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cauliflowercounty · 8 months ago

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Knives Dance (Part I)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

After years of writing *literally nothing,* I never expected bald Austin Butler to inspire me again :)

Life does wonderful things sometimes. Feyd Rautha is a fucking snack. And whoops it looks like I invented a planet and a culture :/

Summary: You're the daughter of the Duke of the House of Ronen, and your father and Vladimir Harkonnen have arranged a marriage between you and Feyd-Rautha to join your two houses. When the House of Harkonnen pays a visit to your planet, Feyd discovers something unforeseen within himself during an assassination attempt…

Reader: she/her pronouns

Warnings: innuendo/suggestive content, attempted assassination, blood, violence, multiple murders

Word Count: 4.2k

Part I | Part II | Part III

The hydraulics whirr as the black metal ramp of the Harkonnen vessel opens downward onto the stone landing pad on planet Youra and hits the ground with a low thunk. Feyd follows his uncle as he floats out of the vessel toward the doors of the Youran citadel, which is nestled in the center of a towering mountain covered in dense forest. Through the canopy, he sees the flickering lights from within the treehouses that adorn the forest cover.

The fortress itself is bathed in a warm, yellow glow from the round floating lanterns that surround it. As they hover, they seem to spiral upwards in a concentric spiral and extend their reach up into the night sky. A line of Youran soldiers flank the walkway, dressed in ceremonial garb of earthy, brown leathers with teal accents and intricate geometric patterns. As the Harkonnens pass, the soldiers bow their heads to them, allowing the carved silver helmets to shine in the evening light.

The environment here could not be further from that of Giedi Prime with its cold, industrial landscape devoid of color and the stench of sulfur and gas. The jungle air here is saccharine and floral on Feyd’s tongue. He feels the brush of the evening breeze flowing past him out toward the sea from the surrounding jungle. As he breathes in, he notices the richness of the air, imbued with the essence of all the flora that have made Youra a treasure trove for natural resources and experimental medicines, reminding him why he and his uncle have arrived on this planet.

The endeavor to secure spice on Arrakis had not gone as smoothly as the Harkonnens had hoped, especially with constant Fremen attacks sabotaging their forces and Rabban’s pitiful attempt at countermeasures. The current state of their operation and the number of soldiers they were losing daily called for acquiring a new tactical advantage. As much as they hated to admit it, they would have been foolish not to seek one out.

The advantage lay on Youra, the planet of island rainforests and the home of the minor House of Ronen, where an uncountable number of plant and animal species flourished, supplying the population with life-saving natural compounds the renowned scientists had been extracting from nature and developing for centuries. Through this arranged marriage, the wealth of chemical knowledge and access to the raw materials would become House Harkonnen’s. Feyd could begin to taste his ascension to power. This was simply the next step necessary to turn the tides of this conflict on Arrakis, which would inevitably end in him assuming the title of Baron if not Emperor.

With a low rumble, the double doors in front of Feyd open to reveal your father and yourself. Laying eyes on you for the first time, Feyd stops in place, his heavy black boots almost stuck on the ground. When the conversation of an arranged marriage came up with his uncle, he was beyond apathetic, knowing that this would be a political move in which he had no obligation to have any investment. The woman would become his wife only by title. To his astonishment, he is entranced by your beauty, to the point of speechlessness. He almost completely ignores your father’s greeting and speech about the union of your two houses. You are radiant with your skin that glows in the light, unlike that of the Harkonnen women he is used to seeing. You look into his eyes, and he feels almost locked in, the rest of the world fading until all he sees is you.

“Welcome to our home, na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you say to him, not breaking eye contact from underneath your headdress. Your striking eyes bore deep into his soul. It’s almost as if they’re calling to him. What’s most interesting to Feyd is that they don’t seem to contain a hint of fear or apprehension. He is used to making those around him crumple under the weight of their own terror with his mere presence so he can exploit those emotions and manipulate them as his own personal playthings. In defiance of his reputation, you seem undeterred by him staring straight at you. As your eyes glimmer in the lamplight, he feels his breath almost catch as they taunt him, draw him. Snapping himself out of the trance, a smirk forms on his lips, remembering how his uncle taught him to behave. He forces himself to relish the thought of toying with your apparent resolve.

