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kasagia · 7 days

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Right hand III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After Feyd learns the truth about your dark past, you do everything in your power to prove your loyalty to him. He has many ideas for this... but will your life be able to go back to normal after that? You will either die at his hands, be exiled, return to the Bene Gesseit, or live by his side. And you yourself don't even know which of these options is worse... Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

His dagger digs lightly into your neck, blood slowly trickling down it. You don't try to fight him, you don't push the blade away or try to rip it out of his hand. You know that if you did, you would have been killed by him long ago.

You had to play it smart… and fast—before he slit your throat, which was becoming a more likely scenario with every second.

"Feyd…" You choke out once more, trying to make him look you in the eyes and get him to listen to you. The blood is seeping out of you faster and faster as he presses the blade harder against your throat.

"Silience, witch! You little plague, bane of my existence, poisonous viper, how long have you been playing with me? How long have you been faking all this? Did you think you could outsmart me? That you can deceive me? Make fun of me? Humiliate me? I should fuck you raw, use you like a whore, and leave you in your ridiculous sisterhood to rot with those old hags!" He shouts, pressing his blade harder against your throat. The cool steel of the metal on your skin is becoming a more serious threat to your life. You shiver as you feel him taking more blood from you.

"Feyd, listen…" You try to speak again, placing your hand on his wrist. He pushes your hand away as if it posed a radioactive threat greater than anything floating in Giedi Prime's atmosphere and glares at you furiously.

"NO! You lied to me. You betrayed me. You know how I punish people for disloyalty. You're lucky that I won't throw you to my soldiers so they can play with you before I give you to my harpies. But don't worry, I will take very good care of you. You'll die like those cowardly rats you helped me kill a few hours ago…"

"You... you would... kill me... if I told you... at the beginning..." You gasp as he grabs your neck tightly and drags his blade down your body, creating a trail of blood leading to your collarbone.

"I will kill you now." He growls hoarsely, completely cutting off the air from your respiratory tract.

Your eyes widen as he lifts you off the ground so that only your toes touch the floor. Tears well up in your eyes as you desperately try to draw in air, but his hand is wrapped too tightly around your neck for the oxygen to reach your lungs.

When you realised that it was over and that he had decided on your death, the moment that Lady Jessica told him the whole truth about you, you relaxed. You let a blissful emptiness wash over you as you slowly waited for him to take your life away. You close your eyes, rest your head against the wall behind you, and let your body slowly go limp as the seconds pass without air.

You gasp, surprised, as the grip on your neck loosens so that you can take small, ragged breaths. You quickly take advantage of the opportunity and take a few shaky breaths. You open your eyes, staring into Feyd's icy blue and furious gaze in utter shock.

Was he going to play with you before he killed you? Torture, like many before you, until he finds in himself some mercy and takes your life? Because if you know one thing, it's that you won't beg him to let you go. About nothing. Never. You were too proud to do so.

"Fight." He growls, pressing you harder against the wall. He leans forward, bringing his face very close to yours. You shiver, feeling his breath on your cheek as he carefully observes your reaction to his intimidation. Like a snake waiting for the right moment to attack.

"What?" You ask stupidly, not understanding what he is doing. You've often watched him play with his victims, prolonging their suffering and giving them no hope of escaping his grip... so why does he want you to fight? Why does he want you to resist him? Was this another sick game of his?

"Fight! Scream! Struggle! Why are you not doing anything?! Why don't you beg for your miserable life, Bene Gesserit's spy?! Fight with me! Fight back! FIGHT BACK!!" He screams and throws you against the wall.

Completely unprepared for him to completely release you from his grip, you fall to the floor, too weak to keep your balance on your own. You place your hands on the black metal sheet beneath you and breathe quickly, trying to get as much air as possible before he wraps his hand around your throat again.

"I… I was always… loyal… to you…" You gasp, still trying to recover from what just happened. He walks slowly towards you. He presses the tip of his sword under your chin and forces you to lift your head and look him in the eyes.

“You have five minutes before I treat you like I treat your mentor. Use this time well. I can always get bored and kill you faster.” He takes a step back and slowly slides the blade across your skin. He steps away from you to pour himself a drink, but he keeps watching you out of the corner of his eye. You take one brief glance at Lady Jessica's body before you can compose yourself enough to formulate any logical response.

"I... I have no idea what she told you. Where she lied and where it was convenient for her to tell the truth... but whatever she told you I did... she surely doesn't know the one, most important thing. She doesn't know the reason for my actions."

"Oh, but I do. You wanted to run away from them so you wouldn't have to breed with such a monster as me. You thought that as my right hand, you would be safe, that I wouldn't notice you in the shadows, that I wouldn't want you, and that I wouldn't touch you. But I did. And by doing so, I destroyed your plans. Tell me, how many times have you escaped from Giedi Prime in your fantasies? How many times have you wanted to leave for good?"

With each question he asks, he takes a step towards you, which makes him stand in front of you again. But you didn't get up from the floor. You didn't feel like it. Besides, you doubted he would let you stand up and be on an equal level with him. He needed to feel in control, to feel that he is still dominating over you—that he didn't lose control over you despite your... betrayal. Although you didn't think it was any kind of betrayal at all. A slight omission of a few facts. Nothing more.

"I... you can't blame me for that. Anyone with survival instincts would not willingly live on Giedi Prime. But I stayed." You decide to tell him some of the truth this time. For too long, you managed to play your cards well. You had to bend a little to his will without losing your claw and not behaving like an obedient concubine, wanting to fulfil all his orders and wishes, because that would make him more suspicious, and he would definitely kill you for trying to deceive him and lie to him again.

"You stayed out of fear." He questions your words, keeping his watchful, piercing gaze on you as he tries to find in you any trace of lying.

You almost shiver under the furious gaze of his icy blue eyes. Fortunately, you manage to refrain from showing him any reaction. The metallic scent of Lady Jessica's blood motivated you to survive like nothing had before. You somehow manage to recall some of your lessons and training sessions with her as you think about how to respond to Feyd's words. Maybe her methods and rules didn't keep her alive, but unlike her, you knew Feyda-Rautha too damn well. You could get out of this. You just had to play it smart and sacrifice a few things…

"Out of loyalty to you. Sense of duty and honor. Something I thought we both shared." You say confidently, meeting his gaze bravely.

However, your attitude does not impress him at all. He lazily turns the dagger in his hands, playing with the sharp blade. He doesn't take his eyes off you, even for a moment. He just stands there, maintaining a completely calm and unruffled demeanor. It's hard to imagine now that just a moment ago, this man was overcome with the greatest anger of his entire life. You've seen him in many states, but you have never seen him that mad. Rabban may have been called a beast by others, but the real threat was his younger brother. Especially when his first anger was over and it was time for the cold calculation of revenge.

“Was that loyalty and sense of duty also present in you when you chose to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be mine? That you are destined to give me an heir so strong that the whole world will kneel before him?” This time, you can't help but shudder. He notices this and chuckles darkly, shaking his head. In a split second, the tip of his blade is once again pressed on the thin and delicate skin of your throat. You swallow, and when you meet his gaze, you realise that you have to tell the truth if you don't want to die on your knees in front of him.

"If your uncle told you to marry me and have your offspring with me, would you do it?" A frown appears on his forehead at the mere mention of the baron. His hand trembles slightly as a new wave of rage washes over him.

"What does he have to do with this?" He asks hoarsely, as he suspects you of working with his uncle. After all, you were smart enough to play both sides.

Feyd wouldn't be surprised if you reported everything he was doing to his uncle behind his back. That's why he preferred having you—a cunning, beautiful witch who was now kneeling before him—by his side. Because you were drop-dead perfect. He never expected you to make such a stupid mistake. To ever let him gain even the slightest doubt about your loyalty.

"Nothing. But the Bene Gesserit were to me what your uncle is to you. And after running away from them, the last thing I wanted to do was follow the last sick order they gave me." The years you spent with him gave you enough information about the family relationship at House Harkonnen.

They are like predators waiting for the right moment to attack, always prepared to hurt the other one when he shows even a tiny glimmer of weakness. You also know Feyd's past... or rather, the history of scars on his back. Unfortunately, these were not the only marks the baron left on him.

You hold your breath as he grabs your hair and pulls you up. You get up on your feet, and, being on an equal level with him, you no longer hesitate to look him in the eye. He releases your hair with the other, only to move it to your cheek and neck. He rubs tiny droplets of blood across yours, shifting his attention to your skin. He caresses your jawline with his finger and suddenly tilts your head back, giving himself a better view of your reddened throat, which has begun to form bruises in the shape of his fingers from how he choked you just moments ago. You swallow, watching him closely.

"And yet you served me for many years. You stayed with me after they wanted to link your future with mine. Why?"

“I was hoping the last place they would look for me would be Giedi Prime by your side. And that… after all, you won't be interested in me.”

"But I was. This must have spoiled your plans, right?"

"A little." You confess, hoping to gain something from your honesty.

After your words, there is a long silence in the room. He removes his hand from you, staring intently at you as he considers your words. You wait in suspense and anticipation for his next decision.

One quick move was enough to take your life.

And from the look in his eyes, you know it must have been tempting for him to add your blood to Lady Jessica's, which was already staining the floor of the ship.

"On your knees." His command is so sudden that it takes you a moment for your brain to process what he said.

All you can do is stare at him blankly, your heart beating with excitement and terror at the thought of his words. He didn't want to… he couldn't now… You look down at his pants and swallow, seeing the slight bulge. You hold your breath as he takes a step towards you and presses his hard length against your thigh, which undoubtedly confirms your suspicions. He lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes as you blush and realise what he is asking you to do.

"I love your doe eyes, my pet, but there's a time and a place for everything. On your knees or your heart will become another decoration of my chambers." He says it huskily, caressing your chin before letting go. He stares at you expectantly, waiting for your next move.

You swallow again, feeling a huge lump in your throat. Your mind is racing, but you know, as he does, that you have no escape. Your position is hopeless; you can either give him a blowjob or die, and you don't want to do any of it. Or touch him in any way after he disembowelled Lady Jessica in front of you. But the prospect of being his next victim reluctantly brings you to your knees before him.

"Good girl." He hums, tilting your chin slightly so you're looking at him and not the floor between you. He takes a step towards you and attaches the dagger to his arm. "Show me that your beautiful, deceptive, tempting lips, throat, and larynx can do more than feed me with sweet lies, and maybe I won't cut them out of you."

You hold your breath, your eyes trailing down to his pants. You hear him chuckle darkly before he takes your hands in his and places them on the fastenings of his pants, guiding your hands as you gradually free his length from his armour.

You swallow again at the sight of his full, hard length and curse him, as the rumours about him do not lie at all. He was enormous. Long and not too thick, but not thin either. You don't know if you'd rather he tried to cut your throat with a knife than pierce it with what stood proud between you.

"Rumours say you know how to do it. I don't remember how many soldiers I killed for the privilege of having your body before me. But each of them shared one opinion. Your fire burns as bright in battle as it does in the bedroom. Show me, my little witch, how much you care about continuing to be my right hand and having all the privileges you had." He encourages you mockingly when you stare at his slightly pre-cum-dripping cock for too long for his liking. But damn, his cum was black. You were sure as hell that the bastard was going to paint you with it.

You give him an angry, cold glare as you wrap your hand around his length. He lets out a soft moan, grabbing your jaw to make sure you keep your eyes on his. You swallow, stroking his length with slow movements of your hand as he gets even harder. Part of you is glad that he wants you to look at him. You doubt you could keep your composure if you had to look at what you had to fit in your mouth… and hopefully only in your mouth.

He growls when you drag out the inevitable too long, using only your hands on him. You can see that he likes what you're doing, but the impatience radiating from him makes you realise that it won't end with just a few caresses of your hands around his length.

Reluctantly, you lean down and wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him gently—like candy. You taste his pre-cum on your tongue, surprisingly taking in its… not-so-horrible taste. It's bittersweet on your tongue and thick. You shudder at the thought of what he would feel like inside you.

He groans, burring his hands in your hair as he gently pushes you on him to make you take more of his cock into your mouth. You choke as his length suddenly hits the back of your throat. Surprisingly, he stops pushing you and just keeps his hands in your hair, letting you adjust to his full length.

"I've always liked your hair..." He starts tugging on them to correct your rhythm. "A natural leash for my beautiful, dangerous pet..."

You growl around him in anger at his words. He groans throatily, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth at the extra stimulation he got from you. You feel tears slowly begin to well up in your eyes as he allows himself to move his hips more and more, lazily thrusting into your throat. Your saliva mixes with his pre-cum, staining the corners of your mouth.

It amazes you how gentle he is with you. How he doesn't push you too far so as not to cause you the pain you know he loves to enjoy. More than once, you had to call the medic to his concubines. Even his harpies occasionally got injured when he used them for his pleasure after a particularly exciting fight. You knew how… he could get lost in his pleasure. Yet he was extremely careful with you.

He starts thrusting into your throat faster and faster, guiding your head by your hair in time with his thrusts. You let your tears fall as he picked up a pace you couldn't keep up with. You close your eyes and feel a tear roll down your cheek. You open them, meeting his gaze, when you feel his thumb brush away your falling tear. He licked it off his finger, purring at its salty flavour.

You wrap your hands around his balls, massaging them in a circular motion, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. He laughs throatily, pounding stupidly into your mouth. Your jaw starts to hurt. You prop yourself up on his thigh with one hand, unable to stay on your knees for long on your own.

Seeing that you're having difficulty, he slows down a little, lazily digging into your throat. He luxuriated in the warmth of your mouth, and your tongue caressed his length. His gaze never falters, as he maintains eye contact with you the entire time. He strokes your cheek with his hand, then moves to your throat as he gently uses his fingertips to feel the bulge in your throat caused by his cock.

