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#taking her to his families fortress
kai-keda · 2 years
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any new lmk hot takes 🔥🔥🔥
The LBD host - known in the active fandom as Bai He - does not need to become a major character and especially does not need to be a new member of the main cast.
Is there a lot of potential for her? Yes.
Could a lot of awesome storylines and character arcs come from her? Yes.
Does that automatically mean it’s best for the show to include those? No.
The “Embrace Your Destiny” specials really solidified a problem I’ve noticed from the beginning with the show’s writing by bringing all of the issues to a peak.
They’re trying to do too much in too little time.
In my initial analysis video of the show from when all that was out at the time was up to the Spider Queen Special, I brought up how I felt like the writers were forgetting to ‘Let your audience BREATHE’ because of how fast everything went. “Embrace Your Destiny” is the biggest example of this issue because there’s so much information being thrown at the audience that we hardly got any chance to process before the next big story-beat happened.
I could go on about that issue for forever and I’m considering making a video on it but after talking about it more than once in a server I’m in, I don’t feel it’s as big of a hot take as the Bai He thing.
The reason I bring it up, though, is because I feel a big reason FOR so many major story elements feeling rushed through is that there are too many characters that the writers are trying to develop.
Think about poor Sandy. We have three seasons - THREE SEASONS - of episodes and only ONE that touches on his character. This is made worse because the inner-conflicts we’re clued in on with him in “To Catch a Leaf” do not go ANYWHERE. I’m not saying they can’t or aren’t planning to in the future, and I’m not saying they’re required to give him a character arc for a good story (tho I could argue that it’s expected since he’s in the opening alongside everyone else and is presented as equally important), but it currently feels weird that he was so quickly regulated to “We don’t know what to do with him because we don’t have time to flesh him out at all so let’s just give him funny lines and faces while every other main character has a part in either developing their own arcs or the overarching plot.” AFTER they opened up an arc for him.
I honestly feel like if they didn’t have the time to explore his character and the conflicts he has further, then they would have been better off using that time for something else and saving the tease of his past for later.
The writers made a good call not including Red Son in Season 2.
You read that right.
Me, the person referring to Red Son as “My Dulcinea” because “Comfort Character” doesn’t do the subconscious emotions I discovered I have with him through hindsight justice and so the only terminology I can think of to do those feelings justice is referencing my favorite musical of all time that no one else has listened to in five ever and a day.
Me, the person who feels there’s so much to explore with his character and could easily find ways to fit him into the story of Season 2 narratively speaking.
I feel it was the best call to not include him.
Why? Because they didn’t have time to write the story they wanted while including justifiable reasoning for him to be there.
(Note that by ‘Time’ I’m referring to how long the episodes are and how many episodes they have. Not the deadlines to finish scripts)
If the show writers are already rushing through major plot elements in order to make sure they have plenty of time to close off Macaque’s arc (like when Red Son TOLD us that DBK and PIF ‘succumbed’ to the Lady Bone Demon and we saw NONE OF IT until they were released from her magic at the VERY END of the special which showed that Red Son and Mei had both ALREADY KNOWN THAT by the time we rejoined them as Mei wasn’t shocked to hear it) AND completely dropped/paused exploring/elaborating on Sandy’s inner-conflict that was already introduced to us in favor of having an entire episode introducing and solving a new one for Tang that we didn’t have any sign of him having before (that’s a whole ‘nother hot take)
Then what has everyone so convinced that they have time to explore possible major character arcs with the girl that was possessed by Lady Bone Demon?
We can justify it narratively and I could go on all day every day about concepts for the Fake Mayor being a past host that has been influenced by LBD for so long that he is a shell of his former self and that he and Bai He could have a beautiful bond over the understanding that no one else could possibly know what they went through better than they both do.
But does it fit in the shows genre/target audience AND do they have time?
I argue no to the latter and maybe to the former.
The girl the Lady Bone Demon had possessed will be best served as a character that occasionally comes in for some noodles (heck, I’d argue that she could work as a supporting character that is involved in some conversations about stuff going on because she’s around but still doesn’t have any full character-arcs of her own being explored in depth)
The show is adding too many characters and doesn’t have enough time to properly explore all of them.
Stop hiring more cooks.
Sandy doesn’t have room to make tea in the kitchen.
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umabloomer · 6 months
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I got a job at a Ukrainian museum.
On the first day someone asks me if I have any Ukrainian heritage. I say I had ancestors from Odesa, but they were Jewish, so they weren’t considered Ukrainian, and they wouldn’t have considered themselves Ukrainian. My job is every day I go through boxes of Ukrainian textiles and I write a physical description, take measurements, take photographs, and upload everything into the database. I look up “Jewish” in the database and there is no result. 
Some objects have no context at all, some come with handwritten notes or related documents. I look at thick hand-spun, hand-woven linen heavy with embroidery. Embroidery they say can take a year or more. I think of someone dressed for a wedding in their best clothes they made with their own hands. Some shirts were donated with photographs of the original owners dressed in them, for a dance at the Ukrainian Labour Temple, in 1935. I handle the pieces carefully, looking at how they fit the men in the photos, and how they look almost a hundred years later packed in acid-free tissue. One of the men died a few years later, in the war. He was younger than I am now. The military archive has more photographs of him with his mother, his father, his fiancé. I take care in writing the catalogue entry, breathing in the history, getting tearful. 
I imagine people dressed in their best shirts at Easter, going around town in their best shirts burning the houses of Jews, in their best shirts, killing Jews. A shirt with dense embroidery all over the sleeves and chest has a note that says it is from Husiatyn. I look it up and find that it was largely a Jewish town, and Ukrainians lived in the outskirts. There is a fortress synagogue from the Renaissance period, now abandoned. 
When my partner Aaron visits I take him to an event at the museum where a man shows his collection of over fifty musical instruments from Ukraine, and he plays each one. Children are seated on the floor at the front. We’re standing in a corner, the room full of Ukrainians, very aware that we look like Jews, but not sure if anyone recognizes what that looks like anymore. Aaron gets emotional over a song played on the bandura. 
A note with a dress says it came from the Buchach region. I find a story of Jewish life in Buchach in the early twentieth century, preparing to flee as the Nazis take over. I cry over this.
I’m cataloguing a set of commemorative ribbons that were placed on the grave of a Ukrainian Nationalist leader, Yevhen Konovalets, after he was assassinated. The ribbons were collected and stored by another Nationalist, Andriy Melnyk, who took over leadership after Konovalets’ death. The ribbons are painted or embroidered with messages honouring the dead politician. I start to recognize the word for “leader”, the Cyrillic letters which make up the name of the colonel, the letters “OYH” which stand for Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN in English). The OUN played a big part in the Lviv pogroms in 1941, I learn. The Wikipedia article has a black and white image of a woman in her underwear, running in terror from a man and a young boy carrying a stick of wood. The woman’s face is dark, her nose may be bleeding. Her underwear is torn, her breast exposed. I’m measuring, photographing, recording the stains and loose threads in the banners that honour men who would have done this to me. 
Every day I can’t stop looking at my phone, looking up the news from Gaza, tapping through Instagram stories that show what the news won’t. Half my family won’t talk to the other half, after I share an article by a scholar of Holocaust and genocide studies, who says Israel is committing a genocide. My dad makes a comment that compares Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto. This gets him in trouble. My aunt says I must have learned this antisemitism at university, but there is no excuse for my dad. 
This morning I see images from Israeli attacks in the West Bank, where they are not at war. There are naked bodies on the dusty ground. I’m not sure if they are alive. This is what I think of when I see the image from the Lviv pogrom. If what it means for Jews to be safe from oppression is to become the oppressor, I don’t want safety. I don’t want to speak about Jews as if we are one People, because I have so little in common with those in green uniforms and tanks. I am called a self-hating Jew but I think I am a self-reflecting Jew.
I don’t know how to articulate how it feels to be handling objects which remind me of Jewish traumas I inherited only from history classes and books. Textiles hold evidence of the bodies that made them and used them. I measure the waist of a skirt and notice that it is the same as my waist size. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Jewish homes during pogroms. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Palestinian homes during the ongoing Nakba. Clothes hold the shape of the body that once dressed in them. Sometimes there are tears, mends, stains. I am rummaging through personal belongings in my nitrile gloves. 
I am hands-on learning about the violence caused by Ukrainian Nationalism while more than nine thousand Palestinians have been killed by the State of Israel in three weeks, not to mention all those who have been killed in the last seventy-five years of occupation, in the name of the Jewish Nation, the Jewish People — me? If we (and I am hesitant to say “we”) learned anything from the centuries of being killed, it was how to kill. This should not have been the lesson learned. Zionism wants us to feel constantly like the victims, like we need to defend ourself, like violence is necessary, inevitable. I need community that believes in freedom for all, not just our own People. I need the half of my family who believes in this necessary “self-defence” to remember our history, and not just the one that ends happily ever after with the creation of the State of Israel. Genocide should not be this controversial. We should not be okay with this. 
Tomorrow I will go to work and keep cataloguing banners that honour the leader of an organization which led pogroms. I will keep checking the news, crying into my phone, coordinating with organizers about our next actions, grappling with how we can be a tiny part in ending this genocide that the world won’t acknowledge, out of guilt over the ones it ignored long ago. 
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mossy-rock-in-a-field · 4 months
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Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.
Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:
She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.
She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.
Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.
She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.
She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.
She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.
We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)
She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)
She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.
She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.
I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.
anyway shout out to my mom for being neat
Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5
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harryspet · 5 months
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bambi eyes (1) r. cameron
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[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
A/N: My first Rafe fic :)
word count: 4.4k
In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.
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bambi eyes masterlist
Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin. 
As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there. 
He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could. 
After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house. 
There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls. 
The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”
Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you. 
Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him. 
“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.” 
The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase. 
He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors. 
An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different. 
“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on.  He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”
Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint. 
The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.
“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you. 
“Mr. Cameron-”
“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.” 
As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you. 
Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him. 
He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted. 
You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg. 
He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you. 
You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself. 
His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake. 
As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”
“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”
Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”
“And why’s that?”  
“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.
“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his. 
“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills,  although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”
“Your guys run their mouths.”
“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”
Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars. 
“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”
Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”
Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.” 
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You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted. 
Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom. 
Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice. 
You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle. 
You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress. 
“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”
Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure. 
You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”
When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you. 
“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting. 
Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away. 
“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”
You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”
You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”
He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”
You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next. 
“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”
You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added. 
You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”
Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed. 
“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”
Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant. 
Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?” 
His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”
“This whole room is just for me?”
“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”
You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”
You nodded. 
“Tell me.”
“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further. 
“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”
You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”
“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”
“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”
“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 
“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect,  “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”
“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”
“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”
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This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”
He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”
Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?” 
Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”
“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.
“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress. 
“I thought you wanted me …”
“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”
You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”
Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”
“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead. 
“You’re welcome, Bambi.”
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Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab. 
Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics. 
That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”
“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”
“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”
“Your father, was he like Master?”
“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”
You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”
“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly. 
“You’ll punish me?”
Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”
You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you. 
He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him. 
Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you. 
“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”
Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”
“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”
“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”
Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out. 
He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.
“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over. 
Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.” 
“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff. 
He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.” 
He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened. 
“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.
“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”
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Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!
Part 2
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xinxiaogato · 5 months
Text
— you're dating who!?
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summary. no one believes that you’re dating the esteemed duke of the fortress of meropide. that man is only ever seen locking lips with the orifice of a teacup. however, all of that changes when you and your alleged “boyfriend” are invited to a coworker’s dinner party.
love interest. gn!reader x wriothesley.
warnings. unedited, cursing, bullying, attempted homewrecking, mentions of blood, murder, and assault (nothing crazy), slight angst, lack of communication, a bit suggestive (mentions of light bdsm).
word count. 2,187
note. happy late birthday to wriothesley! this shortfic was inspired by a scene from spy x family (iykyk). you are referred to as “reader” by the way!
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while loading up your plate with chips and french fontainian onion dip, you could sense the smugness of your colleagues from all the way across the dining room.
“i mean, we all saw this coming, didn’t we?” one of them piped up with a snarky laugh.
another obnoxiously chortled in return. “i won't forget the day reader told us who could have possibly given them those flowers.”
“right!? and i’m lady furina!”
that joke rocked their worlds to the point that one person started choking on their garlic baguette. your eyes flitted over to your friend, pauline, who was shaking with rage beside you and on the verge of strangling someone.
“why i oughta give them a piece of my mind!” caterwauled pauline, but you perched a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn’t go ballistic—even if it was on your behalf.
“can’t really blame them,” you conceded. “if you told me you were in a relationship with the iudex of fontaine, i would need a minute.”
“are you saying it’s impossible?”
“i’m saying it’s highly unlikely.”
“hmph! a girl can dream.” pauline haughtily raised her nose into the air and crossed her arms with indignation, which tugged your lips into a small smile. you knew she had your best interests in mind. since day dot, your coworkers were constantly unleashing a tirade of vitriol against you. “anyway, where’s your boyfriend? did he get caught up with something?”
“probably,” you ascertained, taking a sip of red wine. you looked for a seat to settle at; you couldn’t let your chips go cold. “he warned me that he might not make it in time for the party. a new batch of inmates was processed for registration today, and allegedly, they’re unruly.”
her eyes widened after connecting the dots. “are they related to the famous case of the missing paintings? they finally caught the culprits!?”
you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know? it’s all over the steambird.”
as you and pauline were sitting down, the hostess of the party, anaïs, and her entourage strode over with purpose. one of anaïs’s minions was the first to start yapping, “well, if it isn’t reader, the person dating the wolf!”
“more like the person who cried wolf!” followed anaïs, which made the group howl like hyenas.
rolling your eyes at their sneers, you replied, “where is your husband, anaïs? don’t tell me he’s at the office ‘working overtime’ with his assistant again.”
all of anaïs’s friends practically broke their necks to look at her.
“h-how did you know about that…!?” anaïs spluttered, her cheeks flared red. “that’s… that’s my personal affairs you’re airing to everyone!”
a follower of anaïs cupped a hand to her ear and hissed, “don’t you remember? reader is friends with charlotte, a journalist for the steambird. she’s notorious for her intel gathering so that she can compete with others for the juiciest scoops!”
“hey, hey, does charlotte know anything about monsieur neuvillette’s type?” pauline whispered to which you were about to answer—only for anaïs to grab your glass of wine.
“you think you’re so high and mighty all the time…!” anaïs said in a shrill voice, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “at least i don’t pretend i’m the bitch of the lord of the fortress of meropide to get attention!”
“i think it would be better for you to channel your energy into divorcing that shitty excuse of a husband,” you corrected her, unfazed by the fact she was threateningly holding the drink above your head. “it’s not your fault that he’s a scumbag, so don’t stick around to see if he’ll change.”
something in anaïs seemed to falter at your words, but it was only for a moment. resentment got the best of her, and in the blink of an eye, red liquid was splashed onto your chest and dripping down your top, making bystanders gasp at the scene before them.
it kind of looked like you just got murdered.
“what is wrong with you!?” pauline furiously yelled after jumping up to shield you, who was still reeling from what happened. “how old are you to be acting like an immature brat!?”
as pauline and one of anaïs’s flunkies began to pull at each other’s hair, a different one pointed a finger into your face while cackling. “ha, serves you right! that outfit must have been dirt cheap anyway, so it couldn’t have been a total loss!”
“oh, you wouldn’t want your shoes ruined, right?” a second cooed, snatching them right off your feet and looking for the nearest window to chuck them out of. “don’t worry, i’ll dry them off for you!”
you got up to take them right back, but anaïs blocked your path, eyes narrowed into slits. “just admit it, reader,” she snarled. “you’re nothing but an attention-seeking whore for the fortress of meropide’s administrator, a goody two-shoes for our boss, and a laughing stock for all of fontaine. you’re nothing!”
“monsieur wriothesley!” a voice resounded from down the hallway, causing everyone in the dining room to freeze. “we’re so honored to have you join us! did lady anaïs invite you?”
before you knew it, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind to give you a tight squeeze, and a pair of lips kissed the top of your head.
“so sorry i’m late, my love,” a deep voice purred by your ear. “my hands were tied…”
his voice trailed off. wriothesley, whose sudden appearance had dropped every partygoer’s jaw, noticed that your top felt weirdly damp. when he craned his neck to investigate, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. 
he immediately questioned if it was your blood or not.
“reader!” your boyfriend shouted, turning you around and holding you by the shoulders. a fear he had only felt as a teenager flooded rapidly into his system, and it was taking everything in him to not explode. “what happened to you? are you hurt!?”
you were still stunned in the aftermath, but you quickly collected yourself and placed your hands atop his. “no, no, i’m fine, wrio. i’m not hurt. it’s just red wine.”
