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sansaorgana · 1 month

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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART NINE

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

SUMMARY — Muad'Dib's forces attack the palace during the imperial visit on Arrakis. The new Baroness Harkonnen must face her past and choose her future.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. A month ago (March 6th) I went to the cinema to watch Dune: Part Two and I stayed up until 3am to write the very first chapter of this fic despite having morning classes on the next day. 🙈 I couldn't have known back then what a journey this would be and how many lovely and amazing readers would be so engaged in this story! 💕 This is the final part – but I am willing to write additional one-shots with these characters in the future. Thank you everyone who suggested me the baby names. I went with the idea commented by @alexandrainlove since it made sense to me due to the fact I have already used the name before in this fic. I loved all your recommendations, though! 🥰 Also, I want to credit @houserautha for pointing out that the thick Harkonnen blood (as I have described it in this fic) would actually be an advantage in combat because it would make bleeding out to death more difficult. I know some of you might be disappointed or sad about some events in the last chapter – I decided to go with my original plan for it because, at the end of the day, I can't possibly please everyone anyway. I loved all your ideas and assumptions, though, they made me rethink my plans many times. Love you! 💗

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, violent behaviour, death, murder, childbirth

WORD COUNT — 12,780 (😳)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

You watched the imperial ships land through the window with anticipation and anxiety. They were huge and covered in imperial sigils, now covered with the sand and spice. The symbols of power and influence – a reminder of your whole existence being reduced to the subject and a servant.

Escorted by the guards, you walked down the corridors to greet the guests. Your husband stayed inside to call upon other leaders of the galaxy. Feyd feared that the Emperor had arrived on Arrakis to once again take it from the Harkonnens because of some whim. He wouldn’t let that happen, especially now when it was the first day of his rule as The Baron. Losing such an important planet on the beginning of his reign was a political suicide. But The Harkonnens were in possession of an imperial secret that the Emperor wouldn’t want anyone else to know – his troops had been used to kill the members of the House Atreides… your family. Having other galactic leaders knowing that would mean the end of the Emperor and Feyd-Rautha would not hesitate to threaten him if he was about to take Arrakis from you.

You had just found out that secret and pretended it had not bothered you at all when you walked down the corridor to go outside, accompanied by the guards, with your hand clasped on your abdomen and chin held up high. However, realising the Emperor’s true nature had given you some sort of fighting spirit.

You stood and awaited to face him – The Emperor. The man who was responsible for the death of your family. The next goal of your ambitious game…?

You watched the first men walk out of the imperial ship. The Sardaukar fanatic soldiers caused a shiver to go down your spine. Your few Harkonnen guards suddenly started to feel like little mice locked in a cage with a bunch of fat cats. You almost overlooked The Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV. He was older and weaker than you had expected and remembered from his visits on Caladan. At the sight of him, your mind filled with intrusive thoughts of how easy it would be to simply… get rid of him.

The Sardaukar soldier’s loud and powerful salute at their Emperor made you shake those thoughts off. Then you spotted two women leaving the ship as well and you started to feel sick when you noticed Bene Gesserit’s Reverend Mother dressed all in black with a veil covering her face.

But you’d recognise her everywhere. You remembered when Lady Jessica had walked you out of your birthday party after turning sixteen. She had taken you to a dark room where this very Reverend Mother had been waiting. Your humanity had been tested in the Gom Jabbar and never before nor after you had experienced such pain in your life. The Reverend Mother had looked at Lady Jessica and uttered out only three words to describe you.

Human… but weak.

You hadn’t gone back to the party. Instead, you had spent the rest of the night by your mother’s grave where your father had eventually found you.

You had been hoping to never see that woman ever again in your life. But here she was now, once again testing you on such a special day as the beginning of your reign.

The other woman was much younger. It was Princess Irulan, daughter of the Emperor. You looked deep into her eyes and she stared back, widening hers. Her dress looked like armour, too.

You had met her only once where you two were children. You had been playing together but she had been very upset at the fact that you had been holding the same title.

“I am not as important as you are, Irulan,” you had been trying to explain to her. “Duke’s daughter is called a Princess but our ranks are not equal. You are an Imperial Princess.”

“I should be the only Princess in the galaxy,” Irulan had pouted at you.

You approached the delegation and bowed down. Technically, you should be kneeling but the late Baron Harkonnen had taught you a few things before his pathetic end. One of them was to always remind the Emperor of the power the Harkonnens were holding. To treat him more as if he was an equal than a superior. You commanded an army bigger than him and your wealth was much more impressive.

“Your Imperial Highness,” you looked up at him and straightened your back. He was staring at you and furrowing his brows, most likely surprised that you were greeting him alone with only a few guards. “Your visit is an honour to us,” you added. “Sadly, we experienced a great loss last night as Muad’Dib’s forces assassinated our beloved late Baron Vladimir Harkonnen,” you faked a shiver of your voice. “Forgive the new Baron,my husband, for not coming out with me to greet you, Your Imperial Highness. He is very busy with his new duties and obligations,” you explained.

The Reverend Mother leaned into the Emperor's ear and whispered something to him. You didn’t like that at all. But he only nodded and raised a hand at his guards to keep following him as he approached you slowly.

“I am very sorry to hear about your loss, Baroness Harkonnen, Duchess Atreides,” he addressed you elegantly and you bowed down again. Once he joined you, you began to walk side by side. His daughter and the Bene Gesserit followed very closely.

“Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” you faked the sadness of your smile.

“The reason for my visit is the man you have mentioned… Muad’Dib,” he added and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I am aware that we have not caught him yet but now, after last night’s events… I am sure my husband will do everything in his power to avenge his uncle’s death. Muad’Dib’s days are numbered, Your Imperial Highness,” you tried to assure him. “He is nothing but a terrorist. Not only he slayed our late Baron but also some of the servants and most of the guards.”

“What a miracle that is that you and your husband were spared,” The Emperor pointed out and you could swear that there was a shadow of a smirk on his face.

“Prepare the throne room for The Emperor,” you looked at the servants approaching you and they nodded before running away as fast as possible with their heads held low. Then you turned around to look at The Emperor again. “Not lucky, no. We just weren’t the main target. But I am sure he will be back for us.”

“Forgive me, Baroness, I need to rest after the long journey,” The Emperor nodded at you and you bowed down.

“My servants will show you to your rooms as the throne room is being prepared for you to use it when you are rested, Your Imperial Highness,” you told him and nodded at another pair of servants who had just approached you. “Please, do forgive us for our lack of preparations and today’s chaos.”

“It is quite understandable after such a tragedy,” he assured you and walked away with his daughter and some of the soldiers. The rest of The Sardaukar stayed inside to monitor the corridors.

You turned around, ready to go back to your husband when you almost bumped into The Reverend Mother who had stayed behind you.

“Excuse me,” you faked a smile and tried to walk past her but she stood in your way once again. “What seems to be the problem?” You asked.

“The child inside you was not a part of our breeding program,” she stated casually. You felt your son moving as if he knew she was talking about him. You put your hand on your swollen womb protectively.

“I do not care about your breeding program, with all respect. I just want to give House Harkonnen a male heir,” you explained.

“The child is too powerful,” she told you but her words did not make you proud. They sounded too sinister to take it as a compliment.

“In what way?” You raised an eyebrow. “Am I not weak, Reverend Mother?”

“The Harkonnen medics have overdone themselves, Baroness. Your child does not only have all the best genetic material of your flesh and mind… but of all the Atreides and the Harkonnen families. He will be an unstoppable force if trained properly,” the woman whispered.

“I have already promised you a daughter… under certain conditions. I am not giving you a son,” you hissed.

“That is the point, Baroness. It is a shame your child is a son. But do keep going… If the Harkonnen medics are so advanced already, I cannot wait for the daughter you will give us,” you could spot a smile under the veil as your jaw clenched.

“If I were you, I would fear the day she is born,” you nodded at her and walked away. This time she allowed you to, but she kept staring at you until you disappeared behind the corner to go back to Feyd and tell him about the reason for The Emperor’s sudden visit.

“I have brought back the spice production to full efficiency, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd explained himself as he was looking up at The Emperor sitting on the Arrakis’ throne with his daughter and The Reverend Mother standing beside him. He had been questioning your husband for the last fifteen minutes, as if it was really an interrogation which would decide whether he should keep governing Arrakis or not.

“Have you, Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen? Or has your late uncle done that?” The Emperor asked.

You were standing a step behind your husband, with your head kept low and your hands clasped on your abdomen, playing a dutiful wife. You knew that showing off your power and influence in front of The Emperor would only make Feyd look even weaker in his eyes.

“He was a great help but I was The Governor of Arrakis, with all respect,” Feyd answered, trying to hide his anger and frustration.

“And what about that idiot brother of yours?”

“Count Rabban has been dismissed. He’s on his way to Giedi Prime now, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd nodded.

“His problems with the spice production were a result of the activity of the mysterious Muad’Dib… You still haven’t caught him either, have you, Baron Harkonnen?” The Emperor hummed to himself. “And last night he slaughtered your uncle, so I’ve been told… Tell me, what do you know about him?”

“He’s one of the Fremen, I assume. A leader of a terrorist group with great influence,” Feyd explained.

“And you, Baroness?” The Emperor addressed you and you looked up, too, surprised to be included. “I have been told of your influence in the House Harkonnen. Do not play a shy mouse with me.”

You smiled nervously at his words and bowed down slightly.

“I did not mean to play anything, Your Imperial Highness. Please, do forgive me for my sombre mood today after last night’s tragic events…” You batted your eyelashes at him and took a step forward. Now you were arm to arm with your husband. “I do not know more than The Baron about Muad’Dib,” you added as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Liar!” The Reverend Mother exclaimed suddenly and the whole room went silent. Feyd turned his head around to squint his eyes at you and with the corner of your own you spotted a hint of sense of betrayal upon his face.

“I am not a liar, Your Imperial Highness,” you shook your head. “I can not know for certain.”

“But you do have your assumptions,” The Reverend Mother pointed out and you swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of this secret on your shoulders.

“I am suspecting that Muad’Dib might be my brother… Prince Paul Atreides,” you whispered.

“The Atreides are all dead,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth. “That is impossible.”

“So I thought,” you nodded. “But Paul has been haunting my dreams since the first night I came here. After some time I started to realise that they might not be dreams at all… More like visions. He has been communicating with me and it appears to me now that he might have survived in the desert after The Harkonnen invasion,” you avoided looking into anyone’s eyes.

“Why haven’t you told me about those visions?” Your husband’s voice was full of anger and betrayal and it surprised you how much you hated to make him feel this way. After all, you two were supposed to always play on the same team.

“Because I thought they hold no significance,” you finally dared to look into his eyes again. “What does it change who he truly is? And I could not be sure anyway.”

“Why would Paul Atreides communicate with Baroness Harkonnen?” Princess Irulan asked and you looked at her. “Do not misunderstand me, my Lady, but you are no Bene Gesserit. You hold no telepathic power like that.”

“He is not communicating with her,” The Reverend Mother pointed out. “He is communicating with her son. Because if Muad’Dib is as powerful as they say that he is now, then Baroness’ unborn child is the only person who can stop him.”

“Stop him how?” You asked with furrowed brows.

“Your child’s powers are not yet fully known but his presence might be interrupting Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities,” she explained.

“Foreseeing abilities?” The Emperor moved uncomfortably on the throne. “What exactly are we dealing with?!”

The timing of those words was not of the best kind as a loud booming sound from the outside reached your ears. Startled by it, you grabbed Feyd’s arm to squeeze it.

“My Lord! My Lady!” One of the engineers from the conference room ran inside, breathing heavily with his eyes widened, not even caring about The Emperor’s presence. “The Fremen… They are using The Atreides’ nuclear weapons to attack us and they are coming at us… Hundreds of them… Thousands… All united as they’re waving The Atreides flags.”

“Duchess Atreides, care to explain?” The Emperor asked you and you looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I’ve had nothing to do with that!” You denied. “I haven’t even been told where my father had hidden the Atreides nuclear weapons. If I had known, they’d be used against the Fremen long time ago, Your Imperial Highness,” you stated.

“It’s Muad’Dib,” The Reverend Mother said. “As he promised to come.”

“Wait, you had an agreement with him?” You asked her but she remained silent. “I thought you wanted him dead.”

“We were curious about him, Baroness,” The Emperor informed you. “We were supposed to have negotiations.”

Another booming sound made you shiver as the walls around you trembled.

“Negotiations, you say,” you drawled. “There you have them,” you pointed at the door. “We don’t have enough guards to protect us from this sort of attack, even with your Sardaukar soldiers, Your Imperial Highness! Most of them were slain last night.”

“And whose was the hand that slayed them?!” The Emperor yelled and you tried to keep your poker face on but you hated the feeling of fear creeping up on you. You thought you would never be afraid again in your life.

But now you were afraid. You were afraid of the Muad’Dib forces outside the palace and you were afraid of The Emperor sitting on a throne above you. He was an old and weak man but his power was still strong enough to cause you harm, especially with his fanatic soldiers surrounding you in the room.

“Fear not,” an odd, unfamiliar voice filled your brain. You furrowed your brow and looked around, trying to reach for the person trying to communicate with you. However, the voice was deep and raspy in a Harkonnen way. It reminded you of Feyd’s but his face looked pretty oblivious. “Fear not, mother,” the voice spoke again and you gasped.

The Emperor thought that you gasped because of his accusation, though.

“I do not care about The Harkonnen’s inside affairs,” he informed you angrily. “However, now we’re all paying the price of your last night’s selfish act!”

You didn’t know what to feel or do. You were overwhelmed with anxiety and the new discovery of your son’s voice being able to communicate with you. The booming sounds were becoming more and more frequent and the Harkonnen guards formed a circle around you and The Emperor alongside the Sardaukar soldiers.

You hid behind Feyd and dug your fingernails into his shoulder. Some part of you wished Muad’Dib was indeed Paul Atreides. Well, he had to be since they were using the Atreides nuclear weapons and flags. Your own brother would not kill you, would he?

He would understand that everything you had done, you had done to survive. If he had survived in that desert, he would understand everything.

The Emperor, Princess Irulan and The Reverend Mother walked down to stand beside you so the soldier’s circle around you could tighten.

“Can you hear me?” You thought.

“All the time,” your son answered and you smiled slightly to yourself.

It was a comforting thought to know that.

“Is that true that you’re able to stop Paul?” You asked inside your mind.

“I can try,” he answered.

“Your voice reminds me so much of your father’s,” you kept talking to him and distracting yourself from the sight of the doors being stormed as a horde of Fremen was trying to get inside the room with the sound of explosions in the distance.

“I am his son,” he answered very seriously and you almost chuckled at the fact he was clearly as rigid as Feyd – so logical and stiff even as an unborn baby.

“Yes, you are, my darling,” your hand, placed protectively on your swollen womb, squeezed the flesh through the dress’ fabric and that was when the doors opened with a loud bang sound and for a short while you thought you would die on Arrakis indeed, where your father’s bones already remained somewhere in the desert. Perhaps it was The Atreides’ fate to die on Arrakis.

But, after all, you were a Harkonnen.

You had not been attacked, though. Once your guards had been defeated, you were all taken to one of the rooms and locked there with the Fremen guards outside ensuring you would not escape. You were waiting for Muad’Dib’s forces to take over the whole palace as you were basically his captives.

Sitting on a chair with Feyd crouching down by your side, you were worried sick about Astra and Cara. You hoped that the Fremen wouldn’t hurt the servants but seeing their brutality and barbaric ways, you weren’t so sure about it. The Emperor was sitting, too, and staring at you with his eyes squinted.

“If that really is your brother, Duchess Atreides…” he started.

“Then what, Your Imperial Highness?” You snapped at him. When his dangerous guards were defeated, he was just an old, weak man and no threat to you. Feyd would slit his throat in half a second.

If he had a knife. But it had been taken away from him and surprisingly, he had been pretty obedient about it. You were grateful because you did not want to watch him getting slaughtered by a whole bunch of Fremen. He was a great warrior but every person had their limits of how many opponents they could take at the same time.

Your knife had not been taken, though. As a woman – especially pregnant – you hadn’t been searched properly and you hadn’t brought up the fact that you had a knife strapped to your hip under all the folds of your dress. Even Feyd didn’t know about it and you wanted it to remain this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it but you couldn’t be sure and it was better to keep it a secret.

“I can’t be responsible for his behaviour just because I am Duchess Atreides,” you reminded The Emperor.

“If Muad’Dib is really Paul Atreides then you are no Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” The Emperor reminded you. “His actions speak for your House then, not yours.”

“My House is Harkonnen,” you only barked at him and turned your face around to Feyd. You held his hand and he leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead, sensing your nervousness.

“What kind of fighter is your brother?” He asked you in a whisper but everyone could hear him.

“He was bad last time I saw him. Weak and pathetic in combat,” you answered. “But now he is different. He’s been training a lot.”

“How can you know that?” Princess Irulan looked at you, intrigued.

“If we believe my visions, I know he’s been training. If he is Muad’Dib, we don’t even have to believe my visions. Muad’Dib is the only name my brother-in-law fears and he’s the one called Beast Rabban,” you told her.

“He is an abomination,” The Reverend Mother spoke up, “in a different, worse way than the spawn inside you, Baroness Harkonnen.”

“What did you call my son?” Feyd’s muscles tensed.

“Calm down, Baron, she knows what I’m talking about,” the old woman was not bothered by making him angry. “Your son might be the only hope for us. He is interfering Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities.”

“I do not like the way you speak of it as if it’s all certain,” The Emperor joined. “If that is true, then I wish I had known about it sooner.”

“Father, there are some secrets that shall be kept even from you,” his daughter tried to calm him down.

“I disagree.”

“We shouldn’t fight now,” you interrupted them. “If we want to survive, we have to work together.”

“And what do you propose, Baroness?” The Emperor asked you with a contemptuous smirk. “He’s a madman, your brother.”

“So is my husband,” you raised your chin proudly. “And do not underestimate me, Your Imperial Highness, as I am the madman’s sister.”

The doors opened loudly and the Fremen warriors looked at all of you with visible contempt that made a shiver go down your body.

“Muad’Dib wishes to see you,” one of them barked at you.

Feyd helped you to stand up and you were taken to one of the rooms upstairs with a balcony and a beautiful view. The sun was setting slowly and giving the whole chamber an orange hue.

Gurney Halleck was the first man you recognised. He was standing in the middle of the room and waiting for you. You honestly hadn’t expected him to survive The Harkonnen invasion.

Seeing your father’s Warmaster broke something in you. It was as if the young Princess Atreides bloomed once again inside your rotten heart. After all, he had known you ever since you were a little girl.

“Gurney!” You smiled and ran up to him, not caring much about Feyd’s hands trying to stop you. The Fremen soldiers reached for their knives but Halleck stopped them with a small gesture of his hand.

“Princess!” He smiled at the sight of you as well and opened his arms. You had never been close – not as close as he had been with your brother at least – but seeing him brought back all the memories and for a short while you thought that finally, after all those months surrounded by the Harkonnens… you were saved.

You hugged Gurney with a wide smile and he fixed a loose hair strand falling rebelliously on your forehead.

“Look at you, Princess… So mature now, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper. There was pain in his eyes and it brought tears to your own.

He was sorry for you. But he was sorry in a different way than all those late Baron’s guests who had been looking at you as if you were a little, innocent, naive prey. He was Gurney, your Gurney and he had known you. You were his Princess. He was sorry for you because he knew who you had been and who you were supposed to be under different circumstances. He had known your heart. Your whims, your moods, your smiles, your laughter, your dreams, your kindness and your humour. He had known all of you.

And perhaps all this time you had been wanting for someone to be sorry for you. You didn’t want to be admired for your strength and ability to survive, for your cunning mind and your schemes. You just wanted someone to admit that a great pain had been inflicted upon you and it was unfair to happen to you and brought you nothing but suffering.

Before you could open your mouth and answer him, the doors opened and you gasped at the sight of Muad’Dib followed by the Bene Gesserit sisters.

You would recognise his silhouette and his walk everywhere. Your brother, Paul Atreides – it was really him.

Perhaps the shock was not as big as it would be because of the dreams you two had been sharing for the past few weeks.

But was it really your brother…? His hair was longer and curly now, no longer neatly combed, his eyes were blue from the spice and the way he wore his stillsuit felt nearly as if it was his second skin. You had never seen him so angry and confident, so ready to fight and so bloodthirsty.

The Bene Gesserit surrounded their most important one – sitting on a chair with her face covered in tattoos and sheer veils. She looked familiar to you, you thought, and then she laid her own eyes on you – blue from the spice – and you realised it was Lady Jessica.

Throughout the past few months, both of you seemed to significantly rise in power.

“Brother…!” You ran up to him, instinctively, despite everything that was telling you not to trust the man in front of you – he was not your brother, he was a shell of Paul Atreides; filled with hate and anger and a newly discovered hunger for power.

Perhaps you two had more in common now.

“Sister,” he greeted you with a nod of his head and you froze in your place as you were about to give him a hug but he visibly did not want it.

A long, awkward silence occurred between everyone gathered in the room. You tried to keep your chin held up but your head felt heavy at that moment as you realised that there was no home and no family to go back to.

You were not about to be saved by a long lost family. There was nothing to save you from. Giedi Prime was your home and Feyd-Rautha was your family.

Paul looked down with contempt as his eyes fixed on your abdomen. He was visibly uncomfortable with the presence of your son. He had to sense his abilities interfering with his own.

“I’ve been informed that apparently, last night, I have slain my grandfather,” he smirked.

“Your grandfather?” You asked, surprised, and then you laid your eyes on Lady Jessica.

Perhaps that was why you fitted so well with The Harkonnens. You had been apparently raised by one of them.

