.

A wave of shame rolls over Castin. While he's too busy antagonising the Baroness, she's busy fleshing out a detailed economic framework for Intacia to stand strong once more.

"I'm so sorry..." Castin whispers. He wants to hold her, to kiss and tells her to not neglect her health; fuck, Goddess, help him, he's caught under this woman's spell, and he doesn't want to break free. "Don't hate me too much, yeah?"

Before he slips outside and stands guard (because of the broken lock on the balcony's door), he leaves his favourite book with a pressed Hibiscus - his favourite flower - inside. His first step in earning the Baroness' forgiveness.

[ramu-ego]

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ::

• (nsfw) Riot Gear - headcanons • (nsfw) Pegging Positions - mini drabbles • (nsfw) Bondage - scenario headcanons • (nsfw) Work Fun - Jinpachi Ego • (nsfw) Rope Bunnies - scenario headcanons • (nsfw) Boy Nips - headcanons • (nsfw) Erogenous Zones - headcanons • (nsfw) Types of Doms - headcanons • (nsfw) Leakage - Ikki Niko • (nsfw) Perv!Subs - headcanons • (nsfw) Perv!Subs pt 2 - headcanons • (nsfw) subspace!Blue Lock - headcanons • (nsfw) Panty Sucker - Gin Gagamaru • (nsfw) Ahegao Faces - headcanons • (nsfw) Cock Cage - Alexis Ness • (nsfw) Brat/Princess - headcanons • (nsfw) Praise vs Degredation - headcanons • (nsfw) Crybabies - headcanons • (nsfw) Femininzation - Chigiri Hyoma • (nsfw) Dry Humping - Michael Kaiser • (nsfw) Brat - Sae Itoshi • (nsfw) Needy Boys - headcanons • (nsfw) Mute It - Nagi Seishiro • (nsfw) Doting Doms - Rin/Nagi/Isagi • (nsfw) Dry Humping - drabbles • (nsfw) Breeding Kink - headcanons • (nsfw) Masturbating - drabbles • (nsfw) Humiliation - headcanons • (nsfw) All Bark No Bite - headcanons • (nsfw) Puppy Play - Itoshi Rin • (nsfw) Pillow Humping - Alexis Ness • (nsfw) First Time - headcanons • (nsfw) bunny!Baro - headcanons • (nsfw) Deep Throat - Raichi Jingo • (nsfw) Domme Titles - headcanons • (nsfw) Premature Cum - headcanons • (nsfw) Tiddy Lovers - headcanons • (nsfw) Bully Boy - Ikki Niko • (nsfw) Dumbification - Reo Mikage • (nsfw) The Egoist Subbing - Jinpachi Ego • (nsfw) The Egoist Domming - Jinpachi Ego

Up and coming... • (nsfw) Brat - Raichi • (nsfw) Shower Sex - Otoya • (nsfw) Pegging - Hiori • (nsfw) Edging - Kurona • (nsfw) Leashed - headcanons • (nsfw) Plus - Itoshi Rin

[probablygoodrpgideas]

I guess since posts have been drying up, excuse for good but not new advice: don't write stories.

To be more specific, when DMing you shouldn't write overarching plots, write a series of events and improv your way from scenario to scenario. It helps the DM worry less about prep and let's the players have more freedom in the narrative.

I think it's fine to have a general idea of which plot elements you want to happen as long as you're not really concerned with how you get there. Don't write "The players will talk to the Baroness and discover that the Queen has been threatening her", write "The Queen has been threatening the Baroness" and then wait to see how players end up discovering this

[your-local-baguette]

Top, switch or bottom. Blue lock boys

I know my bio says no lemon/smut but this is the only shit im going to do, not actual scenario.

NAGI SEISHIRO, is a top, but more like a submissive top.

REO.MIKAGE, top. Not bargains, top.

BARO SHOUEI, top, do i need to explain myself.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE, definitely top but gentle af

CHIGIRI HYOMA, top but i think he very rarely would accept to be bottom.

BACHIRA MEGURU, TRY TO TOP HIM, I FUCKING DARE YOU. * Clears throat* yea top

ITOSHI RIN, top. Just top. Do not argue.

ITOSHI SAE, Is ThAT a FUcKinG QueSTioN? Top

ARYU JYUBEI, switch, you would be able to top him.

ISAGI YOICHI, gentle top but still top.

SHIDOU RYUSEI, top.

OTOYA EITA, top, bro what did you think.

TABITO KARASU, top.

JULIAN LOKI, switch

PABLO CAVAZOS, he gives me bottom vibes but in gonna say switch

LEONARDO LUNA, top.

MICHEAL KAISER, MHMM top MHMM

OLIVER AIKU, top

IKKI NIKO, BOTTOM.

ALEXIS NESS, switch

NARUHAYA ASAHI, switch

ZANTETSU TSURUGI, top

Tell me if im missing any characters lol. Byye!