“red… red wine?”
recovering from his initial shock, wriothesley twisted around, his jacket fluttering swiftly in tandem. his eyes took in the sight of an awestruck anaïs holding something behind her back and a petrified person clutching onto a pair of shoes (which explained why your dogs were out).
in a calm tone more terrifying than him speaking out of anger, wriothesley said to the hostess, “i apologize for souring the mood. however…” quickly, he engulfed your body with his jacket and swept you off your feet, hitching the air in your throat as he held you close to his chest. “my partner is not feeling well, so we’ll be taking our leave. we humbly thank you for the invitation.”
“b-but you just got here!” anaïs fretted.
her first mistake was revealing the wine glass she was desperately trying to hide earlier. in wriothesley’s realm, we call this a foul.
“reader was just a little tipsy and spilled a drink on themselves!” she crooned, tilting her head up at the duke and innocently batting her eyelashes. “why don’t you stay and become acquainted with your partner’s coworkers?”
her second foul: coveting a man in a relationship.
“i mean, they can’t be unwell to the point of needing to go home!”
her third: messing with reader. and three fouls meant a disqualification.
“heavens, no,” wriothesley insisted. “my partner’s health is my main priority, and time is of the essence. besides, the longer i remain, the less time i have to file a detailed report on an assault and battery that took place here.”
it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
“a…assault…?” even through the makeup caked on anaïs’s face, you could see the color drain from it entirely. “what… what assault…!? no assault happened here, your grace!” when his frown spoke volumes, she cried out, “y-you don’t have any proof!”
“oh, i would suggest otherwise. and i believe there are many eyewitnesses to testify.”
you peered around at the guests who had gathered to view the spectacle, and they were nodding in support of wriothesley’s claim, including pauline. even anaïs’s goons were vehemently bobbing their heads up and down, still in disbelief that the man, the myth, the legend himself had graced them with his presence.
“now if you’ll excuse me…” with you firmly in his grasp, wriothesley approached the woman still clinging to your footwear, who immediately began to quiver. “i would like for you to return my partner’s shoes,” he ordered with a look as cold as ice.
“o-of course!” she stammered, extending the shoes toward him. “it was all in good fun, your grace!”
“oh, those aren’t mine,” he said with a cock of his head at your bare toes. “like i said, those belong to my partner.”
finally picking up what was he putting down, the lady shakily slipped your shoes back on your feet for which you glanced up at wriothesley with furrowed eyebrows. he only reacted with a smile that thawed the rigid expression on his face.
“i-i can’t possibly rot in jail!” anaïs was still making a fuss nearby. “i’m so young and beautiful! can’t you look past this, monsieur wriothesley…!? i’ll do anything!”
“well, it’s not something you’ll go to prison for, ma’am,” he said, not even sparing anaïs a glance as he headed for the front door, “but this misdemeanor will forever stain your official records and reputation… just as you stained my partner’s clothes.” (mic drop.)
and that was that. with a quick kiss on both cheeks from pauline, you exited the dead-quiet house in your boyfriend’s arms.
“wrio…” you murmured as he started walking in the direction of your home. “i’m really sorry for inconveniencing you.”
wriothesley momentarily stopped in his tracks to gaze down at you, his lips pursed before sighing. “no… don’t apologize, my love. i’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”
“but that isn’t your fault,” you pointed out.
a chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. “touché.”
however, his lightheartedness faded out with that chuckle when his hands gripped onto you tighter, as if you were about to dissolve into water at any moment.
“what happened, reader?” he croaked, displaying a side of him reserved for your eyes alone. “how long have they been treating you like this? and for you to not even give them a taste of the boxing skills i taught you for these kinds of situations…”
you clutched his jacket tighter to your body. “you already have so much on your plate. i could not dare to tell you something that may weigh on your conscience.”
“please,” he whispered. “i want you to weigh on my conscience.”
after a moment’s worth of hesitation, you finally gave in, explaining that the fresh bouquet of rainbow roses he sent to your office one morning sent your colleagues into a frenzy that turned your life into a nightmare. as you spoke, wriothesley’s expression became grimmer and grimmer. he couldn’t even fathom how much of a shitshow your company was for permitting the kind of behavior he merely glimpsed this evening.
and he couldn't bear the thought that you had been suffering alone for months.
“they didn’t believe me for a second, even when i had pictures of you and me framed on my desk. ‘oh, those must have been edited’.”
realizing wriothesley's muscles were so taut, you attempted to alleviate the atmosphere. “i guess no one can accept an ordinary office worker dating the administrator of the fortress of meropide. like, picture the tianquan of the liyue qixing with an npc.”
in any other situation, your boyfriend would be laughing, but certainly not this one. “no one can determine our relationship,” wriothesley stated with a clear veracity. “you are the light in my bleak world, reader, and nothing is allowed to take you away from me. if so, i will travel to the ends of teyvat to bring you back.”
he then grinned, showing off his cute canines. “and you bet i'll put my handcuffs to use.”
you slapped a hand to your forehead. “way to ruin the mood. i was just about to kiss you.”
in response, he grinded his knuckles into the top of your head, which made you yodel out in pain. “what was that for!?” you exclaimed.
“for not kissing me, but more importantly: for keeping a secret from me,” he clarified, his pale gray eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “no more of that, okay?”
you warmly smiled up at him and rested your head against his broad shoulder, completely wiped out from the party-turned-fiasco. “okay.”
as the two of you reached your abode, a question popped up in your mind. “were you serious about the handcuff thing?”
he smirked. “yes, and you’ll find out just how serious i am after we take a shower together. you reek of wine.”
a pink blush dusted your cheeks. “what? together!?”
“together. you and me.”
“ahhh! put me down!”
“nope. not a chance.”
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© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.
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obsessedwithceleste · 3 months
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Theodore Nott and the Fortress of Trust Issues: how to cast a patronus in 3 easy steps
Theodore Nott x reader
Summary: Theodore Nott had never been able to cast a patronus. In third year, when dementors were swarming the castle, of course he tried, but was never able to manage more than a whisp of soft silver. Come seventh year, he was painfully unsurprised when his efforts were once again lack luster. Turns out, with the right tutor, casting the formidable charm might not be as impossible as he thought.
word count: 3.8k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
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Theodore glowered menacingly at the students below him chattering happily amongst themselves in the courtyard. A puff of smoke slipping through his lips as he leaned on the railing of the astronomy tower. Theo knew his life wasn’t exactly one that most would be envious of. Sure his family had money, power, but add on a mother who had died far before her time, and a death eater father whose attention it was far better to avoid? Theo laughed dryly to himself.
Theo knew he didn’t have many happy memories. Truly happy memories. He was painfully, excruciatingly, self aware. Still, nothing made it quite so glaringly obvious that his life was rather pathetic than broadcasting to his entire charms class his bitter inability to force even a wisp of silvery bloody smoke out of his bloody wand. Yes. Flitwick had finally found his weakness. That damned Patronus spell. Being one of the top students of his year, it was humiliating. It wasn’t even expected that most of the class would be able to cast a corporeal patronus, yet even Draco and Matteo of all people managed to produce soft billowy clouds of silvery magic.
Theo shook his head at the thought, trying to clear his mind. His eyes once again began gazing about the courtyard before landing on a lone figure sitting beneath a willow tree, hidden from view unless one was looking close enough. Theo brought his smoke to his lips once more, inhaling deeply as he watched a burst of silver leave the tip of the girl’s wand. His eyes darkened with envy, remembering the words of his professor from earlier that day.
“Wonderful, y/n. Just wonderful! A fox! Withdrawn when necessary, but natural adaptors. Embodying intelligence, independence, mischief, and beauty. A unique patronus indeed.”
His eyes narrowed as he watched the silver creature trot happily through the air before turning and dropping his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it harshly. With one last glance at the girl sitting awestruck with her silvery companion, he descended down the stairs, determined to spend the rest of his night, moping in peace.
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Step 1: Find a Pretty Tutor (read: have a tutor forced upon you under the threat of a failing grade.)
“What do you mean a tutor? You of all people?” Matteo laughs mercilessly as Theo scowls at him. “Can’t believe I’m doing better than you in a class, you must be bloody miffed.”
Theo tuned out his friend’s laughter as he continued to glower at the floor in front of him. The two boys currently sat in the Slytherin common room as Theo hastily tried to finish up his ancient runes homework before dragging his arse to the library to meet his supposed tutor. Matteo was making this quite difficult however as he continued to poke fun at the boy, rattling on about how, for once, Theo had had the nerve to not be good at something. The horror.
Snapping his textbook closed and sliding it into his book bag, Theo began gathering his things, choosing to forego the blasted assignment.
“Aww, have fun with you little tutor Teddy. Maybe it’ll be that foxy Ravenclaw you’re always staring at. Bit ironic that her patronus is a fox innit?” Matteo teases as he watches his friend’s jaw clench at the mention of the pretty girl.
While perhaps Matteo wasn’t the most entirely perceptive of the bunch, it would take a blind man to not notice Theodore’s eyes flicker over to the group of Ravenclaws throughout their shared charms class.
“Shut up Matt. Shouldn’t you be shagging Astoria in a broom closet somewhere?” He grunts out.
Matteo smirks, knowing he’d found a tick, but deciding to leave it for another time.
“Not a bad idea mate, see you later. You’ll have to tell Enzo and I all about your tutoring session tonight,” he says with a wink before sauntering off towards the girl’s dormitories.
With a heavy sigh, Theo began making his way slowly towards the library, silently cursing Professor Flitwick as he recalled their conversation from earlier that day.
Class was finally wrapping up for the day and Theo was about ready to bolt out of that blasted classroom, but Flitwick had other ideas.
“Mr. Nott? A word?” He’s called from his grand podium in the center of the room.
The summons had garnered a few raised eyebrows and surprised looks from his fellow classmates, and Theo had trudged solemnly up to the professor.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you appeared to have had some difficulty today,” the professor and stated rather bluntly after all the other students had shuffled out.
Theo blinked back up at his professor.
“You do understand of course, that I cannot grant marks for a spell you did not perform?” He asks finally.
Theo once again stares blankly back at the professor.
Appearing to grow uncomfortable under the boy’s steady, unwavering gaze, Flitwick lets out a deep sigh.
“Mr. Nott. I’m aware that you are quite the talented young wizard, and I simply do not want to have to give you low marks on an assignment I’m confident you could perform well on.”
Still nothing from the brown haired Slytherin.
“I’ve arranged for you to begin working with a tutor until you’re able to cast the spell.” He says finally.
Theo frowns. He’s never had a tutor before. Never needed one.
“Professor-“ he begins to protest.
“The two of you can begin later this evening. 8 o’clock in the library,” Flitwick interrupts before shooing him off to his next class.
Finally arriving outside the library doors, Theo made another look of distaste before pushing through the large double doors. His eyes gazed over the tables not entirely sure who he was looking for as the twat had never actually told him who would be tutoring him. He felt his body freeze momentarily when his eyes locked with another pair of bright eyes and he began silently cursing Matteo. The bloody fucking bastard had jinxed him.
You sat quietly at your table in the library, waiting for the clock to slowly hit 8 as you mindlessly worked away at your essay for ancient runes. During charms today, Flitwick had noticed one of your classmates have a particularly difficult time with the lesson and asked for you to guide them in the right direction. Not one to argue with your head of house, you’d easily agreed.
As the clock struck 8, you began casting quick glances every so often at the library doors, until suddenly you were locked in the gaze of none other than Theodore Nott. Surely he wasn’t the one you would be tutoring? You didn’t know the boy particularly well, but you did know that he was a fierce competitor for top of the class in most of your other lessons. You watched silently as he made his way over to your table, offering him a small smile.
“Charms?” He asks, tossing his bag onto the table with a gentle thud.
You give him a slight nod, eyeing his tall figure as he sat lazily across from you.
“Well I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’ll be wasting your time. Never been able to cast the damn spell. Probably never will,” he says, leaning back on the chair, eyes not wavering.
You purse your lips. Looking at the handsome boy in front of you.
“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me then, won’t you?” You reply, a challenging tone apparent in your voice.
The boy smirks at this, cocking his head as if really getting a good look at you for the first time before finally replying, “I’ve never been particularly trusting.”
“Well then I guess you’ll be learning all sorts of things.”
You take your charms book out of your bag, opening it to the reading you had been assigned earlier in the week. You glance up to see Theodore mirroring your actions silently.
“A patronus, is a concentration of pure happiness and hope, derived from the recollection of a single talisman memory which is essential in its creation,” you read, the underlined section of the textbook was one you had pre-selected as it was the concept most people struggled to grasp.
Watching Theo stiffen and clench his jaw slightly, you knew you were right.
“When someone is unable to cast a patronus, I’ve found it’s usually because they haven’t figured out yet how to focus in on their talisman memory,” you continue.
“And if someone doesn’t have a talisman memory?” Theo’s voice interrupts.
You glance up at him in surprise.
“Everyone has a talisman memory. We just need to find it.”
“I don’t have one.” He insists.
“Then we’ll make one.”
The boy sighs in frustration. Fists clenching as he glares at the textbook in front of him.
“It might not be as complicated as you’re making it. I know when Flitwick was in class, he made it seem like your talisman memory had to be a big, grande gesture, or a clear moment of inexplicable joy. But I think the little moments count too. Everyone has been happy at least once,” you say, watching as Theo slowly relaxes.
“What do you think about?” He asks, before quickly back tracking “You don’t have to answer that.”
“All sorts of things really,” you reply, offering another small smile. “When I got my first wand at Ollivander’s. Honeydukes with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Playing quidditch. Specially that time we beat Gryffindor.”
Theo snorts at that, a small grin reaching his lips.
“Point is, it doesn’t matter how small the moment is, long as it made you happy.”
You’re met with silence, as Theo continues to stare down at his textbook, a look a deep contemplation on his face.
“Think that’s enough for today. Flitwick said to keep up the sessions until you’re at least able to cast an incorporeal patronus, so, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Theo nods his head, still not meeting your gaze.
“Does 6 o’clock on the lawn work?” You ask, only to be met with another nod.
Sensing the boy needed a bit of space, you quickly gathered your things before leaving the boy to his thoughts.
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Step 2: Accidentally Fall In Love with Your Tutor (if you weren’t half way there already.)
You sit staring out at the vast lake in front of you, watching as the breeze pushed against the water, forming rolling waves across the surface and taking a deep breath in. You had been meeting Theodore here every day at 6 o’clock sharp for almost two whole weeks now, but you honestly weren’t sure if he’d show up today. Not that you’d blame him.
You felt as if you’d really failed him as a tutor after so many consecutive days of work, with nothing to show for it. On top of that, the two of you had gotten into a rather intense shouting match yesterday, the stress of the whole thing really getting to the both of you.
You lean back, laying down on the soft blanket below you, knees still propped up, and close your eyes, thinking back to the first time the two of you had met out in this very spot. You’d originally picked the spot, because it helped you clear your mind and you thought it might help clear Theo’s too.
That first day had been awkward. Almost painfully so. You had simply wanted to talk. Get to know the boy, pick his brain for any source of happiness or joy he might get out of life. You didn’t get much, so instead you talked about your own life. What it was like living in Ravenclaw tower, the time you and Cho had tried out together for the quidditch team. You told him how you had gone to the Yule ball with a big group of friends, and how you thought it was much better than going with some stuffy date, and how your favorite candies were the purple taffies from Honeydukes, and your favorite flowers were deadly poisonous despite their pretty and innocent appearance.
The second day, you borrowed Cho’s cat and brought her along to the meeting, thinking it might help further relax your brown haired companion. It did, so you brought her along the next day, and the day after that. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Theo broke. Sure he had told you a bit about his time at Hogwarts. Playing on Slytherin’s quidditch team. Sharing a dorm with Matteo Riddle and Lorenzo Berkshire. But on the fourth day, he told you about his mother. You weren’t expecting it, and it honestly had caught you wildly off guard. Theodore’s mother had been the light of his world, and after she was gone, you could understand why he thought he would never cast a patronus.
It went on like this, the two of you gradually becoming closer, as you carefully began building a sort of trust between the two of you. You thought you might even be becoming friends; which excited you as you’d never been quite able to stop your eyes from wandering over to the group of Slytherins in the back of the class, and stopping on the tall, brunette boy with pretty eyes. You tried every couple of days to cast the spell, guiding him through different memories, trying to focus in on different experiences. But still nothing. You had even tried inviting Matteo and Enzo to a session, hoping they’d help lighten his mood, but it only ended in the four of you skiving wildly off course and getting nothing done. You and Theo had laughed about it the next day, but still not even a whisp of silvery magic.