There were actually many things you wanted to ask her. Why had she taught you how to be able to fight The Voice? Why had she been preparing you for things you were clearly not destined to become? And – most importantly – had she ever had any love for you in her heart?

“I do not mind such accusations,” Paul told you and reached out his hand to caress your cheek. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Feyd’s muscles tensing. Your brother’s touch was surprisingly gentle but it did not feel like Paul at all. And your son was kicking your ribs in a painful way for as long as his uncle’s touch lingered upon your skin. “I have missed you, sister. You never replied to any of my letters.”

“I was not given any letters,” you told him.

“I see,” Paul looked down again, this time he focused on The Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. “Kneel down,” he ordered and you furrowed your brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Kneel down, Baroness Harkonnen and I shall spare your life,” he expanded his thought. “I feel sentimental today,” he added. “You can live, however your husband and the spawn inside you cannot.”

You felt as if he had just spit in your face. That was more offensive than hurtful and more angering than saddening.

“You’re insane,” you took a step back. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner, Paul Atreides? You’re a Fremen savage terrorist now. I am The Duchess of The House Atreides, The Baroness of The House Harkonnen and I will not kneel down in front of you,” you stated proudly.

“I am The Duke Atreides!” He yelled as you took a few more steps back. “I am the son of Duke Leto Atreides and you are nothing but a spoiled Princess that was thrown out and disposed of to die amongst The Harkonnens!” He reminded you harshly.

“There are ships appearing above the planet,” one of the Fremen interrupted you as he informed your brother. He was staring at a tracking device in his hand. “They are leaders of the Great Houses. Someone had to call upon them earlier.”

“That person has done me a great favour,” Paul smirked mischievously. “I am going to inform them about what you have done to my father, Your Imperial Highness,” he addressed The Emperor with contempt. “And by defeating you, I will take your daughter as my wife and reign as The new Emperor of The House Atreides.”

“Please, don’t! My father is old and weak! You can’t fight him!” Princess Irulan stood in front of her father to cover him with her own body.

“Such a fight will take no place,” you clenched your jaw. “He has no right to speak in the name of The House Atreides. I am The Duchess of it and he’s just a Fremen terrorist!”

“Perhaps you haven’t heard me right, dear sister…” Paul started.

“I have heard you perfectly well, brother,” you turned around to face him with raised eyebrows.

“Then you know that I am The Duke,” he squinted his eyes at you.

“I will not give up such a title easily,” you raised your head even higher as you straightened yourself. “I shall challenge you to a duel, brother.”

“Challenge to a duel? Me?” Paul snorted at you. “You cannot wield a blade sister.”

“I am the blade of my Baroness,” Feyd’s raspy voice interrupted you as everyone looked at him.

He nodded at you and you nodded back, approaching him to put a hand on his chest.

“Do not disappoint me, Feyd,” you whispered. “Make me proud like you always do.”

You hoped he was aware of the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders right now. It was not a simple duel with Paul Atreides caused by his wife’s whim to keep some title. It was a duel about the future of his House, a duel about his child’s life… Perhaps a duel about the future of the whole galaxy.

And you hated that on that day you’d either lose a husband or a brother. Losing your husband would be much worse – you couldn’t imagine your life without Feyd now and what you’d end up like without his protection. On the other hand, seeing Paul die – even changed like that – would bring you no pleasure.

“Give my husband his blade back,” you barked at the Fremen guards as you stood next to Princess Irulan and watched the guard hesitantly handing Feyd his knife.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Baroness,” Princess Irulan hissed at you.

“Would you rather get on your knees and beg him, Princess?” You asked her.

“For my father’s life, I would.”

“Well, that is not a tradition of The House Harkonnen to beg on our knees,” you explained.

No one had to know how pathetic the late Baron had been in his last moments. Or how easy it was to humiliate Count Glossu Rabban.

“Have faith, mother,” your son’s voice brought you great comfort as Feyd and Paul stood facing each other. Hot Arrakis' sun was setting slowly behind them; its light was making them both look more like nothing but dark silhouettes.

“It’s nice to meet you, cousin,” Paul greeted your husband.

“Cousin? Is that so?” Feyd looked amused.

“Please, save your father. Do not let your uncle have any advantage. Let your father have a fair fight,” you pleaded to the baby inside you.

You had to be very desperate to count on the unborn child to save you, you realised.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul raised his blade to perform the traditional Harkonnen gesture.

It annoyed you how he displayed his Harkonnen heritage as if he was more of it than you were. He might have had their blood but he was no Harkonnen. Perhaps that was what you had always felt towards your brother above anything else – annoyance.

He was simply annoying in a way he was nothing special and yet your father favoured him because he was a boy and a son of a woman your father loved. It was annoying that he had a mother and you did not. That he would inherit the title you could only dream of. That he was following you around like a lost puppy, pretending that you two were normal, loving siblings. You loved him but the annoyance was often stronger. And now the love was barely there.

Your brother had died in that desert. Muad’Dib was not your brother.

Just like Baroness Harkonnen was not his sister.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd smirked at Paul as he repeated the Harkonnen gesture and the duel began.

The whole room went completely silent. The only sounds were the ones of the fight – the music of the crossing knives and occasional grunts. Amongst the Fremen women, two watched the most curiously. One of them was naturally Lady Jessica, meanwhile the other one was a young woman whose blue eyes were following Paul’s every move.

Feyd noticed her, too, as he pointed at her with a smirk.

“Your pet?” He asked Paul.

Your brother did not answer and attacked but you had your eyes glued on the Fremen woman. She would possibly cause trouble in case of Paul’s death, so you wanted to remember her face.

You did not like the way Paul seemed to fight as good as your husband. You were aware his skills had improved but nothing could prepare you for the sight of him blocking nearly every blow and successfully performing his own. The way these two skillful warriors fought reminded you more of some sort of sophisticated dance than a common fight. And if this duel was not about your future and your life, you’d love to watch it and admire it.

Princess Irulan was as scared as you were. She held your hand and you squeezed it to give her comfort.

As women you could only watch and hope for the men to spare you. In times like that, you hated to be a woman. No matter how much power and influence you were holding, in critical moments like this, you were only an observer of the grand spectacle of life.

A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of your brother attacking Feyd with so much ferocity that your husband stumbled for a moment and when he raised his head again, you spotted fresh blood dripping from his nose all over his chin. He smirked, of course, since pain was bringing him pleasure. However, his pain was bringing no pleasure to you.

The duel progressed in a more aggressive manner. The foreplay was long gone now as two opponents were growing more and more frustrated with each other. It was getting less sophisticated and more messy. You tried to follow the movements closely but sometimes you missed half of them because of their speed.

Princess Irulan’s loud wheeze made you realise that Paul’s blade found a thin gap in Feyd’s stillsuit as his blade cut deep into your husband’s flesh right below his rib. Your eyes widened at the sight and your heart sank so deep in your chest that you forgot to breathe to the point of dizziness.

Paul had a smirk on his face when he turned around to face you as Feyd dropped his blade and stumbled behind him. You stood there, petrified as the reality around you seemed to slow down.

You felt more like an animal than a human being at that moment – your head was empty, you were driven by nothing but instincts.

Feyd fell down to his knees as Paul began walking towards you, limping slightly. Your free hand covered your womb as your other hand squeezed Irulan’s hand so tight you nearly crashed it. You tried to keep your eyes on Paul, you wanted to observe his moves to make sure you’d be able to somehow defend yourself. But you couldn’t. You kept staring at your husband and you noticed his struggle to get the blade out of his body. You couldn’t understand why he was trying to do that since a skilled and experienced fighter like him had known perfectly well it was never a good idea.

On shaky legs but with all the force, bleeding from his fresh wound, Feyd rose up and attacked Paul yet again, accompanied by Lady Jessica’s scream that made you shiver.

Your brother turned around, surprised to see Feyd back on his feet again – desperate act of a wounded, dying animal, ready to sacrifice everything to win the final battle. Feyd pushed the blade in between the gaps of Paul’s stillsuit and twisted the knife with a psychotic smile before they both fell to the ground.

After a short while of silence with the waves of shock going through your body, you screamed and ran up to Feyd. Lady Jessica stood up and ran up to her son. Everyone watched with widened eyes the two feral women kneeling down arm to arm, holding the wounded men in their arms.

Feyd chuckled at the sight of you and coughed up as you put your hands on his wound. The Harkonnen blood was thicker, which was making bleeding out to death a more difficult process but you could see his eyes getting hazy anyway.

You felt the tears streaming down your face as you caressed his cheek and he raised his hand weakly to put it on your womb.

“No!” Lady Jessica’s scream was animalistic. You turned your head around and saw her face winced in so much pain and anger that she no longer seemed human. You took a short glance down and noticed that life had completely left your brother’s body by now. It stinged your heart, too, but you knew that it meant only one thing – Feyd had won. You were The Duchess Atreides now. “He’s dead!” Lady Jessica yelled at you.

You were a mother now, too. You couldn’t imagine the depth of her pain and loss. Her only son – dead in her arms. Your brother.

Her hand reached out for the blade stuck in Paul’s guts. The same blade that had wounded your husband before. Now she wanted to slay Feyd with it to make sure he would die, too.

“Mother,” your son warned you and driven by a pure instinct you swiftly grabbed the short knife attached to the armour piece on your hip beneath all the folds of your dress. Without thinking you stabbed her before she was able to take the blade out of her son’s dead body.

Lady Jessica’s blue eyes widened as she looked deep into yours and you sobbed.

“Forgive me,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you had just committed your very first direct murder.

You would never find out all the things you wanted to ask her. Sometimes even the biggest questions remained unanswered. Perhaps it was for the best.

And Lady Jessica had to understand that what you had done was caused by your need to protect your family. She had been one of those people sending you to the Harkonnens. She couldn’t be surprised now to see you had become one of them. You had to protect them.

Her body fell down on top of Paul’s and all the Fremen started to look around uncomfortably. You did not care, you focused on your husband again. His eyelids were getting heavy but he was still smiling.

“Can somebody help?!” You asked, looking around. “Please,” you begged Gurney.

“Stilgar,” he looked at one of the Fremen who looked like he was important and most likely the new leader after Muad’Dib’s death. “Bring here those servants we are holding captive,” he told him.

The man called Stilgar nodded unsurely and two Fremen guards left the room in a hurry.

“Please, don’t die,” you whispered to Feyd, cradling his head and putting it on your lap delicately. “Please, don’t leave me now.”

“I’ve made you proud, my Lady?” He asked in a weak whisper.

“Oh, you’ve made me the proudest,” you smiled through the tears. “But you can’t leave us now… None of this matters without you, my darling,” you wiped the blood off of his chin with your sleeve but it only smeared some more. “I love you, please…”

You expected to give up completely one day and finally confess your feelings but you had never expected it would be on the day of his death.

Feyd chuckled as his hand weakly slid down your womb as he no longer had any strength to keep it there.

“I love you, too, pet,” his whisper was inaudible but you heard him right and sobbed some more, watching his eyes close.

“No! No, no, no…” You lowered yourself down and pressed your forehead to his, covering his face with your tears.

The doors opened and the Harkonnen medic entered the room in a hurry, accompanied by a few spared servants with Astra and Cara among them. Your poor girls were terrified and trembling. It was a great relief to see them but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care much about anything but your husband.

What was the point of defeating Paul? What was the point of anything without Feyd by your side?

The medic hurried to your side and knelt down next to Feyd’s body. He examined it quickly and furrowed his brows.

“My Lady, he’s still alive,” he informed you and you looked up at him.

“Wh-what?”

“The body functions are still there, Baroness. He lost consciousness due to the blood loss but maybe… Maybe I can still save The Baron’s life,” he swallowed thickly.

“What are you waiting for then?!” You yelled at him and he nodded, beckoning over a few male servants to help him carry Feyd’s body to the medical wing of the palace.

You stood up clumsily and watched them walk out. You wanted to follow them and forget about anything else but you were aware that at a moment like this you could not leave any case unfinished.

You faced The Emperor. He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack, his face paler than usual and his eyes widened. His shaking hand was holding Irulan’s one.

“I, Duchess (Y/N) of The House Atreides, Baroness of The House Harkonnen, pledge my allegiance to The Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV,” you kneeled down and bowed your head.

His time would come, too, of that you were sure. But not now. Not yet.

“May your service be accepted, Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” he nodded at you and stood up once again.

You turned around at the Fremen, looking at the man named Stilgar who had been watching you very closely ever since Paul’s death.

“You may attack us but all the ships above us with the galactic leaders will destroy your homeworld in revenge,” you informed him. “Or you might cooperate with me. I will give you what my father has never given you and what he would never give you,” you added. “I shall join my husband now but I want you to stay here and negotiate with you.”

Stilgar looked around to see the faces of his fellow Fremen brothers and sisters. You knew that the reason they had not yet attacked you despite all your guards being slain was respect. You were the one to win the duel and it was your husband who slain their Muad’Dib. You were the one to slay their Reverend Mother.

Some of the fellow Fremen were shaking their heads hesitantly, not trusting you. But some of them were nodding.

“We can divide the planet for spice production and for Fremen to live in. We do not harvest spice in the south of Arrakis because it is inhabitable to us,” you explained. “So if we give the south to you, we will not lose any production. And you will have your own territory to live in. I am going to help you to turn the south of Arrakis into a more friendly place as much as possible. The Harkonnen science is well developed, I am sure they will find a way to make trees grow again there. And I offer you to have a representative during the most important councils about Arrakis’ fate in the future. That would be you, I assume?” You tried to explain calmly. “I do not want you as enemies. Arrakis is big and spacious enough for all of us.”

The long silence occurred.

“What if I was wrong? What if she is Lisan Al Gaib?” Stilgar asked and some of the Fremen rolled their eyes angrily.

“I am no Lisan Al Gaib,” you told him, “I am Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen. That is how you shall address me.”

“The leaders of The Great Houses are getting impatient,” one of the Fremen said as he was monitoring the tracking device in his hand.

“Tell them to come down,” you looked at him. “They shall witness our new deal.”

Hesitantly, Stilgar nodded at the man.

“Now, do excuse me, I should go to my husband,” you nodded your head at him and then at The Emperor.

You were about to walk out, when Gurney spoke up.

“What about Paul’s body? Lady Jessica’s?”

“Do you know where my father’s remains are?” You asked him.

“I have my assumptions,” he answered. There was no kindness nor love in his eyes anymore when he was looking at you. There was hurt, betrayal and anger. None of it mattered to you anymore.

“Find it then and send all of them back to Caladan. Lay them down next to my mother,” you told him. “I do not want Arrakis to be known for being a place where the Atreides rot.”

“My Lady,” he nodded.

With your eyes you found the Fremen woman who most likely had been Paul’s lover. She was now kneeling to his body and stroking his cheeks.

“You,” you addressed her as she looked up angrily. She could kill you with her eyes only if she could. “What is your name?”

“Chani,” she answered proudly.

“Was Muad’Dib your lover?”

She hesitated before answering.

“Yes.”

“Change of plans, then,” you looked at Gurney. “Lady Jessica and my father shall go back to Caladan. Let this woman bury Muad’Dib as she wishes.”

“My Lady,” he bowed.

“Let it be known that Baroness Harkonnen can get a little sentimental,” you smirked at Chani before walking out of the room.

Your body was so full of adrenaline that you felt as if you were in a dream.

Feyd was unconscious for three days now and most of them you were spending in the medical wing, holding his hand. In the meantime you were working on a deal with Stilgar. The Emperor had left Arrakis as soon as possible but not without thanking you for your loyalty and support that he had promised not to forget.

With fake kindness you assured him of your sincerity as if you hadn’t been already planning how to get rid of him next. Seeing his weakness and how easily your brother would take his title, if not stopped by your husband, made your own hunger for power even greater.

The leaders of The Great Houses hadn’t stayed for long but they borrowed you servants and guards for until your own would come from Giedi Prime, sent by Count Glossu Rabban.

So much was happening and so many things there were to process but your mind was in a haze. All you could truly focus on was Feyd. At first you wanted to give up completely but it was your son who decided to motivate you.

“You have to be strong now, mother. Do it for me,” he had pleaded.

And he had been right. You had to make all the arrangements to ensure the position of the House Harkonnen for your heir.

Holding Feyd’s cold hand and caressing his fingers, you watched his body functions on the monitor. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Some part of you was glad he was getting all this rest. You just hoped he would eventually be alright.

Suddenly, you felt his cold slim fingers move slightly. You looked at his face and watched his eyelids flutter before opening slowly. He looked around, confused.

“Pet?” He only asked at the sight of you, confused, as you smiled widely and sobbed a few happy tears.

“Oh, Feyd!” You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his lips. “Oh, my darling…”

“Shouldn’t I be dead now?”

“Not on my watch,” you caressed his cheeks. “You’ve been knocked out for three days, my Baron,” you told him. “Let me call a medic to examine you.”

You stood up and informed the guard behind the doors that Baron Harkonnen was awake and he nodded before walking away to call for the medic.

While you waited for him, you told Feyd about everything that had been happening for the past three days. He was only watching you closely and nodding his head.

“My uncle was right. You’re better suited to be The Baroness than I am to be The Baron,” he told you eventually.

“Don’t say that! You’d do the same,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“No, I would not. I would slay all the Fremen once I’d have an army here.”

“You would not because I would advise you otherwise,” you chuckled and then you took a deep breath in. “I can’t wait to go back home.”

“Home?” He furrowed his brows.

“Giedi Prime,” you answered like it was obvious. “I want our son to be born there.”

“We need to find someone worthy of being the Governor of Arrakis first. Someone loyal and not a complete idiot like my brother,” Feyd reminded you.

“I’ve already found one and sent him a letter,” you admitted, a little anxious about his reaction.

“Who?”

“Lord Kirill, the one who married one of my former maids. She bore him a son not so long ago. He will be loyal and I’ve read about his successful military campaigns in one of the books,” you answered.

“Lord Kirill is not a bad choice,” Feyd nodded. “We can allow him to try.”

“I’ve told that man, Stilgar, that he can write to me any time if anything happens. For some reason he seems to respect me greatly. Probably because I have slain their Reverend Mother,” you laughed nervously.

“And how do you feel about it?” Feyd asked, squinting his eyes at you as he slowly sat up on the bed.

You didn’t answer at first. Your smile dropped and you stared in the distance.

“I remember how your uncle told me that you had killed your mother. I could not understand it back then. It seemed to be the worst thing a person can do,” you admitted. “But I’ve realised that I have killed my mother twice. I killed my biological mother by being born and I killed Lady Jessica who has raised me. And guess what… The sun still rises in the morning. My blood still flows. As if nothing terrible happened at all. Strange,” you looked at him again.

“With time you just don’t feel anything anymore,” he assured you.

“She was with a child, the medic told me. Lady Jessica was as pregnant as I am. With a daughter. My sister,” you whispered.

“So, you slaughtered them both,” Feyd smirked. Of course it brought him some sadistic satisfaction.

“I have slaughtered the last member of The Atreides family except for me,” you told him. “This House dies with me so the House Harkonnen can thrive. This is the greatest sacrifice and I only hope it is going to pay off.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head.

“You shall give my son The Harkonnen Empire,” you stated but before he could answer, the medic entered the room with a smile.

“I’m so glad to see you awake, my Baron,” he approached your husband. “You must be starving, I’ve told the cooks to prepare your favourite steak.”

Feyd nodded at him.

“My Lady, your servant girls would like to see you,” the medic told you and you stood up.

“From now on, you shall address Astra and Cara as my maids,” you told him.

The title would not change much about their position but at least it was giving them some dignity. The medic’s eyes widened a little but he nodded.

“I will see you soon,” you leaned in to place a kiss upon Feyd’s forehead before walking out and going to your bedroom.

Astra and Cara were standing by the window, waiting for your arrival. When you entered the chamber, they both approached you excitedly.

“Is that true that the Baron is awake now, my Lady?” Astra asked.

“Yes, my darling, it is,” you nodded.

“Oh, what a relief!” Cara sighed.

They were terrified of Feyd but they knew that if he died, no one would allow you to be Baroness Harkonnen on your own. The Harkonnen lords would most likely start an uprising. No one would accept a woman in charge – especially an off-world woman. They would rather crown Count Glossu Rabban their next Baron and you’d be an outcast alongside your son. Without any family to go to. Meanwhile, your servants – now maids – would either be killed or enslaved again.

But that would not happen – not at all. And it was hard to believe that you really had survived and found a new home, new family, new purpose. Perhaps you fitted even better with them than you had ever had with The Atreides on Caladan. Perhaps it was making it easier to cope when you believed that.

Bittersweet was the taste of your victory. You still remembered your brother’s dead body laying on the floor. You remembered Lady Jessica’s widened eyes right after you stabbed her. They would haunt you forever but you knew they were inevitable to happen if you wanted your happy ending and your survival.

And you wanted them more than anything.

Coming back to Giedi Prime was making you a bit anxious. You weren’t sure what people’s reactions would be to Feyd and you being the new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen. Rabban was assuring you that the citizens were rather excited but you were mostly worried about the noble lords. Only the most stupid ones believed in the late Baron’s death being caused by Muad’Dib. But the stupid ones didn’t matter.

The official ceremony of you and your husband becoming the Baron and Baroness was planned for the day after your arrival. Surprisingly, Rabban who had been responsible for making arrangements, had done a splendid job. The whole Giedi Prime was decorated already when you looked at the city from the windows of your ship. He was doing his best to stay in Feyd’s favour.

“Do you wish to keep your old bedrooms, my Lord, my Lady?” One of the servants asked once you entered the Giedi Prime’s fortress. “We can prepare the late Baron’s chambers for you.”