"I'll take you. Fast and hard. You'll cry as beautifully as you do now and writhe beneath me desperately, trying to escape like always, but you'll be so impaled on my cock and wrapped in the tight embrace of my arms that you won't move a fucking millimetre without my permission. I will fuck into you our Kwisatz Haderach, so no one will ever doubt that it should have been otherwise, that you don't belong with me. And the best of all is that you will not know the damn day or hour when it will happen. You will learn how to be my whore and baroness, just like you learned how to be my right hand. You'll do great, my little witch. You prove very well with your mouth and hands what a wonderful right hand you are. Much better than my own fucking hand. Much better than any of the fantasies I had. My little witch, always attending to my every need. Only fucking mine."

He moans, speeding up drastically, chasing his peak. You feel him getting closer to his orgasm as he becomes impossibly harder in your mouth and his balls tighten, ready to release his black cum. He keeps making you look at him until he growls loudly, coming into your mouth.

Earlier, you were gagging with just his length in your mouth. Now you really choke as his seed spills down your throat. He presses you against him, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, making you swallow all of his cum until it's completely inside you. Its taste is pungent, reminding you of a spicy, bitter spice.

He stays in your mouth for a while after he finishes pouring into you. He massages your scalp with his hands, clearly not wanting to release you. His cock twitches slightly, and you fear he's about to give you a second round.

He sighs, reluctantly pulling out of your mouth. He grabs your hands and guides them to his pants. You cleaned him and put him back in his pants without saying a word. You are not even looking into his eyes, knowing full well that a satisfied smile will spread across his lips the moment you do.

He grabs your arms and lifts you off your knees. You shiver, unable to stay on your two feet after being on your knees for so long, and you fall into his arms, leaning completely against him. He laughs huskily, pulling you closer to his chest. He uses his fingertip to collect the last of your saliva and his cum from the corners of your mouth and pushes his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, meeting his eyes with your defiant, angry gaze.

He hums, smiling darkly as he watches with satisfaction as you lick his fingers. He leans forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he licks from your face and then from your neck the droplets of his black cum that leaked from your mouth as you tried to swallow everything he poured into you. You shiver as his tongue caresses the skin of your neck, tracing the small, sealed wound he inflicted on you with his dagger. He hums against your neck, disappointed at how quickly your blood clots.

Suddenly, he lets you completely go. You can barely keep your balance as he walks away from you.

"If that Atreides' bitch survived, so did her pathetic puppy. Send a message to our people in the desert. Paul Atredis is alive. We have to kill him before he and the rebels start a revolt and destroy our plans. Clean up here too. Tomorrow we have half a tribe of these rats to interrogate."

You nod dumbly, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Just a few hours ago, you were afraid for your life, and now that you... have pleased him, he acts like nothing has happened. You come to the conclusion that it bothered you more than when he pressed his blade against your throat.

"Ah, and Y/N." He says, stopping at the door and turning to look at you one last time before leaving the room. You can tell by the mischievous smile on his lips that he has nothing good planned for you. "I want to see you in my chambers tonight."

He doesn't wait for your reaction or response. He just walks out with a springy, energetic step, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You shiver as you find yourself alone in the room with Lady Jessica's corpse. You look around, and, in a desperate attempt to find some positives, you decide that at least your blood isn't staining the floor of the ship... or at least not yet.

His chambers in the main base on Arrakis are not as... ornately terrifying as those he had in Giedi Prime. You wouldn't guess that someone important lived there. It was an ordinary room with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a bathroom. No amenities, just a commander's room; definitely too poor for a na-baron.

You shiver as you feel his hand on your hip. He pulls you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. He sighs, inhaling your scent. The warm air on your neck is tickling you gently. You think about how it's been too easy for him to sneak up on you lately. You've gone out of shape.

"Are you planning how to escape, little witch?" He whispers hoarsely, playing with the fabric of your nightgown.

"I didn't. And believe me, I had better opportunities in the past. So why would I escape now?" You answer his question with your own one, irritated by his suspicions.

"Because unlike me, you are very reluctant to welcome our Kwisatz Haderach into this world." You roll your eyes at his words and turn your head to give him an annoyed look. He shrugs with a smirk. He presses a kiss on the bare skin of your shoulder before resting his chin on it. "You're obviously trying to distance yourself from me, too." He adds, seeing the irritated frown on your forehead.

“Weren't you the one who thought the Bene Gesserit prophecies were just bullshit from stoned old women?” You ask, raising your eyebrows in challenge.

"I did… but this particular one seems very convincing..." He purrs into your neck. He moves one hand from your hip so his finger can trace the red line of the wound he gave you with the dagger. He tilted your head back, forcing you to rest your head on his shoulder as he placed a trail of kisses on the small scar.

"Where are your harpies?" You ask when he starts showing too much interest in your neck, peppering it with kisses.

"Should I call them? Would you like them to join us?" You wrinkle your nose, at which he laughs, amused, tightening his hold on you.

"Of course not. You know that I have... no sympathy for them." You grumble, trying to break free from his grip, which, of course, he won't let you.

"The feeling is mutual. You know, they think you're stealing me from them. And that I will quickly get bored with you, like with other... oriental pets I had, and I will come back to them."

"What are you waiting for, then?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. His hand plays with the strap of your black sleep gown, gently stroking your bare skin. He leans down, nuzzling your temple, and whispers in your ear:

“The problem is, my dear little witch, that you have taken over every ounce of my thoughts. My dreams, my nights, my days… it seems only right that I get back the time I wasted dreaming about you, right?”

You shiver, both from his words and from the way his hand slides over your body like a snake. He strokes your breasts, taking a moment to focus on them before his hand rests on your hips again. He presses you against him, clinging to you like a second skin.

"Let's go to bed. It was a very long day. For both of us..." He says, directing you towards his bed. You resist him slightly by digging your heels into the floor, but he quickly counters this by lifting you up gently, leaving your feet dangling in the air.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep alone? It's pretty warm here." You try to get out of it one last time, feeling the soft silk of his black sheets beneath you as he gently places you on his bed. He laughs mockingly, amused by your poor attempt at escape.

"Not at night. You know that well. I'd rather keep an eye on you, little witch. We don't know what monsters may be lurking in the darkness of Arrakis after we killed the Reverend Mother of those rats." He purrs, laying down next to you. You sigh as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, knowing full well that your safety is the last thing he's worried about right now.

"If Paul Atreides survived, it is very likely that he could be Muad'Dib. He will come here. To avenge his mother and unborn sister." You warned him. You're trying to make this situation more… normal. Lying in his bed and in his arms wasn't the least bit normal for you, but making plans with him was. You needed to keep your mind occupied until you could fall asleep… if he let you fall asleep.

"You didn't stop me from killing her. You didn't say a word. Why? Were you afraid you'd be next?"

You shake your head. You're not going to tell him the whole truth about what you felt back then, but you know you can't lie to him. You have to tell him at least half the truth if you want to regain some of his trust... at least until you escape.

"Lady Jessica believed that Paul was the real Kwisatz Haderach, since she gave Duke Leto a son instead of a daughter. The Bene Gesserit resented her for this. She was supposed to give him a daughter. A daughter who was to marry you and give you a real Kwisatz Haderach. By disobeying their orders, she fell into their disfavour... until she gave them the idea that they might as well... fuse me with you to secure your bloodline. But the Bene Gesserit came up with the idea that I was going to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach. If I hadn't gone with you that night... I might as well have died at her hands. I… I guess I was glad that I survived her."

Not looking at his face helps you partially open up to him. You didn't like remembering your past. This was the one thing you had in common. You try your best to reveal as little to him as you have to, unconsciously tracing patterns in his hand as he keeps hugging you from behind. If you turned around, you would have seen his small smile at your gesture quickly disappear as he sensed the growing tension within you at the thought of Lady Jessica.

"If I had known, I would have made it more painful for her." He states, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. You look down at your joined hands and frown as he slowly strokes the skin of your hand with his thumb.

"Why?" You ask in a whisper, not moving an inch when he buries his nose in your hair.

"Because no one hurts what's mine."You snort, knowing full well the true meaning of his words. If you were just a naive young girl, you would believe in the good intentions behind these words. However, you know Feyd Rautha too well to naively believe that he won't break his favourite toys. He grabs your chin in a tight grip and turns you to face him. You swallow thickly as his intense gaze meets yours. You've never had the chance to look so closely at his icy blue eyes... "I want you by my side all the time. I need to make sure you're not planning anything behind my back, little witch."

"Haven't I proven my loyalty enough?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest and pushing yourself away from him gently. He chuckles darkly, letting go of your chin in a split second to grab your wrists in a tight grip. He lifts your hands, pushing them away from him and twisting them so you can't move them.

"I believe you are capable of doing much more." He murmurs against your throat, pressing kisses there and lazily sucking at your skin, which was already irritated by his dagger.

You squirm in his arms, trying to somehow protect your neck from his wandering lips. Your attempts fail, as you only give him more fun by grinding against him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Eventually, he gets bored and decides to let you go. He lets you turn your back on him again, but you don't get far. His arms wrap around you, holding you in a cage as he takes on the role of the big spoon.

"I will bring you the head of Atreides on a golden plate. There is only one Kwisatz Haderach—our future son. I won't let some dog from Caladan tell people otherwise." He whispers in your ear. You shiver, half-wishing you were stupid enough to believe in his devotion. The fact that someone can do anything you want for you. But it wasn't love. It was just an obsession. You had to remember that.

"Maybe he really is the one… or maybe it's all just nonsense made up by those old hags? Maybe there will be no Kwisatz Haderach at all? What's then?" He doesn't answer your questions. However, you manage to get some reaction out of him.

He pulls away from you, the bed creaking beneath him as you hear him turn over to his other side. The sudden chill of not having his body close to yours makes you shiver.

You find yourself regretting for a moment that whatever you said made him distance himself from you. You shake your head and sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. You try to find the most comfortable position possible when settling down to sleep. But for some reason, you don't feel tired at all. Your eyes are wide open as you listen to his soft breathing, the only other sound in the empty room.

"How did you find out about… uncle?" His sudden question makes you turn towards him. He remains turned away from you, ignoring any movement from you. You think for a moment, staring at the scars scattered across his pale, muscular back, before answering him.

"I have eyes and ears. And enough brain cells to… deduce a few things." You whisper, tracing a particularly nasty-looking scar on his back with the pad of your thumb. "I also... I went through something similar. I've told you that before. Bene Gesserit was to me what your uncle is to you." He turns slowly to face you at your words. His eyes examine you so thoroughly that you feel another shiver run through your body.

This time, when he reaches out to cup your cheek, you don't fight him. You let him, trying to decipher the unreadable look in his eyes as he continues to consider your words.

"Tell me... how could I resist when you're like this? How could I ignore you and leave you in your shadows when everything you do fascinates me to a madness that only you can heal?" He asks, tracing the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

"You wanted to kill me today." You remind him in an accusatory tone. You bite the tip of his finger, which only brings a smirk to his face as he moves his hand away from your face. He places it on your hip, squeezing it in a silient warning.

"I wanted to scare you. You lied to me, so you needed some punishment. Besides, you know perfectly well that if I really wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

"Not telling the whole truth is not a lie. Besides… your intentions don't make this situation any different to me." You huff, rolling your eyes. He laughs huskily, caressing your hip through the fabric of your nightgown as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest is pressed against his. Both of you are breathing steadily and slowly, staring intently into each other's eyes.

"Are you afraid of the little old me, my little witch?" He asks teasingly. You catch yourself watching the sparkle of amusement in his eyes shine surprisingly brightly under the light of the Arrakis moon. You can't make yourself turn your gaze off of him. And that's what terrifies you.

"Should I?" You ask in a whisper, trembling, not giving him an ounce of trust. Seeing your extremely distrustful and hostile attitude, he stops smiling. He looks at you more seriously, as he is deep into his thinking.

He doesn't respond to you. He places a kiss on your forehead and turns your back to him. He holds you tightly, buries his nose in your hair, and slowly falls asleep, wrapping himself in your warmth and scent. On your back, you feel his heart beating calmly in his strong, well-built chest. You allow yourself to sigh shakily, being finally 'alone' for the first time since this fateful day began.

And you realise that you're not afraid of him at all. The only person you are afraid of is yourself. That you would give in to your strange attraction to him one day and seal your fate. You didn't want to die. But you'd rather find yourself buried under the sands of Arrakis than let those Bene Gesserit witches control your life ever again.

"If you tear this, you'll be walking around with my hand around your throat." He warns you, seeing you struggling with the black leather choker around your neck he gave you. It looked like a fucking collar. And it was a bit too tight for you to feel comfortable in it.

"You give me so many options…" You snort sarcastically, leaving the damn choker around your neck. "I look like a fucking whore." You say and turn towards him to look at him carefully.

He wore his more formal black armour with a cape that was as dark as the rest of his outfit. He smiles sarcastically and walks over to you. He smoothes the fabric of your dress on your waist and places his hands on your hips.

"Whore? Not at all. More like my pet." He hums, trying to take in your form in a form-fitting black dress. The silver chains on your hips and chest connect into a spider's web that flows down with the fabric of the skirt of the dress, which surprisingly doesn't cling as tightly to your body as the bodice of the dress does.

It's... definitely a bolder outfit than you're used to wearing. And this time, your hair was loose. The maids put silver accessories and small diamond jewels into your hair. You were a nicely wrapped gift, especially prepared for the Na-Baron's birthday.

"What's the difference?" You ask, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

"Calm down, little witch. Rumours about your past spread quickly. We can't let people see me as a weak man who fell under the spell of a Bene Gesserit, can we?" He teases you. He leans towards you and nuzzles your cheek before his lips start to trace a path along your jaw to your neck. You sigh slightly and place your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance.