As he looks down, he eyes your lavish, floor-length regalia. The same deep brown and teal that your father and the soldiers wear decorates the patterns on your cloak. He notices lines of gold thread woven into your hair, an appropriate show of the natural resources of your planet.

Strange, he thinks. The cloak is rather large and heavy. Despite matching the designs of the other Youran garb, it seems out of place to be a traditional outfit for the aristocracy of a rainforest civilization where the warm and humid conditions should prove inhospitable for cloaks of this nature.

The delicate, meek flower he was expecting to relish picking apart with ease you are not. He’s figured out you're a woman with something you’re intent on hiding from him. You’ve put on this front either bravely or stupidly, and Feyd-Rautha will peel back every layer one calculated move at a time until you are finally entirely his.

He steps forward and reaches down to take your hand in his. “My betrothed…” he whispers to you, his voice low and gravelly. “We finally meet, Little One. I must say you look exquisite. I expected nothing less.” He brings your fingers up to his lips and brushes his lips across them before pressing firm a kiss on the back of your hand His uncle seems most disgusted by Feyd’s tenderness, but Feyd keeps his gaze on you through hooded eyes, knowing that the first move in any game is imperative to the success of his endeavor. He sees yours flicker for a moment as your body tenses listening to his praise. He’s got you right where he wants you.

–

Dinner is filled with monotonous diplomacy, tiresome pleasantries, and planning of the wedding to take place on Giedi Prime, but Feyd hasn’t let his attention break from you. It’s as if the kiss he planted on your hand was the catalyst for the first crack in the wall you’ve put up, and now he’s waiting for the perfect moment to make his next move.

All of dinner he’s watched as you attentively listened to his uncle and your father exchange words and eat your dinner. He hasn’t failed to notice how your eyes dart over to look at him through your lashes. With every gesture you make and every word you say, he feels unequivocally enraptured. As much as he’s tried to suppress his emotions and stay faithful to his uncle’s teachings, grounded in violence and viciousness, his mind starts to wander.

He wonders what must it be like to have your touch flutter across his chest when he watches you delicately grasp your water goblet. When you fold your lips around your cup to drink, he imagines what they must feel like on his skin if you were to drag them down his neck tantalizingly slow. What if you were close enough to him to have your breath fan out across his skin as your lips caressed his? What must it be like to hold your softness in his hands? The very idea makes his breath hitch.

Of the many thoughts he has as he watches you, many of them becoming increasingly lewd as dinner continues, one remains in his head: if he is this captured by just your face and gaze, basking in the light of what you’re concealing under your cloak, must be heaven adjacent.

His desire to use you and leverage your own will against you is being chipped away little by little. Feyd’s hardened persona that his uncle helped construct is withering with every second he spends in your presence. The notion is nearly frightening to Feyd, but with every single glance and gesture, his heart, which may have turned to stone long ago, is beginning to accept it.

Feyd rips his attention away from you as your father stands to thank the Harkonnens once again for coming. “I shall have my servants show you where you shall be staying,” your father announces as he rises from his seat. “I have arranged for our head researchers to show you what progress we have had in our synthetic undertakings as of late. I guarantee you will be very interested in what they have to offer.”

As you stand, he notices how your hands pull together the front seam of your cloak, preventing it from opening. Curious.

You bid him goodnight and turn away to head to your quarters as a Youran servant beckons him to the guest wing. That night, Feyd cannot rest as he lays awake in bed in the opulent guest suite, images of you running through his head, and he almost smiles thinking about when you say his name so sweetly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”

–

The next day, Feyd sees little of you. In the morning, he makes his way to your quarters only to be informed by a servant at your door that you have already departed for the day. When he asks where you have gone, the servant provides a murky response about your duties as Lady of the House and wedding preparations, which he as her betrothed would “surely understand.” Just as he decides he will find you himself, he is seized by his uncle as to meet the Youran ministers of culture, science, and development to learn about their acquisition.

Feyd cannot deny that your homeworld is impressive. It’s steeped in centuries of exploration and inquiry with unmatched record-keeping of not only science but tradition, too. The ceilings are vaulted and adorned with gold. The walls of the citadel are covered in elaborate murals painted on with vibrant colors or carved into the surfaces. Some depict traditional folktales, gods, and ceremonies while those opposite them describe the evolutionary lines of species, a true testament to Youra’s modernity and dedication to preserving your peoples’ history in living memory. If only he knew which mural decorates the wall concealing you.