It had all come to a head yesterday. You could feel the two of you beginning to lose hope, but you were nothing if not determined. The two of you were sitting quietly, skimming the textbook for what seemed like the thousandth time, when Theo suddenly stopped and looked up at you.
“I read something the other day. Bout patronuses. And being able to cast em.”
You looked up from your reading, intrigued.
“Said that there’s a widespread, and justified, belief that witches and wizards who aren’t pure of heart can’t cast a patronus.”
Your mouth slowly formed an O shape, and the book you were holding dropped to the ground, completely forgotten.
“Theodore. You don’t honestly think. That’s ridiculous.”
“It makes sense doesn’t it? Why I can’t even cast an incorporeal charm. Why nothing we’ve tried works. There’s no point,” Theo had said, growing frustrated.
“Theodore stop. That theory is all nonsense. There isn’t even any evidence really to back it up,” you reply.
“Why else would nothing be working?” Theo asks, slamming his book on the ground.
“Theo!”
“No, y/n, honestly. What other explanation could there be. We’ve been doing this for weeks.” Theo’s voice began to rise.
“And we’ll continue until you’re able to get this.”
“What’s the bloody point? We’ve tried everything!”
“And we just need to try a bit harder!” You respond.
“You think I haven’t been trying?”
“Of course I know you’ve been trying! And I’ve been trying to do everything I can to help you succeed!”
“And everything I’ve been doing is for you! I don’t care about the bloody charm, I don’t want to disappoint you!”
Theo’s outburst had shocked you, and your breath hitched as the two of you stared at each other, Theo’s words sinking in.
Then he was kissing you. Hot lips working against yours as he pulled you onto his lap. Your fingers worked their way up to his hair, relishing in how soft his brown waves were as you tugged at them gently.
You let out a soft moan as you felt his tongue glide gently across your bottom lip before diving in at the opportunity you had provided him.
You seemed to get lost in the feeling of his soft lips and large hands around your waist holding you firmly in place. You had no idea how much time had passed by the time you were both panting for breath, foreheads resting against one another.
Seeming to really realize what he’d done, Theo looked down at you, eyes beginning to widen slightly.
“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he’d said before promptly rising and hastily making his way back to the castle.
Now, your finger tips softly brushed the soft leather of Theo’s book bag that he’d abandoned yesterday in his hurry to leave. You thought that maybe, if for no other reason, he’d perhaps come to retrieve it. Not that he needed to you thought dryly, knowing that with his Gringotts account, he could’ve easily already replaced it and its contents.
Sitting up, you glance at your time piece showing a quarter after 6. With a deep sigh, you fish your transfiguration textbook out of your bag, flipping it open to begin your assigned reading. You’re only a few pages in when a twig snaps somewhere behind you. Whipping around, you see him standing there, handsome as ever, looking down at you.
“Sorry I’m late. And, sorry for yesterday,” he mumbles, dropping down to sit next to you.
You eye him warily as he refuses to make eye contact with you, eyes appearing to be glazed over as he gazes out at the lake like you had been earlier.
Slowly, and ever so carefully, you shift next to him so that your arms and legs brush softly, and you gently lean your head against his shoulder as you join him in looking out at the water. You feel him tense initially before slowly relaxing, leaning in as the two of you sat in silence.
“I won’t give up, if you don’t,” you say finally as Theo’s hand finds yours.
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Step 3: Trust
It had been a week now since that day at the lake, and you weren’t quite sure where you stood anymore with Theo. You still met each other everyday by the lake, slipping easily into your usual banter. But now it was eyes meeting from across the classroom and slips of paper making their way back and forth. Your fingertips would brush softly in the hallways, and sometimes, you’d feel a hand reach out, pulling you into a hidden nook, and warm lips would meet your own. But you’d never actually, talked, about it.
You shake the thoughts out of your mind, a shiver running down your spine, as you focus in on the present. That all wasn’t the reason you once again found yourself lying out on the lawn, Theo’s head resting comfortably in your lap.
“Can you cast it?” Theo asks, looking up at you.
“Hmm?”
“Your patronus? Can you cast it? I know yours is a full, corporeal form.”
Looking down at the boy, your fingers weave slowly through his hair as you reach for your wand.
Closing your eyes and taking a breath, you focus in, memories flashing through your mind, a sense of warmth overtaking you.
“Expecto patronum.” The spell falls from your lips and you open your eyes to see a silver fox tumble out of the tip of your wand before trotting through the air around you.
You really did love the spell and it amazed and intrigued you every time. A reflection of someone’s soul, your textbook had said. It could change throughout one’s life, should they experience a shocking event, grow more mature, fall in love. The last one had always been the most curious, the idea of someone loving so much, that a piece of their soul reflected that of their loved one.
You watch as Theo’s eyes follow the the creature in awe.
“You know this is hopeless right?” Theo asks softly, your hand in his hair freezing.
“Theodore. We agreed that-“
“But really what’s the point? So I get one poor mark. When am I ever going to need to use the spell really? No point in wasting time on something that’s hopeless.”
You carefully mull over Theo’s words in your head. You supposed that realistically, he wasn’t necessarily wrong practicality wise. But if you both simply gave up, would he ever want to see you again? You knew in your core that it was selfish, but the last three weeks really had been some of the best during your time at Hogwarts. Which was saying a bit considering you’d been there for almost seven years. You supposed you’d just hoped- hoped. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hope. A concentration of pure happiness and hope.
“Theodore?”
“Amore?”
“When you’re thinking of your happy memory, why did you choose it?”
Theo gives you a strange look.
“Because it made me happy at the time, and the talisman memory is supposed to be a happy.”
“Good. But can you tell me why it’s so important to focus on a happy memory?”
Theo blinks.
“Because the spell says so.”
You let out a small laugh.
“Because the whole point of the charm is to create protection from the dark. Something that will keep you safe so that you can continue to feel that happiness. To give you hope.”
Theo furrows his eyebrows and frowns.
“This feels emotional.” He says, his face distorting in disgust.
“Sometimes magic is.”
Theo’s frown deepens. “It shouldn’t be. I’m perfectly content being apathetic and emotionally detached thanks.”
You let out a small snort. “Come on Theo. Try it again. But this time, think about your memory and why you want to feel that again.”
Theo’s face scrunches up in distaste before he sits up lazily, picking up his wand. You watch as he closes his eyes, pausing. His chest slowly rises then falls, once, twice.
“Expecto patronum.”
Nothing. Theo let’s put an annoyed sigh.
“Hey, it’s okay. You can try again. Think about something that you love, make sure you can picture it clearly. Something that made you so happy that you would relive it over and over.”
Theo’s eyes flick over to you, a brow raised before he closes his eyes once again. You watch him closely, perhaps too closely, as a minute passes. Then two. You’re almost worried he’s fallen asleep sitting up when the words fall from his lips.
“Expecto patronum.”
A burst of silver flashes out of his wand, and your jaw drops as your eyes follow the silver creature that had emerged, gracefully moving across the lawn.
Your eyes dart over to Theo, and you reach out to grab his arm seeing that he’d not yet opened his eyes again. When his eyes finally open once more, his gaze immediately falls on the whimsical creature, eyes widening slightly as he stares at his patronus in disbelief before looking at you with bewildered confusion.
“That’s not mine.” You tell him with a small smile, giving his arm a squeeze as you both look up at the silver fox dancing through the air.
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augustinewrites · 6 months
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cw: suggestive content
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“the fortress of meropide takes full responsibility for the beret society incident,” wriothesley states, heaving a sigh. “it was…an unfortunate oversight on my part.”
“it’s not entirely your fault,” clorinde tells him. “don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“thanks,” he grins, slightly surprised by her attempt at comforting him. “never thought i’d see the day—”
“don’t push it.” 
“come on, just admit that we’re best friends!” 
neuvillette clears his throat, like a parent would before lecturing a child. “what steps have you taken on behalf of those affected? many families of the victims have written to my office, requesting indemnification. it’s been explained that the court of fontaine holds no jurisdiction over the fortress. the matter falls into the hands of the warden.”
“i’ve moved some funds around to properly compensate everyone who was affected.” he answers, handing over a report outlining the details. “i’ve also compensated the doctor you sent to the fortress quite generously, as she’s taken on the responsibility of overseeing their continued care.” 
neuvillette chuckles quietly as he reads the report. “is ‘compensate’ new slang for 'intercourse?'”
one beat of silence. then two. clorinde snickers behind her teacup. wriothesley briefly considers swan-diving into the primordial sea. 
“why— why would you ask that?” he sputters instead.
the chief justice simply continues on reading, oblivious to the scandalized reaction of his companions. “oh, calm yourself, your grace. i was merely jesting, no need for anyone to be embarrassed.”
“yeah, if you’re him,” clorinde scoffs, jerking her thumb in his direction. “but if you’re the doctor in this situation…” 
“okay, your best friend status has officially been revoked. and you, chief justice! since when do you jest?”
“since it’s come to my attention that you both hold great affection for one another. sigewinne corresponds quite frequently with the other melusines here at palais mermonia. we know all about you and the doctor’s whispers of desire.”
clorinde chokes on the pastry she’s eating as wriothesley rises abruptly, his face suddenly hot. he swears the tea they’d been sharing is laced with something. “okay, you have my report, this meeting is over.” 
_____
“i got bullied by the chief justice and a champion duelist today,” your boyfriend pouts as he joins you in bed.
you bite back a smile as he pushes his head against your chest, snuggling contentedly against the silk of your chemise. 
“i’m having a hard time believing monsieur neuvillette would do such a thing.”
he releases a long, dramatic sigh as your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp. “can you do me a favour and tell him, in explicit detail, just how well i’m ‘compensating’ you?”
wriothesley yelps when you pinch the shell of his ear. “oh, hush,” you laugh, kissing the top of his head. 
not one to be outdone, the duke sits up, effortlessly trapping you beneath him and nosing at the column of your neck. you shudder as his teeth graze your ear in retaliation, your hand gripping the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck. 
“wait,” you gasp as you feel his lips form the beginning of what you know will be a very visible hickey tomorrow. “do you hear that?”
your boyfriend draws back to look down at you, concerned. “hear what?”
“it sounds like…a whisper of desire.”
“hey!”
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anantaru · 3 months
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hear me out.. this is fluffy 🥹
imagine wriothesley as a dad, especially a girl dad! (thanks to his teaser for this idea!!!)
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cw. ・✶ 。 none, fluff, established relationship (he's your husband), girl dad wriothesley <3 (she's around 6), fem! reader
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the love wriothesley has for his daughter is the purest form of love.
it's new— and he has never felt it before, in fact, it cannot be compared with anything else in this universe.
as it was in his life, wriothesley was severely occupied as the duke of the fortress and such was the wonderful reason as to why he likes to appreciate the little moments that happen in your day to day life with your daughter— the feeling of protecting his child was inexpressible, and in order for him to at least miss you both a little bit less or make it become somewhat bearable, wriothesley finds himself romanticizing the morning hours of the day.
the duke starts his day with greeting you, his wife, and his cute daughter before he helps you to get her ready as much as he can— side note your daughter has his eyes, and if words could describe it only a little bit, she looks just like an angel.
also— it might be silly, or maybe it just looks silly seeing your husband struggle like that, but something about him doing your daughters hair was— by the same token, very cute and quite hilarious.
that's when his alter ego, the quote on quote, “hair stylist wriothesley”, comes into place.
not beating around the bush, but your husband was surprisingly very good at doing her hair. obviously, he does it the same way you showed him, yet he will always add a ridiculous amount of bedazzled hair accessories to her head.
to say that wriothesley was a big fan of glittery, sparkly head pieces would be a clear understatement— but do not try to put them on his hair, this dangerous route will take you to a tickle competition you simply cannot win, not even if you tried your hardest.
the duke didn't see anything wrong with clipping a bunch of radiant hair accessories on her head, even though she might end up looking like a disco ball— not that your daughter minds it, archons, she utterly adored it whenever her dad did her hair!
she was, in fact, the biggest fan of her dad doing it, because they got to spend some quality time together before he would be gone for the majority of her day. how he kneels down behind her while she sits on the little seat in front of her child-sized vanity, looking at her dad through glowy, admiring eyes while he does her hair for the day.
sadly, wriothesley knows that after that he has to work, he must and it will always take him all his power to get going— before that though, he will tell you both goodbye, add a small kiss on his daughters forehead before giving you a small peck on the lips.
how deeply he wanted to spend the day with you two, maybe walk around fontaine so you could shop around— because last time you did that, you actually found a matching outfit for you and your daughter and wriothesley found it to be one of the cutest, little memories in his mind.
he even took a picture of the two of you and keeps it in his wallet at all times now. who knows but when he feels like it becomes unbearable while being apart from his family, he tends to just look at it and smile.
when wriothesley met you, his live truly has changed forever.
you gave him pure, unfaltering love, deep compassion and of course— a family, something he thought he'd never be able to have.
being a parent certainly wasn't an easy task, and it was important to navigate through future differences that might occur one way or the other, more so seek out a good way to find the best possible solution for everybody involved.
not only for your marriage sake, but for your own childs sake— and wriothesley cannot wait to teach her valuable life lessons, about giving love to the world and the importance of following your dreams, opening his arms for his child with kindness, provide his cute daughter with hope, real hope.
while lastly, make his child excited to see this world and grow up with two wonderful parents that love her so very much.
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
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space-mango-company · 2 months
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Stranger | Chapter 1
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Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]
Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.
TW: none (for now)
Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon
Word Count: 1.2k
A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.
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The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.
Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.
"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.
You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.
"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.
You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.
"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.
You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.
You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.
"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.
Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.
The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."
You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.
"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."
You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.
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The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.
You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.
"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."
You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.
"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."
The word almost knocks the breath out of you.
You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.
You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.
"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."
"Of course," you reply coldly.
"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."
"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.
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You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.
"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.
Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."
Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.
You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.
You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.
Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.
The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.
"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."
A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.
He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.
"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"
You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."
"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."
Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.
"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."
"I would not miss it, dear Baron."
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Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]
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spider-jaysart · 4 months
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For the Supersons week 2023 bonus prompt: In another life
@super-sons-week
(Click for better quality)
This is an au of mines called Species swap where Damian's an alien and Jon's a human instead. Besides my apocalypse one, this one is also one of my most faves!
(More under the cut)
Damian and the Batfamily, plus the Al Ghul's, are hero aliens instead of humans (though, the Al Ghul's are more like warriors here like Tamaraneans are for example) and Jon and the Superfamily are the humans in this au who save people on earth with their highly trained combat skills and helpful gadgets.
The Al Ghuls live on a far away planet called "Lazarus planet" and Damian grew up there with them (just like in his origin). All aliens there were trained to fight very skillfully. Damian too while growing up there was trained to fight very skillfully as well, since he's going to be the ruler of that planet one day when he grows up.
But then Talia had no choice but to send Damian to his Father's planet on his 10th birthday, since some vicious aliens from another planet had came to invade their home and wanted to assassinate all of their people during that day, so she had to do it to keep him safe until the war was over. She quickly leaves their planet and uses one of the mini traveling spaceships to drive Damian to Bruce's planet, which is Gotham. After landing there and finding Bruce, she leaves Damian there with him to be taken care of while she's gone.