“Is that the room with the bathtub?” You asked and Feyd nodded at you with a hint of disgust in his eyes. “We wish to keep our old ones, thank you,” you informed the servant. “But I do want to change some decor,” you added. “Some other time, though, now I’m exhausted,” you dismissed the bowing man.

“You still say thank you to the servants, even now when you’re The Baroness,” Feyd smirked at you as you two began walking down the corridor to reach the staircase.

It was a surprising feeling but you sighed out of relief as you passed all the huge black doors on your way. It truly felt like home.

“That is how I was raised. It’s not easy to change what we were taught as children,” you reminded him and he nodded.

Feyd walked you to your shared bedrooms since you could barely walk in your current state. You were about to give birth any day now and you noticed he didn’t like leaving you alone for long when you were in that state. He waited for Astra and Cara to join you before he eventually left to deal with some official duties as The Baron.

Your maids brought a celebration dress with them to show you and make the final fittings. It was so huge that it filled half of the bedroom space. Black and feathered with enough volume to hide your pregnancy.

“How do you feel, Baroness?” Astra asked as she fixed one of the feathers on the dress’ fabric and you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“Like an Empress already,” you smirked to yourself.

Cara and Astra looked at each other significantly but they chose not to comment.

“Like an Empress of death,” you added. “I imagine The Harkonnen Empire to be a dark, cold and scary place. I can see snakes slithering down the black marble floors, following me wherever I go, willing to attack any enemy of mine,” you dreamt out loud.

In one of the Harkonnen books you had read about such creatures – genetically modified to be loyal pets to their owners and deadly attacking their enemies. You had been waiting to become The Baroness to ask the engineers for pets like these, too.

The celebration was supposed to start in the late afternoon but you were on your feet since early morning, dealing with official papers to sign and to get familiar with. There were off-world guests to greet – Princess Irulan amongst them, representing House Corrino and her father. He was still grateful for what you had done on Arrakis in a nearly exaggerated way. Perhaps he knew about your bloodthirsty ambitions blooming within you and he hoped to become your friend.

The Emperor himself being desperate for you to like him because of the power you were holding now. That was delicious in a way, you had to admit.

He was not the only one. The word had spread about what had happened on Arrakis. Feyd was known now as one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy who would sacrifice everything for The House Harkonnen. And you were known for being cunning, dignified and unhinged in a way you were able to murder a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother who had been your family member. The new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen were quickly becoming characters of scary stories people would tell their misbehaving children. Cold and bloodthirsty; unstoppable and inseparable force.

You couldn’t tell what moment of the ceremony was your favourite – when everyone was looking at you walking slowly and gasping at your dress or when the Harkonnen army saluted you and swore to shed blood for you, making you realise what kind of massive army you were truly commanding now. Perhaps it was the moment of making vows or putting on the Harkonnen insignia. Or maybe an unscripted, passionate and hungry kiss that Feyd gave you in front of everybody once you were announced officially The Baron and Baroness of The House Harkonnen. That kiss was a promise of more. He would give you so much more than this. And you would be by his side every step of the way.

You were his anchor and he was your blade. The whole galaxy knew that now.

The Giedi Prime was celebrating but you chose to go back to your chambers quite early. You were not pleased with missing the party but you were exhausted after a whole day of walking and standing. Astra and Cara helped you to change into your nightgown and they were in the process of brushing your hair softly when you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen.

“My Lady?” Cara asked, worryingly.

“It’s fine, just a contraction,” you smiled at her. They had been occasionally happening for a few days now.

“Are you sure, Baroness?” Astra looked at your face in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are we sure?” You asked your son in your head.

“It’s time, mother,” the familiar voice answered.

Your eyes widened as another contraction came and you grabbed the edge of your vanity table. The girls looked at each other, scared.

“Call for the medic and inform The Baron,” you told them and they nodded their heads.

Astra stayed with you while Cara recruited one of the guards in front of your doors to go with her and find Feyd and the medic. With Astra’s help you sat on the edge of your bed and squeezed her hand.

“I might die, Astra,” you told her and she shook her head, terrified. “Listen to me, my mother died giving birth and I am aware this might happen to me as well.”

“My Lady, no… I refuse to…” She started with a trembling voice.

“Astra, listen to me, it’s important,” you drawled through your teeth gritted out of pain. She closed her lips and looked at you with her big Harkonnen eyes. “If I die tonight, I want you and Cara to take care of my son, do you hear me?”

She nodded as tears started to form in the corner of her eyes.

“The medic has been informed. He knows about my wish and he told me you and Cara have been studying infant care intensely. Feyd knows he cannot hurt you nor Cara. You will be safe, do not worry about that. I ensured that,” you assured her.

“Th-thank you, my Lady…” Astra stuttered out.

“In return, I ask you to take care of my son. And to keep him away from the Bene Gesserit scheming. Please,” you pleaded.

“I promise. In Cara’s name, too,” Astra put her free hand on her heart and you broke a smile at her.

She was barely sixteen and you were placing such great responsibility upon her shoulders. You couldn’t deal with it differently, though. It was a cruel world you lived in and much worse things were being forced upon sixteen years old girls anyway.

You feared death. Especially now when you were about to give birth to your son and begin your reign. You had things to look for and your child might had not been conceived out of love but it was still wanted by you. You did not feel trapped in a loveless marriage like your mother had been. You actually wanted to give Feyd-Rautha a son. Many sons and many daughters; you wanted to be known for giving House Harkonnen many successful heirs. You wanted to be an important figure in their history books one day.

But as much as you feared death, you also knew that it was also a place where your mother was waiting for you, your father, your brother, Lady Jessica and your unborn sister. You liked to think that even now they’d still greet you with open arms. And if not, you’d just wait for Feyd patiently.

Your depressing stream of thought was interrupted by the black doors opening rapidly without knocking. It was the medic accompanied by Cara and Feyd. You had never seen your husband stressed before. Usually so stoic, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Prepare the bed for The Baroness,” the medic ordered Astra and Cara helped her with the duvets and towels.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he cupped your face in his cold and shivering hands.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“How do you think I feel?” You rolled your eyes and hissed out of pain as another contraction hit you. “Like shit.”

“You can do it, my pet. You’re the strongest woman I know,” he assured you and helped you to get in bed. The medic was preparing some injections already that were supposed to make the process go smoother and easier.

“Our technology allows the whole childbirth to be nearly painless,” he told you with a smile. “Of course only the richest can afford such shots.”

“Remember what I’ve told you before,” Feyd barked at him. He was standing beside your bed and squeezing your hand in his. Astra and Cara were standing on the other side with a bowl full of cold water and a towel to wipe your forehead when needed.

The medic nodded and you furrowed your brow. He injected the first shot and you winced, squeezing Feyd’s hand tighter.

“What is that arrangement between you two?” You asked but they did not answer. “I have a right to know if it is about me or my child!” You demanded.

The medic looked at your husband and after a short moment of hesitation, Feyd nodded at him.

“The Baron has made me promise to… To ensure you live, my Lady. Even if it means your son will not,” he explained.

“You’d sacrifice your heir?” Your eyes widened when you looked up at your husband. He crouched down and leaned in to kiss your temple and to whisper in your ear so the rest would not hear him properly.

“We can produce more heirs. And if we can’t, any whore can give me a son. But no one would ever replace you, my Baroness,” he told you.

“You can’t let our son die… No…” You nearly cried. “You don’t understand, Feyd. These past few weeks I have been talking to him every day. I already have a bond with him. And he saved your life on Arrakis… If someone has to die tonight, it’s going to be me,” you tried to convince him to change his mind but he only clenched his jaw and gave you an angry look before standing up again.

“So far, the baby is placed properly,” the medic assured you. “I do not think anyone is going to die tonight.”

The sunlight was already creeping in through the narrow windows of your bedroom. Exhausted, squeezing your husband’s hand, you finally made the final push. If the medic claimed that thanks to his injections the process had been nearly painless, you did not want to know what it would be like without the said injections.

But it was finally over and the loud cry of a newborn baby filled the whole room as you sighed with relief.

“Oh, he’s a big boy, my Lord, my Lady,” the medic smiled at you as he cradled the baby in his arms. “Strong and healthy,” he assured you and handed your son to Cara. Astra wiped your face with a towel and brushed the hair out of your face gently and you reached out weakly to hold your child. You were too exhausted to process the thought of having a son but when he was finally placed in your arms and stopped crying at the sight of you, you burst out in happy tears.

The boy had your eyes and soft, fluffy, thin baby hairs on his head. His skin colour was much paler than yours but not as white as his fathers.

“He looks more like me,” you thought out loud as Feyd chuckled, staring at the boy in your arms with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“His hair might start falling out once he’s getting older,” the medic informed you.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” you chuckled through your tears. “I’m still going to love him even when he’s bald.”

“My Lord, shall we inform the people of the birth of the na-baron?” The medic asked your husband.

“Immediately,” Feyd answered. You spotted pride and excitement in his voice even though he was trying to hide it.

“Do you have a name, my Lady?” The medic laid his eyes on you.

“I want to bring back the old Harkonnen tradition,” you stated. “The one about giving your first born son the name of the Wedding Games winner from his parents’ wedding,” you brought up the fun fact you had read in one of the books from the Harkonnen library. “But I would also like him to be named after his father just like my husband bears his grandfather’s name,” you added. “What about Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen?” You looked up at your husband, trying to read the reaction from his face.

“You can name him whatever you wish as long as it is not Vladimir,” he only said.

“Na-Baron Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen that is,” you nodded at the medic and he left your bedroom to announce the birth of the new heir.

“Girls, can you leave us alone for a moment?” You asked your maids and they bowed down before walking out quietly as well.

Once you were left alone in the room with your husband and your son, you moved slightly to the side, wincing out of pain.

“Come, join us?” You looked at Feyd and he nodded, hesitantly, before sitting up on the bed next to you. He put his arm around you and his eyes were not leaving your son even for a moment. “What do you think? Now, without anyone to witness?” You teased, knowing perfectly well there were things Feyd would never say or do with any kind of audience.

“I think he’s… beautiful,” he admitted and raised his finger to caress the boy’s cheek. “And I’m glad he was born in a world without my uncle in it.”

“And that’s because of you, my darling. You protected him,” you reminded. “Like you always will, yes?”

“He is my heir. Everything I do, I do for him. My legacy is for him to inherit,” Feyd answered and placed a kiss on your cheek.

You stayed like that for a while, in complete silence, looking at Maxim who was staring back at you with his wide eyes.

“Do you hear me?” You tried but there was no answer. However, the baby kicked his feet slightly when you spoke to him with your mind.

“You’re going to be a strong warrior, my darling. The most fearsome in the galaxy,” you promised him in a whisper. “The greatest pride of the House Harkonnen. Mummy will make sure of that.”

You heard the sound of fireworks going off in the distance, black splashes of ink-like gas scattered all over the morning sky. Giedi Prime had already found out about the birth of your son.

“They will want to see him,” you turned your head around to look at Feyd.

“They can wait,” he told you. “You rest.”

“No, I can do it. I want to show them,” you assured him and pecked his lips gently. “Tell Astra and Cara to come here and prepare me.”

He nodded and leaned in to place a kiss upon his son’s forehead before leaving the bedroom to find your maids. You thought you’d feed Maxim first but he was already falling asleep in your arms, so when your girls entered the chambers, you handed Astra your child delicately and she took him to the bathroom to bathe him. You needed a bath as well and Cara helped you with it, holding your hand as you were moving slowly on shaky legs.

Your dress was black and very simple – humble even. After all, you were not supposed to be the main attraction on that day. Your hair was done up and the only jewellery you were wearing was the rings of your houses. Maxim was put in traditional black clothes for the newborn Harkonnen babies and you waited for the noon, half asleep on your armchair, feeding your baby with the help of Astra and Cara. Your dress was pulled down but ready to zip back up any given moment.

Feyd entered the room but he unusually announced his arrival with a soft knock upon your doors. He was wearing his black leather uniform and froze at the sight of you feeding his son.

“Since when do you knock?” You looked up at him with a soft smile.

“I didn’t want to startle the baby,” he told you. “You’re feeding the child yourself?” He was visibly surprised.

“I will not let any Harkonnen woman feed my child. There is enough poison in him already,” you answered. “And it is good for creating a bond between the mother and her child anyway.”

“How long does he need? The people have already gathered and they want to see him,” Feyd approached you.

“It’s not noon yet.”

“They’re impatient, my Baroness,” he smirked and looked down at his child sucking on your breast. Maxim looked up at him and reached his tiny hand up.

You sighed at the sight of Feyd looking completely paralyzed. You moved one of your hands gently to grab your husband’s pointing finger and put it in your son’s hand. Maxim squeezed it tightly and you chuckled.

“He’s strong already,” Feyd noticed.

“Of course he is, he’s your son,” you nodded. “But it’s enough now, my boy, you’ll get more later, I promise,” you nodded at Cara. She took the child from you delicately as Astra wiped your breast and helped you to put the upper part of the dress back on. Maxim whined for a while but Cara successfully shushed him by carrying him in her arms.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he led you out of the bedroom with Astra and Cara following you closely. You approached the big glass doors leading to the balcony of the fortress. You could already hear the cheers of the gathered masses waiting to see the heir.

You took a deep breath in as Cara handed you Maxim and Feyd nodded at the guards to open the doors. Slowly and carefully you walked out into the black-and-white world. Thousands of nearly identical pale faces were waiting impatiently to see you and when you finally graced them with your smile and a wave of your hand, they cheered loudly, causing Maxim to startle and cry. The sound of his crying caused the crowd to go even wilder, though.

You handed your son to Feyd and he raised his arms to show off the crying boy to the cheering and saluting population of Giedi Prime. He held him up in the air for a while and then he carefully gave him back to you and joined your lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss. He cupped your face to hold it in place as he devoured you. All the cheers and your baby’s crying were suddenly nothing but a muffled sound. All that mattered was you and Feyd-Rautha, showing his loyalty and gratitude to his Baroness.

Scared and naive Princess Atreides who had come to Giedi Prime a year earlier, she hadn’t known how much she could endure and survive. How much she had been capable of. She couldn’t have known that this scary place was indeed her home and that terrifying man was the love of her life.

Perhaps for the first time in your life you felt sincerely and thoroughly respected and appreciated. You had a purpose and you had a hunger for more.

And although no one else could hear him in that noise, it still surprised you what your husband dared to say to you in public.

“I love you,” he breathed out after breaking the kiss, still holding your face steadily in his hands and staring deep into your eyes. “I will give you the world.”

You nodded at him with a soft smile.

“I love you, too, my Baron.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 2.0 — Hi, it's me again! 👋🏻 I want to explain a few choices that I didn't want to mention about before the chapter because it would spoil the events. At first, Reader's baby was supposed to be just a regular baby – strong warrior of course etc., but nothing extremely special. Some of you were calling him jokingly an antichrist, though and it gave me an idea. I decided that giving him special abilities would actually make it possible for Feyd-Rautha to win the duel with Paul. Otherwise, Paul would be able to kill him because he'd be able to foresee Feyd's moves like it happened in the movie. So, the whole theory that the baby is an antichrist was actually very helpful and made the plot of Feyd killing Paul more possible. 😈 Also, I decided to rewrite the scenes from the movie because whenever I am writing fics that happen in the movie scenes, the worst part is to actually describe the events on the screen and writing down everything actors are saying etc. I've always hated doing that so I decided to just be inspired by the events of the movie but go with my own version, especially that the presence of Paul's sister would obviously change the dynamic anyway. I know that some of you hoped Paul would live and have some sort of a deal with Feyd and his wife. I also liked the idea of arranging the marriage between Alia and their son. But as I said before – I decided to go with my original plan for this story. I hope I am forgiven. 😅

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune fanfic #dune x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #austin butler x reader #tttw #lilysfiction

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hyuuukais · 4 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, y/n gets told she talks too much kind of, discussion abt cheating

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER THREE -> AM I IN? (partially written! wc:546)

"...and then, after telling him how much I love him, he comes out of our shared- yes, shared- bedroom with another woman! Can you believe that? I pour my heart and soul to this man, and he just steps all over it! Them? My heart and my soul, so, yeah, I guess them. Sorry, what was the question again?"

"...what do you do for work?" The guy on the right side of the couch says, arms crossed.

You blink. "Right! I'm a graphic designer for a website."

"What website?" Beomgyu leans back, arms behind his head.

"This Just In!" You say excitedly, passionate about your work. "I'm trying to move into the journalism area as well. I'd love to be able to interview some of the people we do, but my boss didn't seem very keen to the idea yet."

"How come?" The one in the middle asks.

"He says I talk too much." A sudden wave of emotion hits you. "My boyfriend says the same."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"What?"

"Your ex-boyfriend." It's the one on the right again, eyes piercing into you; you can't hold his gaze.

"Right." You clasp your hands in your lap. "Maybe I've overshared a bit to you guys. I don't even know your names-" You point at the two.

"Han," the middle one offers. "Well, Jisung, but most people call me Han."

"Minho." You still can't look at him.

"Okay. Um, so, unless you have any other questions...?"

"Yeah, actually," Minho speaks. "What's your current living situation?"

"Oh! I'm living with my best friend, Hyunjin, and his roommates. But they're all models and it can be a bit... dramatic." You laugh nervously.

"Models?" Han sits up straight, looking at his two roommates. "What are the others like?"

"There's Felix, a literal sunshine, and Yeonjun and Wooyoung. They're usually the ones causing drama." You laugh again, this time more naturally. "Wooyoung just came back from a business trip, so I'm gonna be staying in my other best friend's, NingNing, she's amazing and I love her, apartment until she comes back. She's also a model... I'm friends with a lot of models."

"Do you mind stepping out for a second?" Han says with a smile. Your stomach drops. "I just need to discuss something with my roomies here."

"Y-yeah, okay." Quickly, you pick up your bag and head to the door, only stumbling a little bit.

Of course, you press an ear to the door once outside. If they don't want you, at least you'll know before they tell you to your face. Then maybe you won't cry at the news. The thick wooden door makes it hard to hear, only picking out bits and pieces.

"Dude, her best friend is a model-"

"Han, I swear to God-"

"She does talk a lot-"

"Like you're one to talk-"

"Okay, but with the breakup? Won't she be, like, crying all the time-"

"Hey, Min just went through a breakup too, so maybe she can help him with it-"

"Shut up-"

"Back to her best friend being a fucking model-"

A loud sigh signals you should back up, taking your phone out and pretending to be busy. The door opens, Minho in front of the other two looking more tired than before you left.

"You're in."

notes -> what is with me making idols i love into shitty exs like what is with that genuinely

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #lee minho x reader #lee minho x fem reader #lee know x reader #lee know x fem reader #skz #stray kids #skz fic #stray kids fanfic #skz smau #lee know smau #lee minho smau #smau #stray kids smau #social media au

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lizaluvsthis · 3 months

Text

The Girl in Fatal Lavenders

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

Summary: SMG4 has found someone new, much to Three's dismay. He couldn't help it but feel like something is wrong with his new "Girlfriend" and that there is something more going on with her than just being all 'kind' and 'polite' to people, especially with SMG4.

will SMG4 still end up being inlove with the Lavender Girl? or does he end up with Three's open heart

Tags: Enemies to Friends, Sun and Moon, angst, betrayal, catching feelings, comfort, hurt/comfort, drama, enemies to lovers, enemy, fluff, oblivious, slowburn, fruityass, gayness

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG3

SMG4 & Original Character

PuzzleVision(TvAdware) & Original Character

SMG3 & Mario

SMG4 & Mario

Chapter: Prologue...

A month ago…

Down from the hell hold of the monstrous abyss, the flesh and eyes, the wandering of its small parts. Scattering like worms around the floor.

As one of the pieces of rotting flesh makes its way out of the shoes where it happened to appear.

“Why isn’t this quite exciting?” a static audio of the voice played on, whereas he picked up the rotting flesh with his bare gloves. “This shall do with my perfect creation… I’d be dying to see torment with our view… don’t you just love how they suffer?”

TV Adware smiled at the small creation he made, seeing it wiggle out from the pinch of his fingers, he let it go, dropping itself to the ground as he proceedingly stomped at his failed creation.

As it dies and serves up its insides shown.

“Pointless” Adware rubs off the remaining blood from his shoe, scraping it down to the hard and solid ground. He ventured across the remains of each and part of the hell hole in search for a specific object.

The USB…

Searching through the pile of rocks, adware had finally found the missing USB… Thankfully the contents still remain on track and still keep it working.

“If I couldn’t get my hands on reach to the “Content man” then I prefer settling this, with a trick up my sleeve… my fellow friend”

Adware then raised the usb concentrating his power, putting a strong force at the object. The color that was yellow turned to the color of red, switching up to blue.

As it mixed together it formed the glow of lightish purple.

With the usb holding steady in the air, the sides bursted out black ink revealing its form. The black goo is now set free holding itself to the usb.

“My, my little creation. You seemed feisty in your little cage…” the goo shared out whispers in a quiet submerged air.

“This is going to be so… fun…” he smiled, raising both of his hands, pulling out the goo and putting it on its form.

His new creation has now been formed from the goop’s liquid. “I have a mission for you…” he walked around the creation as the goop went inside its mouth.

“Your body is in its human form, tho it wouldn’t last. Temporarily, get us our target little one. His name is SMG4” The creation opened its dead eyes, as Adware gave them the Usb.

“What shall my name be called? Master?” Receiving the usb, she held onto it with a grasp on her left hand bowing down at her creator.

“You will be named- —------” he patted her head.

“Run along creation, you will be starting this…”

The creation looked at the usb, opening her mouth as she swallowed down. Inheriting amounts of content and loads of memes giving its body life.

The dead eyes of hers began to have a sparkle.