As the picture of your world’s history becomes clearer, the air of mystery surrounding you only grows. Not once has he heard talk of you after his interaction with that servant, but throughout the day he has sensed hushed whispers that are almost certainly about him instead. As he passes soldiers, some of them almost seem to leer at his presence.

A few times, he thinks he can almost see the hem of your cape disappear around corners, but when he goes to investigate, there is nobody there. The anger he expected to have inside him due to your avoidance is nowhere to be seen, and only a burning intrigue remains.

“What a little enigma my wife is,” he thinks to himself when he enters the banquet hall for dinner as the last ray of sunlight fades from the windows as the sun dips below the horizon.

Almost on cue, the doors to the hall open again and to his gratification, it is you. He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He cannot deny his own inclination when you smile at him softly, putting him at ease.

“Good evening, Na-Baron,” you greet as he stops in front of you. Your dulcet tones go straight to his heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I hope I’ve not kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all.” He takes your hands in his once again, running his thumb along the back of them and savoring the feeling of your soft skin. This time when his heart swells, he lets it happen, surrendering himself to your charm. “I would wait an eternity for you,” he says, realizing you enjoy it when he romances you.

“You don’t strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting,” you reply, looking up into his eyes. “I am surprised you are not frustrated with me.”

“I make exceptions,” he replies, noticing how your lips curl into a small smile. “… for when it truly matters. Since you’ve been absent all day, tell me, Little One, what have you been doing while you were hiding from me all day?”

You let out a gentle exhale. “I assumed you might be curious about that,” you say to him, as you clasp his hands in yours, beginning to tug him backwards to the doors. “Would you join me outside before we eat, Na-Baron? I have something I want to show you that I’ve been working on in preparation for our marriage.”

Allowing you to lead him, he follows you as you pull him through the halls of the fortress. He senses the answers to the questions he’s been asking himself are within his grasp. You both head outdoors and descend a grand staircase toward a courtyard nestled in the center of the fortress that overlooks the ocean that is now a murky midnight blue.

The nighttime lanterns light the way once again, and you both continue into the courtyard which is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. The ground seems to be a single sheet of rust colored stone that is marbled with shards shimmery metals. The slab has massive circles cut into it spaced in a perfect grid. Inside the circle is a golden pool of luminescent water. Tall, half moon shaped walls cradle each pool with glyphs and carvings etched into them.

“What is this place?” he asks you, basking in the light emanating from all of the pools that surround the both of you as you continue down the center aisle.

“This is my favorite place in the castle,” you explain. “It’s where we keep one of every species our researchers are currently studying. The rock wall above the pools describes each evolutionary line and the discoveries about it we’ve made. There’s one I want to show you if you would allow me.”

He nods as you bring him to a pool whose accompanying slab remains blank. Looking down into the water, he spots a single indigo fish with long, delicate fins that trail behind it in the water. He watches as it circles the pool. It slows and shudders momentarily. A single incandescent scale breaks off and floats to the bottom of the pool. You kneel to gather the scale from the bottom, holding it so that he can see how the light flickers off its surface.

“Does it intrigue you?” he hears you ask, and he nods in return as something he thought he lost long ago begins to emerge inside of him: his sense of wonder.

“I have never seen such a creature. Would you tell me about it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you grin. “This fish was discovered on an archipelago on the other side of the planet. I’ve been studying this fish with our most expert researchers. The pools it lives in almost disappear during the dry season, but we’ve found that they survive to the wet season because of their scales somehow. My father doesn’t know any of this. He still thinks we know nothing of this creature.”

“It’s marvelous,” he whispers to you, eyeing the small bubbles floating to the top of the water from the fish’s gills.

“I wanted to show you this fish because this is at the heart of our culture on Youra. Our people are on a constant mission to learn and discover, so we can help and care for those we hold dearest. With our marriage, the House of Harkonnen will be a part of that endeavor. I’m showing you this fish because when the fish shed their scales at the beginning of the wet season, they contain a high concentration of a novel compound that allows living things to retain water.”

He sees you fidget with your own hands as you explain. You’re nervous, he realizes.