"Please. Don't pretend you're not doing it for your own fucking satisfaction." You snap at him, still trying to push him away. He puts the dagger on your neck rather quickly and too suddenly, making you refrain from any form of protest for a moment as he decorates your neck with hickeys.

"I'm not even trying to deny it at all… you look stunning, by the way." He growls hoarsely. His blade moves from your neck to the top of your corset, pressing the tip against the valley between your breasts. You sigh, feeling the coolness of the blade against your chest.

"They are waiting for you." You whisper as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"We have a moment... besides, it's my birthday. Don't you want to celebrate my adulthood?" His low tone of voice sends shivers down your spine. Even after he tosses his blade aside, you make no move to try to walk away from him.

"You're still acting like the horny teenager I met. I doubt you will ever grow up."

"Watch what you say… I can always show you how hornier I became." His warning is not just lip service. He shows it to you... very clearly as his hard length rubs against your thigh.

You grab his jaw tightly and take a step away from him. He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into his arms in one quick movement. You gasp in shock, falling into his chest. You struggle in his embrace until he slaps your ass. You glare at him furiously, at which he only tightens his grip on you.

"I want you to paint my body before the fight." He mumbles, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him.

Leading members of the high houses gathered on Arrakis to celebrate his birthday and the fact that he had managed to restore the mining and export of spices to extraordinary levels.

Feyd was to put on a spectacle, killing the most dangerous Fremen who managed to be kept alive during interrogations. However, you and Feyd have bigger worries to take care of right now. Like the baron and the emperor. Or Paul Atreides... or rather, their Muad'dib, who has not been found by you yet. Something Feyd decided to ignore for now in favor of groping you and trying to get into your pants.

Over the last few weeks, he has clung to you like a limpet. It made it very difficult for you to do any work or spy, as he was literally following you around. You felt like his favourite dog on a leash, taken for walks around the building before locking you in his chambers for the night, keeping you close to him. Even his harpies couldn't take his attention away from you. Something you really hoped would happen soon.

"It's always been… your harpies' privilege." You say as he tangles his hand in your hair.

"And now I want you to do it." He says it calmly, caressing your cheek as you try to pull your head back from him. "Do you mind?" You huff at his condescending question.

"Don't ask me questions like that; otherwise, I'll start thinking that I really have a choice here." He laughs, showing you a set of his freshly painted black teeth and shakes his head at you.

"We both know you're too smart for that, my shrewd little witch." He says this and leans in, gently brushing your lips with his. He keeps a tight grip on your hair as his kiss becomes more intense and possessive. He tightens his grip on your waist, tugging at the fabric of your dress, causing the silver chains on it to clang against each other with every move of his hand.

His hand reaches for the strings of your corset at the back, but before he can untie even one of them, there's a knock on the door.

"My Lord Na-Baron, the Baron, and your brother have just landed on Arrakis. The emperor should also be arriving soon."

You feel him tense slightly as he pulls away from you. His face hardens as he puts on his emotionless mask, staring out the window, where he could probably see the ship landing.

"Come on, little witch. I don't need to remind you to be on your best behaviour, right?" You roll your eyes at him, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow.

"I think I can play your concubine for a day. Consider this my birthday gift to you, my Na-Baron." You say it sarcastically and sweetly, walking with him out of his room and towards the great hall where he would greet everyone gathered. If you were lucky enough, you might be able to escape from him for a moment or two...

"In my chambers as well?" He asks teasingly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him trying not to smile, but the corner of his lip twitches, giving him away (at least to you).

"Anywhere but there." You reply quickly, making him smile this time. At least for a second. After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

"That's okay. We don't need to do it there. There are so many other places…" He whispers hoarsely in your ear before you enter the room where the first party is to be held. You can't stop a cold shiver from running down your spine.

Doors are opening for you. You wait for him to let go of your waist and move in front of you like he usually does at these types of parties with the concubines he brought for company, but he doesn't do that at all. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist and holds you by his side as he navigates through the sea of people. You can't help but blush slightly.

If you had any doubts over the last few weeks that he was no longer interested in you, they were gone with his small gesture. He will indeed ruin you. As soon as he finds the opportunity suitable. You were afraid that the evening of his birthday might be considered in his eyes as a perfect time to do this.

But somehow you manage to get out of his sight. You position yourself against the wall, having a perfect view of the most important people in the room. The Baron and Feyd were talking about something with the Emperor and his daughter. You look at them curiously, especially since the Harkonnens have their backs turned to you. And looking at Princess Irulan in a silver dress that was constructed to resemble armour, you see in her your chance for freedom. If Feyd married her, he would probably get over his strange obsession with you.

"Lady Y/N." Feyd's older brother's mocking greeting reaches your ears. You turn to him, taking your eyes off Feyd for a moment, and nod to the man standing next to you.

"Count Rabban."

"I heard you and my brother dealt with the rats of Arrakis. My congratulations." You are quite wary of his civilised attitude. The last time you saw him, Feyd made him kiss his shoes. And yours. So you definitely didn't stay in... a neutral relationship after that.

"Na-Baron is a great commander." You reply with a polite smile. Your eyes involuntarily wander to Feyd. There's a knot in your stomach when you see him talking to the princess. You frown, wondering what the hell is wrong with you.

"I have no doubt." He nods, also looking at Feyd. "He will destroy you. Like any toy he had before you. When you lose your usefulness, he will throw you to his harpies. He's more unpredictable than me or even my uncle. But you know that... so what are you still doing by his side?" He asks, turning his gaze on you.

"I am his right hand. I live to serve him." You answer automatically, shrugging your shoulders.

"If I had known that Bene Gesserit witches were so devoted, I might have appointed one to be my right hand."

"Believe me, count Rabban, the overwhelming majority would not serve him or anyone else so loyally as I do. They would probably prefer to poison themselves." He laughs at your words, taking two drinks from the passing servant. He hands you one, but you shake your head. "I don't drink if I don't have to. Old habits from my home planet. My mother would slap my sisters and me on the hands until she could see our bones as a punishment for stealing a drink or two." You're half lying when you remember how the Reverend Mothers made sure you were completely… untainted by any substances that could make you less healthy. All for breeding. Like farm animals.

"And they say the Harkonnens are monsters. At least you can get drunk with us… well, before we torture you to death or accidentally kill you."

"I've gotten used to it. Fortunately, I have fast reflexes." You reply with a smirk, knowing full well what he's trying to do. He wanted to ingratiate himself with you while you were still important in the Harkonnen court. His brother currently despised him, and his uncle probably did too. He saw an opportunity to increase his political influence when he spotted you alone.

Suddenly, you feel someone's intense gaze on you. You turned your face to notice that Feyd's eyes were on you and not on the princess, with whom he was still talking. Judging by the way your skin was burning from the look Feyd was giving you, you could tell he didn't like his brother being close to you at all.

And Feyd was incredibly pissed off and furious. In his eyes, Rabban wasn't worthy enough of your time, attention, or even being close to you to have the pleasure to smell the scent of your perfumes. But not only did his brother have the courage to talk to you; he even made you smile. Feyd was already planning in his mind how to tear his head off.

Na-Baron would have done just that if an arrow had not suddenly passed between him and Princess Irulan.

Panic filled the room when suddenly, a hail of arrows hit random people. You grabbed your blade and were about to move towards the first archer you noticed, but suddenly a cold steel was pressed against your neck. The Fremen woman holds you tight. You can only stand there calmly and watch as they overpower the more important representatives of the great families, leading the less important people out of the room. Feyd's blue irises are focused on you all the time, which surprisingly makes you feel a little better.

"Silience!" You freeze when you see Paul Atreides emerge from the crowd of Fremen.

Your informants haven't told you much about him. He had done well since he was forced to live on Arrakis among the Fremen. He became stronger, smarter, and more ruthless. He had no weaknesses… except one. You look around the room, your eyes locking on the woman who stood a few metres away from you. His lover.

If living among powerful men taught you anything, it was that they only had a few weaknesses. Fear for their lives, property, title, and, among those younger and less experienced in life, their loved ones. But Paul Atreides changed on Arrakis. He wasn't the little boy you knew during your training with his mother. You could only hope that he loved his woman enough to consider rescuing her. Maybe you will buy enough time before your trops, waiting on ships above Arrakis, come to rescue you.

"Let me go. Give me your blade. Keep your mouth shut and close your eyes for the next 30 minutes." You use your voice on the woman who holds you.

While she does what you told her, you try to get to Atreides' lover unnoticed. You ignore his speech; your heart is racing in your chest, and all you can hear is the sound of your blood flowing in your blood vessels.

When you reach the Fremen woman, you quickly disarm her and press your dagger to her neck. Atreides stops his speech. Before anyone can react, you take a deep breath and say loudly:

"Everyone ten steps back. Stay still, or slit your throat with the nearest weapon." Everyone in the room is listening to you. You have to take a few steps back with the woman you have in your iron grip. You tremble as you feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you, especially Feyd's. However, your gaze is fixed only on Paul Atreides.

"This is impossible… what are you?" He asks in shock, not moving after you forced him and everyone else in the room to back away from you.

"It doesn't matter, Atreides. Take your men and get out of here. I advise you well." You growl furiously at him. You feel the blood start to pulsate in your veins. The old wound on your side is slowly starting to open up under the pressure your body is going through. You're glad you're wearing a black dress. At least not all of them will see the blood stain on your dress when it will be leaking out of you more and more by the second.

"You cannot keep them under your will forever. You'll soon get tired, faint, or bleed to death." He reasons, fully aware that your crowd control is time-limited.

"My men will be landing here soon. They'll take everyone who counts and fly away with us, raining nuclear bombs on your precious little desert. The spice from these areas may have been contaminated for several centuries, but we still have the opposite pole of Arrakis to exploit and extract it. So better choose wisely."

He frowns at your words, looking at you carefully and analysing your facial expressions carefully. You stare at him hard and unfazed, even though you feel the fabric of your dress sticking to your open wound. You have a staring fight with each other until you press your dagger a little more into the woman's throat and take her blood. He looks briefly at his girl before he opens his mouth to speak.

"We've met before, right?"

"You have one minute to make a decision before I make your woman bleed to death in front of you." You say hoarsely, feeling your muscles tremble slightly. But you hold on with all your might, maintaining your calm, dangerous, hostile attitude.

You all wait in suspense to see what he will do. He might as well attack and kill you, risking his men overpowering any reinforcements that come to your rescue. But you hope he's considerate enough to back off. If not because of the people who came after him, then because of his girlfriend or concubine, whose life now depends solely on you.

You almost sigh in fucking relief when he takes a step back. You let him get out of your control, looking at him carefully all the time. You swallowed and let go of his woman.

"Follow your Muad'Dib." You command the people of the desert. They stare at you for a moment before their eyes rest anxiously on their leader. He nods at them as he slowly leaves the room.

As quickly as they arrived, they left. You stand at attention for a long time—a minute, an hour, or hours—until you hear the ship approaching and the movement of the sands of Arrakis under the influence of sandworms.

They left. You realise this with relief. However, it is a very short-lived relief. It ends when your eyes meet the eyes of the reverend mothers, who are clearly communicating with each other. You fucked up. You revealed that you were a Bene Gesserit, or at least that you knew some of their tricks. Unconsciously, you completely let go of control over the gathered crowd.

"Why didn't you wait for your people so we could kill them? Kill him?" The emperor's voice reaches you vaguely. You raise your head and meet the gaze of an old man standing a few steps away from you.

"I bluffed, my emperor." You reply shakily, feeling blood start to flow from your nose as well.

"What?" He asks in shock, unable to believe that all your talk was a pure bluff. You don't have the strength to explain anything. You can stare blankly at the floor, feeling your strength slowly begin to drain away after you use the voice on the people gathered in the room.

"I bluffed." You repeat, feeling your heart beat rapidly against your chest. Your vision becomes completely blurry; all you can hear is the buzzing in your ears, the pounding of your heart, and the slow dripping of your blood onto the floor.

"But… you…" Whatever he was about to say, he's interrupted by you falling to your knees. You don't register at all what's happening around you. The only thing you are sure of is that there are suddenly a lot of people around you.

You're clinging to what little consciousness you have when you suddenly feel something pull you against the hard wall of muscle. You lean against the unexpected support, slowly drifting into blissful unconsciousness as you no longer feel the pain from the open wound on your side. The hoarse call of your name makes you a little more aware, enough to distinguish Feyd's voice from the indistinct gibberish around you.

"Get a medic here!"

He whispers something else to you as he brushes your hair out of your face, but you don't hear anything anymore. You let yourself go into the blissful darkness, happy that you can rest, at least for a moment. And you feel surprisingly comfortable, with the warmth of his arms and his scent being the last things you feel before passing out.

You're surprised that when you wake up in the hospital wing, there's no one at your bed, looking at you like a guard dog. Once you get used to the feeling of being fully aware, you rub your eyes. The moonlight shines through the window, illuminating a dark and empty room you found yourself in.

You ignore the strange twinge in your chest when you don't see your Na-Baron anywhere near you and slowly sit up on the bed. You check the status of your wound and are pleased to see that you are in a more stable condition than you were a few hours ago.

You place your feet on the floor and slowly stand up, testing your muscles. You're relieved to see that it's not as bad as it was in the past. You walk over to the chair where a black silk robe is hanging and put it on. You take a moment to search the room, smiling hugely when you find your daggers on the nightstand next to your bed. You attach one to your thigh and tuck the other inside the sleeve of your robe. Maintaining great silence, you tiptoe out of the room.

You sigh in relief as you wander the empty corridors again, hiding in their shadows. You feel like a newborn, like a fish that has returned to the current of a familiar river. You weren't aware of how therapeutic it was for you to wander the halls alone at night until Feyd trapped you in his arms and his bed practically every night. You missed it. Very much so.