“Do not worry master…” adware chuckled, “manners, call me PuzzleVision…”

“I will succeed my duty as a living vessel from this mortal body, and I will give back our target. SMG4…” in her truth of evil, she walked away at PuzzleVision with the devil themself. She smiled.

Seeing a close to broken computer from a feet away, still worked its own power from the software.

With just a little knowledge of memes she had from the computer, they made this as an opportunity to bring SMG4 down.

Logging in from discord, she joins a server located where SMG4 is currently active.

“Welcome to the “House of Memes” Server @----- you’re free to stay in our humble home of meme contents! Please read the #rules and be respectful to everyone, remember to put your intro at #introductions”

They quickly went to the intro channel, typing down the common notes. Name, Age, Hobbies, interests, goals, etc. Sending out the message, surprised for people to get caught up on.

—

7KNightsWrld: YOO @SuperMayroGlitchy4 look at this!

SMG4: Hey there new member! Happy to have you aboard!

—----: thank you.

—

This is a perfect opportunity to talk to the man and convince him.

“I hope you’re prepared for this SMG4…”

The creation hummed from their evil idea, and started to laugh. With SMG4 unaware of what will happen- His life is in its debt.

There is a picture from the media where SMG4 is having a gaming night with the orange haired girl, the red fat man, and next to him was the purple and black.

The goop suddenly recognized the faces during their last encounter with them. “Pathetic.”

They looked at the purple man, with his clear face and red eyes. Over with the beard and the hat.

He was the danger. He is a distraction. “Who would’ve guessed that a person like him could ever love SMG4?” recalling the past where he opened up to save SMG4’s life and risked everything just for him.

“Disgusting.” love is never part of them, pain and hatred ruled over the parts.

7KNightsWrld: you’re lucky to be here cause SMG4 said he’s been wanting to find a girlfriend xD

SMG4: KN STFU I’M PUTTING YOU ON MUTE-

@SMG4 set @7KNightsWrld on timeout for 24 hours

“Perfect… I’ll be his “wonderful” girlfriend…”

Her eyes turned red, craving out of Four’s wants.

This will be… Interesting…

End of Prologue...

--------

Next Chapter- 1 New Person, 1 New Goal

[1ST CHAPTER COMPLETED ]

#lizaluv #smg34 #smg4 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my fic #tgifl

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intoanotherworld23 · 10 months

Text

Deep Water IV

Characters: Will Miller, Ben Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia and female reader

Warnings: drinking, some swearing, mention of violence, mention of killing, minor kissing, and some inappropriate thoughts

Summary: Going back to the house after a bad night at the club you play a game of never have I ever and things start to heat up

I know I said I wasn’t going to post anything for a few days but I already had this written up, so I figured I owe you guys another chapter! If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know! Hearts, comments and reblogs are greatly encouraged and much appreciated! Thank you all so much! XOXO

Part 3

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"I told you we shouldn't have brought her." Frankie argued as he raced back to the house. "It was a bad idea."

"Shut the fuck up." Will growled as he wiped his forehead.

"I could have stayed with her and been fine." Frankie continued irritating Will even more.

"I said shut the fuck up Fish." He screamed at him as Frankie sunk further into his seat. "We did what we had to do."

"We should have known his men were going to be there though." Frankie mumbled shaking his head hating how south things went.

"If he would have just paid up he could have enjoyed his game." It sounded like Will was almost mad he was inconvenienced by this man not giving him what he wanted.

Benny and Santiago sat on either side of you looking down to their sleeves seeing drips of blood. Your head was starting to pound a slight ringing in your ears. Gulping as it sunk it they had just killed another man. Something must have gone wrong for them to shoot him.

All you heard was shots ringing out and hands grabbing you. Looking up to see that it was Will who had you in his hold while Frankie held his gun up covering the both of you.

It felt almost like Will was shielding you himself from anything or anyone getting to you. The way that he grabbed your hand had your heart racing and your blood pumping. He wasn't rough with you or aggressive. It was gentle and comforting which surprised you, and you didn't want him to let go.

"Look at her man." Benny sneered as he nodded to your shaken up figure. "She's absolutely terrified."

"You think I don't know that?." He turned around to glare at his brother.

"She could have been killed." Santiago said with a softer tone but Will still didn't want to hear it.

"But she didn't Pope." He argued as he looked at you just staring straight ahead your mouth slightly parted.

"Who was he?" Quietly asking as three heads turned to look at you making sure they heard you correctly.

"Some Russian asshole who owed us." Will turned back around as Frankie looked through the rearview mirror shaking his head at you.

"What was his name?" You pushed knowing it was a bad idea.

"That's not important." His hands clenching into fists by his side not wanting to involve you in any of this.

"He was still a human being." Will admired your respect for human life, but unfortunately he didn't respect them like you did.

"Not anymore." It terrified you to hear how careless he was towards someone else's lives.

Santiago placed a comforting hand on your knee giving you a weak smile. They knew what you must have been thinking and feeling, and they wanted you to know that everything was going to be okay.

They felt bad that you were in the dark, and they couldn't lend you a hand like you wanted. It was something that Will needed to inform you, and not them since they didn't even know the whole story. You really just wanted to know why and how Will knew your father, and what happened.

"What about the bodies?" Hearing that their were multiple people dead made you feel sick to your stomach.

"One of the security guys will dispose of them for us." Will had an answer for everything and could make anyone disappear.

"Won't the people at club say anything?" You asked Will turning his head to the side at your question.

"They know not to say anything." He sounded so confident you wondered if that were you would anybody say anything.

As you pulled up to the house Will was the first one out while Frankie and Santiago were walking by your side. Benny was right behind Will as they walked into an office hearing the door slam making your body jump up. Frankie wrapped an arm around your waist as you absentmindedly leaned into his body.

Right now you just needed someone to comfort you. Even if it wasn't exactly the person you wanted none the less it was still a warm body.

"I need a drink." Flicking your boots off as you shuffled to the kitchen.

"Haven't you already had enough." Frankie stating with concern at your mental status right now.

"Please that's nothing compared to what I can actually drink." Scoffing to him remembering all the times you would drink so much you were surprised you could even handle it.

Rummaging through the cabinets and drawers finding a bottle of tequila. Taking the cap off you took a shot without even bothering to get a glass. After the night you've had you sobered up since then, and you just wanted to numb this feeling you were having.

"We have shot glasses for a reason." Santiago teased you as sat down in the chair next to them.

"I plan on finishing off this bottle tonight." Both Frankie and Santiago laughing at you as they just sat back.

"Let's play a game." You stated after you took another large shot lifting your legs so your feet was pressed against the side of the arm rest.

"Like what?" Frankie looked confused hearing your suggestion.

"How about never have I ever?" They looked to each other with a shrug as they nodded.

"If we're playing that I'm gonna need something to drink." Santiago stood up as he opened the fridge cracking open a beer.

"Me too." Frankie shouted to him who tossed him a beer catching it waiting a few moments before he opened it.

"I'll go first." Raising your hand as you took another shot. "Never have I ever stolen something."

Both men groaned as they lifted up their beer and took a swig. That was probably a stupid question to ask to two men who were members of a notorious mob. Surely as the night went on and the more drinks you had the better the game would become.

"Never have I ever been to an amusement park." Looking over at Santiago with a shocked look and gasp.

"What?" Exclaiming as you and Frankie each took a drink. "You've never been to an amusement park?"

"Nope not once." Pressing his lips together as he shook his head. "Fish your turn."

"Uh never have I ever gone skydiving." All three of you looked at each other as nobody took a drink.

"Okay never have I ever." You looked around as you thought of something to say. "Been to a strip club."

Watching as both men smirked to each other taking a drink. Rolling your eyes not surprised by that one at all. As you sat there waiting for them to continue as they started discussing their stripper stories.

Laughing along as they joked how Benny got a boner from one of the strippers, and she left him hanging. Telling you how angry he was and that him and his right hand had to get very familiar that night.

If it wasn’t for the liquor coursing through your veins this topic of discussion would have disgusted you. This wasn’t appropriate at all, but it was amusing to you at the time.

"Okay okay never have I ever set a car on fire." Frankie looked directly towards Santiago who groaned as he took a drink.

"Come on man it was one time." Throwing his hands up as Frankie chuckled whereas you looked at them raising an eyebrow.

"What happened?" You asked nobody in particular.

"This idiot tossed his burnt cigarette near a car that he just poured gasoline on." He started off raising your eyebrows as you started laughing while glancing at Santiago. "The thing went up in flames."

"It was an accident." Throwing his head back not liking to be reminded of the things he messed up on.

Frankie continued laughing so hard he placed a hand on his chest. Santiago didn't look amused at all but you two were finding it hilarious. Santiago stood up straighter as he leaned forward grinning at Frankie.

"Alright fine never have I ever gotten head in a car." He smirked at the blushing man who immediately stopped laughing and a frown took on his face.

"Not you Frankie." You teased as he lifted up his beer taking a drink. "Alright young man explain yourself."

"It was a stripper by the way." Santiago butted in before Frankie could say anything.

“Wow shocker.” Lips pressed together not surprised at all that strippers were involved.

"At least I've gotten head in a car dick." Bob argued back as he flipped him off making Coyote burst into laughter.

"Yeah well at least I've never had to pay for head before." A hand went over your mouth as you tried not to cry from laughing so hard.

“Do you guys have any stories that don’t involve strippers?” Asking through brief chuckles.

“Not really.” Santiago confirmed.

You hated to admit it but you felt a little jealous of the stripper with Frankie. There was something about him that had you clawing at the cage to get inside. Wanting to know more about him, and possibly spend more time with him.

Granted he helped kidnap you, and was a part of a deadly gang. He seemed like a sweet man who has a big heart, and just wants to love someone deeply. Hoping he didn’t catch your stares through the night.

"Okay my turn." Taking a sip of your drink already feeling yourself getting very tipsy. "Never have I ever done it in public."

Both Frankie and Santiago took a swig as you looked at them with squinted eyes. Santiago shrugged meanwhile Frankie was just blushing even harder now. It made you giggle as you turned your focus on him, more turned on than you would’ve liked.

"And where was this Frankie?" Placing a hand under your chin as you asked the red cheeked man, Santiago wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"It was at a library." Now that was something you didn't expect to hear.

"Santi?" Turning to look at the other man with raised eyebrows, meanwhile Frankie still kept his eyes on you.

"It was at a club." Rolling your eyes playfully with his answer.

It didn't surprise you at all with that in fact you wouldn't be surprised if Benny and Will have also done it in a club. Feeling bile rise up in your throat at the thought of Will pressing another woman up against the walls of a bathroom. Hands on her hips with his lips kissing and sucking on her neck.

As you were picturing certain images in your mind you didn't realize how Frankie’s gazes on you were lingering longer and longer. How he would smile wider every time you laughed or teased him.

Frankie thought you were incredibly gorgeous and sweet. The more he get to be around you the more he wanted to keep you by his side. He felt extremely protective of you, and wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you.

If it wasn't for the alcohol that was in his system and his confidence feeling high he wouldn't have pulled his next move.

"Never have I ever." Frankie spoke as you and Santiago looked at him waiting for what he was going to say. "Kissed a woman named Y/N."

All you heard was Santiago ooohing as you lowered your head with a huge smile on your face. Frankie looked like an innocent little boy who was asking his crush to kiss him for the first time. It was kind of cute, and Frankie was an incredibly handsome older man. He might be a really good kisser for all you know.

Without saying a word you took another drink before you stood up to make your way over to Frankie. His eyes on yours the whole time as you sat on the other side of him Santiago looking between the two of you in bewilderment like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Looking from his eyes to his lips you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. It was a joke at first he didn't think you were really going to do it. Like him though he was feeling the alcohol in his system.

Leaning forward as you placed your hands on his knees one of his hands grabbing your waist as you placed your lips on his. Santiago’s mouth dropped down to the floor as Frankie pressed his lips even harder into yours.

His lips were soft like clouds, and yours were tingling at the delicate pressure he was applying. You’ve never felt like that when you’ve kissed someone. You were hoping he felt the same way.

Frankie groaned in your mouth as your fingers squeezed his thigh. If it wasn’t for Santiago being right there who knows if kissing would turn into more. You could feel the familiar tingle and ache between your legs the longer you kissed.

His other hand came up to caress your jaw as he was really getting into it. Feeling the edge of his glasses pressing on your face. Frankie surprisingly was a really good kisser and didn't seem awkward or uncomfortable at all. What you didn't expect though was to feel his tongue pushing against your lips begging to enter.

Before you could you heard a door opening and two hushed voices. The sounds of their shoes echoed in your ear, but Frankie wasn't letting you go. He wasn’t about to let this moment go so quickly.

He didn't care if the other guys were watching he was loving the attention he was getting. He wanted the other guys to secretly be jealous of him right now. That is until Benny decided to speak first.

"Holy shit Fish." He shouted making you and Frankie jump apart wiping your lip as you stared down at your lap. "Didn't think you'd have it in ya."

"Shut the fuck up." He growled but there was a smirk behind those words.

"Was hoping I would have been her first kiss." Benny winked towards you rolling your eyes at him.

Feeling embarrassed knowing the two of you just got caught kissing. Looking up you immediately made eye contact with Will. Who was staring you down so much you literally felt like you were shrinking down to the floor. You couldn't tell if he was angry or disappointed.

Will was pissed to watch as Frankie had his mouth all over yours. He wondered since the moment they took you what your lips would feel like and taste like. Now Frankie was the first one that got to know that.

It wasn't your fault for how he was feeling you were drunk, lost and confused about everything. Besides you weren't his to control or claim so he couldn't yell at you for kissing another member. He was just glad it wasn't Benny cause then he'd be seeing red.

"Pope." He looked between the two men staring daggers at the man in the glasses with red cheeks. "Fish."

"Benny will catch you up to speed on what we're doing." Both men stood up leaving their beer bottles both nodding as they passed by Will.

Will watching them as they walked away making sure they were gone before looking at you. His stare was really intense and you couldn't look away. Right now you were nervous wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to say to you.

"Let's get one thing straight." He started off as he started stepping closer to you. "You're not here as a guest."

"You're our hostage." You hated being reminded of your situation but he kept going. "We've kidnapped you and I decided to keep you alive."

"Fucking my men is out of the question." His words had venom in them as he spoke. "If you think sleeping with them is going to get you out of this I suggest you try another option."

"Acting like a whore isn't going to get you what you want." Your mouth parting in anger when he called you that.

Will really didn't want to say those things to you, but he wanted to piss you off. He wanted you to steer clear of him and his men, and not try to get close to any of them. The last thing he wanted to happen was any of them forming a bond with you.

Even though deep down inside he wanted to keep you all for himself. He was selfish, and didn’t want any other man to have you.

"I'm not a whore." Huffing as you stepped closer to him this time.

"Could have fooled me." He scoffed wanting to erase the image of you and Frankie kissing.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Judging by the way you were kissing Fish I’d say if it wasn't for us you probably would have fucked him right there." He snarled his cheeks and neck turning a slight shade of red.

At first the way he was talking about you and being so quick to judge you was pissing you off. Then you saw a light bulb turn on and knew exactly what he was really trying to tell you. Knowing from the moment he caught you two to where you both were now.

"Oh I get it." Looking at him with a knowing smirk.

"The fuck do you get?" He asked scrunching his face together curious to where this was going.

"You're jealous." Pointing your finger at him his face unmoved and unchanging.

"Are you fucking serious?" He was acting baffled hoping that you bought it.

"Oh my are you so jealous." You we're starting to find this funny now. "And of Frankie too."

"Shut your fucking mouth." He pushed back and it only made you laugh harder at him.

"That's so cute how jealous you are." You confined to tease with a baby voice you were pressing your luck.

"I said shut the fuck up." He was screaming at you not taking notice that he was now standing in front of you.

"I'm gonna start calling you jelly Mcjea-." Before you could say anything else you felt rough plump lips pressing against yours.

——————————————

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euovennia · 1 year

Text

widow CH. III

pairing: soap x fem!reader

a/n: full disclosure: this chapter may feel a bit half baked in comparison to the others (in my mind at least) but rest assured, the next one will be more mission based and i've already got a ton of ideas bouncing around for that so stay tuned!! (also thank you so much for 550+ followers, you guys are spoiling me i swear)

friendly reminder that this work is written with a fem!reader in mind, but with no specified features

PROLOGUE, CH. I, CH.II, CH. IV

The lights of the conference room are turned off and the blinds shut as Laswell flicks the projector on. The group is silent as they come face to face with the image of a man appearing to be somewhere in his early fifties holding a phone up to his ear as he gets into a black car. His lips are turned downward in a frown and despite the graininess of the image, it's clear that his eyes are filled with something eerie. Something sinister.

“This is Ivan Volkov. He’s been a person of interest for the CIA for over fifteen years.”

The man with the mohawk speaks, “Why’s that?”

“Volkov has been suspected of various crimes over the years, but the most prevalent among them all is his…creativity when it comes to human trafficking.”

Laswell switches the slide from the picture of Volkov to one that showcases the infamous hourglass symbol accompanied by various faces of little girls surrounding it.

“The main reason the CIA has had their eye on Volkov for so long is because of his practice of taking young girls, often through force, and putting them through rigorous training program so they can join his own personal team of workers, namely assassins. He calls it the Red Room.”

Union Jack cap cuts in, “And why hasn't he been taken in already?”

Laswell sighs, “Because no one could prove that he was actually doing such things so we just had to sit by and do nothing except wait for him to slip up. Unfortunately that never happened, at least not directly.”

Laswell nods her head in the direction of Shadow.

“Four years ago, Shadow was able to confirm the existence of the Red Room. Since then, she's been gathering intel on Volkov in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Red Room as well as mass pick up points for the girls he keeps hidden away until he can put them into the Red Room.”

Mohawk decides to speak up once more, “If Volkov’s gone and kidnapped them, why are they so keen on working for the lad?”

“We can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume the reason these girls are taken so young is because their brains are still developing. At that stage, it’d be rather easy for him to get in and manipulate them into doing his dirty work for him.”

Not wanting to stay on the topic of what Volkov did to these girls, what he did to her, Shadow decides to interject.

“So what’s your plan to catch him? I’m assuming that’s why you’ve rounded us all up here.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, everyone in the room turns their attention to her. The three unfamiliar men each showcasing varying degrees of surprise while Price and Laswell both seem to be caught off guard by the woman’s voice unexpectedly cutting through the conversation. Deciding not to vocalize the collective wave of shock rolling through the small room, Laswell simply nods.

“Yes, you’d be correct.”

Wanting to redirect the boys’ attention off Shadow, he speaks up.

“What’ve you got for us then?”

“You’ll first be flown into the heart of Moscow and dropped off at a base there before meeting up with a few contacts of mine based in Russia. They’ll drop you off ten klicks north of a village by the name of Samat where a close contact of Volkov’s resides; Sergei Magerovski. He, unfortunately, won’t be there the night you arrive so you’ll have to stay in a safe house just outside of the village. Once he arrives however, your job will be to apprehend him and get him to reveal the location of the Red Room. From there, Shadow will get in contact with me and we’ll plan accordingly.”

Price sighs as he gives Laswell a skeptical look, “That’s the plan? Seems half baked to me.”

Laswell shrugs as she leans back in her chair, “Out of all the enemies we’ve faced, Volkov is by the far the most elusive and secretive. It took hours just to find anything about Magerovski’s existence. Call him what you want, but he’s a smart man. He knows how to hide.”

Price spares a glance over to Shadow who gives him a near hesitant nod of her head before turning back to Laswell.

“Alright then. When do we leave?”

Laswell smiles, “Tonight.”

After the rather short meeting with Laswell had ended, Shadow was the first one out the door. While it wasn’t her intention to come off as rude to the rest of the team, she knew that’s what it probably looked like. So much for being a team player.

Even so, she refused to dwell on the small interaction and instead decided to start getting her gear together for the upcoming mission thinking it would take a while. Unfortunately she managed to gather everything she needed rather quickly, even with all of the extra bulk she’d be carrying around. While she greatly preferred to keep the amount of gear she took with her on missions minimal, she knew she’d need to carry a bit more than what she was used to. Not only to keep up with what was sure to be a hellish force of Volkov’s army of assassins, but also her new teammates for the time being.

What a strange word, she thought, teammates.

She continued to mull over the single word throughout the rest of her day. Even now as she sat in the back of the plane in one of the seats lined against the walls, bag neatly tucked under her seat as her fingers tap against her thigh in time with the piano notes of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’.

Upon hearing footsteps approach her, she switches her music player off and rips out her earbud before turning her attention to the origin of the noise where she's pleasantly surprised to see Price approaching her with two cups of pudding in his hands. She wraps her headphone cable around the music player as she speaks.

“Why do you have pudding?”

Price sits beside her and holds one out to her before replying, “It’s Friday.”

The woman catches in quickly as she takes the cup of pudding from his outstretched hand.

“Our dessert day.”

Price gives her a nod of confirmation before pulling out two spoons from his pocket and sticking one in her cup. She mumbles out a small ‘thank you’ before they begin eating.

Surprisingly, Shadow is the first to speak.

“How do you feel about the mission?”

Price gulps down his spoonful of vanilla pudding before responding.

“Wish it was a bit more well laid out, but what can you do? The bloke is a dodgy little twit. What about you?”

The woman plops her spoon in the remaining bit of her strawberry pudding as she takes a few moments to think. On one hand she was more than happy to be going after Volkov, but on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel like something awful was going to happen.

“I’m not sure. I suppose I’m feeling a mix of things.”

“Understandable, but you've gotta feel the least bit proud of yourself, no? You've been tracking this arsehole for the better part of four years now. Must be nice to have the go head to finally get after him.”