“We have been able to extract it from the scales they drop,” you say with a slight waiver in your voice. Here you are bearing your hard work and dedication, your soul to him. Your vulnerability is evident. Before you were so confident with your gaze and now your eyes never stay on him for more than a fraction of a moment. If you were anyone else, he would have taken full advantage the opportunity to leverage your weakness, but he cannot bring himself to do so. “This knowledge is my gift to you na-Baron. I have been aware of your endeavors on Arrakis. I realize you may not be as invested in this arrangement as we are, but I wanted to give you this to mark the beginning of what is to come… I don’t expect you to do anything in return. Only wanted to communicate my intentions.”

His heart quivers as his mind darts back to the countless times his uncle has “gifted” things to him as rewards for doing his bidding. The concubines, armor, and weapons all fall to the wayside; now they’re all tainted in Feyd's mind by his uncle's conniving ways. They were never gifts in earnest, always being transactional or part of another of his uncle’s Machiavellian schemes. Never in his life had he been given something so thoughtful, something intended to truly protect him. The previous notions he had before of possessing you are bitter on his tongue. Now, he could never and the shame he feels for maybe the first time in years begins to burn into his psyche.

“Na-Baron,” you plead, bringing him out of his own thoughts. “Say something, please.”

“Thank you,” he finally says, taking your hands in his and giving them a squeeze. “I am grateful for your generosity, my little flower.”

Your eyes well up with tears and you let out a relieved sigh before your emotions bubble out of you. “You cannot fathom how happy I am to hear you say those words,” you say, bringing your hands to his again. “I was so worried about showing you this!”

Right when he opens his mouth to respond, his instincts as a warrior kick in as he hears the soft whistle of something flying through the air towards the both of you. In a flash, he’s grabbed you by your shoulder to force you to your knees as you let out a bewildered yelp. The sound lights his veins on fire and fills him with rage.

Against the blank stone slab of the fish’s pool he sees it: a green splatter of a sinister substance that drips down the stone in long tendrils. Below, the shattered remains of a poisoned dart sinking into the water. You’ve seen it, too. He swivels himself around in the direction the arrow came from. A hooded figure is emerging from behind another one of the stone walls, a serrated dagger in hand, poised to strike you down. Feyd reprimands himself for leaving his weapons behind in his room in the name of diplomacy, but he’s prepared to fight empty handed to protect you and punish your assailant.

Before he realizes, you’ve shed your cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor behind you and Feyd can finally see what you’ve been hiding. You’re wearing a sage green dress with a bodice plated in iron that’s been secured to in place with intricate leather straps and golden loops that wrap deliciously around your figure. The symmetric slits in your dress that extend almost to your hips reveal your garters where two silver daggers that curve into formidable hooks are secured to your outer thighs.

As soon as he realizes you’re armed, you’ve already grasped the leather wrapped handles of your weapons and drawn them from your thighs with a flourish, launching yourself at your attacker. The ground reverberates with your power, and your blades ring out as they clash with your opponent’s. The man grunts upon impact and with a vigorous push, you knock his weapon upwards and away from you as you swipe at his face with the other hand. When he stumbles backwards, his face covering is swept to the side.

“Ozran!” you growl as the man regains his composure. “What is the meaning of this? Traitor!”

“I could say the same for you, Lady Ronen, revealing our secrets to that Harkonnen!” Ozran snarls at you, his eyes wild as he begins swiping sloppily at your head, which you dodge with ease. Feyd knows the man is getting desperate. Ozran is quickly realizing running away would have been the best option after his poisoned arrow missed.

Ozran attempts to shake off his regret by hurling himself at you, trying to recover the situation now that he’s committed to one-on-one combat with you. “I will not stand by and have the rewards of our peoples’ work reaped by them. Without a daughter to marry off, our intelligence will remain ours, and I will protect it to the end, even if that means killing you.”

Feyd hears you tisk at his pitiful attempt at your life as your heel makes contact with his nose. Blood gushes from his nostrils and drips down his chin in thick droplets. He staggers back and loses his footing as you drive your blades into him, your footsteps smearing his blood on the floor as you move. Ozran’s hope drains from his eyes, and he coughs as you pull your knives back, his blood spilling onto the stone floor from the gaping hole in his body. He drops his weapon and it clatters on the ground beside him.