So for the mean time while Damian has to stay on Bruce's planet, he begins to finally get to know his Father and finally learns about the rest of his unknown Batfamily members for the first time as well. And while all of that's happening, after some time, the Al Ghul's later win the war on their planet and Talia goes back to go get Damian. Though, Damian has already become attached and didn't want to just leave his Father and his other family so soon after getting to finally know them for only just such a short time, so Talia lets him stay a little longer because of that. After that, her and Bruce both later decide on an agreement about sharing equal time with him, letting him usually spend one week on Lazarus planet with the Al Ghul's and the next one on Gotham planet with the Batfamily so that it'll be fair
With the Superfamily, Jon, Clark, Lois, Kara, Kon, and Chris live on earth as humans and fight crime protecting people (just like the Batfamily as humans). They train a lot to stay strong and also own a lot of gadgets. And just like how the Batfamily would, they have things like a Superrang, Supermobile, and etc. They also all wear masks to hide their identities
Damian's never been to earth before, not even his Mother. Though, he's always heard stories from his Father, brothers, and Grandfather about earth and it's humans, since they're the ones who have actually been there before. He was always curious about what it was like over there but he never dared to visit it, especially since he was always told by his family that he wasn't ever allowed to because of certain reasons that could possibly endanger him
One day though, during a mission in space with his brothers when he was 12 years old, which involved a bunch of dangerous aliens who owned powerful electric, laser guns, he fell down to earth after being severely shocked and knocked out by a strong laser blast. He fell down in planet earth's direction, later crashing into a video game store while Jon and his family were nearby, busy dealing with a mission of their own. Jon, after hearing the crash, went to go take a look at where and what the loud sound was caused by and saw Damian just laying there knocked out in the store with the ceiling rocks on top of him, since he had destroyed the stores roof during his crash into the place
After the rest of the Superfamily found out about it, they took Damian with them to the Fortress of solitude to find out who he was (he was still knocked out), since they knew he wasn't from earth after looking at his unique outfit and long unusual sharp, large sword. As soon as Damian woke up, he tried to fight them and escape, feeling endangered since he didn't know them, but they calmed him down and then kept him inside of a clear cube that he couldn't break through at all with his super strength so that he could stop, which just got him upset again but even more than before
They let Damian out once they found out that he wasn't a threat and tried apologizing to him. Jon excitedly then tries to become his friend and tries showing him around Metropolis during that same day until they can get him back home. Damian's clueless about earth things and only knows a little bit about the things that his family has told him about it before, so Damian ends up curiously asking Jon a lot of questions about everything around earth and in Metropolis, while Jon tries to answer them all for him (he thinks that Jon is a very smart person cause he knows all the answers to his every question lol). So they both get to bond a little and know eachother better that same day (they also fight some crime together while walking around the city)
Meanwhile, the Batfamily and the Al Ghul family are both panicking very much and are trying to find Damian as fast as they can since he's still missing. So once the Batfamily and the Al Ghul's got to earth, they got into a mini fight with the Superfamily, thinking that Damian's in danger with them. But then Bruce remembers Clark being the same exact boy he had met as a kid when he himself accidentally crashed onto earth many years ago in the past and got his help to go back home, so it all gets figured out in the end and peace is quickly made between them both and all is finally understood
Both of Damian's family finally found him after that and tried to take him safely back home, but he refused and didn't want to leave since he found everything so interesting on earth, plus he was also just starting to like Jon too. After arguing back and forth, they decided that he could visit sometimes, but only with supervision from whoever is available to go along with him during those times to make sure he's okay. Damian was pleased with that decision.
So after everything and as time went on, Damian and Jon became best friends in the end too (with crushes on eachother)
Some facts:
Damian and the Al Ghul's are the ones who rule Lazarus planet since they're the royal family there
Those from Lazarus planet are called "Lazarens" and those from Gotham planet are "Gothamites", so that makes Damian a mixed alien who is considered a "Lazamite"
Most characters who are aliens in canon are now humans in this au instead
All planets like Tamaran and Krypton don't exist in space in this au and are instead just big cities on earth. Tamaran city is corrupted under Blackfire's control over it and Krypton is a city that was destroyed many years ago, so it is now abandoned and no one ever visits it
Damian is pretty reckless on earth while fighting and using his powers on humans who are criminals, since he's not used to being that way when defeating enemies who are very strong like him back in space. So Jon has to sometimes remind him to be more careful about what he's doing and how he has to be more calmer when handling humans and certain other things
Just like how Damian always visits Jon on earth for patrol together or just hangout or have sleepovers at the Kent farm, Jon also visits Damian's planets sometimes too and they get to do many of those things together there as well
Damian wanted to find a way to be around Jon more though after becoming his friend, so after hearing that Jon goes to school in the early day, he immediately wanted to be registered in too (it's also because they don't have many schools in space for alien kids and he was homeschooled for years by Talia, so he wanted to know the experience too). Talia and Bruce didn't want to do it since they were afraid that he could get caught as an alien if he were to make any kind of mistakes around the civilians over there, but after being constantly asked over and over by their son and seeing how much he wanted it, they finally did it for him. The Superfamily decided to help him out by making him a holographic bracelet that makes him look human (which makes him look like how he always does in canon)
Damian doesn't have his canon pets with him in space in the beginning (only Goliath and Batcow who have some type of alien DNA in them) and has no idea what earth pets are like either because of this, but he does meet them on earth later on. After escaping their everyday cages, they all unexpectedly run out of a nearby pet shop while Jon is showing Damian around the city and they happily run towards the Boy Wonder. Damian prepares to defend himself since he isn't very trusting of them at first, thinking they are going to try and challenge him with an attack like other creatures he's fought before, but he was immediately met with the complete opposite after getting pushed down to the ground by them, getting a bunch of doggy and cat kisses to the face instead. This unexpected love from them quickly made him change his whole view on them, causing him to fall in love with their lovable, fluffy cuteness. The pet store owner tried to take them back inside, but Damian threatened him with his large sword so that he can leave them alone. It scared the poor guy away and Damian happily left with his new pets. After seeing that, Jon had to quickly go after Damian to tell him that's not how things are done on earth and that he has to actually go back and adopt them first for real instead of just leaving with them. After all of that, Damian later puts special collars on them (made by the Batfamily) that help them breathe properly in space so that he can take them home with him
When Jon gets married to Damian in the future when they're both adults, he also becomes a king on Lazarus planet too like Damian
In this au, Damian and the Batfamily destroyed Eberos (the creature from Dceased who was made by Darksied to start the apocalypse) before he could even do anything to earth
For abilities and other little things:
Damian has flight, Superstrength, Superspeed, laser vision, laser beams, and flame blasts that he can throw from his hands. And also, while it may be a learned skill for him in canon, it's actually a natural born ability of his to be able to imitate many voices in this au
Whenever he gets really mad, Damian's hair turns into flames until he calms down again
Lazarens have Lazarus blood in them, so whenever they get cuts or are severely injured, their wounds just close back up (after an hour) and they regenrate whatever part of their body they lost (which usually takes almost a month). They can also live up to 2000 years or even longer because of this. There are also multiple Lazarus pits on Lazarus planet
Damian's big sword is way too heavy to actually be held by humans, so only those with super strength like him can hold it. He can also transfer his abilities to the weapon while holding it during battle and make it light up in green fire, which helps him create bigger damage against enemies and make fast clean cuts through anything too
Not one of them, but Damian is allergic to these giant "shrimp" like creatures in space and will grow a big headache and will also be sneezing out whole fire breath sneezes as if he's a dragon if he's too close to them for too long. He can even take out almost a whole battle field with it too, that's how bad it is (inspired by my friend @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 's headcanon where Damian is allergic to shrimp). After finding out about this allergy, Jon created an antidote for him that makes it go away faster whenever they bump into these creatures
Lazarens only fall in love once with someone and aren't able to go through it again with other people
Bruce is a Gothamite who is born with a lot of rare abilities that many other Gothamites don't have, so some of them were passed onto Damian too. They're: Super high intelligence, the super clear ability to observe things much better than a human as if they're like robots, astounding quick memory, and the ability to move any shadows with them when they need to stay hidden
Damian's system allows him to eat whatever he wants, especially weird stuff, without any kind of problems. He's still a vegetarian though and even tries to be one with earth food too (sometimes he doesn't understand what any of the meals actually are though and needs help from others to tell him if they involve meat or not)
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flowerandblood · 4 months
Text
The Fall from the Heavens (3)
[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: oral sex, smut, angst, incest, obsession, violence, swearing, humiliation, chauvinism, mention of injury ]
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[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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When he learned of the death of Daemon's wife, he knew it was a sign from the gods that his time had come − Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragoness in the world, was left without a rider.
He thought that at last he would make his father proud, that he would take his niece to Essos as he had promised her.
It seemed to him that the heavens were finally smiling on him, that everything made sense and was slowly beginning to come together, that he could see above the mist that surrounded him his destiny.
As he fled from the fortress in the middle of the night he thought only of the fact that he might die and hoped that if he did, his betrothed would mourn him greatly and never marry any other man.
Her sign of love and loyalty, of respect for his sacrifice for her and their future family.
Vhagar was frightening and huge, like a giant, dark, moving mountain, with her every movement the earth shook around her; he couldn't believe it when she obeyed his command, his body trembled as he climbed the ropes to the great saddle on her back, he screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him into the skies.
He was the rider of the greatest dragon in the world.
He was like Visenya, like Aegon the Conqueror, and his future wife was like sweet Rhaenys.
Everything was as it should be.
He ran through the underground caverns to wake her and tell her everything, to kiss her, to spend the night in her embrace and listen to her assurances that he was fearless, that he was brave and that she was proud to become the wife of the man who had become the rider of the most powerful dragon flying in the skies in their lifetime.
It was then that he came upon them.
He thought he would never let them humiliate himself again, that bastards or weak, quivering little girls who couldn't even tame a dragon would never stand in his way again.
All that mattered was her, and though he knew she would be upset, he felt that she would forgive him, that she would understand that this was revenge for all the years of humiliation he had suffered from them.
And then Luke cut his face with his blade − he suddenly heard his own loud, squeaky, almost girlish scream and grabbed his left eye where he had lost his sight completly.
He was given poppy milk to ease his pain and a stick was put in his mouth that he was told to clamp his teeth on; his mother cried out loud, horrified when she saw what had happened to him, the maester said the eye could not be saved and would have to be taken out.
That he would be a cripple.
He wailed and screamed, feeling the cut of the heated blade on his skin, struggling and writhing like an animal, tied to a chair, and then he stopped feeling anything, staring dully ahead, his mother and Aegon unable to look at it.
He saw her as if in a dream, and though she always smiled at the sight of him, this time she screamed loudly, terror and fear in her eyes.
She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the sounds that came from her throat.
Then he understood.
So what if he had claimed a dragon, if she would never desire him again?
How would she force herself to marry someone who was from now on supposed to look like him?
He returned to King's Landing with the thought that all was lost and he didn't want to see anyone, much less her.
He didn't want her tears of sympathy, her assurances that she still loved him, her pity, the fact that in order not to offend him she would refrain from showing how disgusted she now was by his face.
He was no fool.
Her letter only angered him − he tore it into little pieces clenching his lips, thinking she was an idiot, giving him books now that he had lost one eye, reminding him that he would never see well again, that he would always be defective, that he would have to learn everything from the beginning.
However, as soon as he did so he immediately regretted it and burst out crying, looking at the pieces of parchment lying on his sheets, thinking of how he wished he could read it again because it was her handwriting, her words to him.
His conviction of his ugliness and the fact that what had happened crossed him out in her eyes as a man she could desire deepened his state into complete withdrawal, sinking into the darkness of his thoughts, fears and desires.
He needed someone to loathe, to throw all his ill emotions at, and he had chosen Luke as such a person, however it was the thoughts and dreams of her that kept him awake at night.
Waiting for her letters was his obsession.
She sent one every two months, always on the same day, for many years. At first they were short and full of uncertainty, but then it seemed to him that she had the impression that he didn't read them anyway, so she began to write and confide in someone who no longer existed, revealing to him the darkness and suffering of her own heart.
He was embarrassed by his own reactions, that whenever he saw a sealed message from her lying on his table he would take it reverently and sit down on a chair by the fire, as if in some kind of ceremony pulling off the lac and unrolling it slowly, feeling his heart beat fast.
Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can't remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.
It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.
After what happened something inside me died.
Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.
I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can't get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.
I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.
He repeated to himself in his mind that he would read her despairing, feminine ramblings to mock her, but in fact he was immersed in her thoughts, in her world, trying to imagine her, analysing each word with pietism, returning to the sentences that had taken the most root in his heart and would not leave him afterwards for days.
He read her letters for hours, treating such evenings like a sacred day, running his thumb over his lower lip, staring dully ahead in the light of the blazing fire, thinking of her words.
Although he pretended that what she wrote meant nothing to him, once in a while, usually when he was waiting for her next message, he would take all her letters and read them one by one, analysing how her handwriting had changed, now much prettier and assured, how her choice of words had evolved, rich and full of metaphors.
He knew that, like him, she read a lot.
She never brought up the matter of his or her family, the details of their conflict, their betrothal and the fact that his mother had insisted that he marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters.
When he learned that Rhaenyra planned to marry his niece to her cousin of House Arryn he grabbed all her letters she had sent him over the years, which he kept locked in his wooden drawer, and almost threw them into the fire, hesitating at the last moment, squeezing them in his hand, panting with rage.
Although he kept repeating to himself that it was a good thing he wouldn't have to take a bastard wife, immediately his mind went into a fury at the thought that she might have become someone else's mistress, borne children to other man, and he found himself sinking into her letters again, as if re-appropriating her in this way.
He feared nothing more than that one day she would stop writing to him.
He dreaded what he would do then.
The days when Aegon could mess with him were long gone. His older brother the drunkard knew he was no match for him in hand-to-hand combat, he was taller, smarter and stronger than he was.
Yet it was Aegon who was to inherit everything that would not fall to Rheanyra as future queen.
He wanted to be his opposite in every sense of the word; his appearance made him even more isolated from the opposite sex and he didn not look at women at all, spending long hours in the Great Sept with his mother praying at her request.
If it had been up to him, he would have prayed to the gods of Old Valyria, but he saw her loneliness and loss, and wanted to be a support for her, a son she would be proud of.
Despite what he tried to tell himself, the tension he felt as a man grew stronger within him, even more so in the evenings when he leaned over her letters again, when he thought of her scent, of her hand holding the quill.
He wondered involuntarily what she looked like now, what he would notice if he undressed her, if he exposed her bare breasts to him.
Would they fit in his hand, would they be soft and warm?
Would she moan sweetly if he touched her there?
He tilted his head back, trying to read further, settling himself more comfortably in the chair, his free hand slipping under his breeches, gripping his already half-hard, throbbing manhood.
He imagined that it wasn't his hand but hers that was touching him, that she wasn't disgusted by him, that just like before her hands were stroking his cheeks, her lips were finding his in a sweet, warm kiss.
A murmur escaped his throat at the thought, a wave of heat surged over him and he quickened, fucking himself with his own hand until he came with a low sigh of relief, imagining that she was sitting on top of him, that he had just filled her with his seed, that she was begging him not to stop.
However, when he regained his sanity he felt rage and shame.
He hid her letters in a drawer and did not take them out for weeks, as if offended that it was their fault he had to pray again and beg the gods for forgiveness.
He promised himself that this would not happen again, however, it always ended the same way.
The knowledge that he could not forget her enraged and calmed him at the same time, as if this state was natural, the parallel hatred and desire for her became one and the same in his eyes.
He hated her because he desired her, desired her because he could not have her, could not have her because he hated her.
He locked himself in this circle, not allowing anyone to see what was poisoning his mind and heart.
If in the poems women appeared innocent and bright, she was to him the symbol of his downfall, his flame of his eternal suffering, which burned him every day, but which he did not dare to extinguish knowing that complete darkness would then prevail inside him.
When it became known that Vaemond Velaryon had challenged Luke's claim to the throne of Driftmark he laughed out loud at the Small Council meeting, amused, embarrassing his mother and grandfather.
He thought the gods were cruel but fair.
The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by a strong heartbeat when their Queen conveyed that Rhaenyra, along with her entire family, would appear in King's Landing in a few days to settle the matter.
With her entire family.
He sat by the fireplace that evening, running his thumb over his lips, feeling that there was complete panic in his mind, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.
He wasn't ready for this.
He didn't want to see her.
He wanted nothing more than to see her again.
He was disgusted by her and her brothers, by the fact that he would be sitting at the same table with her.
Would she touch him with her soft hand? Did she still smell of vanilla? Would she whisper that she missed him?
What was he to answer if she did?
Mock her, tell her that she should retain the remnants of her dignity.
Tear off her gown, press his lips to her bare body, saying that he would sooner kill her than let her marry someone else.
He let out a loud shuddering breath, burying his face in his hand, feeling like his head was about to explode, his heart pounding like mad.
He had the feeling that he was losing his mind, that he was descending into madness.
When he saw Jace and Luke among the crowds, when he saw how small and skinny they were compared to him, when he saw their mouths wide open in shock as they realised who they were looking at, he thought he had never felt more satisfied in his life.
"Nephews. Have you come to train?" He asked in a deep, teasing voice feigning concern as he played with the hilt of his sword in his hand, flipping it between his fingers.
He wanted nothing more than to humiliate them in public.
His musings and wild excitement were interrupted by Vaemond's entrance into the courtyard − he grinned broadly at the sight of him, feeling a sense of satisfaction, sighing quietly, thinking of how the gods had rewarded his patience.
He turned impatiently, extending his hand to his servant, willing him to hand him another wooden shield and froze in half-step, out of the corner of his eye noticing a silhouette looking at him from the cloisters.
It seemed his heart knew who was standing there even before it reached his mind, for it began to pound like mad, his breath stopped in his throat.
He forced himself to look there again and that's when he saw her − he couldn't believe how much she had changed.
Although he could see the obvious features and similarities by which he recognised her immediately, her eyes, her eyelashes, the shade of her hair, the shape of her nose and face, it seemed to him that if she had been a bud when she left the Red Keep, she was now a flower that had blossomed, a ripe fruit that begged to be plucked, to bite into its flesh.