She sighs, “It is, but I have a bad feeling. Something doesn't feel right.”

Price gulps down the last bite of his pudding, “You sure that feeling doesn't have anything to do with the fact you’re working with a team for once?”

She takes in another gulp of her pudding, “Pretty sure. It feels different.”

Price bites down on his lip before turning to her and resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, a small wave of pride flooding his chest when he notices she doesn't flinch at his touch like she used to.

“You know well enough by now to know I can't tell you everything’s gonna go right, kid.”

Her lips purse in thought.

“But,” He gently turns her head to face him, “I can promise you that my men and I will be there with you every step of the way. You’re part of the team now, even if it is just for this mission.”

He pulls his hands away from her and leans back against the seat before she decides to speak.

“Thank you, Price…I appreciate that.”

He waves her off.

“No need for all that. Just do me a favor and start calling me Captain Price. At least when we're around the others. Higher rank and all that.”

She’s quiet for a few moments.

“Technically I don't have a rank.”

Price jokingly rolls his eyes at her comment.

“Fuckin’ mercies,” He mutters.

“Mercies?”

“Mercenaries. That's what my old Captain used to call ‘em. Suppose I took after him.”

She nods as she finishes off the last of her pudding.

“You've still gotta refer to me as Captain Price, or even just Captain.”

This time she’s the one to roll her eyes as she crosses her arms with a small smile.

“Yeah, fine. I’ll entertain it.”

“I’m being serious, kid.”

“Mhm. Yeah, whatever you say Captain Price,” she replies in a mocking tone.

He shakes his head in mild disapproval. As much as he wants to scold her for not taking him as seriously as he’d like, he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was a rare sight to see her initiating conversation, much less take part of his playful teasing. He didn't have the heart to ruin it.

Just as she opened her mouth to say something, the sound of multiple pairs of boots padding across the metal flooring of the plane made its way to her ears. Both she and Price looked up to see the Soap, Gaz, and the tall man whose name she hadn't quite learned yet step onto the plane and set their bags of gear down under the seats they decided to occupy. She couldn't help but notice it was on the other end of where she’d settled down. Not that she minded, she didn’t want to talk to them before it was necessary.

Price looks down at his watch.

“Looks like we’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. You want to come sit with the guys over there? I’ve gotta make sure they don't start taking the piss.”

She stares at them for a few moments before eventually shaking her head.

“No, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.”

Price narrows his eyes in suspicion at her answer, but decides not to push it any farther as he gets up.

“I’ll let you play the lone wolf for just a bit longer, but no more after this. You’ve got to start talking to them, build a rapport. They're not bad once you get to know them.”

She looks them over once more before turning her attention back to Price.

“The safe house. I’ll start there, I promise”

He points a finger her way with a stern expression, “‘M gonna hold ya to that.”

She gives him a small nod before he gives her a small pat on the shoulder and walks off to sit with the group of men. She watches them for a few moments longer before leaning her head back against the stiff seat and closing her eyes, willing the plane to take off sooner than later.

It had been a little under fifteen minutes after Price had decided to go over and sit with the boys, and the plane was now soaring through the air as a calm and quiet chatter filled the atmosphere around the small group. The moment could almost be seen as relaxing if you chose to ignore the reason why they were even on the plane in the first place, but of course, Soap decided to open his mouth.

“Hey Cap, I’ve got a question for ya.”

Price knew deep down he probably wouldn’t care for whatever inquiry Soap was prepared to spill from his mouth, but he allowed it anyway.

“What is it?”

Soap pointed a finger over where Shadow was sitting with her eyes closed and head leaned back.

“You know ‘er?”

Price couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. He’d been expecting this question, but even so, it was Soap asking so he couldn’t help but delay his response just a tad.

“What makes you say that?”

Soap shrugs as he leans back in his seat and crosses his ankles over one another, “You two were eating pudding together before you ran off over here when we showed up. Just thought you might have history.”

Price doesn’t respond, causing Gaz to speak up.

“She your girlfriend, Captain?”

The boys watch Price’s face begins to grow considerably pale at the question as he seems to stumble over his words for a moment as he tries to respond.

“What? No, I–”

He lets out a deep sigh as he tries to compose himself.

“–No, She is not my girlfriend and nor will she ever.”

A beat of silence passes over the group of four before Soap speaks, a smug smile stretched on his face as he nudges Gaz with his shoulder.

“Bit defensive there, eh?”

Gaz and Soap attempt to stifle their laughter as Price seems to grow increasingly more flustered at their insinuations. While finding the teasing of the younger members mildly amusing, Ghost decides to take this moment to ask a question of his own.

“Well then what do you know about her?”

Gaz and Soap quiet down as the stern voice of their shared lieutenant cuts through the air. They both turn their attention back to Price who seems to be equal parts thankful and exasperated by Ghost’s question. He clears his throat before leaning back in his seat, one hand clasped tightly around the spare pen he grabbed from one of the pockets sewn onto his tactical vest.

“What’s got you lot so curious?”

“Never received a file on her, as good as a stranger,” Ghost replies as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Price spares a glance toward the topic of discussion out of the corner of his eye before settling it back on his team.

“She’s experienced and capable. Not to mention the most knowledgeable about Volkov out of any of us. She’ll be an asset to this team,” He says simply.

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You’re not telling us everything, are you?”

Price shrugs, “I’m tellin’ you the things that matter. You wanna learn more about her?” He points in her direction, “Then you can ask her yourself,” He finishes with a tone of finality, effectively ending the discussion.

Gaz and Soap hang their heads low in slight disappointment at Price’s answer before quickly moving onto another topic of discussion while Ghost keeps his eyes locked on the woman. It’s only after he receives a small kick from Price that he tears his gaze away from her. He always did have a staring problem.

“Yer aff yer heid.”

“English, MacTavish.”

“Use your fuckin’ context clues, L.T.”

“You little shite-” Price stops in his tracks and turns his body around to face the two men with a glare.

“I’m gonna give you two a proper beating if you don’t shut up.”

Soap’s eyes widen as he jerks a finger toward Ghost, “He started it!” “I don’t care who started it. My only concern is finding this safe house and getting you lot out of my hair for a moment,” He practically seethes, his patience for the two bickering men having diminished long ago. He opens his mouth to continue his rant, but is stopped by three gentle taps on his shoulder. He whips his head toward the origin of the touch to reveal Gaz pointing toward Shadow who was currently staring at the group from the porch of what seemed to be a cabin off in the distance.

“I found the safe house,” Soap states.

Price spares him another glance as he narrows his eyes, “You’re on thin ice, Sergeant.”

Not wanting to spend another moment outside, he stalks off in the direction of Shadow with Gaz quietly trailing by his side. As the silhouette of his captain and other sergeant grow smaller with the distance, Ghost nudges Soap.

“Come on then.”

Not wanting to open up another pointless argument, Soap decides to quietly follow after Ghost. As they approach the safe house, they’re able to take in the overall structure of the building. It was a quaint little cabin, almost homely if it weren’t for the overgrown weeds and boarded up windows. After shutting the door shut behind them, they found it was pretty much what they’d expected. Various pieces of furniture scattered across the scraped hardwood floors as well as small bits of peeling paint falling from the walls. Even so, it still wasn’t quite as bad as other safe houses they’d been in. At least this one felt somewhat like a home still.

After the group did a quick sweep through of the house, Price immediately retired himself to the one bedroom that was present in the house, stating he needed time away from the group. Not bothering to wait for a proper response, he walked away with his arrival to the bedroom only being marked by the sound of the door closing shut.

Deciding that she didn’t want to spend any more time standing around, Shadow walked over to a corner of the living room that seemed cleanest and plopped her bag down on the floor before taking a seat next to it. She stretched her legs out in front of her before leaning her upper body against the wall. She blissfully blocked out the sounds of her teammates shuffling around the room as she pulled her bag onto her lap and unzipped the side compartment. She rummaged through the small pocket in hopes of finding the small packet of plain crackers she’d stashed away on base. After more than a few moments of fruitless rummaging, she let out a small sigh. Wanting to give herself one last chance, she reached in the deep crevices of the compartment and ran her fingertips along the edges of it, her hand coming to a stop upon the unfamiliar feeling of a glossy paper like object. Curiously, she grabs onto it with her thumb and forefinger before pulling it out and resting it in the palm of her hand. As she looks down at her hand, her eyes come into contact with a small wallet sized photograph of a younger version of herself, a wide smile stretched onto her face and a Santa hat messily placed onto her head as her arm is thrown over the shoulder of a familiar face; Karina.

Two young girls wait patiently as they watch multiple women clad in plain clothing put the finishing touches on the set that lies before them. The taller of the two young girls is given a small nudge on the shoulder by the girl beside her. She ignores the gesture in order to prevent drawing any unnecessary attention to the pair, but eventually gives into the urge to speak as the nudges of the smaller girls grow stronger causing her to stumble ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Karina,” She hisses out quietly.

She can see the corner of her friend’s lips turn upward in a small smirk.

“I’m bored.”

“No one here cares if you’re bored.”

She gets another nudge in return, although this one is more gentle.

“You do.”

The older of the two has to stop the sigh that threatens to spill from her lips. It was true after all, she did care.

“What do you want me to do about it? Not like there’s any games around.”

Karina points a small finger in the direction of the board games lining a nearby bookshelf as she whispers excitedly, “Those are games!”

“Those are empty and you know that. It’s just for show.”

“But what if they’re not? Have you ever held one of them?”

The older girl goes silent at the question. She never had the opportunity.

“See! There could be games in there,” Karina states, a smug lilt to her voice that didn’t please the older girl one bit.

“Even then, we’ll never get the chance to see. Not with them around,” She says as she gives a subtle nod over to the various workers walking around the place.

Karina sighs, “I guess that’s true…What do you think it’s like? Playing a game?”

“I don’t know. It could be fun.”

“I wish we could have fun.”

The older of the two goes to speak but promptly closes her mouth as the pair is approached by one of the women who speaks to them in fluent Russian paired with a near impeccable accent.

“We are ready for you. Come.”

The two girls spare each other a glance before trailing after the woman, eventually coming to a stop in front of a neatly decorated Christmas tree that was situated just a few feet from a red brick fireplace adorned with a festive garland and plain red stockings.

Just as they had each taken in the colorful decorations, the woman they had come to know as Madame Sotskova began spilling firm instructions to the girls who immediately obeyed without question.

Soon enough, the two girls were sat on the carpeted floor with wide smiles as they tore the wrapping paper off the various presents that were stacked around them. It was an exhilarating feeling for each of them being able to open the presents and get a glimpse of the toys they uncovered, even being able to grab and hold onto them. It could’ve even been considered fun if it weren’t for the bright flash that nearly blinded them every so often, a flash that reminded them both the nature of what was really happening.

After sitting and unwrapping the various presents for over twenty minutes, the gifts were promptly taken away to be rewrapped as Madame Sotskova walked over and began spewing out different instructions just as she had before. This time, the two girls were pressed up against each other with the older of the two now wearing a Santa hat that Karina had haphazardly situated on her head. The older girl had since thrown an arm around Karina’s shoulder, effectively pulling her closer to her side at the firm direction of Madame Sotskova. Wide smiles stretched onto their faces as the bright flash of the camera began lighting up the room. They remained in that position for a few minutes before they were pulled apart by two other workers they didn’t recognize. They watched with bated breath as Madame Sotskova inspected the photos that had come from the polaroid. After giving a small nod of approval, the two girls were roughly pulled up onto their feet with the Santa hat being ripped off the older girl's head. They spared each other a small glance out the corner of their eyes before taking in a deep breath and moving their gaze to stare directly in front of them. They each resisted the urge to reach out and grab onto the other's hand as they felt a small prick on the side of their neck.

It was a scary feeling to have such an intense wave of tiredness and nausea flood your body at such a fast speed, but they remained expressionless. Even as the taunting voice of Madame Sotskova rang through their ears as their vision became a hazy mess of different lights and colors.

“Sweet dreams.”

Taking in one final breath, they both fell back into the arms of the workers as they silently prayed it would all go away when they woke up. A bad dream. But like many times before, their hopes of waking up to a better life were ripped away as they opened their eyes and their gaze flickered over to their dominant hand being cuffed to the metal frame of their assigned bed.

This was reality.

Upon hearing the sound of footsteps quietly stalking toward her, Shadow tucked the photo back into the unzipped pocket and looked up to see the masked man stop a few feet away from her before settling down onto the floor. Her eyes roamed over the man’s frame before eventually settling on his eyes. He promptly returned her stare for a few moments before giving her a small nod of his head and looking away. Satisfied that the man wasn’t one to talk, she took her gaze off him and zipped up the open pocket in her bag before pushing it off her completely. She wasn’t really in the mood for crackers anymore.

The two of them sat in silence for a good while before it was eventually broken by the sound of the man rustling through his back. She looked back over to him to see him pulling out a set of black knives. She watched as he retrieved a small microfiber cloth from his pocket before dragging it over the body of the knife. In all honesty the knives already looked clean, near impeccable even, but when you’re cooped up in a room with virtually nothing to do, she supposed giving your knives a quick wipe down wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They remained in the same position, the masked man cleaning his knives and her simply watching. It had gone from an eerie, almost uncomfortable quiet to one that was tolerable.

Jesus, she thought, I really hate working with teams.

Just as she began debating whether or not she should just walk out of the cabin, a Scottish accent rang out through the room.

“Hey, you two gonna come over or what?”

Shadow sucked in a sharp breath before looking up to see the man across from her already staring at her. He was the first to break eye contact as he packed his knives away and stood up. He walked a few steps over to the two men who were waiting patiently before coming to a sudden stop. He spared a glance over his shoulder back toward Shadow. Her eyes flickered from the man over to the two men who were still talking before her gaze eventually settled on the empty space they made. It was enough for two people. Holding in a small sigh, she pushed herself up from the floor and began walking behind skull face.

“Yer talking oot yer arse.”

“I’m serious!” “Give it up, mate.”

At the disbelieving words of Ghost and Soap, Gaz turned to Shadow in what seemed to be a moment of desperation.

“Come on, what about you? You’ve gotta believe me.”

It was the first time any of them had thought to include her in their ongoing conversation and she couldn’t help but feel almost relieved. She’s not much for talking sure, but any type of conversation beats the mindless game of acting like you’re interested. Besides, she did make that promise to Price. She lets out a quiet sigh.

“Bit far-fetched, but I can see it happening.”

The desperate plea etched onto his face morphs into one of glee as a smile spreads onto his face.

“See, I told you!”

Soap rolls his eyes, “You outdrinking someone like Price? Impossible.”

Gaz speaks in a tone of pure exasperation, “He’s not a heavy drinker, I told you that already!”

“And we’re just supposed to take yer word for it?”

Gaz goes to respond, but is cut off by Shadow.

“He likes being aware of his surroundings. Drinking takes that away, so he doesn’t do it often. Simple as that.” She half expected the three men to stare at her shock for her sudden desire to speak much like they had during the conference with Laswell, but they didn’t, much to her surprise. Instead, she was met with the narrowed gaze of the one they called Soap.

“How d’ya know that?”

She shrugs, “We’ve known each other a while.”

Gaz is next to speak, “How long’s a while?”

She really needs to learn how to shut her mouth.

“Long enough.”

“How ‘bout a time frame? Couple months, couple years?”

“Whichever one you think.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Yer not gonna tell us anything then, eh?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Gaz all but whines.

“It’s irrelevant.”

Ghost’s gruff voice cuts through the air, “You expect us to trust someone we know nothing about?”

She turns her attention to him, “I don’t know anything about any of you either. The only reason I know your names is because I heard it in passing.”

Gaz takes his Union Jack cap off before speaking, “Then how about your job? It’s obvious you’re not a soldier,” He motions to her bodysuit, “So what are you? Is it some special unit?”

She shakes her head no.

“I’m whatever Laswell needs me to be.”

“So…What? You’ve got some type of specialized training for that?”

She looks at Soap, “You could say that.” Gaz sighs, “We’re not getting anything out of you, are we?”

“Nothing that’s not essential to the mission.”

“You’ve gotta give us something, woman. How about your name?”

She turns her focus back to Soap, “Shadow.”

He rolls his eyes, “I mean yer real name. You do have one of those, right?”

“I do, but it’s not essential to the mission and therefore you don’t need to know.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “You C.I.A.?”

She huffs out a breath of air, “Not a chance.”

The three men surrounding her all spare each other a glance before turning their gaze back onto the woman before them. A few moments of silence pass over them before Soap speaks.

“You know, you’re like a mini ghost.” He ignored the blank stare his Lieutenant gave him before continuing with a smile.

“I think I’m gonna like havin’ ya around.”

TAGLIST: @deadpoolsluvrr @simonsbluee @niawritesbs @ethanhawkelovers-blog @watermaylon-writes @ravenhood2792 @shoxji @griimreaperr @galacticstxrdust @cptmaverick-marvel @comedinewithmeyeh @fluffysteampunkd @callmenoiselul @isissakibbs-blog @urfavsunkissedleo @decaffeinatedmom01 @23victoria @silveroak-art @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deadbranch @ella-error505 @queen-of--roses @emrzennn @nat-the-gemini @shuttlelauncher81 @delightfully-dumbass @coolmaybelateruniverse @lilpothoscuttings @dakotali @chloepluto1306 @scaredknight @swissy23 @desxr-fx @water-hemlock18 @abbiesxox @kiriki45 @saeyaaa

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my-favourite-zhent · 15 days

Text

Fortune and Favour

Hello folks, a new AU long fic for you.

Summary:

AU set in Luskan 1480DR. Rugan has assumed leadership over the Coin Spinners gang and taken the name Clearlight. When a Waterdhavian noble comes snooping around for Illuskan Netherese relics under the gang's headquarters Rugan steps up to put them in their place. What he instead finds is the chance at an amazing payday and an unexpected prize.

Notes:

This AU is straight out of the filthy mind of @fistfuloftarenths. She head canoned the idea of Rugan of Clearlight based off the screenshots of @captainsigge. Fistful also came up with a lot of the scene ideas, so I'm bordering on being her ghostwriter at this point. Also thank you to @dustdeepsea for helping me with the title and summary. Big shout out to all three for beta reading for me. These fics are pretty much written for the Zhentil Keep Perverts at this point.

Banner by the lovely @coreene

Chapter One below the cut or here on AO3

Chapter One

1480 15 Uktar

Eden of Clearlight was dead, had been for many months now. While she had rallied many of the other gangs to the Coin Spinners banner, she had lost almost as many men in the ensuing chaos. The Coin Spinners had been left adrift, weakened, directionless and Rugan had seen an opportunity.

He’d only been a lieutenant in a lower ranking gang – so low its name does not bear recounting – when Eden had pulled them all into the fold. But now she and most of her officers were dead. There had been a few others that vied for leadership, and all had found a knife in their back. Either each other’s or Rugan’s.

So it came to be that at barely twenty-four Rugan had become the new head of the Coin Spinners, and with it acquired the title Clearlight. So named for the temple-come-fortress that housed them. He had struck decisively at the other criminal organisations before they had gotten their feet back under them. Most had survived but in weakened states. There were few left who would dare challenge him now. Which was why Amnos’ information came as a surprise.

“Some girl’s been asking about you down in the Cutlass,” the redheaded man had said as the pair stood in front of the altar to Tymora that marked the centre of the fortress.

“That right? Looking to get recruited?” Rugan drawled in his lilting Luskan accent. He tilted his head as he spoke, tied back flaxen hair catching gold in the sunlight that trickled through the stained-glass window overhead. It was said to be the last glass window in Luskan, and for which the temple and now Rugan derived their name.

“Doesn't seem like, looked a bit posh to be joining up.” Amnos scratched his beard pensively.

“A noble?” His eyebrow quirked. That was interesting. Not that he had any love for nobles but he’d never heard of one stooping to joining a street gang, especially not in Luskan of all places.

“Seemed so, dressed nice and spoke real educated-like too. Southern accent it sounded like.”

“Who’s she affiliated with?” The thought of a southerner stirring up trouble did give him pause. Kalen Dren, one of the parties who had been involved in the annihilation of the Luskan gangs, had been from Waterdeep and had since returned there. Any locals would’ve known to stay out of Rugan's way.

Amnos shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like she knows the local gangs, we haven’t seen her make contact with anyone. She’s just been reading books when she’s not harassing the locals.”

“Suppose we should pay this little interloper a visit then. We can’t have just anyone trading on my good name.” He smiled shark-like.

+++++

The Cutlass was one of the busier inns. In the city’s heyday it had been a sight to behold. Still turned a profit as it was, but much like Luskan it’s glory days were long past. The timbers were old and rotted, and its windows were made of thin sheets of animal horn rather than glass.

A nervous silence had fallen over the taproom when Rugan and Amnos entered and he felt a smile play at the corner of his mouth. There was power there, in being feared. Rugan’s exploits against the other guilds had been cutthroat and his reputation well earned. He had little interest in the common folk though. These customers had no reason to fear him as long as they didn’t cross him, but there was no need to tell them that.

He nodded at Amnos to wait for him down here before ascending the stairs to the inn’s rooms. The girl had been under watch for a few days now and his men had informed him of which room was hers. He knocked at the door. Whatever this little noble wanted, he'd be sure to send them packing.

The door swung open and there she stood. Little was right, she barely came up to his chest. But gods, she was beautiful. With soft raven waves cascading past her shoulders, a small but perky bust and a delicate waist that was begging to be grasped.

“Heard you've been asking around about Clearlight, lass.”

It was meant to be intimidating, well, just a touch to start. In her excitement the girl didn't seem to notice. She clasped her hands together under her chin and looked at him with wide eyes.