However, today's attempted attack by Atreides made you realise that you were too focused on getting away from Harkonnen and trying to keep him at a distance. You had to take action. Otherwise, Paul Atreides will cut off your head, just like his mother once wanted to do.

You shudder as you remember the day you escaped from the Bene Gesserit sisters' sanctum.

You ran barefoot through familiar corridors in the cold, dark night. You didn't need a torch or other light. You had lived within these walls long enough to know which corridors ended in dead ends and where to turn to reach each gate. But Lady Jessica knew them as well as you. You had to be a lot smarter if you were going to escape the woman who wanted you dead.

Yesterday there was a great meeting of Reverend Mothers after Lady Jessica failed to give birth to Leto Atreides' daughter at the right time. The Reverend Mothers had to find... a new breeding mare for Feyd Rauthy, from whose blood the Kwisatz Haderach was to be created. They chose you. And now, because of this honour that had been a death sentence for you from the very beginning—a curse, an evil fate that seemed to have stuck with you since your birth—Lady Jessica had tried to kill you in your sleep and was now trying to complete her work.

You decide to go to the ramp, hoping that you might be able to capture some small ship—something flying around—that would get you away from those damn Bene Gesserit.

You knew you were too weak to fight Lady Jessica. She taught you a lot, but not how to defeat someone stronger, like her. If you wanted to live, you needed to find a way to escape.

You speed up as you hear the click of her heels behind you. You run as fast as you can, reaching the door just as Lady Jessica appears at the end of the hall. You close the door behind you with a loud snap. You sigh, leaning against it for a moment. You freeze as you feel the blade against your throat.

"Step away." You order in panic before opening your eyes. A cold chill runs through you as you see Na-Baron Harkonnen's cold blue irises staring at you in shock as he obediently steps away from you.

You stand there for a few minutes, staring at each other without saying anything. Na-Baron examines you carefully: your dishevelled state, rapid breathing, red cheeks, and bare feet. You have no idea what he deduced, but it was enough for him to not immediately slit your throat for using the voice on him.

"You should go back to your sisters, little witch. Unless you want to join me, I wouldn't say no to the company of... such a pretty mouse." He speaks hoarsely. He doesn't wait for your answer, though. He simply turns and walks slowly towards the ship his men are packing. You swallow and wonder: Is death at the hands of Lady Jessica or at the hands of Harkonnen? Your pride chooses for you.

"I'm not a mouse, I'm a warrior." You reply, gathering all your inner courage. Na-Baron stops in his way.

His raspy laugh sends another shiver down your spine as he slowly turns back to face you. He approaches you slowly, each step perfectly calculated as he stands a few millimeters in front of you, invading your personal space. You raise your head proudly and meet his gaze with your own, determined one.

Which impresses him.

So much so that he reaches for the dagger strapped to his hip. You don't flinch when he runs the tip of the dagger across his tongue. You watch him closely, waiting for him to either slit your throat or accept the challenge. Feyd is surprised. And very curious—too curious—to simply walk away and continue on his path. That's why he takes your hand in his and hands you the dagger he was just testing.

"So show me what you can do, little witch. Except for using that honeyed voice of yours." He says it mockingly and takes two steps back, drawing another hidden blade from his armour.

You don't remember the entire fight clearly. The adrenaline was pumping through you so much that you only remember snippets of that dance with him with daggers in your hands. Surprisingly, neither of you disarmed the other. You stopped as you both placed your blades against the other's flesh—at points that would guarantee instant death if either of you decided to press the blade against the skin a little harder.

"You fight well, little witch." He praises you, moving away from you. "You're wasting yourself here." He says, looking at you acutely for a long time, considering something. But finally, he nods at you and turns again to join his men and board the ship. You quickly grab his hand before he gets too far away from you. You feel him tense at your touch, but he doesn't make any moves.

"Let me go with you. My blade will be an extension of yours, Na-Baron. I'll be your spy from the shadows, just... get me out of here." He widens his eyes slightly, unprepared for such a request. He turns towards you and glares at you with his icy irises.

It could very well be a trick from those witches, but Feyd would be lying if he didn't say that you caught his attention the first day he saw you training. And he really wanted to see what you were really capable of doing. Few had the guts to challenge him. And he found it somehow charming—how your eyes shone with determination every time you held the blade in your hands.

"Your sisters won't be happy when they find out that I took one of them to Giedi Prime." He says, feigning hesitation. His people knew him well. If he wanted something, he took it. A group of old witches wouldn't stop him, not now that he saw... great potential in you. Maybe not only as one of his soldiers.

"With all due respect, your house is not known for following anyone's rules except those you set. I… I can't stay here any longer."

His heart beat faster, seeing the desperation and helplessness in your eyes. Normally, he would laugh at someone who showed him weakness and kill him on the spot without much thought. But you... when you stared at him with those pleading eyes of yours, flushed from fighting him... it did something to him.

Feyd knew the feeling of helplessness. His uncle loved making him feel this way. And Feyd himself finds great enjoyment in making others feel that way. Humiliated. Weak. Scared. Somehow he didn't like the fact that staying in the sisterhood made you... feel like that and do such desperate actions as coming with him to Giedi Prime.

However, he had no intention of letting go of such a valuable bird that was voluntarily pushing itself into his cage.

"Well, you fight better than most of my men... I will make you my right hand. And as for your Bene Gesserit sisters..." You sigh softly as he reaches for your hair and cuts it in half. He cuts your shoulder and dips the cut hair in your blood. You see him put a few strands in his pocket, before he handed them to his servant, growling something at him in his native language. You raise an eyebrow at him. "I told him to convey my thanks to the Reverend Mother for... sending me a delightful toy. He might also mention that my darlings liked your meat." You nod, swallowing. He laughs mockingly, patting your shoulder. "You have many things to learn, little witch. You better prove to me that I wasn't wrong about you, or you will suffer exactly the fate that my servant will pass on to your sisters. I don't like weakness and disappointment."

"I have no intention of disappointing you, Na-Baron."

"Good. Come with me. I'm fed up with this planet. Besides, you need to change your clothes if you don't want my men to think you're a whore they can enjoy while on our journey." He nods and walks towards the ship. You follow him like his shadow, casting cold, sinister glances at the people staring at you.

"I am perfectly capable of defending myself, my lord." You reply confidently as you walk with him up the ramp to the Harkonnen ship. You see a small smile appear on his face at your words.

"I don't doubt that. However, I wouldn't want to lose more people than necessary. It's supposed to be your job to clean up after me, not the other way around, little witch." He responds, testing you and carefully watching your reaction. You don't flinch, perfectly prepared and familiar with... the brutality of the Harkonnens.

"Duly noted. There's only one thing I don't understand." He doesn't stop in his steps, but he gives you a quick glance and hums, allowing you to continue and ask a question. "I appreciate it very much, but… why didn't you kill me at the entrance?"

He chuckles hoarsely at your question and stops at a specific door. He turns to look at you, a spark of amusement shining in his eyes as he studies you like a predator would its prey before deciding to answer you.

"You didn't apologise or beg for your life. I found it... very refreshing." He says, opening the door. The metallic smell of blood fills your nostrils. You look into the room and see several prisoners chained to the wall of the ship with some strange cuts on their chests—probably some words in Harkonnen."Your first task, little witch. My darlings are very hungry. They will need the meat of my enemies. Come back here in an hour... I should finish by then. And change that rag you wear. I want to see you only in black." He orders, closing the door behind him with a bang.

You stand in the hallway for a moment, blinking and staring at the door, as you are suddenly thrown into a new reality that you have to get used to. You mutter a series of curses under your breath as you go searching for... any clothes or shoes. The cold metal of the ship's floor and the dried blood in some places made walking around on your bare feet quite uncomfortable.

Feyd-Rautha was indeed psychopathic... but it was better for you to be the devil's right hand than his mistress. And it was certainly better to inhale the toxins of Giedi Prime than to smell the flowers from underneath your grave.

You find yourself in front of a door that you don't want to go through. But you know you have to do it if you want to remain free and independent of anyone. You couldn't escape now. Not before Feyd-Rautha. You had to pay the price of your freedom with someone else's freedom. And you were ruthless enough to do it without blinking an eye. Maybe the years of living with Harkonnen really made you one of them...

You knock and enter the cave of Feyd's three harpies.

As you might expect, they don't welcome you very warmly. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear their hisses. They stop feasting on some Fremen and glare at you, slowly approaching you.

"Relax, ladies. I'm here... to make a small agreement." You announce, taking a seat in the only chair that, surprisingly, isn't covered in anyone's blood. The women look at each other distrustfully and approach the table where you are sitting.

"Agreement?"

"With a little witch?"

"We don't make any agreements with our meals; we simply eat them."

You don't flinch at their words. Instead, you nod and draw your dagger when they get too close to you. Two of them move away automatically, but one—the oldest of them—continues to look at you. You give her a cold and dispassionate glare as you play with the blade in your fingers.

"But that's exactly what I'm talking about. About... a food. A great meal. A feast you will remember for a long time, ladies." You try your best to sound encouraging.

Their eyes light up, interested as you meet a fresh meal. You know perfectly well that they haven't eaten anything... desirable for a long time. They probably had to drag the body of this miserable man to their chamber themselves since you didn't have time to... make sure they were fed. And if there's one thing you can get on Giedi Prime with something other than power and sex, it's food.

"The little witch is planning something…"

"The little witch is up to something interesting…"

"The little witch wants to do something against our master…"

You look at them unfazed as they read that you have no clear intentions at all when it comes to working with them. But anyone who managed to survive on Giedi Prime and Arrakis was surely a man whose conscience had gone a long time ago.

And maybe your plan wasn't good for everyone... but it was definitely good for you. And Feyd. He'll agree with you... or at least you hope so. You're still not sure if his obsession with you was just a passing whim or if he really wanted to keep you with him. But you didn't want to end up like his concubines and pets.

"Possibly... but isn't that what you want? For your master to give you his attention again instead of taking care of me?" This seems to interest them even more than the promise of food.

"What do you want, little witch?" The oldest harpy asks you, looking at you carefully. You give her a mischievous, sinister smirk.

'"Have you ever thought of feasting on the Baron?" Your question hangs in the room. The harpies watch you carefully, smiling slowly and showing a row of black teeth.

Nothing united women like a common enemy.

To be continued... Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896

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hypnos333 · 2 months

Note

Okay this is the very first time I’ve sent in a request and it might sound strange so I’m so sorry if it does 😭😭😭 but- Alastor x a reader who was apart of the extermination after she passed away (I.e she joined the extermination angels) and she has been like injured or badly hurt by Alastor himself. And it wasent until she took her mask off that Alastor realised who she was type thing??

CARMINE

Alastor x Ex-Fiancé Reader

Synopsis: Alastor purposed for you before he made a big mistake with you dying now he won’t make that mistake again

“Aye Sweet gold, you got that Radio bitch right?” Adam yelled out from battle making you nod before head towards the demon using your box and arrow to hit different demons.

You shoot your arrows at Alastor making his smile tighten before he slammed his staff down the ground as tentacles came flying towards you but you used your angelic dagger to slice through them. Until a tentacle hit you from behind making you slam down the ground. Through your mask you struggled to breathe.

Alastor came up to you holding his staff down your neck making you choke up, his smile brightened as he hold it even more deeper down your neck as you gasp for air. You finally had enough before taking off your mask to get more air if possible.

Alastor gasp in shock, eyes wide at you as he immediately dropped his staff, you weren’t paying attention to his reaction as you were gasping for air.

“___? My dear? My love?” Alastor stuttered between nicknames

“Alastor dinner is ready!” You yelled out to the basement but all you heard this time was silence usually he would yell something back. You couldn’t recall him saying he was heading out so maybe he fell asleep in the basement?

You hesitatingly went down the steps to the basement, the stairs creak by your slow pace. “Beloved are you down here?” You asked but yet again hearing no response.

You peaked behind the wall seeing a guy tied up bloody full of carmine blood. You gasp ready to scream before a hand came and held you against your mouth making scream but came out muffled. You looked up to see Alastor hush you before plunging a knife into your stomach.

“I would’ve been so much better without you knowing my dear” He said making tears roll down your face as you die in his arms without you knowing thought his very own tears was running down his face as he hold your body close

As you got air in your system you finally looked up to the person you been trying to avoid. “Hello Alastor I hope everything been well for you” You mumbled avoid his eyes.

“I-I’ve been looking for you for years, My dear” He stuttered out making you look at him questionably.

“Why would you do that when you’re the one who killed me and led me to my death?” You asked making him look down in shame. As he was about the explain everything to you.

Lute called all Angels to retreat making you fly but before you can get anywhere, Alastor panicked and did the unthinkable he quickly cut your wings making you cry out in pain before falling down on the ground. The same carmine that led you to your death is now replacing your use to be wings now cloaking your back.

“Like I said my dear, I’ve been looking for you for years and Im not gonna let you go again” He said as he carried you towards his Radio tower where he will keep you until you behave for him like a little Fiancé you were back then.

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #Alastor x angel reader #alastor x you #Alastor x listener

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captain-hawks · 10 months

Text

liability

levi ackerman x f!reader

summary: the tables are turned when you save Levi during a mission, nearly getting yourself killed in the process. he's furious, but you don't quite understand why.

word count: 1.6k

content: feels, confessions, kissing

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You startle as the heavy wooden door to the room bursts open, hinges groaning weakly in protest as Levi strides in, slamming it just as hard behind him. The warm glow from the small lantern sitting on the desk beside you contrasts sharply with the cold steel of the eyes it illuminates when he comes to stand before you, everything about his posture conveying the extent of the anger roiling dangerously inside of him.