“Too bad you couldn’t get close enough to actually do any damage,” you say sweetly to him as he wheezes. “You were never a man worthy of battle. I’m surprised you even worked up the courage to merely attempt to kill me.”

“D-don’t worry, dear Lady,” he sneers as his knees hit the floor. “There are more of us who don’t appreciate our leaders betraying our ideals. They will avenge me, and you will join me in death.” With that, his body crumples in the pool of his own blood. Drawing his last breath, Feyd sees Ozran’s consciousness fade. From the shadows and behind the other stone walls, he senses more figures lurking.

“Na-Baron!” you call, as you throw Feyd your second knife, which he catches with a flick of his wrist as you pick up Ozran’s weapon. Your dagger is robust and extraordinarily crafted, truly a weapon worthy of your status Feyd thinks. With that, he joins you in battle when Ozran’s allies pounce, eager to avenge their fallen comrade. One by one, he cuts the treasonous soldiers down with you by his side, slashing their throats, stabbing them in their backs, hearing their bones break, and tendons tear. It’s exhilarating, fighting not just for you, but with you in perfect synchronization.

When the last one falls, their mangled bodies are piled around you. He looks at you with complete admiration in his eyes. Without a second thought, he pulls you close with desperation. Cradling your face in his free hand, he kisses you roughly and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, tasting the familiar tang of iron. As you kiss him back with a fervor that makes his senses sing, he uses his other arm to pull you close, if he’s worried that you will join the souls of the dead around you and leave this world, something he can’t bear to think of now.

Reluctantly, you both break away from the kiss, resting your foreheads against one another. Your breaths are thick and heaving. You look down at his dominant hand, which still holds your second dagger.

“Are you going to kill me now, Na-Baron?” you ask as you look up at him, and he instinctively throws the knife away, letting it clatter on the floor. He shakes his head.

“I never anticipated my betrothed to have such prowess in battle,” he whispers lowly, returning his hand to your body. He drags his fingers across the places where the straps of your dress make indentations in your skin, making you shiver at his touch. His grip on your waist tightens when he palms your supple skin. You hum a sigh of satisfaction that is almost music to Feyd’s ears, and he could listen to it all day. “Watching you cut down each of them… What a lovely surprise it was… You are truly an unexpected paragon, my dear.”

“Unexpected…” you chuckle, blushing at his flattery. “May I ask another question of you?”

“Of course,” he replies, peering down at you with an ardent stare.

“Before coming here, were you aware there are many dangerous things in the rainforest, Na-Baron?” He nods. “Then why would you assume I am not one of them?”

“Clever girl,” he grins, pressing another kiss on your forehead.

“From now on, my blades will fight for you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“And mine for you, my love,” he replies as he dips his lips back down to yours. What a fool he was before, anticipating so little from his future wife. Now he knows better. He realizes who you really are, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough.

Thank you for reading!

Knives Dance Part II OUT NOW!

Let me know if you want to be added to my Feyd tag list

Taglist:

@austinbutlerslovers

#dune 2 #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #x reader #austin butler

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awkwardbirdsdreaming · 3 months ago

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Bird #34 - the violet-backed starling (LC)

Also called the plum-coloured starling, you can find them in sub-Saharan Africa wherever it isn't too dry or dense rainforest. The females unfortunately are streaky brown, as is the way with birds.

These starlings feed in the canopy away from ground, which is pretty peculiar for a starling! They also use dung, along with fresh leaves, as nesting material. Interesting choice of things to put your children in.

#the starlings are ALMOST finished!#purple animals always look fake #why are you that colour #bird of the day #sturnidae #passeriformes #starling #bird art #digital art #bird #birdblr

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greenridge823 · 1 year ago

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Panama Day 5: Canopy Tower. A Vist To The Gamboa Sloth Sanctuary And A Vist From Some Night Monkeys.