“You know about the Clearlight temple?” The delight in her voice was unmasked. Her eyes were sparkling, and they were lovely too, framed by thick dark lashes.

The girl’s reaction was the exact opposite of what he had intended, and he felt himself swallow unexpectedly. She grasped his hand in both of hers.

“Oh, do please come in!” She began pulling him into the room without waiting for a reply. Rugan allowed this, but not without some trepidation. Was this a trap set by a rival faction?

“I'd love to hear your opinion on the maps. It took a while to piece them together.” She ushered him towards a table that looked like the victim of a mad cartographer. Several maps were scattered over its surface, weighted down with pebbles. He could see underneath was a larger sheet that had connections between these disparate pieces drawn in.

“Now, no one source had all the sections of the undercity of course. What information we have on Netheril and Illusk is fragmented at best. But based on the complete diagrams from various other Netherese ruins we know that the general floorplan of a Netherese vault house follows a distinct pattern…” The girl had taken a seat at the table and continued to chatter on, but she had lost him a while ago. He sat down in the opposite chair, scrutinising her as she spoke.

A thin braid encircled the crown of her head, adding a touch of order to the chaos that was her hair. Her blouse looked to be of a fine cotton, with ruffled trim along a neckline that dipped deliciously low. He admired how the swell of her breasts peaked out from beneath her top. It was cinched under her bust by a green velvet jacquard corset, laced up the front. Her pants were tan leather, they looked smooth and barely worn. Amnos had been right, entirely too posh to be a recruit. Some noble out of Baldur’s Gate or Waterdeep mayhaps?

“I keep asking about the temple but no one seems to want to talk about it. You'd think it was dedicated to Beshaba rather than Tymora with how skittish the locals have been.”

“People can be a bit superstitious here in Luskan,” he offered, inwardly grinning at his good fortune.

She was a complete and utter fool. For all her research she had neglected to look into the local criminal organisations before coming to Luskan. Of course she didn't know that the Coin Spinners had taken the temple as their base, and that he had taken its name for his own.

“Ah, forgive my manners. I've forgotten to introduce myself. My name is Isolde.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

“Rugan.” He replied, taking her hand and raising it to place a kiss upon it.

She was taken aback, eyes wide with surprise.

‘Didn't think a guttersnipe like me knew how to address a noble lady, did ya?’ Rugan was both rankled by the thought and smug that he had proved her wrong.

He noticed a blush creep over her cheeks and how she seemed to be appraising him now as if noticing him for the first time. He felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. No, it was more than surprise, she was flattered.

“P-pleased to meet you,” she managed to eke out.

“Indeed.”

Then, just as quickly, it seemed his hold on her was broken by a sudden recollection.

“Ah I almost forgot! The onion skin!”

“Onion skin?”

But she was already out of her seat and rooting through her pack. She returned with a roll of paper that when unfurled was semi translucent. He supposed it did resemble the skin of an onion.

Carefully she placed it overtop the other maps, pinning it down based on some landmarks only she perceived. There was a map on the onion skin he realised. Tymora’s tits, this was—

“It's the blueprint for Tymora’s temple. The clerics in Waterdeep let me take a look at their copy. Took a bit of maths to get it to scale with the others but luckily the walls are mostly square. Mind you, this is from when it was built in the 1370s, there's no way to tell what it looks like now over a hundred years later. At least not short of going in yourself.”

Now this was something. It galled him to think that a map of the hideout had just been floating around in some Waterdeep temple for any preening noble to come have a little look-see.

“And these markings here?” He gestured to the map, careful to keep his tone neutral.

There were four circles and three crosses marked on the onion skin which lined up with structures on the maps below. He already had a sneaking suspicion what they were based on their locations.

“Passages down to Illusk. The circles are confirmed, cross-referenced with some old journal entries of a priestess I found in Candlekeep library.”

She was correct, two were caved in, but the remaining pair the Coin Spinners had heavily trapped and kept watch over. Never knew what manner of sneak or beast would come up from the undercity.

“And the crosses are unconfirmed?”

“Right, I couldn't find any historical records that mention them specifically, but based on the fact that the first four correspond with the Netherese designs, I think it's safe to assume there would be a temple counterpart for the remaining three. Two of them are connected to a hidden inner chamber while the third connects to the high priest’s chambers, which would explain why they weren't widely known. I mean, it's just a hunch, but I'm fairly confident.”

She looked proud, and he supposed she had reason to be, having found three unguarded entrances to slip into his lair.

“Why would the temple builders create passages, and not just loot the undercity?”

“They may have already looted it or attempted to. But I suspect the temple's location would be particularly auspicious, sitting on top of a coin house. The number of passages also suggests this—seven was considered lucky in many human cultures.” She mused.

There was a sharp whistle and they both started from their chairs.

“Shit, the kettle.” She hurried over to the opposite table where a ceramic kettle bedecked with runes was steaming. Nobles and their magic toys.

“Would you like some tea?” She called over her shoulder.

“Oh, aye.”

Rugan took the opportunity to consider his next steps. He had come here expecting an upstart wanting to buy their way into the guild, or perhaps some imposter trading on his name. Either one he would've cowed or killed, depending on how much he disliked them. He was certainly prepared to dislike some preening noble.

But, technically she was innocent of any crime outside general nosiness. If anything it was his good luck that he had found her before some rival did. He could just take the map but that left the girl as a loose end.

Rugan watched as she prepared two cups of tea. Killing her would be easy enough, but it would be simpler to find the entrances with her know-how.

‘Besides,’ he thought, as she tucked her hair behind her ear revealing more of her slender neck, ‘Noble or not, it would be a crime to remove such a pretty thing from the world.’

She returned with the two cups, and he noted she had left two sugar cubes on his saucer. Sugar had been a luxury in Luskan of late, seemed like more and more things were luxuries nowadays.

“My thanks.” He accepted the cup politely and dropped both cubes in before stirring. “You bring all this with you from Waterdeep?”

“Yes, that's right. Generally prefer to travel light but the merchants I know in the city were of the consensus that it’s a bit harder to get supplied in Luskan, and in any case it was just the one boat up.” She took the seat beside him and sipped at her tea.

“Not too long of a trip I hope?”

“A little more than half a tenday by galley. Not long at all.”

He nodded and took a deep draught of the tea. Rugan was no deckhand, but you don’t grow up in the city of sails without learning a thing or two about ships. A galley was one of the fastest and most expensive ships to book passage on, just one way may have run her fourty or fifty gold pieces. Definitely moneyed, maybe a merchant family out of Waterdeep? She might fetch a nice ransom. No servants though, at least none that Amnos had observed. This wasn’t entirely unusual with tourists who thought part of the fun was ‘roughing it’ . Especially if they were stingy tourists.

“I’m being rude again, I’ve forgotten to ask about your interest in the temple.” And she really did look sorry.

“Well I live there for one.”

“Live there!” She straightened in her chair. “But the clerics in Waterdeep, they said the clergy has long since abandoned Clearlight temple.”

“We’re not really associated with the Waterdeep branch. None of the large organisations have any interest in Luskan since the Spellplague. You could say we’re a bit esoteric compared to most Tymorans.” Rugan didn’t consider himself a particularly good liar, but the girl hadn’t seemed to have noticed.

She was leaning in close now, barely containing her excitement. “So you’ve been inside? You’ve seen the passageways?” He could smell her hair now, it was like jasmine and orange peels.

“Aye lass, some of them. Most are collapsed but those new ones on your map I haven’t seen before. Could be worth an investigation.” The girl was almost leaping out of her chair, this was too easy.

“Would you permit me to come look?” Her voice had already been high but it seemingly shifted a whole octave up now. “I promise not to disturb anything, and of course there would be a split of anything found down there.”

He let his features fall into a charming smile. “Well, if you're promising.” Of course the split would be highly in his favour, if he let her keep anything at all. Unlikely.

It was his lucky day, Tymora be praised. He was going to secure the fortress, possibly a payday and—he let his gaze linger on her a moment—a bit of company if he played his cards right.

She must have noticed his stare, noticed how close they were because her cheeks were reddening and it seemed like her breath was caught in her throat.

“Are you a treasure hunter, then?” Her cup was no longer steady in her hand and he gently took it from her, placing it on the table.

“N-no, just a student. I've been writing my graduation thesis on Illusk.”

“And the treasures they left behind?” He leaned in closer as well so they were mere inches apart.

“It's the records I'm interested in.” Her voice was quieter now, it had a breathy quality to it.

“Not the coin?” She merely shook her head and he reached forward to palm her cheek. When she didn't protest, Rugan felt confident in his approach. She was younger than him, not by much, but enough that combined with a sheltered upbringing she was likely inexperienced in these things.

“Seems to me, if we're going to be working together we should get to know one another a little better. Don't you agree?”

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imagining-in-the-margins · 1 year

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 27)

Summary: Spencer’s half-truths are catching up to him, and Ms. Fletcher is causing problems.

A/N: Welcome back, my bunnies. Three chapters to go. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Alcohol, kissing, verbal arguments, allusions to death and blood, ambulances, (metaphorical) hallucinations, paranoia, distracted/emotional driving Word Count: 10.5k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

Since the dawn of man, so has existed the fear of the darkness. I had been no exception to this universal truth.

I’d always written off my fear of the nothingness as a product of my upbringing; my idea of home. Las Vegas was the only place I knew of where the neon signs outnumbered the people. The evenings were often more illuminated than the midday mark when the sun showed no mercy.

But on the nights where I wandered, I would travel far enough until I could find a unique kind of night. I could still feel the crisp air in my blood. With flimsy pedals beneath my feet and the endless desert ahead, I would ride until my legs ached the same as my lungs.

My mother would’ve hated my tendency to wander if she’d ever been able to notice. My father hated it for different reasons.

But if only the world had understood that it was not my love for solitude, but my yearning to be part of something greater that led me to the shrub-laden sand.

When I stood among the cacti and fellow nocturnal creatures, I would find that the night was so much brighter than in my bedroom. I would stand soaked in the starlight that fought against the darkness. Eventually, I would learn the names of every star that had one. They would become something like a friend to me, those stars. The guardians that offered silent, reverent guidance whenever I was lost. All the while flickering to remind me that they were still alive.

It was no wonder to me that I had trouble sleeping when I moved away from the desert and towards the East Coast. My heart knew what beauty hid under the blanket of the bare night.

The nightmares that plagued my psyche were nothing but a contrast to the nights I knew.

It was rare to have nightmares on the nights there had been a Bunny in my bed. Luckily, on those rare occasions, I would still wake from the horror to find her sleeping soundly against my chest. I wondered how the sound of my heart hadn’t been enough to wake her. I thanked whatever Gods were torturing me for allowing her unbroken dreams.

I hadn’t had a nightmare in the five days since Lila’s wedding. Of course, I hadn’t let her leave my side, either. The unique horror that was watching her get hurt, however imaginary, was too painful to bear alone.

But it had come time for her to return to her life without me, even if it was just for a couple hours. I knew I would miss her terribly, but I also knew I had to let her go. I had to allow her the freedom to grow so that when she returned to my arms, there was never a doubt that it was where she’d wanted to be.

Still, I felt an overwhelming relief when I woke to find her already so. She ran gentle fingertips over the rough scruff on my cheeks.

The first thing I noticed was the way her eyes and smile widened when she saw me wake. The second thing I noticed was the same as it always was. Except somehow, in a matter of hours, she had become even more beautiful than when I’d gone to sleep.

“Good morning, Bunny,” I mumbled.

“Good morning,” she whispered back. Her placid voice still shaken by the touch of sleep, she continued, “I missed you.”

My heart wrenched in my chest. It rioted against the starless sound of her sadness, and I was powerless to stop it from using every possible muscle to bring her closer.

Her lips found mine like a sunflower to the sun. Her limbs climbed me like honeysuckle vines searching for home. She found it there, buried in our embrace.

Even in the morning, she tasted like sweetness. She was the morning dew following a cloudless night, my oasis in the middle of a cruel stretch of desert.

When she broke apart to breathe, I found myself still tempted by her honeyed lips. I came closer, pressing our foreheads together like she might be able to read my thoughts. Like always, she giggled like she had heard them.

But when she pulled away again, I let her set the distance. I watched the way her bosom moved with her breath. I cradled her face so that I could count the steady beating of her heart as it resonated through her neck.

I felt how it shifted ever so slightly as he pressed her body against mine like she had something to hide.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said with little confidence.

Quickly, I moved my hands to hide the way I flinched at the thought of what she would want to ask.

I buried my face against the crook of her neck. I breathed in the scent of her hair. I laid hasty kisses against the column of her throat so that the pain in my chest might be mistaken for lust, instead.

“Anything,” I whispered, “I’d give you anything.”

It had been the truth. I would never regret giving her everything she’d asked for, even when I knew what she was about to ask. Even when I knew with the utmost certainty that it would leave me destitute in the daytime desert once more.

My Bunny knew it, too, which was why she was timid when she asked, “I wanted to know if you’d be alright with me going to that party that I was telling you about.”

My heart leapt in my chest with the worst kind of warning, but I tried to remain playful so as to not alert my Bunny of my impending doom.

“It’s tonight? Already?” I whined.

It had worked. She didn’t notice how my lips were more broken as they worshipped her. She only laughed while she squirmed against me and set my body on fire. I continued to kiss her wherever it tickled, dropping lower until I heard her breath catch in her throat.

My Bunny gasped for air while she laced each of her fingers through unruly curls atop my head. She pulled me away, and I obeyed. Yet she gave me enough freedom to grant her one more kiss against her breastbone.

My lips lingered, feeling the heavy beating of her heart. It was too tempting for me not to try.

“Stay with me, instead,” I grumbled against her skin, “I need more time to worship you.”

Her legs rubbed together with obstinate determination.

“Spencer!” she whined back, “You promised you wouldn’t do this.”

She had been right. It had still been worth a try. Just because I hadn’t gotten the answer that I’d wanted hadn’t meant that I would stop attempting to fill each second with adoration. I sighed against her chest and saw how her skin rippled from the humid heat of my breath.

“Of course you can go,” I conceded before I returned to my usual lackadaisical exploration of her.

I had loved her so many times. I knew her body better than my own, yet that morning, I stumbled as I held her. My Bunny was too smart not to notice.

She used her quick grip on my hair to guide me back up to her. Although I knew she wouldn’t fall for my tricks, I still used my leverage to climb atop her while I moved to meet her eyes.

As expected, that clever girl barely paid attention to the erection pressed between her thighs. She recognized my desire as nothing more but a sword and shield to defend against unwanted examinations into my emotional state.

“Is something wrong?” she asked before I could lower my face to capture her lips again.

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong,” I said too quickly to be the truth.

I tried to kiss her again, but that time her hand pressed hard against the top of my chest to keep me from lulling her straight into the bliss of ignorance.

“You’re lying to me… Why are you lying to me?”

She really was a clever thing. Almost gratingly so. Of course, if I’d had nothing to hide, it would have continued to be endearing.

It was my own fault. I was the stubborn one. I was, once again, sabotaging things in an effort to avoid the very result I was leading us to. I looked into her eyes and felt like a damn fool, despite how much she begged me not to.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” I admitted more freely than the last time I’d kept something from her. Still, I couldn’t fight the urge to write off my concerns as nothing more than meaningless. “But it really isn’t anything important. I just…”

“Spencer,” she scolded.

She’d made me promise to be more honest with her. I had tried my hardest not to break it, but it felt inevitable. There was nothing greater than my desire to protect her purity. It was the very core of my love for her.

I had seen so many terrible things that I would never forget, but my Bunny didn’t need to know what horrors lurked behind prison bars. She didn’t need to confront the demons, the blood-soaked talons that would make home in any ounce of goodness they found.

You’re doing it again.

“Please tell me,” she pleaded.

I couldn’t tell her no.

“I had a bad dream and it’s making me feel uneasy,” I admitted.

“What was the dream about?”

You.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t wanted to tell her. It was more so that my mouth refused to make the words. The oxygen fled from my lungs, turning quickly to carbon dioxide to silence me. My heart was pounding, too far from hers for her to hear it. Yet she could see it in my eyes and feel it against her palm. She saw the terror she had no knowledge of.

That time when I kissed her, she didn’t stop me. I took it as a white flag; a shared realization that there would be some things that still scared me too much to mention.

Emboldened by the ambrosia of her lips, I explained it away the only way I knew how. The same thing said to me by my mother about the monsters in the closet. And like this danger, those, too, had been real.

“All that matters is that it was a dream and there is no reason to worry about it.”

Like the stubborn thing she was, my darling daisy fought against the reduction of my suffering. Her hands became softer while her resolve became more rigid. She wound my hair around her fingers like she might find errant nightmares among the strands.

“You know you don’t have to hide things from me, right? I love you,” she said like it was the simplest truth in the world.

I smiled, still waiting for the day I would believe it fully.

“I know, I try to understand why every second that I’m awake.”

Her nose crinkled with her laughter. What I wouldn’t give to hear that sound every morning.

The truth, I heard from within my heart. That is the thing I am refusing to give.

The realization was so overwhelming that it felt unwieldy. So suddenly, reality collapsed in on itself and fell onto my shoulders in its entirety. Like Atlas, I stumbled. In a moment of weakness — no, strength — I admitted to myself and to my Bunny that it had become too heavy.

“I know you deserve freedom, and you can make your own decisions, and that you are strong and capable and…”

I paused. I looked down at the young woman with eyes wide with hope and I tried my hardest not to crush it beneath my heel.

“I don’t need to worry about you, but I do,” I admitted with a broken heart. “I just hate when I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, and it eats me alive that you could get hurt and I wouldn’t be there to prevent it and…”

She ended the thought with the cruelest kindness. Her lips felt like water on a fire, and I became lost in the haze left behind. I held her closer. I pushed her onto her back and climbed atop her without any protest from the wriggling rabbit beneath me. I held her head instead of the sheets, propping myself on my elbows so that I could kiss her harder. I spoke to her honestly, then, with fumbling tongues and hurried breath. I tried to explain how deeply these roots ran, how often they had been scorched or severed and tried to find another way.

They all led me back to her.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, to finish that terrifying thought that fought its way to the forefront in every single moment of silence, she stopped me.

“Why are you thinking like that, Spencer?”

For the first time, my instinct was to tell her the truth. For a fleeting second, I considered telling her about Maeve. My mind mapped out each nuance and explanation, but when it came time for my heart to decide, I said nothing.

I let out the breath in my lungs and like dried dandelion pappus, the memory of Maeve fluttered away.

This time would be different. It had to be different.

“Nothing. It was just a bad dream,” I professed. Then, trying to avoid any further expanding on those feelings, I focused my attention on more beautiful things.

My Bunny, beautiful above all else.

“But you’re here now, and I would be an idiot if I didn’t take full advantage of that.”

Any hesitation left her the moment I kissed her cheeks. Her giggling returned; this time accompanied by excited attempts to catch my lips with hers. Once I made my way there, I fell back into the comfortable lull of her love.

“You are so beautiful,” I sighed. “I love you more than life itself.”

The rabbit stilled. The musculature of her face twitched in the most subtle way, but I saw it. I saw how hard my Bunny tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn’t let it go.

“I love you, too…but…”

She looked at me, but not in my eyes. She tried, with naive eyes, to read the unreadable in my tense muscles. I held on, as stubbornly as she had. My resolve gripped the facade as hard as I could, not because I’d wanted to lie to her, but because I’d wanted to lie to myself.

She hadn’t let me, though.

“It worries me when you talk like that, Spencer.”

“Why?” I asked, hoping for the answer I’d been searching for since the day I met her.

“Because it just sounds like… you don’t value your own life.”

Oh.

“Like you’re just waiting for the chance to jump in front of a bullet for me,” she said as she crumpled into herself. Her shoulders pulled up and forward, and her hand that had been resting on my shoulder fell away.

As it hit the bed, I wasted no time readjusting so that I could hold it there against the sheets. I prayed she couldn’t feel the way they shook.

“I would,” I confessed, despite the fact it was unwelcome. “I would die for you in a second.”

My Bunny gave a solemn smile; sad but honest. It held multitudes of universes that I chased after in her eyes just before she lowered her gaze.

“Please, don’t,” she pleaded somewhat playfully.

Although it had been uttered like a joke, there had been an honest vulnerability in her request. Behind soft lashes I saw the layer of dew gathering in her eyes that she blinked away in a quiet moment.

She had never asked me for much. Still, I couldn’t promise her that I would change as quickly and wholly as she’d hoped. As she had deserved. So, I offered her all that I could.

“I’ll try my hardest, Bunny.”

She accepted it. She soaked in the small change like succulent roots following a downpour. Just like the cacti I’d called companions, her hope brought blossoms to the bright morning light.

“So… what I’m taking out of this is… I can go to the party?” she snickered.

“Of course, Bunny,” I chuckled.

That dastardly desert flower sneaked her hand back just so she could throw her arms around my neck. She pulled me closer, and, in a frenzy of laughter and kisses, she eased the pain that had always accompanied letting her go.

When she’d stopped, though, the fear resurfaced from the cracks in my armor.

“Just… promise me you’ll be safe,” I whispered against her skin. “You can call me any time, and I will be there.”

“I promise, Spencer,” she sighed.

I felt the release in my own lungs. I closed my eyes and lowered myself until our chests met in the middle. I laid my body weight on her like a security blanket, listening for the gentle beating of her heart so mine might remember how to do it right.

“I’ll be curled up with you in bed tonight, just like it should be,” she assured me.

I thought of all the ways that might not happen before I could convince myself to consider the far more likely reality that it would. The tension began mounting until I was worried that I might crush the flower in my grip.

I forced myself to sigh to relieve the pressure once more.

“I can’t wait,” I whispered.

At least it had been the truth.