Carefully closing the notebook you were recording field notes in for Hange, you let go of the pencil in your hand and try to ignore how uncharacteristically ruffled Levi’s hair is, as if he’s been repeatedly dragging his hands through it. You quell your urge to comment on it—because any other day, you’d make a remark just to get a rise out of him.

But you know better than to poke the bear right now, not when you’re well aware you’re the origin point of the fury that he’s outright shaking with. A trail of dried blood remains crusted to the side of his face, matching the dark stains along the torn and tattered remains of his dark green cloak.

He almost died today.

And so did you.

“That you were about to be Titan food if nobody stepped in to help you,” you offer in a flat tone, arms crossed over your chest.

Levi clicks his tongue against his teeth in annoyance, swiping a thumb across the cut on his bottom lip as he continues to level you with that piercing stare. “I was fine,” he snaps.

He was two seconds from being torn to shreds by the three Titans that cornered him while he fought to re-engage his malfunctioning ODM gear, and if you hadn’t come ricocheting through the trees to distract them, humanity may have very well finally lost its strongest soldier.

You tell him as much, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation, and he takes a step toward you, borderline shouting, “I told you to stand the fuck down.”

He had.

You’d locked eyes with him the moment you careened through the thick cover of the branches, had clearly heard what he shouted at you the moment he realized what you were about to do—and you’d promptly ignored his command.

“I didn’t hear you,” you shrug, though you both know it for the bald lie that it is.

He moves closer.

“I’m your Captain, and I gave you a goddamn order.”

“It was a shitty order. You would have died,” you retort.

Levi nearly closes the distance between the two of you, your back pressing against the wall behind you as the toes of his boots scuff against your own. With one hand splayed flat on the surface beside your head, his breath is hot on your face as he seethes, “You almost died.”

A Titan had grabbed you, almost crushing you to death in the process as your fingers fumbled for purchase on your sword, hoping that your last remaining blade would hold out. You hadn’t had time to think through a solid plan, your body having jumped into action without a second thought the moment you realized Levi was well and truly fucked when you could no longer see and hear him soaring through the air. So you’d acted on pure instinct, buying Levi the precious moments he needed to get his gear back in working order, and he’d then immediately killed the Titan that had you in its grip.

It was fine. You both survived.

Barely.

You’d hardly had time to say a word to Levi afterward, both of you caught up in rejoining the main fray of the battle alongside your fellow Scouts.

“I’m fine,” you counter, turning your head to the side to break the intense eye contact.

Levi grasps your chin, turning your head to face him again, mouth set in a hard line. “You’re reckless,” he growls.

You sigh in annoyance, fighting a losing battle to temper down your body’s reaction to Levi’s close proximity, the whisper of his body heat like a beacon to your tired, weary bones.

Right.

So maybe your reckless decision wasn’t just made out of the goodness of your heart as a Scout, but also was heavily inspired by one inescapable, undeniable fact—you’re in love with Levi Ackerman.

Your crush had been innocent enough at first, a bright flare of feelings sparking to life inside of you the first time you watched the way he effortlessly operates on missions. One would have thought that, as you became familiar with his cold and merciless demeanor up close, his piss poor attitude with you and your fellow Scouts would help quell the frantic beating of your heart every time he was in your proximity.

But that wasn’t the case, not at all.

Rather, you found yourself even more drawn to him, craving the few and far between moments when you’d catch him letting his guard down. The moments when, despite his scathing remarks, it was abundantly clear just how much he cared about each and every member of the Scout Regiment.

The moments when you saw just how far he’d go to protect those closest to him.

And when you found yourself transferred to run under Levi’s command, stamping down on the inconvenient, endlessly smoldering embers of your laughably unrequited crush only became more difficult as you were forced into even closer quarters with him than ever before. The only thing that helped after that was Levi’s unfailing tendency to express one of only two emotions toward you at all times: stark indifference or annoyed exasperation.

Unable to formulate a smart response to snap into the scant space remaining between your mouths, you mutter, “You’re reckless, too.”

Levi places his other hand on the wall on the other side of your head, effectively caging you in, his hair brushing against your forehead. “Well you can’t be,” he seethes.

“I’d argue that your life matters more than most of the others here,” you offer plainly, meaning every word.

“Not to me.”

You roll your eyes, “Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you, Capt—”

“Your life matters more to me,” he cuts you off roughly, voice nearly breaking.

If it weren’t for the steady pressure of the wall holding you up, you would have swayed. “What?”

One of his hands curls into a fist, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he takes a deep, steadying breath. “I was furious when you were switched into my squad.”

Yeah, he’d been downright incorrigible for days.

“I noticed,” you comment, deflating slightly.

Your life? The lives of your fellow Scouts, of all of you.

Of course.

“That’s not what I…” He stares at you, eyebrows knitting together, a strange expression on his face. “You don’t know, do you?” Stormy slate softens to the soft gray hue of the skies after a storm as his eyes scan your face.

“I know that I annoy you to no end and you spent weeks petitioning Erwin to move me elsewhere,” you roll your eyes.

“Because my feelings make me a liability on the field with you under my command.”

Blood rushes in your ears, and your next words are so tentative, so small, “Your feelings?”

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly underestimating just how unbelievable the words coming out of his mouth are. “I can’t think straight around you,” he chokes out, his forehead falling against yours.

“But you…” you trail off, trying to reconcile the conflicting meaning of what he’s saying with what you’ve come to believe for so long.

“I’ve been trying to avoid this, how I feel, because it wouldn’t be fair to you. It’s why I…act the way I do around you.”

Idly, you wonder if it’s actually possible to forget how to breathe. “What do you want, Levi?” you ask quietly, carefully placing a hand over his chest, his heart beating steadily behind his ribcage.

He covers your hand with his own and murmurs, “Something that would be really goddamn selfish in the grand scheme of things,” glancing down at the winged emblem on his jacket.

“And what if I want you to be selfish?”

A sharp inhale from Levi is your only warning before he cups your face in his hands and brings his lips crashing into yours.

Your body sinks into his embrace as he wraps you up in his arms, fingers splayed possessively along the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He kisses you hard, like he’s trying to convey everything that he’s been holding back, every touch he’s denied himself in your presence.

The cinders in your chest ignite, burning hotter with each press of his plush lips against yours, each nip of his teeth along your bottom lip. His fingertips are a searing brand on your waist as he grasps your hip, tugging out a small, needy whine from your lips in return, and his warm, answering chuckle has your legs threatening to give out beneath you.

You both freeze suddenly at the sound of two rapid knocks against the door, followed by the sound of Hange calling out, “Hey, did you want to go over those notes?”

The look Levi gives your notebook, innocently sitting atop the table, is downright scathing as he barks out, “She’s busy.”

“Levi?” Hange asks, tone brimming with curiosity.

“We’re busy,” he exhales, tilting his head up toward the ceiling in annoyance.

The answering noise that leaves Hange’s mouth can only be described as complete and total delight as they laugh before walking away, footsteps pointedly loud as they make their way back down the hallway.

Realizing that you had actually noted a few important things regarding new discoveries on Titan behavior, your eyes stray back to the notebook, uncertain. “Are you sure I shouldn’t just…”

“Absolutely not,” Levi cuts you off brusquely with another searing kiss, tugging you toward the bed in the corner of the room. “You’re mine tonight.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #dee writes

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mariasont · 20 days

Note

Okay okay, so this doesn't have to be smutty if you don't want but enemies to lovers Spencer, they banter and fight at work they just can't get along * cough sexual tension cough* she is like really short, 5 foot nothing. And one day during an argument she goes "I'll climb you like a tree!" Trying to be intimidating but it comes off as something entirely 😂

Climb You Like A Tree

A/N: ahhhh thank you so much for the request--loved, loved, loveddd writing this! <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive flirting, enemies to lovers

wc: 1.1k

From the moment you joined the BAU, you were immediately drawn to Dr. Spencer Reid, resident boy genius and pretty boy. You were hooked on his random facts, and his rare snarky comments--essentially everything about him.

But that admiration swiftly turned into exasperation after just a week of working alongside him. What began as quirky charm quickly soured; his random facts, once amusing, now felt like thinly veiled jabs, and his 'occasional' snark became a relentless critique targeting you. You were at a loss, unable to pinpoint the exact misstep that had seemingly placed you on the receiving end of his pointed barbs, but it was clear you had inadvertently crossed some invisible line.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you were an unwelcome replacement for Alex in his eyes. But surely, he couldn't blame you for that, could he? You tried to overlook his subtle digs, to treat them as mere background noise, but god he made it hard.

Month after month, you kept your head down, refusing the grant him the reaction he so desperately wanted. You were new and hesitant about your place on the team, so you bore the blunt of his jabs with a diplomatic smile.

By the fourth month, you'd reached your breaking point, and you unleashed your own brand of sharp-tongued retorts. You were known for your smart mouth in your old department--a skill that had made you both a standout and a frequent flyer in the disciplinary office. You could sense the team's growing frustration at your constant bickering. Yet, there was an unspoken acknowledgement of the singular abilities you both contributed, a balance that tipped in the favor of necessity.

Today had been particularly challenging, your most recent case had ended in the death of seven victims before the unsub ultimately killed himself, taking the locations of the victims with him. So, when you landed and were greeted not by a moment's rest but by a mocking monolith of paperwork, you were at your wits end.

"Could you click that pen any louder?" you grumbled, your eyes blazing with irritation as they met Spencer's, causing for a momentary pause in your flurry of activity.

"Technically, yes. The Doppler Effect dictates that the perceived volume changes with distance, so if I were to move closer to you, the clicking would indeed sound louder to you," Spencer retorted with a sardonic edge, inching closer across the desk, his pen's clicks swelling in volume as if to underscore the scientific principle he so carefully threw upon you.

"Come any closer and I swear I'll shove that pen where the sun doesn't shine."

"Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you?"

You bit back the words that sat on the tip of your tongue, acutely aware of Hotch's scrutinizing stare. If was reprimand was on the horizon, you were determined not to be the recipient, despite Spencer's knack for bushing your buttons. The worst part of it all was how undeniably attractive you found Spencer to be--you liked his nerdy comments, the way you had to break your neck to look at him, and even that stupid smirk of his.

It was like a twisted game of fuck, marry, kill--except Spencer was your choice for all three, a secret you'd never admit to anyone. God knows that his ego was already overinflated.

"You know, while acai berries themselves are rich in antioxidants, the bowls are often misleadingly marketed as superfoods. In reality, the excessive amounts of granola, sweetened fruits, and added sugars make it the equivalent of dressing up a dessert as a fruit salad."

Your spoon paused mid-air suspended in the stillness of the break room, as your gaze drifted upwards to lock with Spencer's. A smirk unfurled across your lips, and with deliberate slowness, you savored a slow, exaggerated mouthful, the spoon exiting your mouth with a prolonged, tantalizing pull. A contented moan escaped you. "Mmm, nothing beats a bowl of disguised indulgence. Thanks for the insight, but this 'fruit salad' just became a tad sweeter."

You observed him as he stood, mouth slightly open, eyes glued to your lips with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Anticipating his usual quick-witted comeback, you were met with silence. "Aww, what's the matter, wonder boy? Cat got your tongue?"

"Not at all, but it wouldn't hurt for the cat to catch yours for a change," he replied, stepping forward, his stare cutting through the space between you.

"Look who's talking. When you finally decide to censor your own commentary, that's when I'll consider silence," you pronounced, your acai bowl abandoned on the counter as a wave of irritation surged within you, propelling you forward.

"Censor my commentary? Trust me, If I didn't, we'd be having a very different conversation right now," he murmured, his frame inching so close you could feel the warmth of his breath.

"You must love the sound of my voice to be this close. Remind me again about the Doppler Effect?" you snapped, attempting to sound unaffected, but your body betrayed you--a rush of warmth blooming over your face. "Or is it just my personal bubble that's too tempting?"

"Are you always this flustered when someone invades your space, or am I the exception?" he teased, stepping in even closer, nearly pressing against you. Your gazes locked in a silent challenge as you tilted you head up defiantly, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

"Flustered? Hardly. I'm just sizing up the tree before I climb," you declare, your gaze sharpening to fine points. "And you're not as tall as you think."

A sudden burst of laughter spilled from Spencer, a rich sound that echoed through the minimal space between you. He didn't step back, your chests touching. The sound jolted you, and as the weight of your own words hit you, a fierce blush flared across your cheeks, your embarrassment impossible to hide.

"Wait, that's not--ugh!" you stammer, but Spencer is already retreating towards the bullpen, his laughter trailing behind him, taunting you. Your voice echoes down the hallway as you hurry after his figure. "Spencer!"

At the bullpen's entrance, Spencer halts, turning to address the team with a grin. "Guess who just said she's planning to climb me like a tree?" he announces, your words now on display for the entire team. Heat creeps into your cheeks as you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

"Called it!" Penelope's voice rang up, her hands waving like she was directing a parade. "Profiler? Please, I didn't need a badge to see this coming. Doubters, eat your hearts out. Get it, girl!"

"I said 'like a tree' in a metaphorical sense, guys. You know, like overcoming obstacles...not literally climbing Spencer!" you mumble, your face hidden behind your hands, the embarrassment radiating from your cheeks.

With a lean that closed the gap between you, Spencer's voice was low and teasing, "Keep telling yourself that."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer #spencer reid #dr reid x reader #dr reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fandom #doctor spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic

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kiss-theggoat · 8 months

Note

Okay it’s a sad request but you know the slashers reacting to s/o being hurt? Can you do a slashers reaction to s/o thought to be killed by one of their victims. Only if you are comfortable with it of course!