It was a great morning visit to Panama City on my last full day at the Canopy Tower ecolodge located in the Soberania National Park in a Panamanian rainforest. But the day wasn’t over and as was on all my days during my stay at the Canopy Tower another adventure was scheduled for the afternoon. We returned from our morning tour and, after sitting down and going over our bird and wildlife…

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#Canopy Tower #Gamboa #nature #night monkeys #Panama #rainforest #Sloth Sanctuary #Soberania national Park #trave;l

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angel1010xx · 2 months ago

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ａｋｉｓｓｉｎｔｈｅｒａｉｎ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairings: Monkey D. Luffy x Reader, Sanji x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Luffy. Luffy, you’re joking,”

You laid your head in your hands, absolutely exasperated. It had already been a long day for you—the crew finally reached an island, yes, but it was just so dense with exuberant foliage, tree roots lifted so high from the ground that they could trip a giant, with low visibility due to the canopy up above formed from condensed trees. Everyone had split up into groups to go hunt and find food, and you were designated to be your carefree captain’s companion. Seriously, it was too much for you.

He had run rampant all day, and you were oh-so tired from chasing after him. Luffy was determined to tackle the biggest and baddest creature in the rainforest. Honestly, he was fueled by his desire for meat. Aaaaaaaall the meat that he could eat. You and your captain found one. There was just one problem.

The beast was way, way too fucking huge to drag back through the crowded thickets back to the ship. At least, there was no way to do it and keep your sanity intact. You gazed on as Luffy leapt through the air, waving his fist in victory. Yes, his smile was adorable. No, the puppy dog effect was not going to work on you.

“Captain, there’s no way that you and I can bring this… thing back in one piece,” you sighed. Was there really any point in trying to reason with him? “I’m a swordsman, ‘Cap. I can cut this thing up, and we can haul part of it, or rendezvous with one of the other groups and carry pieces…”

Luffy seemed to contemplate what you told him, putting his fingers to his chin and rubbing it. He flicked his eyes upward, pausing his jubilance for just a moment. He turned back towards you. “Nah, we can drag it!”

The conversation was interrupted by a droplet of water that hit his forehead. And then another. And then a droplet hit you. The pace escalated to a downpour before either of you two could blink. A surge of rage bubbled in the pit of your stomach. You were not just tired now, but tired, soaked, and freezing.

“Please, Captain,” you pleaded. “It’s going to be too much to drag this thing through all of this.” Luffy moved to lay his eyes on you, noticing how your body began to shiver. “You’re cold!” He emoted. He bounded over to you, and morphed to wrap his rubber arms around you like a snake would wrap around a branch. “Y’know, you’re ‘posed to get real close, for body warmth and stuff like that, when it’s cold.”

Even though you were used to your Captain hugging you, as it was not out of the ordinary for him to hug any of the crew, a blush still started tinting your face. His signature shit-faced grin was close to yours, unmoving, and that was a lot for you to handle emotionally in that moment. Sure, Luffy was clueless. He was as dense as the forest you two were unfortunately in. But he was so caring, so loyal, and so handsome when he was this close.

The rubber man held your gaze for a few short moments. “I think we can take just part of this back,” Luffy said. “’M hungry. I wanna eat now.” You sighed in relief. “Thank you, Captain. I’ll get started on that.”

You paused for a moment, with water dripping down your face, waiting for Luffy to unwrap himself. He did not. Instead, he kept staring you down with an intensity that was unnerving you slightly. You could spot the cogs moving around in his head, and he had a reputation for never using his head.

And then he kissed you.

It was just a quick peck, and you would have missed it if you blinked. His arms unraveled, and he took a step back and settled into a pose of triumph, with his hands on his hips and a smile bigger than the sky on his face. He giggled gleefully.

“Wh—whuh, what was that?!” You jittered from the shellshock, the adrenaline making you feel an immediate, overwhelming flush. Luffy just shrugged. “I felt like it. I like you.”

When you had received the news that Sanji was to be married off to someone else, it broke you.

Nami, bless her heart, had held you for multiple nights while you cried yourself to sleep. Sanji was a flirt, but Nami knew the feelings that you had for him. You just did not want to confess those feelings, for fear of complicating the dynamics amongst the crew. You loved Sanji, but Sanji loved women, and how would the crew deal with the tension if you two ever broke it off?

Your emotions really came to a head when you got stuck in the mirror dimension with Chopper and Carrot. You were overcome with excitement when you finally had found Sanji through the mirrors, even if you could only see the back of him. You leaned forward, eager, but paused as soon as your head and shoulders made it through the portal. He was talking to a woman. Even worse, he was talking to the woman he was to be married off to the very next day. “I won’t let our marriage be hell to you too!” The stranger sobbed out.