The air was thick and smelled like a mixture of liquor and smoke. The smoke itself had varying levels of pungency, and I didn’t dare try to differentiate the source of each. I would be lying if I’d pretended the thought of finding something to calm my nerves hadn’t crossed my mind, though.

It wasn’t so much the nature of the party that had me panicked; it was something inside me that seemed to have changed. Perhaps that was why I’d been so insistent to Spencer that I need time to do the things college girls do.

As I stood in a room full of belligerent fools, though, I wanted more than anything to just go home. Even that realization felt frightening. It had only been a few months that I’d known Spencer, and really, it had only been a few weeks since we traded vulnerabilities.

How could it be that I’d forgotten how to blend into a crowd so quickly?

I was supposed to be having fun. But the moment I found a mostly empty room, I took advantage of the reprieve from heavy bass and invasive eyes. I didn’t just stop there, either. I continued to slip into the empty bathroom and let out a deep sigh when I found it was not occupied by a couple who would only feel encouraged by an audience.

No, it was just me. Just me and the muffled sound of a party that I’d gotten dressed up for, even though I knew Spencer wouldn’t be able to see me.

I looked at myself in the reflection the same way I had in Vegas. I touched my own exposed skin and remembered the way it had felt that first night he touched me. Silently, I wondered if it would still feel the same.

A smile appeared before a conclusion had been reached by an inebriated mind. An eerie sense of calm started to cover my skin with goosebumps like lilies sprouting over a grave.

I realized then, as I chuckled to myself in an empty room, why it was so hard to be there. I knew with the utmost certainty that I felt out of place there because I was. I always had been.

This was not to say there was anything wrong with the girls on the other side of the old home’s hollow wooden doors. There was nothing wrong with enjoying a more hedonistic lifestyle and, for many years, I envied them for being able to find the courage to indulge.

But the version of myself that I had presented to them felt as distant from myself as the reflection in front of me.

I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pictured a quiet night alone with the man I loved, and I reminded myself that this was not a decision I had to make. I could grow into a new version of myself that existed without him the same way that I’d grown along with him.

At the end of the night, I knew, he would be waiting for me. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to hear his voice, soft and comforting as he lulled me into another wonderful dream.

Just as my heart began to mend itself, and I felt the life returning to me, it drained from me in a matter of seconds.

“Hey Bunny,” a young girl sneered.

My eyes shot open to find that I was no longer alone in the bathroom. I had been joined by a face I knew too well.

Her friends would call her Montana. Spencer would call her ‘Ms. Fletcher.’ But to me she would always be the grating voice of insecurity. The supposed self-appointed President of my boyfriend’s fan club, and the most irritating girl I’d ever had the displeasure of knowing.

I would say that the hostility she instilled in me was a result of the alcohol, but I would be lying. Even Spencer had warned me about her. Never with much detail, but always with an overwhelming amount of disdain. She was the only student in his entire career that he would forcibly remove from his class. When I’d asked him why, he’d simply said that he pitied the girl.

I didn’t ask any questions. The look in his eyes told me she’d done enough to deserve his apathy.

Still, she was young and foolish and hopelessly in love with a man who hardly remembered her name, and so I felt obligated to show her a modicum of respect. Even if the only motivation was my own desire to be kind.

“Oh, hey,” I offered as politely as I could.

The girl stalked forward with enough confidence that it almost made me stumble. Despite her negative qualities, she possessed enough sureness in her own sexuality to make most things seem possible.

For a second, I wondered how different life must be for girls like her, but then I remembered that I didn’t particularly care about how anyone else looked at me. Spencer already looked at me with enough adoration to fill a black hole to oblivion.

Yet when she looked me up and down, I felt myself shrinking, if only for a second. I nonetheless forced myself to stand tall and refuse to cower.

“You look cute,” she snickered, “Where’s your boyfriend? Does he know you’re here?”

“Yeah, of course he does,” I shot back a little too quickly. She latched onto the tremble in my voice and dug her nails into the vulnerability.

“Sorry, I should have specified which boyfriend,” she continued.

This time when my hair stood on end, it was nothing like lilies. It was the needles of a cactus and the thorns wrapped around the roses.

“I meant Spencer,” she purred.

Don’t fucking call him that, was what I’d wanted to say. But the shock of the indecency had rendered me speechless. I just stared at her, exactly like the deer caught in the headlights. I had promised myself not to be prey anymore, but it had been so long since I’d been faced with a predator as ruthless as the unfortunate girl in front of me.

“I know you were seeing a couple guys there for a minute,” she continued without giving me a chance to answer. “I never thought you would have it in you. I guess you proved me wrong.”

A whore by any other name, I suppose.

I tried not to let it bother me.

“Uh… sure,” I said.

It didn’t work.

“Yeah, Spencer knows I’m here,” I repeated.

Her body brushed against mine as she forced her way in front of me. I stood firm in my space, refusing to give her even an inch more of my resolve.

As she perched herself on the counter, she made a point not to fix the risen hem of her skirt. I wondered whether she had meant for me to be jealous of her or attracted to her, but ultimately, I felt neither. If anything, I was confused by her attempted displays of dominance.

“Don’t you find it weird?” she asked as she leaned forward like it had been a scandalous thought, “Calling him his first name?”

“Not really… he’s my boyfriend,” I answered.

“Yeah. I guess it’s different when he’s like, actually your professor,” she laughed.

A familiar nausea began rocking in my stomach. It was unrelated to the alcohol. It was more like a warning of an impending storm that ushered me to find shelter.

But my shelter wasn’t there. He was at home, where I’d begged him to be. He wasn’t there when she said something that made me recoil.

“I almost slipped up so many times in class. Wouldn’t that have been embarrassing?”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. It drowned out the distant sounds of the party and alerted me only of my desire to release the rage that had been brewing for several months now.

I took a deep breath in and released some of it with a quick exhale. I stepped to her right and pretended like I had something to fix about my make up so I could stop looking at her shit-eating grin. I ignored the obvious mockery of when he’d actually used the wrong name for me.

Shouldn’t that very incident have shown her how silly this charade was?

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t call him by his first name,” I said more confidently after the oxygen returned to my brain, “He really doesn’t like it when his students do that. It’s disrespectful.”

She was unbothered by my words. In fact, it seemed like she’d hardly even heard me. She just continued on, each word hitting me like talons and teeth.

“He seemed to like it when I was in his office,” she said. If that had been all, I would have easily written it off. But it hadn’t been.

“Right before Thanksgiving?” she giggled before adding, “Although, I guess you weren’t there for a couple weeks…”

I swallowed the anxiety that shot up my throat in the form of liquor and bile.

“A man like him gets lonely.”

My fingers twitched as they struggled to find something to do. I forced them to move, to fix any errant hair or pigment on my face to not give her the satisfaction she was after.

She was lying. She had to be lying.

It didn’t make any sense that Spencer would cave to something so unabashedly lustful. My mind recounted each time he spoke about purity as the only thing worth protecting, but then the few times he spoke about men broke through.

‘He’s the same as any other man,’ was what he’d said about Kyle.

He had been right. At the time, I knew he was also speaking of himself. But how far did those indiscretions reach? Surely, it couldn’t be what this girl was implying.

Could it? It couldn’t be.

The confidence wavered as I realized that, even if it hadn’t been Spencer’s intention to trick me, he had narrowly escaped any discussion on exactly why he had cheated on Max.

I was taking too long to respond. The silence in the room was heavier than the air. The tension was even worse than both combined. It had only been a few seconds, but it was long enough that she had felt the need to deal what I’m sure she thought would be a fatal blow to a soft heart.

“Not to mention all the late night messages. Those never really stopped.”

Immediately, a burden was lifted from my chest.

“Right,” I laughed. The airy sound of my voice must have tipped her off to something, because I saw her tense in my peripherals. Without even turning to her, I hummed through the continued laughter, “Because that’s what my boyfriend known for. Texting.”

She didn’t concede even when I looked at her with a pout full of pity.

“Yeah, I guess those dating sites are more similar to e-mailing, so the old man is more comfortable with it,” she persisted, nonetheless.

My lips flattened but the sarcastic smile remained. Because I understood then, what Spencer had meant.

I felt bad for her, too.

I felt bad that she felt it was necessary to lie about any of it. I pitied her because I couldn’t imagine a world where she thought I wouldn’t know about my own boyfriend.

How many men had convinced her that paranoia was normal? Who had taught her pain to the extent that she was so confident I would believe any of the lies she’d told?

“Besides, it’s harder to hide phone calls from certain nosy people,” she spat. For the first time, I saw her initial confidence for what it really was. It was just fear; an almost debilitating amount of self-hatred disguised as something else.

I might not have known what happened with Spencer and Max, but I sure as shit knew that this girl was lying through her teeth.

“Right. I don’t know what you’re doing, but… it’s not going to work,” I told her. I tried to infuse the words with kindness that she was probably not used to. But when I said, “I trust my boyfriend,” she continued to fight.

“That’s so cute,” she snickered with so much disappointment it was almost palpable. “Stupid. But cute.”

I summoned all the willpower I had left after the alcohol had drained away most of my inhibitions. I was going to let her go on believing she had won, albeit with a bruised pride and nothing to show for it.

I was so ready to walk out the door without uttering a single mean word to her.

But Spencer had been right about her. She couldn’t take no for an answer. She just had to keep going.

“Guess Kyle was right about you, too,” she said.

And I snapped.

“What, you expect me to believe that Spencer Reid slept with a student just because she offered? Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you sound?”

The sound of my own voice surprised me. Her eyes grew wide, not with fear, but excitement at having earned the response she was hoping for.

She didn’t even particularly care if I was right, or even if I’d believed her. She just wanted a spectacle, and I’d given it to her.

“Actually, that’s a silly question. Of course you don’t,” I laughed, loud and bitter between the songs. The few people in the room took notice of the two of us, but no one took a step closer.

“You don’t have any idea what Professor Reid thinks about anything, because he doesn’t even know who you are.”

Behind the smile, I saw something inside of her crack. I should’ve known better than to poke the beast, but the rage inside of me demanded it be known. Like the wrath of Persephone, I flung thorned words at the woman and hoped that she would turn to mint and wither beneath my heel.

“The few times I mentioned you, it kind of seemed like he didn’t even remember your name,” I spat, “which is pretty fucking hard to do to someone with an eidetic memory.”

I could hear feet shuffling into the room, I could feel their eyes on my back the same way they stared when Spencer had called me by the wrong name.

I probably should’ve been embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I didn’t feel anything other than anger and hurt that didn’t result from any one specific person. That poor, pitiful girl just happened to be the right person at the wrong time. She had unknowingly batted at the wasp’s nest and would forever bear the scars.

She couldn’t hide her own disdain. She tried to speak, but her teeth told her not to. She bit down on her tongue and avoided looking at me or the crowd I felt forming.

Even though I had turned into the aggressive one, I still felt trapped.

“So you know what, even if he did sleep with you, which I find hard to believe considering — contrary to what you clearly think — he doesn’t really like nasty, vindictive little girls who try to fuck him before they even finish writing their dissertation, you certainly didn’t leave any lasting impact on him,” I shouted. I yelled loud enough for even the people in the hallway had to hear me. Then, much quieter and through what were almost tears, I choked, “And that’s somehow even more pathetic than lying about it in the first place.”

Like a hurt animal backed into a corner, I had lashed out and accidentally shared a glimpse of my insecurity that she wouldn’t let slip away.

“Wow,” she chuckled with a fake pout. “Did I strike a nerve, Bunny? Has ‘your boyfwend’ seen this side of you?”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid!” I spat. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but once it started, I couldn’t make it stop. “I don’t even know why I wasted my breath on you. Have fun living in your fantasy world where you think my boyfriend would ever want to fuck you.”

I turned on my heel and threw the door open. It took every bit of focus for me to not fall from the dizziness of the rage and anxiety. Even when familiar, friendly faces tried to stop me, I shoved their hands off me and pushed my way through the crowd.

“Bye, Bunny!” she called.

“Hey, you know, since you’re so obsessed with me, please feel free to date Kyle,” I answered. I threw my hands up like white flags as I ran the other direction, “Heaven knows he’d love you!”

As I stumbled through the crowd, I tried to find any reprieve from the feeling in my chest. I almost thought to lock myself in another, less intimidating bathroom, but the thought of looking at myself in the mirror made me sick.

I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d find.

So, instead of giving in to the misery she wanted, and instead of facing my own misgivings, I threw myself into the life I had once tried to live. I grabbed my friends and a drink I didn’t want.

I didn’t call Spencer.

I knew I wouldn’t like what he’d find.

Don’t think of a pink elephant.

It should be a simple instruction. Think of a blue monkey or a purple bird with a broken wing. Think of a brown bumblebee or any other oddly colored thing.

Just don’t think of a pink elephant.

In 1987, the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology published a paper confirming the existence of the Pink Elephant Paradox, although back then, the experiments dealt with the less alliterative polar bear. The idea remained the same: the more you try not to think of something, the more likely it is that you will.

Perhaps the reason why we switched from tundra bears was more than a mere purple prose preference, and in fact had something to do with the inherently intrusive nature of everything else we’ve come to know by its name. From drunken hallucinations per Henry Wallace Phillips’s The Man and the Serpent in 1896 to the more recent tale of Walt Disney’s Dumbo, there has always been the haunting allure of the Pink Elephants on Parade.

I was not drunk, yet I couldn’t rid myself of the thought that I’d wanted more than anything to forget. I knew the psychology; I knew that the harder I tried not to picture every way everything could go horribly wrong, the more I would fixate on it until I was trampled by two-ton feet.

Thinking about my Bunny being mangled by talons and teeth wouldn’t make it any more likely to happen, but it would certainly drive me insane. Yet it somehow felt like a disservice to not even consider it.

If something did happen and I hadn’t been worried, what would that make me in the aftermath? Nothing different than the alternative, I reminded myself. Because if something did happen and I had been sulking without action, I’d be equally paralyzed by my failure.

Perhaps that was the true source of my torture. It was the powerlessness of it all. This pain, this endless suffering was a remnant of each time that my intellect abandoned me when I’d needed it most.

I stared at the door to my apartment and tried to imagine the wood being adorned with flowers. I looked at it until dry eyes burned and my resolve shattered.

The pink elephant appeared, and on his trunk, he wore a crown covered with wilted flowers and brittle thorns.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

The sound erupted as I watched blood dripping from its proboscis. There stood the albino elephant stained with the blood of every innocent life lost to poachers. It cried out a warning that would be heard too late.

As I lifted the phone, I knew what I would find.

Don’t think of the pink elephant. Ignore its cries and hold on to the hope that it will be different this time.

But there it was, with LED burning through the daze and refusing to be forgotten.

“You better come get your little rabbit before someone gets hurt,” the message read.

I faced the unfamiliar number with nothing else to say.

“I’m on my way,” I answered.

And I ran.

No matter how loud the door was when I slammed it behind me, I couldn’t hear it over the incessant pounding of my heart. I was acutely aware that what I was doing was reckless and dangerous, but my body moved without instruction. It functioned purely on a mixture of adrenaline and muscle memory.

Each traffic light that flashed green felt like a mercy and mockery. It was as if some greater being, some bastardization of God was indicating to me that it wouldn’t matter how fast I got there—it was already too late.

My mind was filled with endless images of every vile thing man has ever done. I pressed a shaking palm against one eyelid until I saw nothing but red.

Red like blood-stained lilies. Red like the burning surface of the sun. Red like everything at the end.

Danger.

I could hear the sirens calling my name.

You’re in danger.

But I wasn’t, she was.

This is going to hurt.

I slammed on my brakes just in time to avoid colliding with the ambulance flying down the road perpendicular to my own lane of travel. The ear shattering screech of rubber and asphalt still seemed louder than the high-pitched screaming. The grim reaper with flashing lights affixed to metal limbs.

All the air in my lungs left me at once, like I’d awoken from a dream to find myself stuck in a liminal space.

The sudden shift in pressure and space did, however, alert me to the fact I had little to no clue where I was. I looked up at the street sign and I begged the universe to alter however much was necessary so that it would change.

I didn’t want to believe that it was correct when it told me that the ambulance had become my guide to where I’d needed to be. The world stopped at the same second the stoplight turned red. I waited, basking in the reckoning like humility might save me now.

Eventually, I received permission to proceed, although it did little to assuage a heart that had already broken itself in preparation for what it would find. Each piece of ceramic once held together by the liquid gold flowing from her lips had lodged itself in my lungs.

Yet when I made it up to the house that I knew she would be at, there was no ambulance in sight.

It hadn’t been enough time to find her. It couldn’t have been. Before I got out of the car, I forced myself to don whatever remained of my civility to be sure not to hurt anyone but those who should be held responsible.

I was not judge. I was not executioner. I was just another fallible fool. I tried to remind myself. I tried to maintain any visage of authority before I confronted what would, undoubtedly, be the least helpful collection of young adults in town that evening.

As I approached the door, the few people who braved the freezing temperatures hardly seemed to notice me.

The door was already open. The scene was, however, far from inviting. The heady stench of liquor and marijuana was somehow the least offensive part of what I’d found inside the four walls.

The music was so loud that I could feel the bass in my blood like a hammer to my heart. Every second that passed that I hadn’t found her yet, I felt a part of me dying. The tragic romantic in me swore that was a sign sent from my Bunny.

But it wasn’t. She promised she would call me. She promised everything would be alright.

“Yo! Professor Reid!” a relatively familiar voice called to me.

I turned to find a boy from my class, who I could only assume lived somewhere in the filth.

“Where is she?” I asked with as much patience as I could muster.

Luckily for the boy, he was sober enough to know who I was looking for.

“Around. Somewhere… I think,” he muttered inarticulately, “I’m almost positive I haven’t seen her leave.”

But he hadn’t been sober enough to help, it seemed. I abandoned any hope from him and opted to scan the sea of faces, instead. I tried to focus on any that felt familiar enough to be able to find her.

My heart pounded harder. My rib cage rattled like a death knell. With each passing second, it got louder until it was impossible to ignore.

If I’d been anywhere else, I think I could have pulled it together. I tried so hard not to project my own experiences onto these… children, all things considered. They were kids who just wanted to find themselves. They were going about it all wrong, but that was simply part of the journey.

But in every girl, I saw Alexa Lisbon. In every boy, I saw the faces of the boys who chose to find themselves by stripping me of my safety.

I recalled the first time I’d tried to tell my Bunny what happened to me, only to get lost in the ghosts crawling out of the graveyard buried in my chest. I never wanted her to know what that was like.

Yet when I looked around, I watched every unwanted advance and lost soul bumbling through a group of people who’d yet to learn how awful they could be under the right circumstances.

That was when the boy spoke again, unaware of what he had been implicitly allowing.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he laughed “That’s hilarious.”

The mask slipped. It cracked and shattered the same as my heart and I lost any patience that might have remained.

I turned to him but had the wherewithal not to touch him.

He wasn’t Kyle. He was just an idiot.

“Listen, I understand this is all fun and games to you, but if someone doesn’t tell me where she is in the next thirty seconds, I will have every cop in the county at your doorstep before you even have time to climb out of the window. Do you understand?”

His eyes widened before his whole face turned to a nervous grimace.

“Chill, dude.”

A couplet consisting of two of the worst words he could have uttered. But thankfully for him, they had been quickly followed by the only thing capable of extinguishing my rage.

“She’s right there.”

Before I could even turn to see her, I heard her.

“Professor!” she yelled over the music. The title was featherlight and filled with so much joy that I nearly fell to my knees at the mere sound.

It was innocent; still innocent.

“Bunny, oh my god,” I sighed. It felt like the first time I’d breathed since she left me a few hours earlier. I would need the extra air, too, because she tore through the crowd and barreled into me with no inhibition. I couldn’t help but laugh as she nearly took us both down to the ground in her haste.

Despite her fervent, untamable teenage-esque excitement, I managed to hold her with something resembling fragility. My hands knotted in her hair as I held her against my chest. My embrace became stronger the longer she touched me; like she was the roots that kept me tethered to the ground after a lifetime of wandering through drought riddled fields.

It couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but the past half hour of trying to find her had caught up to me at once. I savored each second of the peace I found in her.

The same second my arms relented, though, she had straightened herself enough to wriggle her arms free. She grabbed hold of my face with both hands and her full force, and my wistful little lavender girl downright insisted that I kiss her.

I did. Or, at least, I tried. The pungent taste of what I could only imagine was pure liquor almost made me recoil. Once the initial shock had faded, though, I subdued the eager girl into a more tender meeting of our lips.

It took her about five seconds to decide that she’d had enough of that and return to her previous efforts to get me drunk from her tongue alone. That had been a lot, but nothing unmanageable. I just laughed and tried to pry her hands from my cheeks.

When she’d dropped one hand, I thought her sense had returned to her.

But then she grabbed hold of the waistband of my pants and I decided it was probably high-time to take her home.

“God, you are drunk,” I chuckled.

My Bunny was safe in my arms when she hummed. So happily, so freely, she curled within my embrace and nuzzled herself against my chest. My heart had calmed, but still reached out for her all the same.

Gently, I lifted her face back up to look at me. I looked into glassy, bloodshot eyes and still saw universes worth of love. I sought signs of pain and found only the kind that would be rendered inconsequential in time.

Still, I had to ask, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Mmmhm m’great,” she slurred with very little enunciation, “wan kiss more.”

“Not right now. Let’s go home first,” I offered.

I hadn’t realized how much it would break her heart. Her eyes grew big and filled to the brim with tears that would almost seem comical under the circumstances. I tried to straighten out her disheveled appearance but found myself growing even fonder of her somehow.

Which would work against me when she pleaded, “Please?”