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Some of these might be a little out of character, so I apologize, but I hope you like it! 🖤

Slashers if Their S/O Was Badly Injured

Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, Sinclair Brothers

TW: VIOLENCE AND DEATH

Thomas Hewitt:

When Hoyt and Thomas brought home a group of teenagers going through Texas, one of the men got free and ran into the kitchen where you and Luda Mae were preparing dinner. He stole a knife from Luda, shoving her to the ground where she hit her head and it left you, held at knifepoint. You tried to lunge at him, but the knife entered your stomach, twisting and gnashing at your skin and muscle.

Hoyt finally came in, shooting the man who held the knife. You collapsed with him, blood pouring from your wound onto the tile and soaking into your clothes.

Thomas shoved Hoyt aside, hands trembling and eyes already welling with tears. His chest felt like a black hole as he watched you grow more pale by the second. With shaking hands he rolled you over, placing your head in his lap. He reached down to put pressure on the wound, unable to stifle his cries as he watched blood gush from between his fingers.

You started to cough and sputter, blood leaking from the side of your lips as he leaned down, unclipping his mask. His pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids as they grew heavier, holding you in his lap as he watched you fade away.

Billy Loomis:

You’d been at Stu’s party, but you weren’t supposed to be part of the plan. Billy walked around the house, making sure that everyone was dealt with before going to find Sydney. He stopped in his tracks when one body looked familiar.

He dropped to his knees, knife clattering away from him as he touched your shoulders gently. He whispered your name, watching as you bled onto the floor. You could barely breathe, slowly taking in wheezy breaths.

“Billy?” You whispered in horror, realizing that he’d been the one involved with your death. Billy’s jaw tensed as he leaned closer to you.

“I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to be here.” He whispered, placing his hand gently on your cheek for a moment before he stood, retrieving his knife.

Stu Macher:

Stu had let you in on his and Billy’s plan, and when Billy agreed to let you help, he was ecstatic.

But on the night of, everything went wrong. It was the time to give each other injuries, and you stood there, holding the knife nervously, hesitant to stab Billy. You moved forward and plunged the knife into him, but at the last second you closed your eyes, accidentally stabbing him too deep. Billy fumed, growling at you to give him the knife.

When it was your turn, you’d wanted Stu to do it, but Billy insisted. He shoved the knife into your stomach, not even trying to hide the fact he has bad intentions.

Stu yelled, shoving Billy away from you and hanging onto you as you fell to the ground. He apologized profusely for getting you involved, crying as he moved your hair gently out of your face, holding you as you closer your eyes even though Billy yelled at him to get up.

Asa Emory:

You’d probably be in the house of traps when someone got free from the red box. They snuck into the room that you occupied, at first thinking you were a victim. You played along until you tried to maneuver them towards another trap, and instead, they shoved you into it.

You fell onto the ground right on top of a two by two foot mat full of nails. They stabbed through your chest, and you screamed in pain, trying to push yourself up off the nails but the pain was too intense.

Asa heard you and immediately knew where you were, maneuvering through his house to get to you. The victim was long gone by now, leaving you and Asa in silence. He was full of rage, eyes twinkling with anger and sadness. There was nothing he could do now, except for take it out on the rest of the victims inside the house.

Michael Meyers:

You hadn’t seen Michael for a while, and it was making you nervous. He usually came by your house daily, but it’d been almost a week. You went by the Meyers house at night, slinking inside to try to find Michael.

A searing pain radiated through your back, and as you slowly turned around you saw Michael’s eyes through his mask, wide and could tell how heavy he was breathing. You looked back and saw his signature knife protruding from your back, warm blood soaking into your jeans. You fell forward, coughing as you felt your chest starting to tighten.

Michael looked down at you before kneeling, a large hand touching the top of your back softly. He didn’t know what to do. He leaned down and looked at you in the eyes, watching them go still. His grip tightened on your shirt. He didn’t know how to process the fact that he’d hurt the only person he’d actually cared about.

Sinclair Brothers:

A stray survivor escaped Bo’s basement, spotting you. They were so on guard they didn’t even bother to talk to you, instead, they grabbed a wrench from Bo’s work bench and hit you across the face, making you fall to the ground immediately.

You had no idea what happened next, but all three Sinclair brothers surrounded you, kneeling. Bo grabbed your face gently, inspecting your wound when Lester said something to him, sounding panicked. Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. Bo couldn’t panic. He had to be calm, but Lester started to shake at seeing you bleeding.

Your cheek and upper eye socket was cut open, a sizeable gash leaking blood down your face and neck. Your entire face felt like it was on fire and your vision was shaking, it felt like you couldn’t think straight.

Vincent leaned down closer to your face, inspecting the wound gently, knowing that it was pretty severe. With shaky hands he held your cheeks, wiping some blood away from your eye gently.

“Don’t worry, Darlin…we’ll get you all patched up.” Bo whispered.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #ghostface #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #thomas hewitt x reader #asa emory #michael meyers

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moonlightpetalz6 · 8 months

Text

When You're Gone (Part 2)

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Choso

Reader: Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, readers death, violence, blood, swearing, pet names, fire

Context: The reader ends up dying due to sorcerers, and villagers. This is their reaction after you are gone. (Witch!reader for Sukuna)

Word Count: 4,677

a/n: Sorry this took a bit to post! I really got into writing these three!

Part 1

______________________________________________________________

Toji

Toji sighed as he walked into the abandoned building where he was supposed to meet with Shiu. 'What a pain.' Toji thought, interested in something other than what Shiu had to discuss with him. Toji was considering skipping the meeting altogether if it wasn't for you. Toji smirked at the thought of your shy smile, ready to hear your sweet voice scold him for zoning out while your colleague was trying to discuss business with him. The memory brings a slight chuckle to his throat as he places a hand behind his neck, letting out a loud yawn as he notices Shiu standing there. Alone.

Toji hums, stopping a few paces in front of the detective. "Hm? What, did little Miss Tiger decide to skip out on us today?" He teased, knowing you hated the nickname he had assigned you due to your stern personality. Shiu just stared at the assassin with a sad look as he sighed deeply, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "That's actually why I called you out today…." He tossed the cigarette on the ground, Toji watching as he stomped it with his foot. "As of three days ago, Y/l/n Y/n was killed in her home by a wanted sorcerer she had was assigned to," Shiu said while making direct eye contact with Toji.

"What?" Toji asked, his eyes narrowing as a frown adorned his face. Shiu just sighed, knowing that Toji didn't believe his words. "Y/l/n Y/n is dead." Toji's fists clenched as he went and roughly grabbed Shiu by the collar, his face inches from the detectives. "Quit yer fucking bullshit and tell me the truth. Cause I ain't finding this joke funny." Toji growled, his neck flexing as a vein appeared on his right temple. Shiu didn't back down as he stared at Toji with serious eyes. Toji clicks his tongue as he tosses Shiu away before turning on his heel to leave the building. "Fushiguro!" Shiu called out, not having finished everything he wanted to say to the assassin. Toji ignored him as he pulled his phone out angrily, dialing your number and pressing it to his ear, waiting for your voice to pick up on the other end.

The number you have dialed is not available; please-

Toji cursed quickly, hanging up the phone as he continued to call your number multiple times. "Fucking brat answer the phone." He hissed, walking past numerous people on the streets. Just as Toji was about to call you again, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face from the corner of his eye. Toji stopped in place, his phone now resting at his side still open as he stared at the TV inside a small store. There was a news channel with a small picture of you with the caption, 'Local woman found dead in her apartment. Cause of death: a giant hole through the chest.' Toji's mouth opened slightly, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Once your picture was no longer on the screen, Toji cursed to himself as he quickly returned home. Once home, Toji slammed the door as hard as he could, not even bothering to turn on the lights before throwing everything in his line of sight, trashing his apartment as he yelled multiple curses.

_____

Days have passed since Toji was hit with the news of your horrible death. Your funeral was two days later, but Toji never went. He refused, thinking that if he went and saw your name on one of those damned stones, every person he came in contact with would be killed on sight. It wasn't like the two of you had been dating for long, about a year, to be exact. Toji had many girlfriends and flings before meeting you, so he never cared when they would turn up missing or disappear without anyone knowing. However, when it came to you, it was different. What Toji felt for you was similar to when he lost his wife.

Toji sat on the floor of his apartment; broken items littered the room as the lights remained off. A slight glow lit up the room as Toji saw his phone ringing. He lifted it to see Shiu's contact appear on the screen. Growling in annoyance, he flipped the phone on, pressing it to his ear. "What?" He snapped his voice slightly horse from having yelled so much before. "You sound awful. Have you been taking care of yourself at all?" Toji groans as he presses his thumb and pointer finger to his eyes. He applies pressure as he rubs them, feeling how tired his eyelids are as the dark circles slightly appear from the phone's light. "Get to the point. I'm in no mood." He grumbled while pulling another cigarette from his pocket.

"You weren't at Y/n's funeral." Shiu was blunt and to the point, causing Toji to grunt as he placed the stick between his lips. "So what? I don't need to make an appearance around people who I never fucking saw once around her." He spat while patting his pockets to find his lighter. It wasn't entirely an excuse. When Toji and you started dating, he had never met anyone who claimed to care for you. Shiu didn't say anything momentarily, causing Toji to furrow his brows in annoyance. "Anything else?" He growled, not wanting to be on the phone any longer. "We're still looking for the man who killed her. I promise Toji he will be found and punished." Shiu claimed with total confidence. Toji's eyes narrowed as he listened to those words; scoffing, he tried lighting the cigarette. "Oh, you're damn right he will be…. I'm going to fucking kill him. That's my promise." Before Shiu can say anything else, Toji hangs up, tossing the phone randomly.

Toji sits there; brows furrowed in annoyance as he flicks at the lighter, growing increasingly agitated with it not working. "Tch. Fucking useless-!" Toji goes to throw the lighter but stops when he notices what one is in his hand. He freezes, staring at the small item, remembering when you had given it to him as a gift.

____

You and Toji were out discussing business when it suddenly started to rain down, causing the two of you to get soaked as you ran for cover. The two of you sigh as you watch the rain fall from where you now stand, soaking wet. "Geez! The forecast said nothing about rain!" You whined angrily, scrolling through your phone as you double-checked the weather. Toji grunted as he ran a hand through his hair, watching the water droplets fly off. "I should've packed an umbrella…." You whispered in thought, brows furrowed, a slight pout on your lips. Toji internally chuckled, finding your expressions amusing.

You were always frowning or having some angry tick whenever something didn't go as planned, or you would get mad, which caused him to love teasing you every chance he could. "Well~ well~ it looks like miss organized and plans ahead failed once again~" He teased, a sly grin on his face as he went and pulled out a cigarette. You looked at him, eye twitching as he placed it between his lips. He looks down at you curiously before grinning, one brow raised. "Got something to say, tiger?" He questioned, raising his lighter. You click your tongue, looking away from him. "As if I would have anything to say to such a rude man!" You scoffed, earning a chuckle.

It went silent between the two of you. The only sounds heard were the falling rain and the clicking of Toji's lighter. You glanced up, noticing the annoyed look on the taller man's face as he grunted, trying to get it to light. The two of you stood like that momentarily before you thought of something. “One moment, Fushiguro! I'll be right back!" You announced suddenly, running to the convenience store across the street. Toji stood there, confused momentarily, before trying the lighter again. After a few more tries, he curses, tossing the small contraption to the ground and taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

He watches the convenience store waiting for your small form to appear in the doors. When you finally come out, he takes notice of the umbrella in your hand as You quickly run across the street, standing in front of him again. You look at him, a small pant leaving your lips as you hold your fist out to him. He looks at you curiously but complies, holding one of his giant hands out for you. You place the lighter in his hand, surprising him with the sudden gesture. "You didn't have to do that tiger." He mumbled but still went and used the lighter for his cigarette, nodding in approval.

You just laughed, placing a hand behind your neck as you smiled, a slight blush on your cheeks. "Well, consider it as my apology gift to you!" You laughed shyly. "Apology? For what?" He mumbled, leaning back against the building under which you both had taken shelter. You just smiled a bright smile, a blush coating your cheeks as you held a finger up to your lips as if telling him not to spill a secret.

"For forming a crush on you of course!"

_____

Toji sat there, eyes covered by his messy bangs as he gripped the lighter. "Damn tiger…" He cursed as he forcefully tried to flick the lighter on again, this time not stopping as his body began to shake. “Fuck Y/n….” He looked up with tears running down his face as he bit the cigarette as hard as he could.

"Come back and declare your love for me over and over again, dammit."

Sukuna

You were known as the witch of the woods. No one entered those woods fearing being cursed or killed in horrible, gruesome ways. However, that was far from the truth, as you were a sweet and docile woman who only wished to heal and create with your magic. You and Sukuna had first met when he had entered the woods in search of your magical abilities. When he showed up at your small hut in the woods, you were surprised, not by his fearful appearance but by his giant wound in his side, causing immense amounts of blood to gush out. Sukuna watched you quickly drop the items you were holding as you ran to him, your small frame inches from his intimidating one. He flinched as you placed your tiny hands around the wounded area, eyes scanning the injury with deep concentration.

Sukuna frowned at you, not liking how you didn't cower in his presence or even acknowledge his fearful appearance. He roughly grabbed your hand with one of his own, pulling it up so you were forced to look up at his face, each eye holding a murderous glare. "Oi, pitiful witch of the woods. Who do you think you are to approach me like this?" He hissed, a voice filled with venom. You just looked at his eyes, showing no fear as you said nothing. You went and placed a hand on his wound, chanting in a language he was not familiar with.