It occurred to him, looking at the unashamedly exposed bare skin of her shoulders, that it must have been pleasantly soft and warm.
He imagined his lips brushing the hollow of her neck, the scent of vanilla he would smell and he shuddered, ashamed and horrified at how hard his manhood throbbed in his breeches.
This sight, so clear, blunt, final, completely shocked him, and though it lasted only a moment, he managed to remember the shape of her breasts and hips, the shape of her mouth, her terrified gaze full of longing, from which he felt a tightness in his throat and this huge, overwhelming, cruel desire.
He turned away from her, furious, thrusting his sword at Criston, their blades clashing in the air with a loud clang of steel.
That evening he felt that something hung in the air, he felt her presence in the keep, he had the impression that if he turned he would see her silhouette behind him.
He played between his fingers with his dagger and looked at it, wondering if he would feel relief if he killed her, if he would then regain control of his body and mind again.
Maybe it was the right path.
Maybe it was because of her that he was unable to move on.
He shuddered and tensed all over when he heard a quiet knock on the door to his chamber − he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck, knowing that it was her, that destiny had reached him.
He felt it in his bones.
He wanted to remain silent, he wanted to show her that she no longer had access to his world, that he recognised years ago that there was no way for them that they could walk together.
I pray a lot, although I don't know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don't answer me, just like you.
He closed his eye, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought of those three sentences that echoed through his mind and heart like a bell, that undeniable desire on her part to be reunited with him that he pretended not to share.
"Come in." He said coldly, feeling the thrill of excitement, his heart pounding so hard that he felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.
The door opened with a quiet creak of wood, and she appeared in it, surrounded by the glow of candlelight, looking like a saint, like a ghost, like an innocent, sweet maiden who was lost in the black maze that had always been meant to lead her to him.
He resigned himself to the fact that there was no escape from it.
She closed the door behind her and turned to look at him; he wasn't sure if it was the flames that was trembling or if it was her body that was quivering all over with fear, in her big eyes terror, desire, suffering, everything she had written to him about.
Only after a moment did he realise that his jaw was clenched, that he was involuntarily still playing with his dagger in his hand as he looked at the indistinct silhouette of her naked body peeking through from under her nightgown, her long dark hair loose, its curls falling freely over her back.
He felt his length throbbing hard at the thought of her coming to him dressed as a lover, as if she were his, and he licked his lower lip with his tongue, catching himself breathing loudly.
Gods, how long he had waited for this.
"Did you received my letters?" She asked quietly, as usual without any further pleasantries, her voice trembled slightly betraying her fear. He shuddered to hear that she no longer sounded like a child, the way she spoke was melodious and pleasant, soft, warm.
"Yes." He replied in a low, deep voice, sounding like an echo in an endless, dark bottomless well. He saw that she blinked rapidly, as if she hadn't expected such an answer; she pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, gathering the courage to say more.
She knew she had ventured into the dragon's cave and might never leave it again.
He knew, he felt that she was aware of what was on his mind, that she saw it in his gaze.
"Have you read them?" She asked at last, there was something final in her question.
He parted his lips slightly, lifting his chin in a defiant gesture, stretching comfortably in his chair, wondering if he should humiliate her with words that he had burned them all.
To let her know that she no longer meant anything to him.
He wanted to say it, but he couldn't.
"Yes, my Lady Strong. I have read them all. Many times, here, in this chair." He hummed, running the blade of his dagger across the armrest, making a deep, chiseled line on it.
Go on, he thought, ask me why I didn't write back, what I thought of your tendentious, weepy musings, what I thought of your feminine, touching guilt, of your weakness, of your coming to me now like a dog to beg forgiveness.
She, however, asked nothing.
He shuddered and threw her a surprised glance as she suddenly moved ahead and walked around his chamber, as if she had lost interest in the subject, making him feel discomfort, as if he had lost control of the situation, his advantage over her.
"Does your mother-whore know you're here?" He asked dryly, coldly, wanting to take away her confidence, to embarrass her, to strike at her dignity, reminding her that she herself had come to a grown man in such a shameless negligee.
She, however, merely threw him a surprised glance as she approached his bookshelves, the small one he had been given as a child replaced by three new ones, made of oak wood, high to the ceiling, filled to the brim.
She reached for one of the volumes and he felt a squeeze in his throat when he saw that she had taken out The Reflections on the Dignity of the Ancient Philosopher Areon.
"My, as you put it, mother-whore, never knew when I visited you, uncle. I was very determined not to be caught." She said calmly, but with an air of regret and weariness, as if the situation between them was tiring her, as if she believed that facing him like a ghost from the past would allow her to move on.
He thought they both could have done it, but he wasn't sure if the blade he held in his hand wouldn't have cut her neck then.
The thought that someone else might touch her body made him furious.
He snorted, turning his gaze to the flames, involuntarily turning his dagger in his hand − he grinned despite being tense and bitter.
"Do you often visit men like this?" He asked reluctantly, though inside he was dying to prove to himself that surely she had already slept with her guards or other men who would give her pleasure, that the sweet, innocent girl he remembered was long gone.
He heard her footsteps and felt her presence; he lifted his eyes to her, surprised, and noticed that her gaze was cloudy, her brow furrowed.
She looked as if she had been exceptionally offended by those very words.
"Have you no shame?" She asked him in a cool, trembling voice; he could feel the pain in the way she asked the question, his lips tightened into a thin line.
He was struck by how direct the question was.
He wasn't used to being spoken to like that.
But before he had time to respond with anything, to finally stab her in the back with words that were like poison, she began to speak, as if a dam had suddenly burst inside her and her thoughts poured out at him.
"I don't know who you are, the man who sits now before me, but if there is even a fragment of the boy I was meant to marry in you, let that boy know that he was and will be the only one in my heart. He was my best friend and I failed him. It is hard to live with the thought that someone you loved so deeply has died in a way, but there is neither a grave to pray over nor any hope of peace for his soul. What I fear is that the boy I knew has disappeared among the darkness and is dying in it every day."
He was ashamed that he felt a squeeze in his throat, that he felt a burning under his eyelids, that his heart was pounding like mad, that he froze completely in disbelief and shock as he stared at her wide-eyed.
She was crying in front of him, as if she was really mourning someone's death, and he didn't know what to do, even if he wanted to humiliate her, tell her to leave, he couldn't get anything out of himself.
He drew in air loudly and his whole body stiffened, the dagger fell out of his hand with loud clatter when she surprised him completely by sitting down on his lap, snuggling into him like a little child and burst out sobbing.
He had the feeling that she was not embracing him in the here and now, but a figure from the past that she missed so much.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She whined in a desperate, trembling, quavering voice − he felt he was struggling to catch his breath, his nostrils filled with her scent, the smell of vanilla, her familiar warmth, his manhood hidden beneath his breeches swelled in response to this sudden, unexpected closeness.
She shuddered feeling it and looked up at him, her face flooded with tears, terrified and ashamed, her gaze asking him what she had just felt underneath her. He began to breathe through his mouth, feeling the panic rising inside him because of the heat he felt in his lower abdomen.
There were drops of her tears on her eyelashes, her eyes big, her gaze hot, tender, terrified, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her lips puffy and plump, slightly parted in an accelerated breath.
"Can I kiss you?"
He wasn't sure if he really heard it, it seemed to have only resounded in his head as his memory of that sunny day, but involuntarily he leaned lower.
He sighed as if relieved when her arms suddenly embraced his neck, her breasts snuggled into his tunic, and her wonderfully wet, soft lips pressed against his in a sticky, loud kiss.
They both moaned into each other's mouths as they felt him throb under her again, harder this time − he wasn't sure if it was his will that guided the movements of his hands as one clamped down on her hip and the other on the back of her neck, holding her in place, not allowing her lips to pull away from his as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.
They both trembled as he tentatively began to rock his hips, rubbing against her, overwhelmed by her familiar closeness and scent, her so-needed, gentle hands stroking his hair and cheeks, her thumb running over his scar under his eye patch.
The sight of her body, her sweetly parted lips, her hot gaze in which everything lurked, and her scent, the smell of fucking vanilla filled his entire mind.
He rubbed against her his already hard cock again and again, sliding his free hand under her chemise, placing it on her naked, hot hip, digging his fingertips into her skin, his manhood reacting to his movements instantly with a strong, pleasurable throbbing, he involuntarily began to pant.
He saw the blush on her sweet, innocent face, her hips in a slow, smooth motion began to move back and forth, pressing what was underneath her; he shuddered all over feeling it and they both sighed quietly as her fingers ran over his scarred cheek.
"− uncle −" She whispered softly into his mouth, exactly like in his dreams, like when he touched himself between his thighs with his hand, with longing and desire.
He was unable to remember when she pressed her sweet-tasting lips to his, hugging her soft breasts into the fabric of his tunic, what the reason for their disagreement was, it seemed to him to be completely trivial and unfounded.
He thought it was obvious that the lovers had argued with each other and then reconciled.
That was all he thought about as he undid the ties of her nightgown, sucking and caressing her mouth, jaw and neck with his swollen lips, leaving wet, hot marks on her skin, his hands slid it slowly off her shoulders, revealing her bare body, her lovely breasts, unashamedly before him.
He delighted in this sight, almost mythological, noble, for breasts were the joy of husbands and the source of milk for their offspring, something beautiful, admirable.
He could feel her trembling all over in his hands, terrified by her negligee; he was sure now that no one had ever seen her naked before him and this thought spread like a wonderful, hot wave through his body.
"− easy − your husband will treat your body with proper respect −" He murmured in a deep voice trembling with arousal, his large hand grasped one of her breast and squeezed it tentatively; he sighed feeling how warm and soft it was, he heard her surprised moan.
He grasped her cheeks in his fingers, with a brutal, sudden movement drawing her face closer to his; his hand slid lower, ran over her soft, wet, full lips. She moaned helplessly because of the increasingly rapid bucking of his hips, the bulge in his breeches rubbing against the spot between her legs.
"− please −" She babbled, and he decided to take pity on her, sliding his tongue deep inside her throat, stifling her loud mewl, his fingers began to tease and play with her nipple, her whole body shivered; he felt her hands tighten in his hair, her lips melt into his in a quick, hot dance of saliva and teeth.
"− uh − I − I feel a tickling inside me, uncle −" She mumbled out as innocently as if she really didn't know what was happening to her, as if she wanted him to help her understand what her body was trying to tell her, however he, hearing this, lost his temper.
Despite the material of his breeches separating them where their bodies met, he could feel her moisture.
She was wet.
She wanted him inside her.
"− it's understandable − you missed your uncle − hm? −" He whispered into her mouth with a kind of tenderness and understanding that surprised him, as if it had been obvious that this was how it would end. She nodded quickly like a child who agreed with his teacher, who wanted to be guided, to be shown what was right.
She squealed as he stood up with her, holding her in his arms, just thinking about the fact that he hadn't felt this calm for years, the sight of her, the smell of her made his head spin.
He couldn't even remember why he was mad at her, why he hadn't written her back, why he wanted to kill her.
How could he ever hurt her, his sweet little wife?
"− lie on your back − yes, just like that −" He murmured with delight, looking at her partially exposed body; her lips was pink and puffy from his caresses, her breathing quick as she looked at him dreamily, watching as he began to undo the fastenings of his tunic, getting rid of it and his chemise, leaving only his breeches.
He climbed onto the bed with a loud creak of wood, not quite sure what he should do, sensing subconsciously, however, that this was the day of their reunion, their reconciliation after years of separation, the figures of Lord Baratheon's daughters and Lord Arryn's son seemed to him nothing more than a joke.
Aegon spoke to him of how wonderful it was to taste the woman between their thighs, that they quivered with delight when he licked them there, and since he would devour her whole if he could, he decided to try.
She was horrified and distraught when she saw his face between her thighs; she tried to push him away, asking him fearfully what he was going to do, but only tilted her head back as his tongue ran over her leaking, throbbing, hot womanhood, the sound she made surprised even him.
"− o-oh, gods −" She whimpered as he licked devotedly what spilled out of her, the taste and flesh of his wife, her proof that she didn't despise him, that she still wanted him, that her tight cunt was waiting for him and for his caresses.
"− have you touched yourself here? −" He asked between one lick of his tongue and the next, her thighs trembling in his hands, her fingers clenched in his hair, trying to rub against his face. He grinned involuntarily sensing her desperation, seeing that she nodded and ran the tip of his nose over the bud hidden between her folds, she moaned loudly when he did it.
Encouraged, he grasped it in his mouth and began to suck on it, licking it with his tongue; her whole body arched, uncontrollable moans erupted from her mouth. He tried to cover her lips with his hand, fearing that someone would eventually hear it, but she clamped her hands on his wrist, blocking his movements.
"− please, uncle, too much − too much −" She whined out trying to escape; he stopped, seeing that her body was shaking in convulsions, surprised how sensitive the female body was and how many secrets it hid.
He thought he now understood why it was Rhaenys that Aegon the Conqueror wanted in his bed.
In the art of the body, one could not be aggressive and brutal as on the battlefield.
What they were doing was some sort of a feast, tasting and satisfying their desires, full of moistures and hot embraces.
He hummed as he leaned down again and slipped his tongue deep inside her, feeling how rough and wet her fleshy walls were, groaning quietly as her wonderful taste spread across his palate.
"− uncle − mghmm −" She mumbled breathing hard, with each flick of his tongue drifting away more and more, he could feel her insides pulsing all over around nothing.
"− it'll be wonderful to feel it clench around my cock one day − don't you think, sweet niece? −" He asked, pressing his face closer to her body, licking and rubbing her walls at the spot that when he touched it with the tip of his tongue she trembled the most, moaning helplessly, her hips coming up to meet his face, her breathing getting louder and louder.
"− oh g-gods, Aemond − oh gods,oh gods,oh gods −" She mewled, startling him as she raised herself up on her elbow, tilting her head back, bliss and delight painted on her face, her plump, glossy lips parted in sweet moans as if in disbelief that something so wonderfully pleasurable had shaken her body.
It was the first time he had ever seen female fulfilment and it was a stunning, wonderful sight.
He groaned low as he felt how much moisture flowed out of her, kissing her hot, throbbing entrance devotedly, slowly licking everything off, not wanting to waste a drop, even though she begged him to stop.
Everything he drank from her was for him, the wonderful nectar of his sweet wife.
He rose on his knees, wiping his face with his hand, looking at her in disbelief, panting loudly; she lay as if without strength, with her hands spread on either side of her head, her plump, puffy lips slightly parted in ragged breath.
His niece.
"Touch me." He demanded, slipping off his breeches, taking her hand in his, with a desperate, sudden movement clamping her fingers on his swollen, twitching manhood, leaking from his own wetness. They both moaned helplessly when, with movements of his hand, he showed her how she was to touch him.
She looked up at him in shame, squeezing him with sure up and down strokes, feeling him throb all over in her grasp; he rocked his hips involuntarily, sensing that he was embarrassingly close to fulfillment.
"− fuck − fuck, come here −" He gasped, grabbing her by her hair, forcing her to rise up and kiss him − their lips collided in a sticky, messy kiss, the combination of their tongues and their saliva, the smell of her, the sight of her bare body, the scent of her sex, her moisture around them, proof of what they were doing.
Against their gods, against their family.
He didn't care what happened next.
"− don't fucking stop − faster − oh fuck-fuck-fuck −" He growled out and moaned low, surprised at the helpless sound that came from his throat, coming with a sigh of relief onto her nightgown, his translucent, pearly spend spurting out onto her, startling her; he hushed her with his kisses, whispering to her between the sticky brushes of their lips.
"− easy, it's just me − shhh −" He whispered, letting go of her hand, allowing her to release her grip, her fingers all sticky with his seed.
"− lick it off − don't waste a drop −" He growled, wrinkling his eyebrows and she swallowed loudly, obediently licking her finger after finger, looking him straight in the eye. He watched her with satisfaction, thinking of how obedient and good a wife she would indeed be.
"− you are going to spend the night with me −"
______
From the author: In Stay and love, leave and die oneshot Aemond would not allow her to enter his chamber, he would remain silent - in his opinion, she had forgotten about him and suddenly wanted to regain his favor, which he found pathetic and irritating, not worth his attention. None of her letters reached him through the years, having been intercepted and burned by Otto. The next day, he informed his mother that either she would leave the Red Keep or he would, and she decided to return to Dragonstone so as not to escalate the conflict. In that universe, they actually speak to each other only in Strom's End.
______
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes
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husbandohunter · 7 months
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Two Shades of the Same Color
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Synopsis: Protecting the law and protecting his family. The line seperating them were like two shades of the same color. Wriothesley just didn't know it yet.