It felt like you had been frozen in time. There was no desire in you to hear this exchange, but you eavesdropped all the same. His fiancée rambled on, passionate and powerful. The power in her cries made you feel weak. Sanji took a step forward, bringing the woman into an embrace. “Let’s get married tomorrow.” He spoke reverently.

Your heart shriveled up and dropped down to the depths of hell below.

With all eagerness now dissipated, you slunk backwards from the portal and stood still in the mirror realm. This was really what he wanted. How were you going to be able to croak the words out to your captain?

*-------*-------*-------*-------*

“Give it up, Captain! Sanji is not coming back!” You wailed and fussed, desperately trying to get Luffy to comprehend what you knew. He simply sniffled in response. You two were drenched from the pouring rain, surrounded by bodies, and Luffy was leaning against a plateau with his strength sapped. He needed to eat—but Sanji was not coming, you tried to explain. He did not want to be a part of the Straw Hat pirates anymore.

“He’s coming,” Luffy wheezed out. “I won’t eat any other food except from my cook.” The gurgling of your captain’s stomach and his stubbornness were pushing your emotions even further off the ledge.

You hung your head and closed your eyes. Everything just felt hopeless.

The sound of approaching footsteps made you perk up. You tensed, hand reaching for the sword at your side, as you anticipated another one of Big Mom’s pirates to come after Luffy. Turning around, you narrowed your eyes just to see…

…Sanji, holding a picnic basket.

“I didn’t tell you to wait…” he mused. “If you can eat this, then eat.” Sanji walked past you to hand Luffy the basket, earning him a weak chuckle from the famed Straw Hat. He wasted no time to dig in, shouting proclamations of praise on the taste.

The two men began to deliberate. Once again, you just listened quietly, your shriveled up heart beginning to throb again when Sanji explained that he indeed could not escape the wedding. He and the other Vinsmoke family members were to be slaughtered like pigs.

“For these three reasons, I cannot return with the rest of you! Just get out of here—” Sanji was interrupted when your palm collided with his face, making a crisp thwack. Now brimming with anger, you came chest-to-chest with the soon-to-be groom and stared him down. “Arrogant bastard, tell me what you really want!”

Sanji returned the gaze, and tears started to prick the corners of his eyes. His brows began to relax, and he was soon letting the floodgates loose. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms loosely around your legs. “I want to go back to the Sunny…!”

You knelt to the ground as well, wrapping your arms around the chef’s larger frame. “That’s where you belong, you stupid, stupid idiot,” you whispered, moving to cup the black-leg fighter’s face in your hands. He was sopping, he was sobbing, but he was stunning. “We love you. I love you.”

Finally, you closed the gap and kissed him. Despite the rain, Sanji was still warm.

Luffy giggled from behind the two of you. “Let’s crash this wedding!”

#monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #luffy x you #luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #one piece angst #luffy #monkey d luffy #Sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x you #black leg sanji x reader

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ghcstao3 · 3 months ago

Text

(part 1) (cw blood/violence)

Shifters should be born, not made. That’s one of few things that science has been able to say for certain about the biology (and ethics) of the species.

John MacTavish was born, not made, and all his life he’s told that’s something he should be grateful for. And he is.

Because it’s his heightened senses that aid him in excelling in his career. It’s his inhuman abilities that give him an edge; it's his differently-wired brain that deepens his perception, his instinct, and lends him a better gut feeling to tell right from wrong.

And Simon "Ghost" Riley is nothing but wrong.

John could sense something was off about the lieutenant from the moment they met—the man smells human beneath the smoke and dirt and gun oil, but he carries himself too strangely to not be something else. His voice, though obviously naturally gravelly, rasps like his vocal cords don’t take too kindly to words, and his limbs are slightly, almost imperceptibly disproportionate, and it's unsettling, but John just pastes on a friendly smile and promises to save you a seat, sir.

Ghost's stare weighs heavy on John's shoulders as he retreats, something dark and piercing and haunted. It bores a hole through John’s gear, burns the nape of his neck, but he has to continue walking away. He can’t pause, can’t look back, because somehow he fears he won’t like what he sees if he does.