Sukuna watched as the wound healed faster than he could regenerate it. He hummed in amusement while looking down at you with a dark smirk. You just looked at him, your aura tense and powerful. "I am not afraid of curses." You declared a voice so elegant it made his ears ring. He laughed loudly, causing you to flinch at the sudden noise covering one of your ears in pain. Sukuna pulls you closer to him, faces inches apart as he looks at you with a deranged smile. "You're such an amusing witch of the woods…. It makes me want to play with you more before ending your pathetic and weak life." He laughed, looking deep into your eyes.

Sukuna became enthralled by your talents, watching you cast spells he didn't know or ever heard of. You taught him some of the magic you knew over time, informing him of the repercussions of some of the spells. He would listen carefully, wanting to know everything if it meant his chances of gaining even more power. The two of you were complete opposites, so it was strange how you became so close. You never understood why a man filled with nothing but murderous and selfish intent could ever want with someone like you who wished for peace and never had any selfish desire.

"We don't share much in common, do we?" Sukuna grunted one day when the two of you sat outside. You looked at him, tilting your head as you continued to mix some herbs for a new medicine you were working on. "You're just realizing this now, Sukuna-san." Your laugh was so soft that it made Sukuna feel a tingle in his chest. "Tch. Do you finally want to die?" He grumbled, giving you a slight glare as he flicked your forehead, his other arms crossed over his chest while the fourth one scratched the back of his head. You whine as you hold your forehead, a giant pout on your face. "So weak." He teased, "Like I said, not much in common." He shrugged, looking away from you to stare at the setting sun.

"Indeed, we don't share much in common, but….there is one thing we will have until the day comes when we die." You whispered while placing a hand out towards the setting sun with a sad look on your face. "Oh? And what would that be?" Sukuna hummed, interested in your words, as he glanced down at you in wonder. Though small, Sukuna could see the sad and lonely smile on your lips. "The world'll hate us…never to be accepted for what we are." Your words took a moment to sink in for Sukuna. He hummed, his expression unreadable.

Suddenly, he was placing both his right arms towards the sunset like you. "Even if that's true… I'll always accept you for what you are." He mumbled. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, lips slightly parted. He made no effort to look at you as his eyes stayed fixed on the changing colors in the sky. "Sukuna-san…" you felt your heart racing as heat started to sneak onto your face. Suddenly, he looked at you with an annoyed look, brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance as he went and hit your head. "Also, who the hell do you think will be dying?! Damn stupid witch!" He yelled, causing you to cry while he just shoved the herbs you had been mixing down your throat.

_______

The king of curses couldn't believe his eyes and ears as he stood in place, body in complete shock. Down below him was a village just outside the woods he had grown to call home. There, in the center of said village, stood a huge crowd of angry and fearful villagers, each one cheering or chanting multiple curses into the air as they looked at the giant fire that rose into the sky, turning the once beautiful sunset view into a clouded gray sky. However, it wasn't the villagers that were causing the fear in Sukuna's heart and soul. Oh no. It was the screams of his lover, whose shadow was seen thrashing within the flames tied to a giant pole.

"Stop it! Please! What did I do wrong?! Please tell me!" You cried from the flames. Sukuna's fists started dripping blood as all the blood vessels in each of his eyes burst. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You apologized to the villagers who relished in your pain and your suffering. He was seeing red. Before anyone could process anything, Sukuna was brutally murdering every one of the villagers, ensuring they didn't die without immense pain. His shouts and feral laughter were the last thing to curse their ears. Soon, the village was nothing more than a blood bath. Sukuna stood there, blood dripping from every part of his body as he looked down at the burnt body in front of him.

He doesn't say anything as he kneels carefully, picking up your body with all four arms staying there, making sure your body is as close as possible to his as he grits his teeth before screaming into the sky cursing the entire world.

_____

"Hey Sukuna, do you believe in soulmates?" You asked while reading from that mysterious book of yours. "Huh? Soulmates? I know I joke about you being stupid but I'm starting to think that you really are." He said, looking at you annoyed. You frown at him going and whispering a small spell, causing the tea he was drinking to spray up while he went to take a sip. You stand there, mouth covered with one hand, trying to hold your laughs back.

Meanwhile, Sukuna gave you the most sadistic look you could ever imagine, tea dripping from his face. "Y/n~" He sang in a deadly tune. You cringe as you cower in the corner, waving your hands in front of you frantically.

"SUKUNA IT WAS A JOKE!" You cried while he stood there cracking his knuckles, a dark aura surrounding him. "I just wanted to see if you would help me with this old spell I found!" You squealed, bracing yourself for what was to come. When nothing happened, you peeked from behind your fingers. "Eh?" You asked confused. Sukuna just stood there looking down at you with a curious expression. "An old spell?" He questioned, bending down to your height and tilting his head in thought. "About soulmates?" You nod "mhm!" "You want to see if we're soulmates?" You nod proudly, arms crossed over your chest. Sukuna smirks as he watches his words slowly process for you. A deep blush covers your cheeks as you stammer over your words, trying to defend yourself while he laughs, finding the situation amusing. He rests his head on one of his fists as he crouches before you. "Then do it." He said, a cocky smirk on his face. "I wanna see…if you're my soulmate witch of the woods." You blushed tears from embarrassment in the corners of your eyes as you looked away quickly, getting everything you needed for the spell. Sukuna didn't move; he just stayed in place, watching you place all the items in front of him before sitting on the other side.

"Okay! Ready?" You ask, a shy smile on your face. Sukuna hums, holding an arm out as he pricks some skin, watching the drop of blood fall into the bowl. You carefully do the same thing, neither of you saying a word. "How will we know?" He mumbles, not looking away from the bowl. "According to the spell, if you're soulmates, then both of you will suddenly have-!" You stop noticing the black tattoos form on your wrists along with others. You quickly looked up at Sukuna, seeing the same thing happen to him, only his markings were slightly different. The two of you stare at each other in shock. "...markings…" You whispered, a slight blush on your cheeks. Sukuna stares at you, eyes still slightly wide, before kissing you deeply.

You squeak, feeling his hands start to feel up and down your body, not in a lustful way but in what feels like a devoted one. "My soulmate…my witch of the woods…your soul belongs only to me." He whispered, kissing up your neck before reaching your lips. You just giggled while placing your hand on his cheek, a soft smile on your face. "Sukuna-san…thank you for allowing me your soul… it's my greatest treasure."

______

"OI! SUKUNA!" Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, staring at the bottom of his throne. 'Ah, that's right…the kid is crying about helping that damn friend of his…tch. Not my fault he got his soul changed.' Sukuna thought, uninterested in what Yuji yelled at him. He just sighed before noticing a small tear falling from his eye. He swipes it away while looking at the markings on his wrist. He smiled a small smile, something that no one in the world would ever see besides one person, and she was gone. Sukuna placed a gentle kiss on the tattoos.

"My soul yearns for you my Queen…my soul…one that only you can have and touch…my Y/n…"

Choso

Choso fell against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he stared at the flower, eyes wide in shock. His mouth opened to scream, cry, yell, but nothing came out. He grips both sides of his head and slowly shakes it before squeezing his eyes shut, the tears appearing to get worse. Choso opens his eyes, glancing to his left to see the broken pieces of what was once a cursed item that informed him of your well-being. The two of you decided to get them when Choso started to fear for your safety after the deaths of his two younger brothers. He remembers your gentle smile as you happily agreed to his request, telling him you would do anything to ensure his mind was at ease.

When he processed the broken pieces once again, signaling that you were no longer in this world with him, Choso snapped, his eyes practically rolling back as he screamed until it felt like his lungs would tear from his chest. "Why?! Why?! I don't understand why she was only gone for two days!" He screamed to himself while rolling around on the floor like a madman, the tears never-ending. First, his brothers and now his lover, all three gone from his side within a blink. "How could I fail to protect my family?!" Choso felt his fingers dig into the flesh of his face, tiny beads of blood appearing here and there. "Y/n! Y/n!" Choso reached for the broken pieces, his body soon becoming still as he grits his teeth, his eyes leaking tears.

"My beautiful sweet bleeding heart…tell me it's a lie…you said you would be right back by my side." Choso sobbed as he held the broken cursed object to his chest while staring at the night sky. Choso's mind runs wild as he asks himself so many questions about your death. 'Was she scared? Did she suffer? Was it peaceful? Did they torture you? Did you cry? Smile? Were you lonely? Did you wish for him to save you?' all these thoughts ran through his head as he cried into the night. After some time, Choso quieted down, slowly rising to his feet as he stomped to his family's home, your home, no, to his home. He said nothing, his eyes void of any light as he lifted his head to the sky like a zombie, watching as snow started to fall. 'It's so cold tonight, Y/n….' He thought his hand subconsciously opened as if ready to take another's smaller one.

_______

"Choso! Can I have a hug?!" You cheered, standing before your cursed boyfriend with a giant smile as you held your arms wide open. Choso just looked at you from his seat, tilting his head in confusion. "But didn't I just give you one five minutes ago?" he asked, not understanding why you wanted another one. You smile at him, slightly jumping in your step as you lean forward, arms still open, awaiting his embrace. "So?! What if I want to hug you every five minutes? You hurt me, my blood lotus." you whispered a slight pout on your cheeks. Choso flinches as he quickly goes and wraps you in his loving embrace. "I could never dream of such a thing. Me? Hurt you? I would rather die my bleeding heart." He whispers while inhaling the smell of your shampoo you knew he loved.

"I love everything about you, my sweet flower." he caressed your cheek, a tiny blush on his cheeks as he avoided eye contact, still too embarrassed. You just giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck when he went to pull away from the hug. You hum, pressing your forehead to his as you force him to look into your eyes. You smile, eyes as bright as the day he met you. "Your eyes are so beautiful…" You whispered, gently placing the pads of your thumbs onto his dark circles, giving a small massage to the flesh. Choso lets out a small moan of approval as he carefully caresses one of your wrists with his fingers barely grazing your skin. "My bleeding heart…" You watched as Choso placed tender kisses on your wrist, his eyes glancing at you with much love and admiration.

"Does this makeup for me hurting you earlier? Or do you wish for more?" He whispered, his thumb slowly dragging down your bottom lip, causing you to blush at his sudden boldness as you quickly jumped away, hiding your face. "T-that's perfectly fine! I'm already way better! I promise!" You stumble over your words, causing a gentle smile to caress Choso's face. "I adore you." He whispered honestly. "I-I get it!" you cried, covering his mouth with your hands. He laughs, loving how cute you are being. Choso pushes back a strand of your hair once you remove your hands from his mouth. "There's just one thing I'll never understand," he confessed, ensuring that you looked presentable when you had to go outside on your next assignment. "Hm? What is it?" You asked, tilting your head as you interlocked your fingers with his. "This," he confessed, gesturing to your hands holding one another.

"You always want to hug or touch me in some way almost every second of the day. I am not complaining, of course…as I love you and…" he trailed off, growing shy at his words before clearing his throat. "I guess I just don't get why that is all." He admitted with a slight nod. You hum a smile as you lean back slightly, tilting your head to the side, eyes closed in thought. "Well…I guess it's because…for me I feel like if I don't keep touching you, you'll disappear from my side forever. So I want to ensure you're still with me in this world, Choso." You confessed this time using his name instead of your chosen nickname for him. Choso blushes before smiling as he lets out a tiny laugh while going to ruffle your hair.

"Haha! You're so silly! I'll really never understand you Y/n." he confessed lovingly. You just looked up at him with your biggest smile, a deep blush on your cheeks as you placed a kiss on his lips. "I love you so, so much my bloody Lotus!" You cheered, and Choso could practically see just how pure and true your love for him was while looking into your eyes.

_______

Choso stood in the doorway of your once-shared bedroom. His drained facial expression scanned the entire area, ensuring he took everything in, wanting to remember this room with all your shared belongings for the rest of his life. Choso lays down on the shared bed, making sure he curls up into a bawl as he shakily reaches for your pillow and your side of the blanket, bringing both pieces of fabric next to him, squeezing like they, too, would vanish from his grasp. Choso inhales your scent, tears falling from his face, drenching your once favorite pillow as he shoves his face into it, not wanting to forget your smell once it no longer remains in the place you two called home.

"I wish you were here, my bleeding heart…I want to feel you next to me…I need you next to me." Choso cries, his entire body shaking as his mind fails to accept what has happened. Guilt soon fills his heart as he lets out a heart-wrenched sob, squeezing his eyes closed. "I'm sorry I didn't always hug and touch you whenever you were near me…maybe if I did…would you not have disappeared from my side Y/n? Are you gone because of me?"

______________________________________________________________

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed part 2! I can't wait to create more for you all!

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incarnadinedreams · 2 months

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This isn't really new or anything but the more I reread random passages the more convinced I am that there's something very unique about the way Jiang Cheng reacts to Wen Ning and it's just so interesting!

I'm convinced it's more than just being angry. It's more than just hating him, or blaming him for Jin Zixuan's death or his sister's life. It's more than being a Wen, and it comes long before so many of those tragedies unfold anyway.

There's a sort of urgent, visceral reaction to Wen Ning's presence that just has this different feeling to it than how he reacts to any of the other characters. Even characters he has strong emotional responses to, it's never with the same panic or recklessness. It's not the same as the whole "vengeful wrath, fathomless hatred, or raving ecstasy" situation he's got going on with Wei Wuxian (sexy as that might be).

When it's Wei Wuxian, it's all "...well, well. So you're back?" and "Haven't you got anything to say to me?" Even when he's not being very nice, even when he's throwing teacups and furious at Wei Wuxian, there's still an edge of calmness in the way he lashes out. He's fucking mad but he's had more than a decade to think about this and he's got things to say and he's trying so hard to get a reaction from Wei Wuxian that he just won't give him.

But he can't tolerate having Wen Ning anywhere near him. Much of the time he instantly lashes out, physically, in ways to create space between them. He's mean to Wen Ning, but he doesn't really have much to say to him; he just wants to get away from him.