Genre: Wriothesley x Reader, gender neutral pronouns, Reader and Wriothesley have a daughter
(A/n): this is my offering to the gacha gods praying for an early Wrio to come home 😔===============================
The Duke of Meropide often finds himself conflicted in the different roles he has to play.
In the daytime he carried his duty as the Warden. Having served his sentence through the years he was in prison, Wriothesley was appointed to be a suitable candidate now managing Fontaine's most notorious Fortress, guarding wanted criminals, convicts, and what justice deems guilty. Both feared and respected by them, it was quite an intresting story how he got into this rank. But he also didn't dislike his occupation. Perhaps due to this self-proclaimed 'rough around the edge' personality, he believed the prison wasn't so far disconnected from his nature.
"Wolf-ears, wolf-ears, daddy has wolf ears!" A sweet voice sang before imitating a growl sound.
Aaand there were those who really  disconnected him from his 'nature'. Wriothesley sighs as he rub his forehead, clutching a stack of unsigned papers while the girl pulled the little tuffs in his hair.
Your five year old daughter came home one day, announcing that the class had been given an assignment.
Two things arise in his head. First off, why are they already giving assignments to children? Shouldn't they be learning their alphabets and make crafts or something? Second, why does it have to involve taking your kid to work?!!
You failed to stifle a laughter at the sight, the poor man silently hoping that you would do something, "Come down little one. You wouldn't want to accidentally fall over now, would you?"
The girl shook her head, avoiding your attempt to hold her and squeezed her small legs around his shoulders, "Don't stop me! Mari wants to stay up here."
"But he's going to get tired if you keep shaking like that," you suggested, placing both hands on your hips.
Mari huffs, "That's up for daddy to decide. Right, daddy?"
You quirked an eyebrow and glanced at your husband who seemed to be under a lot of pressure. What can he do? When his daughter stares at him with her toothy grin and gleaming eyes that looks just like his own?
Helpless at her whims, he pleads silently, urging for your aid once again.
"Sorry honey," you shrugged and tilted to the side, "I tried."
"Oh really?," the man doubts, "Then why are you smiling like that?"
Wriothesley wasn't sure how he got into this mess in the beginning. Actually, wait. He did. He just...didn't want to admit it.
The initial answer to Mari's request was a no brainer. Allowing his little babydoll Marigold through the walls of Meropide was something he stricly forbade until she reached thirty years old. A reasonable negotiation, he thought. Not even the gossips plastered all over the Steambird newspaper would be discussed at the dinner table. The man vowed to keep his work life and family life seperate the day she was born.
"Why don't you go find them to help you with your homework?"
"I work at the Fortress too, silly."
Well-- maybe not you since the two of you met here, but that's different. Rules are laws and laws shouldn't be broken. There's a reason why order is meant to be taken seriously in Fontaine. And of course, in his house too.
Then you proceed to say-- it's because you keep spoiling her! Which he retorts, "I'm not spoiling her, I'm just making sure she has a fun childhood, that's all."
"Uh huh, you sure do a great job at it officer, maybe a little too well," you tease, wrapping your arms around your burly husband and nuzzled against his cheek.
Fits of giggles came from above, Mari starts rocking back and forth, "Now give him a biiiiig kiss!"
"Alright alright, that's enough you two," Wriothesley caught hold of his wiggling daughter and settled her down on the floor. Seriously, he could hardly focus. Wriothesley had planned to make his routine as boring as possible so she would leave and he could go about his day. It seems the man terribly underestimated the fact Mari had a penchant of finding entertainment. Should've been obvious that he would be the center of it.
"Can we go downstairs now? I want to see where the machines are working," Mari declares and throws her hands up in excitement.
Wriothesley clears his throat, "What did I say earlier about going downstairs?"
"It's not safe for ages under thirteen and only for members who are given permission because they're criminals," Mari sheepishly repeats.
"Aaaannd?"
"You're not allowed to abuse your authority or give me special treatment because the Warden must be fair and respect the rules from the Fortress of Marinetide, treating everyone equally."
"That's my girl," he nods with a grin. Though the pronounciation can use a little tweaking. Eh, he'll let it slide.
"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit too much? The working grounds aren't that bad, even Sigewinne takes her strolls there during her breaktime," you chime in.
"Who's Sigewinne?"
The man expresses what seems like his version of a pout. Though you can never miss the small upturn slivering the corner of his mouth, "I'm starting to get the feeling that you enjoy seeing me like this."
"Nonsense," you lean on his shoulder, "I'm just admiring how much of a loving father my daughter has."
They're coaxing me into something, "No means no."
Wriothesley glances at Mari who had still been persisting him with pleads and questions. The reason why he wanted to keep his work life and family life sperate was because prison, in general, can shape a person entirely. Whether for good or worse  depends on the individual, she was far too young to be exposed at the kind of stories and complex reasonings people would have. Wriothesley knew very well that nothing is black and white. Perhaps from growing up in this kind of world, he wanted to know, to see, to let an innocent child experience life far differently than he did. Because now, he had a choice.
"I already know what you're thinking, it's written all over your face," breaking him out of his thoughts, you gently spoke to his ear, "Not everyday our little Mari gets to spend time with her father like this. She was so happy when the teacher said it was going to be a 'take your kid to work day' assignment,  you know?"
"I'd rather keep the details behind closed doors. There's not much that can be said outside the reputation everyone knows of," he reasons, "Besides, Sigewinne is the only exception because she's the head nurse. This little fellow here can hardly prounouce Meropide."
"Hey! That's not true. If I practice long and hard I can speak as perfectly as the papers on your desk!"
"Oh? You know what that's a great idea. How about we spend the day practicing your alphabets? We could also read the Boar Princess while we're at it," the Duke happily suggested.
"Wriothesley," you chide lightly, "As long as you're with her I'm sure there will be nothing to worry about," then you crouched down to Mari's height, "Right sweetie?"
"Yeah! Daddy is the strongest and smartest man in all of Fontaine!" She jumps up and down, "He can even lift me even when I'm wearing a backpack!"
Wriothesley eyes you both suspiciously, "I see how it is. Sounds like you two are teaming up."
"I like to call it a coincidential agreement," you tugged him at the arm and lead towards the stairwell, "Come on. Take the day off and let me handle the paperwork. Wouldn't want to keep the fun waiting, would you?"
Your husband folds his arms and scoffs, "A day off?"
"By the courtesy of Chief Justice Neuvillette himself," you responded.
Ah, they had it all planned out, "Astounding effort on your part, I suppose."
"Please, daddy? I swear I'll behave and not do anything to make you mad," Mari twiddles her thumbs, "Pleeease?"
Wriothesley closes his eyes, a habit he acquired during situations such as this. Well, looks like he was fighting a losing battle anyways. Maybe you were right. He was spoiling her.
"Fine. Only under one condition. You have to-"
"Call me 'Your Grace'!" She salutes immediately, " Oh, I mean...you, Your Grace."
Wriothesley glances at your way again and you merely returned a shrug. He smiles amusedly.
They really had it all planned out. 
•••
When Wriothesley stepped out of his office, he was slowly starting to regret his decision.
Mari, being far too excited for her own good, already bounced a few metres ahead. He sometimes wondered where she gets her energy from. For newcomers, they easily wear out before they become used to things. Ah, that's right, I have to make sure she doesn't disturb the inmates. If this keeps going then who knows where she might end up. Archons forbid it'd be the Pankration Ring.
"Up you go," for now, Wriothesley scoops her into his hold, having the girl seated on one forearm and the other supporting her weight. Until she calms down, at least.
"Mari is reporting for duty," she salutes again.
Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, "Since when did I ever act like a Marechaussee Hunter? Wait, let me guess, you snuck to see Clorinde."
Guilty as charged. The little girl slaps a hand over her mouth, "Whoopsies."
"I'm joking. I actually didn't think you snuck out to see Clorinde," he smugly states, "Well well looks like my little culprit reveals herself."
She huffs, "Heyyy, that's cheating."
"Sorry babydoll, but I think I win this one," Wriothesley boops her nose in a playful manner and allowed Mari to stand on her own two feet, "So, are you ready for a tour around the Fortress of Meropide?"
"Where are we headed first, Your Grace?" She chirped, eyes blown wide like she was on a sugar rush from last time.
Wriothesley raised a scarred brow, "Oh you're letting me decide? In that case you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."
"Yay, I love surprises!"
Even better. This way, he can guarantee that she won't wander off to places she shouldn't be in, no one should be in.
Lunch hour was approaching and the inmates were already finishing up their shifts. He could feel the frequent looks being thrown from the cafeteria, already knowing it will be the hot topic for the next few days or weeks.
Right, then there's this part I have to deal with.
It didn't help that the man's presence alone had the same affect under normal circumstances. Seeing their Warden with a babbling little girl was rather jarring. Mari was...how should he put it, good at stealing the spotlight. So much she easily attracted all the attention from the locals. Wriothesley had never knew someone could be so pestering that it became endearing. Other than you of course. Heh, I guess that's one of many things they have in common.
He doesn't try to hide the smile softening at his features.
"C-Could that be His Grace and..."
Welp, looks like the hot topic is already cooking. Wriothesley pays no mind. There's nothing wrong with being open about his family in front of other people at least. Just because he had a reputation as the Warden to keep doesn't rob him the identity of being a father.
His mind suddenly drifts back to you. Is that why you were so insistent about this earlier?
"Daddy, everyone is looking at us funny."
The word 'daddy' does not escape those around him, percise as a radar and pointed sharply at his direction. Wriothesley expected as much. Actually, he was more surpised she even managed to remember the honorifics for this long, "Ah who cares. Let them do their thing. Anyways, didn't you say you wanted to see how the machines worked?"
A pause before she breaks out into a wide, beaming grin, "Yeah!"
"Then hold on tight," without a warning, Wriothesley lifts her until she was settled on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could, away from the crowd.
•••
"Was that...the Duke just now?"
A confused inmate, still processing at what he just saw, allowed the bitten meal in his hand fall to the plate.
"Who knew His Grace had a soft spot," Another one snickers.
Wolsey who had been tending to the dishes behind the counter exhales exasperatedly, "His Grace ought to be more careful with his actions around others next time."
•••
The shaft doors open to reveal the upper level of the production zone. Wriothesley exits first before gently taking the girl's hand as she shuffled down the two stairs. Thankfully the area had been emptied, except for a few supervisors, it was much more peaceful compared to the cafeteria.
"Wooooahh looks at all those meks!" She ogled. Meks was her way of saying gardemeks. Spending time with a five year old made him more keen to the language innuendos they create, "It's like one gigantic gear working together."
"Not just gears sweetheart, the people here are responsible for making sure ever part of the machine is functioning. Without them, there would be no clockworks you see in the surface," Wriothesley opens a palm while he explains, "I know most of your classmates only think of them as criminals, but criminals have been working for honest income."
"Does that mean the same criminals are now helping to make meks that catches more criminals and keep Fontaine safe?"
The man pauses, thinking for a moment, "You could say that."
"Hmmm," Mari looks down pensively, trying to put two and two together, "So if criminals are honest people, how did they end up in here?"
"Well uhhh... " Wriothesley breathes out quietly. It's complicated. Sometimes he doubts if the word criminal is even a proper label. Becoming a criminal isn't always by choice, some are just born into it, eventually going down a path because there was no where else to go. And the few who escape are the lucky ones, "Ah very tricky, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're here trying to get ideas."
The mischeivious expression he gave her made Mari gasp in disbelief, "I would never break the law daddy!"
"Are you sure?" He insists with jest.
"Yes, and I promised a hundred thousand times already," she emphasized.
Wriothesley pats her lightly on the head. Although his hands were calloused and scared, they carried the weight of a loving father, "Good. I know you'd do the right thing."
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar silouette dressed in pastel colors. Sigewinne had been speaking with Grainville at the Operation and Widget equipment. As you mentioned earlier, the head nurse pays frequent visits to check upon the health conditions of inmates. For the Duke, it was natural that he'd want to know if there was anything he should be concerned about. But now is not the time. He didn't want to drag his daughter when this was meant to be a fun activity of theirs.
"What's that over there?!" She scurries off without a warning, specifically at the direction he was glancing earlier.
Or we can just check it out anyways. Wriothesley thought to himself, using his hands to prop against his knee, standing upright so he could catch up with Mari.
The Melusine was the first to notice, "Your Grace? I'm seeing you everywhere these days. I hope you haven't been swarmed with too much to do."
It's true that Wriothesley had been more present in his timing. The Primordial Sea issue was something he wanted to be resolved as soon as possible, "I'm actually doing just fine, thank you Sigewinne."
"Y-Your Grace. I'm surprised to see you here. Are there any newcomers I must train?" Now it was Grainville's turn to intervene, "Oh, and who's this?"
"Sigewinne?? That's the nurse, daddy?" Mari exclaims, baffled as she compares her height with the other, "Why is she so small like me? Did she get hit by the short disease?"
Jeez. Children can really run around without a filter these days.
"She may be small but a lot more older than she looks," Wriothesley reasons, gentle and firm, "Aren't you forgetting something? In front of you, these people have greeted us the moment we came by. What's the right thing to do, Mari?"
It took some time for her to realize but she perks up as soon as she did. Flustered, the young lass dips herself into a low curtsy, head following suit that her hat fell to the floor, "Good afternoon. My name is Mari. I'm five years old. Nice to meet you all."
Wriothesley maintains a straight face and picks up her hat. On the inside, he could feel his heart squeezing. No matter how many tries you practiced with her, she still doesn't get it quite right. Totally his fault. He never scolds her for it.
"Hello Mari, my name's Sigewinne and I'm the head nurse," the melusine beams, "Though I'm a bit surprised, Your Grace. I thought [Name] said you didn't want to bring your daughter here."
Quick, he had to make an excuse before, "Ah, that's--"
"That's because daddy is awesome and he cares about us so much!"
Urk.
Sigewinne's countenance suggested she caught on that the Warden had a weak spot for his overly coddled daughter, "I see. You're fortunate to have such good parents, Mari. His Grace had put in great effort to ensure the safety and well-being of the Fortress. It's probably why everyone is quite satisfied with living here."
"I know," Mari nods with agreement, "Since daddy does the same thing at home."
Warmth spreads inside his chest and the glaciers of the man's gaze thaws enough for one to notice. Did she truly feel that way? Somehow, for a long time, he didn't think it was enough.
"It's true. His Grace doesn't ostracize anyone and gives them an equal chance of a better life," Grainville added.
Wriothesley crosses his arms and returns a quipped stare, "Indeed. Though I'm afraid flattery will get you as far as none. Best get to work."
Grainville salutes, "Yes, Your Grace!"
"Wait daddy, can I stay and watch?" Mari tugs the hem of his fur coat, "When I go to school tomorrow, I can tell all my friends all the cool things we did today."
He straightens his posture, "No."
"But daddyyyyyyy."
Here we go again. Except this time, the man will avoid all eye contact. Maybe he can try getting earplugs next time, which of course, must be slipped on discreetly so she wouldn't notice. If you were here, he'd be getting an earful of the same conversation he had in the office. Equipment processors can be dangerous to use if something suddenly screws loose. Who knows what might happen?
Though a father can only resist so much and he couldn't ignore her forever. Wriothesley relaxes his shoulders, the crease in his forehead fading, "Are you sure you can be careful?"
"Careful is my middlename!"
"Grainville," Wriothesley commands. Authority drips from his voice that the supervisor nearly flinched from his place, "Check if there's any malfunction in Operations and Widget equipment. I expect a thorough search once I get return from lunch."
Without a moment hesitation, Grainville executes his task as if his life depends on it.
"Daddy, can we go buy some food?" Mari looks up, "I want Fonta!"
"No junk food until you eat properly," though now she mentions it, he is craving a cup of tea by now.
Walking out of the shaft once more, Wriothesley takes another look at the environment surrounding the cafeteria, through a different lens than the last. He recalls his first day. Young, brash, and full of poor judgement. They were not the best memories, but they were certainly memories.
How things have changed. For the better, as it should. To Wriothesley, that was probably the most important aspect of all. He likes seeing signs of strength and hope, reassuring him that tomorrow will be a better day. Though he made peace with the present constantly filling him with doubt. Can the same progress be as steady as he wanted?
He thought about what you said. Then the words he heard from others. The Fortress of Meropide had improved to the point it could function autonomously. On top of that, he received high praise from both surface dwellers and those who lived in the underworld. What drives him to maintain this environment stems from his past. The good and the bad. The mistakes and lessons. The two shades of the same color blurred into one.
"Daddy, I just want to tell you, I had so much fun today. Thank you for bringing me here!"
And if those experiences of his could ensure that his daughter could live a safe and peaceful childhood, then that's everything he can ask for.