It’s animal instinct that has his hackles raised in Ghost’s presence from then on. John acts unafraid, is unafraid, but there’s something about the man he needs to know but cannot, and it’s eating him alive. Ghost may say he’s human and Price might back that claim, but John isn’t stupid. He isn’t so naive to think that something isn’t wrong.

Then John gets his answer. Stranded alone with Ghost, exhausted and irritated and sticky with sweat in the middle of the Amazon, he gets his answer.

Their makeshift camp would offer scant protection, but being in the middle of nowhere John anticipates their worst enemy would only be the fauna—regardless, though, they’d take turns keeping watch. Or they might take turns, given Ghost has a track record of taking the first shift and never waking John up until they had to move.

Sometimes John thinks that the man might not actually sleep.

This time, however, John is roused by the tearing of flesh and the squelch of blood, by gargled screams and snapped bones. It’s too dark to make anything out, but rather than investigate John wills his body still and breath quiet, preferring he not get caught by whatever monstrous thing he can hear growling low in its throat.

As wary as he still is about his lieutenant, they’ve grown close enough that John itches to reach out for his assurance, to make certain the man is still alive.

But then there’s one last nauseating rip of limb from torso, and a desperate, choking plea, and then there’s silence.

John has to bite back his own scream when a wet snout suddenly nudges his face.

A cold nose brushes his skin followed by a whiskered, bloodied maw, the creature sniffing at him while John keeps his eyes screwed shut. He begins to worry that this is how he dies—like the other men that must have found their position just in time to get torn apart—but then the creature moves away from his face, wandering elsewhere, but not far, before it slumps on the ground.

After its breathing has evened out, John dares take a peek, and while the rainforest’s canopy blocks out most moonlight, he can still faintly make out the form of what he thinks is a jaguar, a black panther—but it’s too big, too gangly, its fur patchy and matted with crimson. John is tempted to pick through his gear for a flashlight, the moonlight too dim to pick out the details, but he ultimately resists. Just squints into the night at the strange disjointedness of the maybe-jaguar, its composition wrong, almost like it’s an amalgamation of animals rather than just one.

Eventually John rolls onto his back, staring up at the silhouettes of branches and leaves high above, trying not to think too hard about the massacre he’s going to find in the morning, or about the beast, or about where the fuck Ghost had gone.

He doesn’t really fall back asleep, only drifts in and out of consciousness, his mind restless and battling with his fatigue. When dawn mercifully breaks, John wastes no time getting up, unable to stay still any longer—he’d been right, of course, about the grisly sight of their camp’s perimeter.

A dozen or so dismembered and disemboweled bodies are strewn about, remnants of gear and weapons telling John they had, in fact, been the enemy caught up to them—and the culprit of it all, John remembers, is still asleep on the soft earth as if it hadn’t so easily caused all that carnage.

And Ghost is still missing.

John turns, tentative, to observe the jaguar-thing, and as his gaze sets upon it in the growing light, a violent shiver rolls up his spine.

What he first decides is that’s it’s not quite a jaguar, but nor is it really anything else. John’s eyes had not deceived him in assessing its size and too-long limbs; it’s almost grotesque in form, malformed, uncanny. Corded muscle is uncomfortably prominent, as are the ridges of its ribs, its shoulder blades, its hips. Teeth and claws long and sharp and deadly, fangs so lengthy they poke past the jaguar-thing’s lips like a sabre-tooth tiger.

It goes beyond mutation, John thinks, but he also doesn’t know how else an animal like that could exist without some kind of unnatural intervention.

Unless—

No. No, that’s a stupid thought. No one becomes a shifter, and if they do they certainly don’t live to tell the tale. No, that can’t be possible.

But it would make so much sense.

The jaguar-thing stirs, then, blinking open eyes the same dark colour of the spongy soil beneath them.

Not the right colour for a cat of any kind.

John doesn’t move. Considers shifting himself not to fight but to give him speed in fleeing, but he needs his gear, and he needs to know if this thing is Ghost, so he remains glued in place as the creature stands and stretches, moving lithely in spite of the way its body so wrongly exists. He stands his ground even when it approaches, even when it stands much taller than a jaguar should, almost like the beast is half-bear.

Then its presence shifts, and he sucks a sharp breath through his teeth.

What stares back at John is not human.

#hehe i love repetition #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

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