It really stuck out to me how instinctive and instantaneous and emotional that reaction is when I was reading this passage from chapter 81 (ExR translation since I've got it on hand in digital text form), when Jin Ling returns Zidian and rushes back into the fray during the Second Siege:

When Jiang Cheng was unaware, he stuffed Zidian's ring back into his hand and sprinted toward the crowd, all the way up to the most dangerous area before the mouth of the cave. Jiang Cheng was about to chase after him when he managed to slice a few corpses, staggering. He felt that Sandu was no lighter than hundreds of pounds. Two female corpses threw themselves at him from both directions.

Jiang Cheng cursed. As he lifted his sword again, another pair of hands tore the two corpses into pieces, "Sect Leader..."

Jiang Cheng lost his temper as soon as he heard the voice. He kicked Wen Ning away and cursed, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Obviously that is not very nice and poor Wen Ning didn't deserve a kick for being legitimately helpful there, but the point is that not only does he lash out - the reaction happens even when he's clearly got higher priorities going on in a chaotic situation. Throughout that entire event he reacts in a somewhat more even-keeled way to almost everything except Wen Ning being in his vicinity.

And it's not just after Wen Ning's death, not just after he became Wei Wuxian's greatest weapon, not just after he was forced to kill Jin Zixuan - it's specifically a pattern established from the moment he woke up in the Supervisory Office without a core:

Before he could say anything, those sun robes reflected against Jiang Cheng's eyes. His pupils suddenly shrunk.

Jiang Cheng kicked Wen Ning, toppling over the bowl of medicine. The black liquid all spilled onto Wen Ning. Wei WuXian wanted to take the bowl of medicine. He pulled up Wen Ning as well, who had been shocked speechless. Jiang Cheng roared at him, "What's wrong with you?!"

At this point he doesn't even know how he was rescued, since he was unconscious for all of that, and thinks they're in a Wen trap and likely going to die (or worse). But there's so many echoes of that interaction again, and again, and again between them.

And combined with Wen Ning's remarks during the scene just before this, where he tells Wei Wuxian about the discipline whip injuries and how Jiang Cheng 'should have other injuries as well', the way the narrative is so deliberately ambiguous on what exactly occurred, it all makes me want to crawl up the walls and gnaw on the light fixtures wailing WHAT DID YOU SEE, WEN NING?! WHAT DID YOU SEE?

At a minimum, Jiang Cheng knows that Wen Ning was there at Lotus Pier prior to his capture by the Wen guards, because they'd both seen Wen Ning examining Jiang corpses on the training field before they fled for Meishan.

But everything after that is only implication and subtext and suppositions and speculation, not directly stated in the text. But based on his reaction, you can pry my headcanon from my cold dead hands that that Wen Ning probably witnessed all or much of what happened to Jiang Cheng after he was captured, and Jiang Cheng knows it.

I've also posted before how I think there's an at least nonzero chance that Jiang Cheng was never directly told that Wen Ning wasn't actually there with Wen Chao when they saw him early on, but came later to try to help (because when Wen Ning gives Wei Wuxian that information Jiang Cheng isn't conscious, and nobody tells Jiang Cheng anything. I don't think that headcanon changes much either way, but there is a slight difference, at least emotionally, between 'I helped you while I was there to slaughter your clan and destroy your life' and 'I came when I heard my crazy cousin was slaughtering your clan and tried to help you' and I think it's a juicy thing to add to the pile of misunderstandings they each have of the other's motivations and actions).

Which, if I go with these two ideas together, really drives home what a bespoke and specific nightmare the way the Golden Core reveal played out - not only the substance of the reveal, but the fact it was Wen Ning who revealed it.

He was already furious that they were even there at Lotus Pier, particularly Wen Ning. But the way it all happens it feels like it's not just echoes of the amplified emotions of the confrontation with Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian in the Ancestral Hall, it's not just Wen Ning being a Wen, or even Jin Zixuan's death, the way the narration calls out. It feels like there are deeper layers to it.

I also feel a bit stupid for not noticing before this probably extremely obvious to literally everyone else who isn't a dumbass like me parallel of Wen Ning getting a gruesome scorching whip mark across his chest at Lotus Pier in the course of saving Wei Wuxian (more or less, sort of - we know as readers Jiang Cheng was intentionally trying not to hurt them with Zidian, but I don't think Wen Ning knew that when he jumped in).

Jiang Cheng looked to find that the uninvited guest was Wen Ning. Immediately, he raged, "Who let you inside Lotus Pier?! How dare you!"

He could manage to tolerate others, but definitely not Wen Ning, the Wen-dog who put his hand through Jin ZiXuan's heart and ended both his sister's happiness and her life. Just a look, and he felt the urge to kill him right there. How dare he step foot on the earth of Lotus Pier—he really was looking for his death!

Because of the two lives and many other reasons, Wen Ning had always felt guilty, and so he'd always been somewhat scared of Jiang Cheng, consciously avoiding him all the time. Right now, however, he blocked Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi as he faced him, taking the hard lash. A gruesome scorch climbed across his chest, but still he didn't flinch.

I don't know that it actually means anything but it's making me FEEL THINGS incoherently at this specific moment, so. Also I find it legitimately sad that Wen Ning has to live with guilt over things that happened when he was controlled by someone else, though the scene before the Ancestral Hall when Jin Ling starts crying on the boat is probably a better example of that. Anyway.

It's just there's so, so many layers to how uniquely horrible it is for Jiang Cheng that he not only finds out about the Golden Core transfer this way, but also that Wen Ning, specifically, directly witnessed this life-shatteringly huge deception and sacrifice too - while Jiang Cheng was unconscious, no less.

And, well, we know how everything got capped off in that scene...

Obviously the shock of the information was going to get a huge reaction no matter what, no matter who or how he found out. Even without the Wen Ning element, it already hits every one of his deepest weaknesses and insecurities and fears.

But to come from the guy who'd witnessed his family being slaughtered, who'd witnessed who-knows-what humiliations heaped on him (who also happens to be the same fucking guy that Wei Wuxian thought it was worth leaving Yunmeng Jiang for, breaking his promise for...), the guy he blames for his sister's tragic fate (whether that blame is misplaced or not), the guy he exhibits a panic response towards even decades later, and goddamn.

There are just so many layers to this perfect little nightmare reveal on so many different levels aren't there?

There's just SO much meaty stuff for these two to dig into post-canon and all we get is an extra with a 'oh yeah sometimes Jiang Cheng yells on night hunts and Wen Ning is there' about it?!

I should probably just shut up and go read some Jiang Cheng and Wen Ning focused fics or something (whether romantic or platonic that's probably an area I really haven't explored enough vs. the amount of sheer interesting hints and material the novel gives to work with! If by some miracle anyone made it to the end of this beast feel free to drop any recs that explore them, especially that 'what did Wen Ning see?!' aspect of the whole situation because that is the current little brain worm haunting me right now).

#thinking too much about jiang cheng yet again #and wen ning too #the brainrot is back in full force #warning: this is unnecessarily long and I'm not entirely sure I have a point other than gnawing on feelings over these two #and either I'm stupidly reading too much into things or this is all super obvious and I'm dumb for pointing it out #the unbearable self-consciousness that comes with rambling about characters in books I guess

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hatchet-boy · 1 month

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Judging SPN Seasons By How Messy It Would Be If Sam And Dean Started Having Sex

Season 1: freshly reunited. no one else in their world but them. they are obsessed with each other. they would fuck like feral dogs and it would make them so much worse. also dad is there. unspeakably messy. 12/10

Season 2: dad just died. the grief sex would be more tears than come and at least one of them is probably saying johns name mid fuck. dean might have to kill baby brother (TM) and so the obvious reaction to this would be extremely possessive sex. sam would not like that attitude (with the one exception of if it happens when hes drunk in playthings). messy in even grosser but marginally less feral ways than szn one. 13/10

Season 3: milder. still obsessed with each other but more settled into it now. deans turn to maybe die and sams turn to be uber-doober possessive about it. unlike sam, dean would be extremely into that. and his deal is comin due so he might as well. sad and tragic,, but not that messy. probably still more tears than come. 6/10

Season 4: dean just came back from hell to find sam fucking his new demon girlfriend. the angels are there. they're still hunting but Stuff Is Going On and god knows they need to be grounded with each other to make it through. sex would probably help. would do the opposite than make things messier. would be vicious. definite chance dean might try to feed sam his blood. 4/10

Season 5: apocalypse fuck. oh fuck. ruby is dead. angels and death and demons and god and destiny. sam and dean are the most experienced and secure theyve ever been and yet. the whole damn world is about to explode. and yet they are still tortured and annoyed by the goofy everday hunting horrors. fucking would be nice for them, would remind them they belong to each other. they think theyre gonna die so the consequences wouldnt matter a whole lot. less insulated and worried about holy judgment so the incest thing may be a bother now. 2/10

Season 6: you fuck your brother but its not your brother he's different in ways you cant explain but you havent seen him in months and you thought you lost him and hes not quite right but fuck he looks like him and talks like him and knows everything about the two of you and he fucks like a greek god and hes mean as a motherfucker in bed but you can take it its fine its worth it its sam godammit-

15/10

Season 7: stranded up the creek without even a twig for a paddle. both brothers are destroyed and traumatised and forcing each other forward by force of necessity and a brotherly hand on the back of the neck. at least its just them alone together (dean please ignore the hallucination of lucifer sitting in the corner and judging our cock size-). sex would go terribly and be the most unsexy sex ever sexed. but they would probably like the closeness if sam could handle it. messy but wouldnt ruin them long term. there would be a terrible Dick joke. 8/10

Season 8: WHOA BOY WHAT A DOOZY. BOTH BROTHERS HAVE PARAMOURS ON THE SIDE WHOM THE OTHER FUCKIN HATES. DEAN IS PURGATORY FERAL AND HAS ONE EYE ON A VAMP. SAM IS SOFT HAS HIS PINKY FINGER TWINED AROUND SOME RANDOM GIRL. WHY DIDNT YOU LOOK FOR ME?? // YOU TOLD ME NOT TO!! // YOU TRUST A DAMN VAMPIRE OVER YOUR OWN BROTHER?? // YOU HIT A DOG... meanwhile sam is doing the trials losing his mind again and dean is losing his mind about that. letting you down was my biggest sin//there is nothing i would ever put in front of you. messy. 10/10.

Season 9: less than ideal with sam possessed by and angel. dean is rocking with the guilt and confliction. the mark of cain is also making him a bit feral again. theyre safe together in the bunker but thats already claustrophobic enough sex might just suffocate them both. pretty messy. 7/10

Season 10: your big brother is an angry angry man but its not his fault right??? its because of the mark right?? he cant control it and you love him and you want to stay in the safe house/bunker/tomb with him you dont want to leave anymore and you need him. youve both been through enough. you deserve this. there would be minimal messiness caused by sex with your brother rn. exception to those few weeks where he was a demon. 2/10

Season 11: gods sister is here and its the apocalypse again. dean hates what he has with Her. at least his sammy is here. at least theyre together. still crazy about each other. gay incest sex is the most reasonable reaction. god might find out- but then again, he and his sister are pretty wacked out together too, and are we not made in gods image?. 1/10

Season 12: Mom is here and so is lucifer and his kid and also the cunt ass brits. not ideal. minimal messiness so long as no one finds out. and fuck all them anyway its pretty clear sam and dean can only ever really trust each other. sex would be affirming and safe here. they are absolutely fucking in the kitchen to the smell of toast and coffee. dean discovers he has an std because no its not normal that your balls have iched like that for the past four years you need to go to a doctor and dean i swear on the impala if you gave it to me- . 3/10

Season 13 to 15: fellas is it gay to have sex with your brother who you've been functionally married to for over a decade? probably not right ha ha. if they havent already fucked by now theyre not going to. theyre just gonna be intensely platonically married until they die. they both have erectile dysfunction by this point . sex would mean everything to them but change nothing they would still be old and married in their bunker with the devils kid tomorrow regardless. they dont care what people think anymore. fuck all messiness. 1/10

Post Season 15 Finale/Heaven: we deserve a soft epilogue my love sammy. mildly concerned about being kicked out of heaven for incest but with everything else theyve done they still made it there. it would be the least of their sins. lovely soft and nothing hurts. can you make a sex tape in heaven? 0/10

#labelling this one under 'things i spent too much time on but love anyway'#constructive criticism is more than welcome here #spn #samdean #wincest #first times #edit to clarify:#this isnt rating how /good/ it would be if they got together in each szn. just how /messy/ it would be

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antebunny · 3 months

Text

a cuckoo in the nest

(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)

The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.

“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”

One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.

“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing.

It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.

“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”

Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal.

It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time.

“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”

With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part.

Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.

“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises.

And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.

Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!

A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers.

Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world.

“What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman.

Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.

“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.

Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.

Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.

“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.”

It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition.

“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”

Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”

It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it.

It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.

The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.

Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes.

Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking.

“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”

The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim.

Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally.

“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”

Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not.

Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?

“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”

Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion.

Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away.

In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures.

Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice.

It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat.

“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.

“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question.

Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”

Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.

“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”

“Died,” Tim supplies.

Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?”

But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot.

If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her.

Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”

Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason.

This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating.

In other words, the summer is off to a great start.

“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen.

Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder.

“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.

Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”

Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”

“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.

“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.

This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–

“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”

And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke.

Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.”

“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”

“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”

Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”

“I know.”

Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.

Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed.

“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”

“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl.

Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off.

“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.”

Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again.

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”

Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”

Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene.

“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.”

Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”

The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt.

“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”

Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid.

Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”

Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”

“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”

Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”

“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”

Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”

He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.

“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”

But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”

“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”

Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head.

Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one.

#batfam #batman #tim drake #my fanfiction #my writing #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne

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