977 notes · View notes
yasemei · 26 days
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Aventurine, Jing Yuan,Sunday, Blade and Wriothesley celebrating teen!reader’s birthday!!
🪷 Genre: Platonic + Found family
🌸 a/n: its my birthday so I decided to actually write something today!! :) english is not my native language so please excuse any errors
🪻 father figure characters / topaz, dr.ratio, yanqing, robin,kafka, silver wolf, elio and sigewinne mentioned / reader is a prisoner at fortress of meropide in wriothesley‘s part
~ Aventurine ~
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Aventurine probably didnt celebrate many birthdays, including his own, but he really cared for you and wanted to make yours special.
He would buy something you really wanted, no matter how expensive it is, he is going to spoil you rotten.
He would also buy a very sweet and expensive cake for you, he always takes note of your preferences and likes, so he buys the most suited cake and gifts for you.
He tries to get a break from work to celebrate with you, if he cant manage to you would just celebrate at his office.
He has no problem if you want to celebrate just with him, but if you want more people and not feel lonely, he would try to get dr.ratio and topaz to celebrate with you. (with a lot of effort)
Ratio would be hard, but if youre a student of his and Aventurine manages to convince him enough, he would buy you a small gift and text happy birthday to you.
Topaz wouldnt mind celebrating your birthday, despite her not being too fond of Aventurine, it wouldnt take too much convincing to get her to celebrate your birthday. She would buy you a nice gift and personally wish you a happy birthday.
You two spend the all night having fun. He personally tucks you to bed when you get sleepy. (He might even carry you)
Seeing you grow up and enjoying your youthful years satisfies him than any gamble could ever do. He follows the path of preservation, he would do almost anything to preserve your youth and happiness— something that sadly wasnt done for him.
~ Jing Yuan ~
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Jing Yuan is used to celebrating birthdays, he celebrates Yanqing’s every year after all.
He also buys you great gifts and cake. Like Aventurine he makes sure to remember your likes and preferences.
He is also pretty busy, but he would make time for you since its your birthday.
Yanqing would celebrate with you as well.
He tucks Yanqing and you to bed before going back to the endless paperwork on his desk.
He has a big soft spot for you and Yanqing, watching you two grow up makes him bittersweet, knowing that you two are going to be adults one day and not spend as much time with him as you do now.
But he believes that you two will be good and responsible adults thanks to his guidance.
~ Sunday ~
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Sunday would be make extra time for you, also inviting Robin for your birthday
He would buy you a gift from a very luxurious store in Golden Hour, he even orders a special birthday cake for you.
Robin would personally sing happy birthday to you with her angelic voice
Sunday already has a tendency to dote on you, but not directly since he is busy, he leaves random gifts during the day and has bloodhounds watch over you to ensure your safety while he is busy working.
But for the sake of your birthday; you, him and Robin had lots of fun together.
~ Blade ~
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Blade wasnt too sure what to for your birthday, ever since he adopted his new identity, he has been disconnected from people, only living as a weapon.
But you were special to him, he always felt the need to protect and care for you. Maybe you had bringed out the fatherly instincts that he didnt even know he had.
He goes to Silver Wolf and Kafka for advice.
He ultimately decides to make you a handmade gift, he used to make weapons after all, his crafting skills are incredible, maybe not as much as it was when he was still Yingxing, but he is still talented.
Kafka buys the cake and some accesories or clothing as gifts
Silver Wolf would hack into a rich persons account to get you something you really wanted.
Elio doesnt give you any missions, you and your fellow stellaron hunters celebrate together when they come back
Blade would carry you to bed when you get tired, he would even tuck you in if you ask nicely
~ Wriothesley ~
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Wriothesley would buy a cake and gift for you from the overworld
You two and Sigewinne celebrate together by drinking tea and having cake
You and Wriothesley already spend a lot of time together since you work directely under him
Seeing you grow up safely makes him happy, even though you are a prisoner, he has a huge soft spot for you
He would also tuck you in, but he would do it secretly so the other inmates dont see him being a massive softie, he has a reputation to uphold after all and cant have the inmates misbehaving or maybe even using you against him
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g3tosugu · 4 months
Text
wake up, sleepyhead
wriothesley x f!reader
wc: 2.1k
synopsis: this was just an excuse to write sleepy grumpy domestic wriothesley that is the whole point of this lmfao
a/n: i started writing this in past tense and then halfway through i changed to present tense for some reason???? anyway i just went with the present tense for this one so i apologize if you don't like that :c
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It's been about a week since you left the Fortress of Meropide. You had gone home to visit with your family after not seeing them in so long. Ever since you moved down to the Fortress of Meropide you were rarely without your boyfriend, Wriothesley. You were coping rather okay. It felt weird at first but you have your family with you. Wriothesley? Well, he had his own ways of coping. By burying himself in his work. Not only was he working harder than necessary, he was also beginning to take it out on others. It was pretty obvious to most of the prisoners and other workers that the Duke was in a mood.
“Wait, the Duke is coming, let’s move over to the cafeteria. His grace has been pretty agitated lately” a prisoner whispers to his friend in the direction of the production zone. The corner of Wriothesley’s mouth twitches in annoyance as he passes by them, fully being able to hear. “Don’t you have work you could be doing you two?” he speaks over his shoulder. Normally, he wouldn’t have given a remark like that any thought but today wasn’t normal. He felt like he was going insane.
"You know what" he turns to the guard that has been walking by his side, "Please give Miss Sigewinne my sincerest apologies. I have some work I would like to deal with back in my office". "Of course, your grace" the guard salutes and continues to make his way to the infirmary. Meanwhile, Wriothesley begins stomping his way back to his office. Once he is alone, he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs a very heavy and loud sigh. "I just need to get to work" he tries to shrug off whatever it is that is making him feel so insane.
When he sits down in his chair to begin working, the words on the papers in front of him seem almost foreign. His mind begins to trail off. The day before you left, the two of you went to the overworld to do some window shopping. You had been begging him for forever to do more domestic activities together. It wasn't that he didn't want to do those things with you, he just wasn't sure it would suit him or that he would even be good at them. He didn't want his lack of interest to drag down the mood but he knew he would be a fool if he ever turned down an offer to spend more time with you.
Images of you that day continue to pop up. The way the sun kissed your skin and made you almost glow, even in the light. The way you would engage in friendly conversation with the other Fontainians so effortlessly. It was like he was spending his days with an angel. You had run into Charlotte from the Steambird while you were out. He wasn't super familiar with the woman, only having met her on one or two occasions, but he knew you two were close. Before you moved down to the Fortress of Meropide you had actually worked at the Steambird. A little while after you worked there you almost got a job at the Court but Monsieur Neuvillette thought you would fit well working alongside Wriothesley. At first when he had discovered the Iudex had sent you to work with him, he was a little irritated. He wasn't one to go against the wishes of Neuvillette so of course he trusted his judgment regardless of his own personal feelings. But, not soon after you began your time there, he quickly realized the real reason why you were sent down there.
"So, how is Y/n doing with her position at the Fortress?" Neuvillette asked Wriothesley after they finished discussing other work matters. He eyed the Iudex for a moment, "I'm sure you can make a pretty good educated guess". A sly smile slowly graced Neuvillette's face, "That's good. I often worry you get too wrapped up in your work and forget that you can still be a person and not just the Duke". His sincere words make Wriothesley soften his body language a little more.
"I hope you are happy"
"I am. Thank you"
As Wriothesley's mind continues to play through the last time he was with you, his head lowers onto his desk and into his arms. His eyes close as he tries to soothe the headache that is beginning to pound at the back of his head with his thoughts of you. It wasn't long before he was asleep.
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When you arrive at the Fortress of Meropide you take in a long drawn out breath. "Home" you softly say to yourself. Yes you just were home technically but, this is different. This has become your new home.
You first make your way to the infirmary to visit with Sigewinne. "Y/n! You're back!" she smiles brightly before giving you a hug. "Oh I've missed you so much Sigewinne. I hope things have been alright down here" you fix her hat and hair for her after having accidentally tousled it in the hug. "Things have been fine! The Duke has been a little troublesome to deal with however" she giggles. "Oh? Has he been upset?" you ask concerned. "He's just been working a lot and it's been putting him in a bad mood. Although, I'm pretty sure it's just because he's been missing you so much" she explains. You smile fondly at the girl "I see. Well, I just wanted to see you to give you this" you reach into your bag and pull out a very ornate looking wooden bowl. Sigewinne's face lights up, "Ooh! You didn't need to bring me a gift". "Oh please there was no way I wasn't going to bring you something back. I just thought you might like to use it for medicine or even making your drinks" you smile as she takes the bowl from your hands. Her hands trace over the carvings of the bowl and she smiles up at you, "Thank you so much. I will make excellent use out of this!".
"It was nothing. Well, I'm going to go see Wriothesley now" you start to say your goodbye. "Oh, by the way, he was supposed to meet with me today to discuss something but he didn't show up. When the guard told me he decided not to come see me I got worried so I went to check on him" she goes on. "Is something the matter?" you ask as you wait for her to get to the point of her story. "He was asleep at his desk when I got there" she giggles softly. You smile "Don't worry. I'll make sure he gets proper rest in his own bed later".
You try to open and close the doors to Wriothesley's office as quietly as you possibly can. They are rather heavy doors and it's sort of a chore to open them at times which makes times of sneaking in very difficult. Guess that was the point. Once you make your way up the steps, you finally see him. Soundly sleeping with his head in his arms on his desk. You can't help the adoring smile that spreads across your face. His lips are slightly parted and his hair is gently tousled. When you get closer to him you notice a pink star sticker pressed to his cheek. "Oh Sigewinne" you softly laugh.
You've finally decided that you've admired your boyfriend and his beauty long enough. "Wriothesley" you gently touch his shoulder and say his name in a light sing-song voice to rouse him awake. His eyes flutter open and when they focus and see you standing next to him, he feels like he can breathe again. "You're back" his voice is just a little husky from having been sleeping with his mouth slightly open. "Indeed I am. Why are you asleep at your desk?" you ask as you set your bag down and begin to reorganize the papers that are messily spread around his desk.
He scratches the back of his head and yawns, "I was just resting my eyes". The way you immediately side eye him doesn't go unnoticed. "I talked to Sigewinne" you finish tidying, "She told me you've been burying yourself in work and you've been having a temper with everyone".
Wriothesley doesn't respond. He just stands up and pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "Archon, I've missed you so much" he sighs and takes a deep breath to take in your scent. Your heart melts as you feel the soft hum in his chest as he holds you against him. "I've missed you too, my love" you let one arm move from his back to allow your hand to find his hair. You rake your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck and you can almost feel him hold you tighter after the gesture. He really did miss you.
"How about, I get you home and get you to bed. It's starting to get late and you need a proper night of sleep" you gently push him away from you because you knew he wasn't moving if you didn't tell him to. The more the two of you stood there not embracing, the more his body mourned the loss of your touch. The man groans slightly when you move even further away from him to get ready to leave.
"Man you are just Mr. Grumpypants" you tease as you sling your bag over your shoulder. Wriothesley chuckles, "Can you blame me? I've been without Mrs. Grumpypants for the past week" he grabs his coat off the back of his chair. "'Mrs?'" you glance over at him before fixing your hair. The grumpy mood that he was in suddenly dissipates when he hears the hopeful sounding tone in your voice.
He walks over to you and lifts his hand to the side of your face and cups your cheek. His thumb gently rubs your cheekbone and you nestle your face into his hand like you have to chase it. Your eyes look up into his. "I know that look" you softly say as you feel yourself sway closer into him. You never thought you would live to see the day where the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide had the most intense look of yearning you've ever seen on a person's face.
You lift your hand to the back of his head and pull him down to kiss him. The way your lips move in sync with each other and how connected you feel in the moment is enough to make you feel like you were in a dream. His rough hands everyone knows can cause serious damage are now delicately placed in your hair and on your waist.
When you separate, you move your hand from his hair and finally remove the sticker that was stuck to the side of his face. "Couldn't have said anything earlier?" he laughs. "What? Pink is totally your color" you grin.
When the two of you return home together, Wriothesley thinks back to the thoughts he was having before he fell asleep in his office. The thought he had about how he knew you loved the domesticity in a relationship. He looked down at his hands and at the scars that covered his arms. The same hands and arms that hold you so gently. Memories flood his mind of all the times the two of you held each other, made dinner together and shared stories of your days with each other. "I was thinking" he starts as you enter the room for bed, "We should make that window shopping thing a weekly thing". "Oh yeah?" you smile. You make your way across the room to him and stand in front of where he is sitting on the edge of the bed. He absentmindedly reaches out for you and pulls you onto his lap so you straddle him. Him being touchy when you were alone wasn't abnormal. The fact that you knew he was acting like this because of how much he missed you made it different. "I think instead of just window shopping once a week, how about we go see a show at the opera house? You always talk about how you've been missing it" you suggest as you run your fingers through his hair. A toothy grin forms on his face, "I can't wait". He wasn't as bad at this domestic stuff as he thought.
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shegatsby · 26 days
Text
Love Thy Enemy
Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.
A/N; Hi my little doves, I've missed you, I'm in love with my work lol I really enjoy writing this series so don't forget to share your thoughts with me. Don't worry, there will be SMUT in the future chapters. Sorry for any typos English isn't my first language.
TAG LIST IS OPEN! (Text me if i forgot to tag you little doves 🕊️ ♥️)
Warnings; Violence. Angst. Enemies to lovers. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha,reader is reffered to as she/her.
Words; 2.232K
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Chapter Four- ‘’Misery Begins’’
Giedi Prime, House Harkonenn
The air felt heavy in her lungs, the planet was orbiting a black sun, thus, everything outside looked black and white, no wonder these people were raised like animals, planet’s harsh conditions shaped their characteristics. The second she stepped out of the ship she hated every single thing but kept a firm stance.
Now she was settling in the guest quarters, the wedding was to be in 7 days and thankfully Harkonnen traditions says that they, under any circumstance, cannot stay in the same room.
Y/N had few of her personal maids and the rest was Harkonnen servants, all dressed in black with bald heads and pale, thin figures. Y/N noticed the looks she got from them, an outsider…
Inside the fortress one could see colors yet Harkonenns choose to keep it simple, her chambers consisted of a bedroom,  a small living room, and bathroom. Without a word she moved to the velvet armchair which was facing outside, she didn’t want to engage in any conversation with anyone, ‘’Prepare my bath.’’ She ordered without looking at any of them and then moved to the desk in her bedroom to write a letter to her family saying that she landed on the planet safely and everything was fine of course she knew that every letter she would sent was going to be read by Feyd-Rautha’s most trusted politicians, maybe even by himself so she kept the letter short. ‘’Send this to my family.’’ She gave the metal, thin device which was the letter to a servant, ‘’Yes my Lady.’’
After her bath which consisted of warm water and bath oils she brought from home, she smelled fresh and felt better. She was on her desk reading when her door was knocked, ‘’Yes?’’
A servant girl entered, she looked sickly pale and thin, her eyes on the floor, her hands interlaced on her thin stomach, ‘’Na-Baron wishes to dine with you my Lady.’’ It wasn’t a wish, it was an order. ‘’The trip have made me exhausted, please tell Na-Baron that I desire to rest.’’
She noticed the girl’s change of body language, her eyes rose to look at her ladyship pleadingly.  Y/N kindly smiled at the girl, oblivious to what was going to happen, she dismissed the servant girl.
The black sun of Giedi Prime shone bright just like the day before, Y/N decided to do some reading, learn more about the planet’s ecosystem. She had a light breakfast, the air still stingy in her lungs, she didn’t have much appetite.
Y/N Atreides was on her desk, taking notes and reading and her door knocked, ‘’Come in.’’ she was focused on the old books, ‘’My Lady.’’
‘’Yes?’’ she turned to face a man, he was a guard in his dark uniform. ‘’Na-Baron has a gift for you. He insists that you should open it after I am dismissed.’’ A strange request but what wasn’t strange about him anyways?!
Y/N couldn’t read the guard’s expression, his face was a blank slate, however he look more pale than usual skin color, was he ill? ‘’Thank you, place the box on the floor and you may be dismissed.’’ He did what he was told. She stood up and approached to the metal box, there was a strong smell of iron coming from it, it appeared there was no lock, no writings. Just in case, she placed the portable force field on her hand, activated it and tested it, working just fine.
Her hand went to open the metal box and her first reaction was to scream in terror, and her second reaction was to run to her bathroom and throw up her breakfast, shaking uncontrollably, on her knees like a wild animal.
Y/N Atreides didn’t know how many minutes or decades she had spent in that position, finally one of her old maids came for her rescue. ‘’My Lady…’’ she was an old woman with white hair and motherly touch, ‘’It’s okay now..’’ she was rubbing Y/N’s back gently and whispering kind words.  ‘’Is it-‘’ she sobbed, ‘’is it gone?’’
‘’I took care of it my Lady.’’ She helped Y/N stand up and leave the bathroom. The metal box which had the servant girl’s head was gone and yet she could feel her eyes watching her every move. She threw the shield on her hand and marched out of her chambers. There was a solider guarding her chambers, ‘’Where is Na-Baron?’’ she asked trying to control her tone. ‘’He has a meeting with Baron Vladimir and Glossu Rabban.’’
‘’Take me to him.’’ She said, could feel the anger on her chest, so hefty. ‘’But my Lady-‘’
‘’Take me to him.’’ She used the voice on him, the guard, without a word started to guide her to the meeting room. The corridors of the fortress were mostly black, some grey and white here and there, there were guards on watch duties, servants cleaning or carrying stuff. It was so different than the environment she grew up in, in Caladan or Emperor’s planet was vivid and thriving, here it was just… lifeless. She cursed her fate.
There were two guards on the doors of the meeting room, ‘’Open.’’ She used the voice again and the doors were opened slowly, Baron Vladimir was sitting on a metal chair which was placed on marble steps, towering over Glossu Rabban and Feyd-Rautha who were standing and looking up at him, listening to him as if their lives depend on it.. well.. they weren’t wrong. Baron was surprised to see her. ‘’Lady Y/N!’’ he announced which made the boys look at her direction but she refused to look at them, her focus was on Baron. ‘’What a lovely surprise, I hope you quarters to your liking.’’ Y/N bowed in courtesy, ‘’Thank you my Baron, you are the most generous.’’ She had to control her anger and she was doing a good job, keeping things formal. She had to be respectful to the family otherwise her position let alone her life would be at stake, she remembered Feyd’s words; ‘’Try to humiliate me again and see what happens, little dove.’’ The room was barren with only a long marble table and chairs, the curtains were closed and white glowglobes lighting the room, no carpets, no ornaments. ‘’What do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’’ he asked, she could see he was trying to understand her moves. ‘’I must speak with Na-Baron. It is urgent.’’ Finally she turned to face him, even though he was standing far away she could see his body reacting to her words, he was alert and an animalistic shine on his eyes. ‘’Feyd, please escort your wife-to-be to a more secluded area and discuss.’’ His uncle said and Feyd bowed to him quickly, ‘’Yes uncle.’’ And then he turned to her, marching like a soldier, he held her arm and escorted her out of the room, his grip was tight, he made her follow him. Since there were guards and servants everywhere she didn’t dare to utter a word.
Y/N had no idea where they were going, the fortress was a maze and every corridor looked similar. They reached a door, Feyd dismissed the guards and opened the heavy black door. Quite frankly he threw her inside, before she got a chance to look around she spit her venom. ‘’What is wrong with you?!’’ Feyd looked puzzled, ‘’Did you really beheaded that girl just because I refused to dine with you?!’’ she could feel her whole body shake in anger, being in his presence disturbed her equilibrium. ‘’Oh, that.’’ He remembered, his behavior made it worse for her. ‘’Yes, that!’’ He didn’t close the space between them, his hands behind his back. ‘’Did I upset you, little dove?’’ was he mocking her? ‘’Upset?!’’ Y/N couldn’t believe her ears, what happened to that sweet boy she met years ago?
He started to move towards her like a predator, he was much taller than her, towering above her she had to look up to meet his icy blue orbits. Years had turned him into a killing machine, what a shame. She hoped to see remorse in those beautiful eyes but found nothing. Back of his hand found her heated cheek, touching ever so gently, it made one wonder how could he behead an innocent girl and then touch his wife-to-be like a tender lover. ‘’This is what happens when you reject my orders.’’ His voice calm and collective. ‘’I hate you!’’ and she pushed his chest but had no impact so she moved away from his aura. That’s when she noticed that they were in his quarters of the fortress, she remembered the fact that he dismissed the guards, no one to help her if things were to took a turn. ‘’You hate me?’’ he asked, still calm. ‘’What else… do you also fear me?’’
‘’No.’’ she simply answered. His none existent eyebrows rose, his pupils dilated ever so slightly, she noticed how still he was, like a statue. His nostrils flared with a passion she could not placed.
‘’No? So you don’t fear me.’’ He repeated back, folding his arms, he wasn’t angry, only curious. ‘’Not at all?’’
‘’You aren’t allowed to hurt me.’’ Her voice higher than his.
‘’Not allowed?’’ he tilted his head, his voice low and husky, ‘’and how can you be so certain of such?’’ a slight smile pulled at his plump lips, ‘’What makes you so confident in that?’’ he knew his own intentions but he was curios of what went on within her pretty head. There was a certain aura about Y/N that intrigued Feyd, he was watching, listening and studying her.
‘’Let me go back to my home.’’ She whispered, even she didn’t believe herself but that was her intention, to go back and ride her horse, walk in the lush gardens, laugh with her other Bene Gesserit friends. ‘’You assume you have the final word where you go.’’ He chuckled, his voice lower than before. ‘’I decide where you go.’’ His gaze grew sharp like an animal, ‘’I decide what you do. And what I decide..’’ Feyd laughed again, ‘’You’re going to obey.’’
‘’I had a life before you took me, I had a family and friends and, and..’’ she could feel her eyes getting blurry, ‘’And?’’ he insisted, ‘’I had a partner, a lover, and you scared him away!’’ she was practically yelling at this point, female rage taking over her body. ‘’A lover? Don’t make me laugh little girl. If he was so in love with you-‘’ he opened his arms looking around, ‘’where is he? Why isn’t he here defending your honor and saving you from me?!’’ with the mention of Y/N’a former partner Pyramus, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t so calm anymore, he could feel rage rising in his body.  
‘’Because of you! You scared him and he ran! Otherwise he would be here-‘’
‘’Don’t be that stupid Y/N! He wasn’t so scared when I offered him a deal.’’
And with that Y/N was confused, ‘’What deal?’’
Feyd-Rautha was pacing in the room in anger, he couldn’t believe she was still ‘’in love’’ with that low life, waste of space. ‘’I offered him a supply of spice which will outlive him and his children and his children’s children. A generation wealth so to speak.’’
Y/N was shaking her head in rejection, her gaze focused on the floor, ‘’No, no,’’ she whispered, not believing what Feyd was suggesting. ‘’Yes Y/N! Your lover didn’t hesitate a second and took the deal.’’
‘’Then why did he try to escape with me?!’’ she yelled in pain, her heart was torn into pieces, ‘’I wanted you to see how pathetic he was and I staged it.’’ Feyd’s chest heaving with anger and he was so passionate to prove her he was right, he turned to go to the next room and brought back a metal device, he opened it, ‘’Here, he signed the deal.’’ She took it and saw the spice deal written on it, millions of gallons.. and Pyramus’ signature at the bottom…
Feyd grabbed the metal device and threw it on the couch near him, ‘’Not going to lie, you weren’t cheap.’’ And she slapped him.
Feyd-Rautha was slapped by a woman for the first time in his life, he froze for a second, shocked to see how bold she could be. He was even turned on a bit. With both of his hands he grabbed her delicate shoulders tightly, he was much stronger than her. ‘’LET GO OF ME-‘’
Feyd-Rautha didn’t care what she wanted, ‘’I might hurt you physically Y/N, but I would never do that to you. I would never sell what’s mine for something else. Do you hear me?!’’ his voice was rough and irritated her ears, her body was in shock and her shoulders hurting her. ‘’I would never leave what’s mine behind and walk away, I am a man, see me as a man not that little boy you met years ago!’’
Was that a love confession, no it couldn’t be.. someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen couldn’t possibly feel something so pure and innocent, or was it just being possessive and showing her that her life was in his hands till death do them apart. The stress overcame her body, her vision was getting darker and the last thing she saw was Feyd’s pretty eyes.
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Thank you for reading. :)
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mentalpolaroids · 6 months
Text
Wolf's Home
(Part I)
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Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader
Summary: Geralt takes Ciri to Kaer Morhen and reunites not only with his family of witchers, but also with the person that makes him feel at home the most
a/n: this is sort of rewrite of S02E02. Sorry for the use of (y/n) but couldn't really think of a name for the reader. Also, this is my first try at writing for The Witcher so be nice to me please!!
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She woke up that morning expecting to face another routine-repeating day, possibly with an occasional healing of one of the witchers coming back to Kaer Morhen from a hunt, or coming up with a new excuse as to why she didn’t want to eat whatever crap Lambert cooked for them. His turn on food duty was always a dreadful one.
Her days were never too adventurous, not since Vasemir had insisted on a more permanent stay at the keep two years ago, when she was dragged through the Blue Mountains by a silver haired witcher, both injured, after fighting and killing a monster together. An encounter she still couldn’t really understand to this day, how they happened to be in the same place, at the same time, looking for the same creature, but she knew better than to question Destiny. 
Even with her own wounds to take care of, she still healed Geralt of Rivia first, who fell under her natural charm like a trap. He wondered if it was a spell, the way he so easily was put at ease in her presence. She was a mage after all. But as the days passed, he concluded that there was no spell besides the one used to close the gash on his abdomen. That woman was simply a caretaker by heart, one that somehow remained open and pure even knowing of the existence of nasty beings out there in the Continent. Everyone else in the Fortress seemed to be as mesmerized, and so, she was welcomed with open arms to stay, and heal, and fight with the witchers. 
The ropes were starting to burn the palm of her hands from all the knots she had conquered in the last hour, but she definitely didn’t mind because it was at least keeping her hands warm as she stood outside, light snow falling over the already white ground. 
One of the few advantages of the icy weather was that they could hear when someone was approaching, the crunch of the footsteps over the snow being hard to disguise. She heard those in the distance, but it was of a horse. (y/n) dropped the rope and grabbed her sword, preparing herself for the sight of the intruder before making her own known. But, the sight wasn’t at all what she expected. She didn’t know what to expect at all, but it sure wasn’t a familiar brown horse carrying Geralt of Rivia accompanied by a blonde girl, who (y/n) quickly convinced herself must’ve been a princess, if not for her looks, for her posture. She looked like she didn’t belong there, nor next to someone with the nickname The Butcher of Blaviken. 
The girl got down from Roach and looked around curiously. Her dress blended with the snow, from afar, (y/n) wondered if she was even real. Her gaze didn’t last long on the girl when Geralt got down from his horse too, the mere sight of his face barely visible under his dark cloak sent a shiver of excitement to her stomach. He had always had that effect on her, but it seemed the longer she went without seeing him, the stronger the sensation got after meeting again. 
The witcher and the princess shared words (y/n) couldn’t really hear from where she was still in the hiding, and as they started to walk towards the main entrance of the Fortress, the mage put down her sword and walked towards them. 
“You sure we’re safe here?” the princess asked Geralt, who walked in front of her. (y/n) was not close enough to hear the question, not yet to be noticed. 
“Safer than out there.” 
Her voice seemed to echo in the silence of their footsteps coming to a stop, both turning their heads to their right, finally acknowledging her. Geralt’s lips curved into a brief smile, his yellow eyes softening when they locked with hers. (y/n) smiled back, the shiver in her stomach was now climbing to her chest and for a moment she forgot he could probably feel her heart beating faster. Good thing she didn’t mind him knowing how she felt around him. 
Three steps away from coming face to face with the witcher, she slowed her pace, planning to walk past them. 
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my dearest friend in all the Continent.”
“It’s great to see you.” 
“Oh I’m afraid I was speaking to my best girl here.” (y/n) approached Roach, caressing the horse over her nose and planting a light kiss on her short fur, “But it’s great to see you too, Wolf.” she walked towards him again, for a second forgetting it wasn’t just the two of them there. The way Geralt followed every step of hers, his gaze warm even in the middle of a Winter day. (y/n) opened her arms to him, “Welcome home.”
The man embraced her tightly against him and it felt like getting drowned in memories of his days with her. He had forgotten how much he cherished her affection, and holding her reminded him how nice it was to let his guard down for a brief moment. It all felt like he had never left. 
“I missed you.” he murmured, unrecognizably self-conscious. He surely didn’t enjoy showing this vulnerable side of him, especially in front of someone else.
“I’m sure you did.” (y/n) let go of him, casting him a warm, welcoming smile, before looking to the girl standing behind him, now more curious about the pair’s dynamic than the Fortress, “And who’s this poor thing having to deal with your company?” 
“This is Ciri.” 
“Ciri.” (y/n) tried the name on her lips. She walked towards her with the same welcoming smile, but a different fondness in her eyes, “It’s nice to meet you, Ciri.” she said as she extended her hand to the girl, “I’m (y/n).”
“It’s nice to meet you too.” she spoke softly, clearly wary of meeting a new face, but the shadow of a smiling curve on her lips showed potential trust as she accepted the handshake. After all, the woman was obviously someone dear to Geralt, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Is that so?” (y/n) smirked, hoping the cold outside cooled the warmth spreading across her face. She turned to Geralt, who watched the two girls interact, but the words were directed to Ciri, “I’m sure I have a lot to hear about you, too.” It was a warning to the witcher: an endless night of chatting was to come, questions needed to be answered, stories to be told and his whereabouts to be known. 
As if reading Ciri’s mind, (y/n) squeezed her shoulder and tilted her head towards the entrance, “Don’t worry, you are safe here.” 
“Keep up.” Geralt told the girl, and both followed (y/n). 
They both pushed the heavy wooden doors and walked into the main room of the Fortress that was occupied with chatty men and the smell of burning wood and ale. (y/n)’s words echoing through the wide space caught their attention. 
“Look what the snow dragged in, boys.”
All eyes turned to the mage and the murmur came to a stop when everybody noticed the figure standing behind her. Her attention turned to Geralt as well, in time to see him remove the hood of his cloak and finally getting a decent view of the face she missed so much. She also checked on Ciri, who looked uneasier than before, standing in the middle of a room full of men. (y/n) winked at her, hoping to reassure her everything was alright. Geralt noticed, and he too turned to the girl and nodded at her before moving to stand beside (y/n) as Lambert stood from his seat and walked towards them. 
“Where the fuck have you been?” 
“We thought you got lost.” Coën followed Lambert, “Or killed.” 
(y/n) rolled her eyes. Geralt smiled tenderly.
“Not yet. Sorry.”  
The mage elbowed his side. She had always hated when he implied the possibility of his death at any moment, considering what he was and he did, in reality it wasn’t a massive impossibility. Still, even a simple joke triggered a non-existent grief that resided in her chest everytime she had to see the witcher leave and go long periods of time without hearing a single word from or about him. In his presence, (y/n) pretended he would stay forever, and if he didn’t stay, he would come back. Everytime. 
Geralt caressed her back and brought her in for the embrace Lambert had already initiated. He then went on greeting and hugging the other witchers and, more than ever, Kaer Morhen felt like a real home. The family was back together. 
“I guess I’m back to being second favorite now that you’re back.” Lambert complained to Geralt, referring to (y/n).
“Who said you were even a favorite in the first place?” 
Geralt laughed. 
“I hope you’ve all been treating her right.”
“We do, but she’s a mean one. Lucky for her, we don’t dislike her cooking.” 
The banter was interrupted by Vasemir, who entered the room already smiling at the sight of the silver haired witcher. 
“Wolf. You’re home.” the elder joined the commotion, “Finally.”
Ciri, still feeling out of place, placed herself visibly between Geralt and (y/n).
“Yeah. I had to make a few stops.” the witcher replied, referring to the princess next to him. 
“He’s home!” 
Once again, the commotion grew around Geralt as they kept celebrating his return. Ciri smiled shyly watching the content interactions.
“Come on,” (y/n) extended her hand for the princess to take, “I’m going to introduce you to everybody.”
When everybody settled enough for the mage to be able to order everyone to be nice to Ciri, the men were somewhat curious about the unexpected guest. The girl seemed less vigilant as she was offered a seat and cup and conversation started flowing as if both her and Geralt had always been there. 
(y/n) stood next to him, a sigh leaving her nostrils as she crossed her arms and discreetly nudged the man’s broad figure. 
“Yeah, I know. I have a lot to tell.”
“Yeah. You do.” 
Geralt looked down at her to meet her eyes and, with a soft motion of his hand, uncrossed her arms. He smiled, in a way she knew he was promising to stay for a while. She couldn’t tell what he thought her eyes were saying, but whatever it was, he felt the need to hold her hand, hidden behind his cloak, caressing the cold skin of her knuckles with his thumb. 
“I’m home.” his hoarse voice, along with the softness of his touch and stare, nearly warmed her up on the spot. 
In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling her he would eventually leave again, but for once, she shut it down. 
.................................................................................
Part II soon!
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