It would never stop feeling like this, I realized. Her begging would never cease to render me stupid. All the IQ points in the world would never make me strong or smart enough not to give into her swiftly and without remorse.

But at the same time, I knew how many people were watching. I knew how easy it would be for someone to read my actions as a rejection rather than a desire to keep her intimacy entirely to myself. So, I gave into her the only way I knew how.

I pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. I lingered there, feeling the warmth of clammy skin that still tasted as sweet as the honeysuckles from my youth. I held her steady like twining vines upholding a weary flower so that she could feel the sun without having to leave the safety of the shade.

She seemed pleased. Her dopey smile, while altered by the alcohol, still seemed as genuine as it had been the first time that I’d held her in the early morning light.

It would never stop feeling like this, I realized. I would love her with my everything, forever.

What a wonderful, horrifying feeling, to let your heart wander amongst so many that would crush it without hesitation. What a worse fate it would be to have never had it at all.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”

My Bunny followed my direction without another word. There was nothing resembling a protest. Part of me wondered if she would have followed anyone in that state, but I knew it was just my paranoia projecting onto her yet again.

Catherine Adams is dead, I reminded myself. There was no reason to believe that she, or anyone else, might recycle tactics that had managed to hurt me.

Yet the scar on my hand stung the entire ride home. It demanded my attention even more than the heavily intoxicated girl half-asleep in my passenger seat. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over at her, but every time I did, the pain became even more nauseating until I could hardly focus.

Eventually, though, I’d made my way home without incident. The disgust and adrenaline had exhausted themselves, leaving nothing but the many skeletons in my closet. They crowded my insides until it felt like I would burst with a flurry of acid coated, mineralized shrapnel.

I looked over at my Bunny who fumbled with a still-locked car door. I saw the almost suffocating innocence, the ease with which she could find herself in any number of my work-associated memories.

There pink elephant hadn’t come, no matter how much I’d called it. It couldn’t because Catherine is dead, I reminded myself.

But the man who shot me wasn’t.

“Who were you arguing with?” I asked.

My Bunny gave up trying to leave the car and instead curled into a ball right where she was.

“What’re ya talkin’bout?” she said with a yawn so carefree that a broken heart might mistake it for mockery.

She wasn’t being cruel; just naive. She had been as clueless as I’d always wanted her to be around me. But in that moment, her sheltered mind lacked the imagination to understand why I’d even arrived in the first place.

“You’re… friend, I guess, texted me and told me you were in trouble,” I explained with as much patience as I could.

My Bunny twisted into a perplexed, and slightly defensive posture.

“Whaaat?”

Rather than trust myself to explain it without releasing my internalized hatred and raising my voice, I simply handed her my phone. Again, she grimaced at the contrast of the LED against the darkness. Once she was able to steady herself enough to read it, however, all she did was roll her eyes.

“Oh, well… that sounds way scarier than what happened,” she scoffed.

“Yeah, it does,” I spat back bluntly. The sound hit like a bat to a fragile girl’s heart.

The wounded look in her eyes provoked an all-encompassing regret.

“I feel like… you’re mad at me,” she whispered. She squirmed in her seat and tried to straighten her back only to find herself sliding back down with shame.

I should have apologized to her then. But it had been late, and I’d exhausted all efforts in my attempt to save her from nonexistent enemies, so instead of admitted fault, I clung to the painful memories that had nothing to do with her.

“Who were you arguing with?” I asked again, more aggressively than I’d ever wanted to speak to her.

“A stupid bitch.”

Resting my elbows against the steering wheel, I lowered my face into my hands.

She wasn’t the only one who’d felt ashamed.

“I’m going to need more information than that,” I demanded.

The spunk I’d admired in her came out sounding like venom.

“Why? It‘s none of your business!”

“Don’t give me an attitude right now,” I warned.

She didn’t heed it. Instead, she threw her arms forward to shield her heart and screeched, “Why are you mad at me? I didn’t send it!”

There was nothing left. The well of charitably had been drained and left nothing but starved, scorched roots seeking for something it would never find. I wanted comfort, but she had needed it.

With a raised voice, I shouted, “Because! I just had to walk into a… disgusting house party filled with a bunch of stupid drunk boys because I thought you were in danger, and if it turns out this was all just because you were… bored, or insecure, I have every right to be upset with you, Bunny!”

If I’d stopped for a minute, I would have heard her sobbing. If I had looked at her instead of my own scars displayed against my palm, I would have seen how the sound made her shake.

But I didn’t. I steadfastly ignored the reality that this had not been the time, place, or circumstances to try to sort through my own responses to something that had turned out to be nothing.

“I thought you were hurt! I thought you—!”

My throat closed around the words. I choked on the thoughts that had been filling my head. Even in my panic, my body had known not to speak them into existence. Those thoughts were supposed to be her shield. They were not meant to be wielded as swords.

“I thought…” I croaked.

I thought it had happened again.

But it hadn’t. It hadn’t happened. It had been different this time, exactly as she’d promised.

You’re safe here, she had told me. But that was only because the fear I felt hadn’t been shared or understood by the drunken, withered flower beside me because I hadn’t told her any of it. I had kept it from her—lied to her—only to blame her for it. To punish her for being able to live the way she deserved. The way I had promised to allow her to.

“You scared me,” I said with a trembling, but still rage filled timber.

It was my fault, though. Not hers. She didn’t scare me. I was just scared.

Before I could craft the words, however, she spoke them for me.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered. Dejected tears began pouring like endless rivers down her cheeks, and I drowned in them exactly like she had.

“Bunny,” I cried with her, “it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I’m not being fair to you.”

She just kept crying, though. Her sobs got louder the more kindness that I showed her. I couldn’t blame her for the confusion I’d caused.

The clear blood of torn petals soaked the softness of her and made it heavy. I reached over and guided the poor girl back to me. I lifted the weight with careful hands. I wiped her make-up-stained tears aside and tried to find a way to reassure her.

“It’s okay, Bunny. I’m not mad at you,” I swore to her. The gentle words, like the kindness, had the opposite effect of the one I’d intended.

Once she spoke, though, I realized that the tears had hardly been about my actions. In fact, it seemed like a lot of her anger hadn’t been from my unspoken fears, but her own.

“Some stupid bitch told me that you kissed her!” she warbled.

“Well, that’s certainly not true,” I scoffed. Perhaps I would’ve been more articulate about how ridiculous of a notion it had been if I hadn’t been caught off guard by the accusation. But I was truly so confused that I didn’t know how else to express it in the moment.

“S-She told me…” my Bunny whispered between endearing and adorable hiccups despite the tears, “She told me that you slept with her after you kicked me out.”

The rage from earlier returned in full force. One hand gripped the steering wheel enough to void any blood from the space between skin and the bone of once broken knuckles. The monster within me bared its teeth in search of vengeance.

But then it was gone, subdued by the insistent sniffling of the most beloved part of myself. The stubborn leaves that clung to parched branches, beautiful in their resilience while facing the relentless cold.

She had been so beautiful, even then. Even when she had nothing left to give but broken whimpers, there was a light that shone so painfully bright.

I’d tried so hard to prove to her that I would never do anything to hurt her. I had promised her that very morning that, if given the options of losing everything to save her, I would take it without hesitation. I would bury myself under six feet and every regret I’d ever had if it meant that she would never feel pain again.

And there I was, causing it from both my own hand and another’s.

“Please don’t tell me you believe that,” I begged her. “I would never do that. I would never do that to you, Bunny.”

She nodded in agreement, yet she covered her head with her arms as she shouted, “I know, but I still got mad!”

Any relief from her believing in me was outweighed by how pitiful she looked. It wounded me deeply to see her withdraw from me like I would ever find fault in her righteous anger.

I had been angry, too. Angry that someone would dare to use me as a proxy to hurt her. Angry that, through my own desire to protect her, I had probably failed to give her the requisite knowledge to laugh in the face of such a distortion of the truth.

I abandoned the steering wheel in favor of her. I carefully unfurled the dispirited flower until she revealed her brilliance to me. I comforted her the best way I knew how. I pulled her closer until her small hands clutched my shirt. That time when she nuzzled her face into me, I felt the cool dampness of her tears.

Exactly as I had promised her, I tried to bear the weight of her sadness so that she might be able to breathe again. Eventually, she continued to explain her own frustration. Her voice was small, shaky, and pure, just like the creature I knew her by.

“Who lies about that?” she asked, “Why would you ever do that to someone?”

My mind immediately went back to the young girl that had fantasized about my Bunny’s worst nightmares. The obstinate child who couldn’t take no for answer. The same broken girl that relied on her conventional beauty to hide the ugliness that rested just below the surface of perfectly painted skin.

I refused to let my hands turn to fists. I kept my palm splayed across her back so she could feel the steadiness, the safety of my embrace. I wouldn’t let any anger at her make its way to my darling. The same as before, that girl would not her what she wanted.

“She’s just jealous because she knows she’ll never be you.”

You, my bespoken proof of purpose among the mad. You, with a softness bestowed upon but still envied by the Gods. You, with your trembling hands holding up the weight of a world that will never deserve you.

You, I felt loudly enough to drown out the rest, You are to be perfect to be made into mere tragedy.

“I love you so much,” I said, infusing the words with the metaphors I would never have time to perfect. “I would never do anything to jeopardize your happiness.”

Except tell the truth, a dark voice recounted.

I ignored it’s taunting. I still had time to make it right, but in that moment, all I’d wanted to focus on was my Bunny’s barely perceptible smile.

“I love you, too…” she whispered.

It hadn’t been enough. I had been greedy after a difficult night, so I asked my darling girl for one final favor.

“Stop crying, sweetheart. It breaks my heart.”

“I can’t help it,” she admitted with some strange combination of a chuckle and a sob, “I’m very drunk.”

I laughed, too.

“Yeah, you are,” I laughed because it had been true. I wondered if I would ever get used to bearing witness to such unabashed vulnerability. In my heart, though, I knew I wouldn’t.

It would always be like this, I thought just before the shadows mirrored it back to me in their own words.

It won’t be different this time.

I turned to the night, illuminated only by flickering streetlights. Within the shadows, I saw the ghosts from the skeletons still crushing the tired muscle affixed between many layers of bone cages. My fears sneaked through the sinew and lingered just beyond the glass and metal that housed us.

It will be different this time, I swore.

“Come on. Let’s get you some tissues and water,” I said, definitively making up my mind.

The innocent girl, now free from the tears, lit the way for our return to peace with a smile.

“And cuddles and kisses?” she asked.

“Yes, lots of those,” I assured her.

As we made our way to the door, I fought the urge to turn back. I opened the weary wood that tried to keep us safe. I heard it’s wailing as it fought against the intrusion, it’s harsh sound acting like a warning that something was lurking just beyond the light.

After my Bunny made her way into the meager safety I could offer her, I stood for a moment on the other side of the threshold.

The death knell in my chest rattled louder. It begged me between its beating to look back before taking another step.

I ignored every instinct and followed her, instead.

But in the distance, I swore I heard a strangled cry through torn tusks.

Don’t think of a pink elephant.

(Tell me what you thought of this chapter here!)

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fallensnowfan · 5 months

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One Piece Academy chapter 40, 2/2:

We begin right where last chapter left off, Luffy and co arriving in Cora and Law's secret home. Luffy wonders about who Cora is, Nami tells him he is the person in the photo they saw last time. Cora asks what the intentions of the Straw Hats are and seems confused why they are here.

Everyone catches each other up to speed, Barto and Gambia are mentioned, then they begin a lively onigiri party in Cora's home! Luffy asks about the onigiri and Cora tells him the have umeboshi in them, pickled plums. Luffy already has a nickname for Cora too, Corao. Same idea as the nickname he has for Law, Torao. Cute!

After the onigiri party, Law's crew are brought up, and like the tsundere he is, Law rejects the idea that they are his friends(we know he thinks of them as his friends though.) Then Cora leads the group into a hidden bunker within the hidden bunker he is living in. Love the layers of secrecy. On the next page we see that...

...Cora has been keeping a tabs on Doffy big time! He has a big room with several computer monitors displaying the flamingo man's stats and such! This is so fun.

Cora and the group go on to talk about the kind of person Doffy is, his base, his followers, and so on. We see a book shelf with the names of many of his crew written on them. Diamante, Trebol, etc. then a screen displaying Onigashima Middle School pops up.

Cora explains that he is working everyday to gather intel about Onigashima Middle School, and that he is preparing counter measures to stop Doffy's plans.

As Cora steps away from his monitors, his leg catches the extension cord powering them and unplugs it, shutting them down hahaha. Never change Cora, you're perfect as you are. As he's plugging the cords back together Nami, who calls him Cora chan, asks about his connection to Doffy. Cora tells everyone that he is Doffy's younger brother and that Doffy is involved in a "world of darkness."

Cora continues to tell them about Doffy's connections to the town and brings up his "Joker" alias, talks about the nature of Doffy's plan, his followers, and the nature of evil.

The conversation then shifts to the day Doffy was going to kill Cora in the past, Cora talks about how Doffy was unaware him remaining silent was a choice, then after Nami asks how he survived, we learn that Sengoku saved him and that Tsuru was involved as well.

The conversation shifts back to talking about the town, Whitebeard is mentioned, Kaido's influence is mentioned. Nami says they need to stop Doffy before things get out of control.

Cora continues, explaining how Doffy wants to destroy the peace of New World Middle School/the entire town. Aaaaand Luffy is talking about how the lobster Doffy gave him a few chapters ago and the onigiri would taste good together. Luffy and loving food, name a more iconic duo. Not that he doesn't still love food, though he definitely acts closer to his pre-timeskip self in this spin-off haha. Nami and Usopp comically snap at him about deciding between lobster onigiri and the peace of the town.

The chapter ends with Luffy making up his mind that he will work with Cora to defeat Doflamingo, then Cora having a flashback to asking Law about his day at school was, Law showing Cora a poster of Luffy, and Cora noticing that Luffy has the D in his name. After the flashback concludes, Cora tells Luffy he is glad to have met him.

Very substantial chapter. We now have two characters with a heart motif who the Straw Hats are friends with, and who have intel about Onigashima Middle School. Cora and Okiku. Three if you count Law.

Next chapter could continue this thread or veer off into a story about Nojiko or something! You can never be sure with Academy though I'm looking forward to finding out.

Next chapter releases on the 4th/5th of January!

#one piece academy #chapter 40 #chapter 35 #corazon #donquixote rosinante #luffy #okiku

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middleearthpixie · 5 months

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Better Days ~ Chapter Eighteen

Dunraven Pub Series- Modern AU

A/N: It's been a long time since I last updated this - I hope some people still remember it... Anyway, school is winding down for the semester and so most of my fics should be updated on a more regular basis as a result. Thank you for your patience! 💜

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it.

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings: Modern!Frerin x ofc Elena Madison

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi @masterofhounds @genius2050

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Frerin groaned as he let his head thunk against his desk. “Again?”

“Sorry, Frerin, we’ve got three docs out with the flu.”

“Yeah, a likely story.” He picked his head up once more. “This is ridiculous, Jay, I spend more time in the ER than I do up here and I have to cancel plans with someone again.”

Jay Reese, Sidleburg’s chief of staff, nodded. “I know. I’m not happy about it, either, but we need docs down there.”

“I’m a pediatrician, Jay.”

“You still went to med school, didn't you? Look, it sucks and I know it sucks, but until the hiring freeze is lifted and we get actual warm bodies who know what they’re doing, we have to pick up the slack. I had plans, too, and I’ll be seeing patients down there as well.”

“Mine involved a gorgeous brunette I was planning to be naked with,” Frerin grumbled. “And now, I’ve got to cancel those plans—again, I’ll remind you—to work a double shift—again as well—in a department I’m only barely qualified to work in.”

“You’ve got an MD after your name. That’s more than barely qualified and kids come into the ER as well.”

“So, then let me get back to working on the pediatric ER. At least then it will make sense for me to be down there.”

Reese sighed, closing Frerin’s office door behind him. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, I don't see that getting off the ground any time soon. There just isn’t money in the budget for it. We’re trying to keep the doors open as it is and going to the board with an idea that will help the smallest of fractions of the population isn’t what they’re looking to okay right now.”

Frerin sat back in his chair, staring at Reese. “What if I can find the funds? I haven’t written a grant proposal since the dark ages, but I’ll do it if it means I have a decent reason to be down there. You should see the looks I get when a guy who comes in because he’s nearly taken a thumb off trying to change the cord on a weedwhacker realizes he’s got a pediatrician taking care of him. Unlike you, they don’t seem to realize I also went to med school.”

“They don't care what specialty you are, long as you’re a doc and you know it.” Reese skirted one of the two chars in front of Frerin’s desk to sink into it. “And honestly, you’re good down there, Frerin. Patients like you. The nurses like you. The students like you.”

“I’m not an ER doc and I have no desire to be one.”

“But you’re willing to open and run a pediatric ER.”

“That’s different. Look, Fritock is a jackass and I’m not answering to her. As long as I’m covering the ER, I don't have a choice. I run the pedes ER and I do have a choice. I’ll answer to you, but not her.”

“Yeah, no one likes her, but she’s competent and keeps that place running.” Reese rubbed his forehead and let out a low sigh. “So, can you cover Riley’s shift?”

“I don't have a choice, do I?”

“Sure you do. But say yes and I’ll see what else I can do about funding for the pedes ER.”

“That’s extortion, Jay.”

“I know. But we need you to cover the ER tonight. Your girlfriend just has to understand.”

“She already does, but damn… I was looking forward to tonight.”

“Just think of this as foreplay,” Reese said, rising from the chair. “The longer you make each other wait, the sweeter the payoff.”

“Get out of my office.”

“I owe you, you know.”

“Yes, you absolutely do!”

Reese chuckled as he pulled the door closed behind him and Frerin swore softly beneath his breath as he overheard Reese flirting with Katie, as he did every time he came through the department.

“God damn it,” Frerin muttered, staring at his phone, lying face down on the corner of his desk blotter. The last thing he wanted to do was cancel on Elena again.

With a low sigh, he reached for the phone and turned it over to toggle to his contacts, scrolling down until he reached her number, then tapped it.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

Elena’s purr sent a shiver along his spine even as his gut kinked. “What were you thinking, or do I not want to know?”

“Well, I was thinking about tonight. But,” a slight hesitation crept into her voice, “I have a bad feeling that tonight is in jeopardy.”

He leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he silently cursed out the irresponsible docs who thought nothing of calling out and left everyone else to pick up their slack for them. Christ, he was tired of it. “I’m sorry, honey, but—”

“You have to cover for someone in the ER again, don't you?”

Her voice was flat, which made his gut kink harder. Toni used to complain about the same thing. It was one of the constant sticking points in their relationship and the one that he couldn't fault her for having. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But three docs called out and I’m here, so…”

“I understand,” she replied flatly. “Another time, then. It’ll keep.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but—”

“No, I get it, Frerin. You don't have to explain it.”

“I know you get it, and that’s what pisses me off,” he replied, drumming his fingertips against his desk. “Reese has me because he knows how important the pedes ER is to me and he uses it as leverage. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. But, I swear to you—”

“I know, and it’s okay. Like I said, it’ll keep for another time.”

“I’m sorry, Lena.”

“Don’t be. It comes with the territory.” She sighed softly. “Just give me a call when you do have a free day, I guess.”

His fingers went still. “Elena, you know I’d rather be seeing you tonight.”

“I know, but I also know that it’s silly to try to make any sort of plans because this seems to happen a lot. And I know it’s because you’re shorthanded and I know you don't have a lot of say in the matter, but it’s still aggravating as hell. So, before this devolves into a fight, just call me when you’re home and can actually get together, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you soon, then.”

“I hope so. Bye.”

She clicked off and he tossed his phone back onto the desk with a muttered, “Fuck,” and sank back in his chair again, staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s always the same thing, Frerin! We make plans and you cancel because someone else decides they don't feel like coming in to work and I’m tired of it. Work always comes before me. Before me. Before the kids. Before everything. Always!”

Those words, or some variation of them, were all too familiar, as Toni lobbed them in his direction more than once. And there was definitely truth to them. He’d missed school plays, school field days, sporting events, dance or band recitals—you named it, he’d missed it because he’d gotten stuck at the hospital.

Toni begged him for years to go into private practice. He’d make twice the money and work half the hours. No weekends. No overnights. He’d have time for family. He’d have time for her.

Maybe if he had gone into private practice, neither one of them would have fucked around on the other one. Maybe if he made the change now, he could keep his relationship with Elena from falling apart.

Maybe.

In his top desk drawer, he found the business card a colleague had given him last summer, at a conference on Maui. A private practice not far from Sidleburg had been looking for docs and maybe—just maybe—they still were.

He stretched for his phone again and dialed.

“Good morning, Hunterdon Pediatrics.”

“Good morning. Is Dr. Mendham in?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s out of the office today. Can I take a message or put you into her voicemail?”

“Voicemail, please.”

“One moment.”

He waited for the automated greeting to wind down, then said, “Hi, Emilia, it’s Frerin Durin over at Sidleburg Memorial. I was wondering if you were still in the market for another pediatrician. Just give me a call back at your earliest convenience and maybe we can work something out. My number is…”

Elena sighed as she stood in the doorway of her bedroom, scowling at the overnight bag sitting, all ready to go, on her bed. In it, were the makings of a romantic night that would hopefully knock Frerin’s socks off (along with whatever else he happened to be wearing at the time) as per the Book of Heather. Brand new lingerie that would be relegated to the back of her closet because somehow, she had the feeling she was not going to hear from Frerin any time soon.

Work.

Work was always the excuse. Work was why Dan was always late or had to travel. Then she realized work meant fucking a coworker.

But Frerin was different.

Wasn’t he?

She sighed, leaning her head against the doorjamb. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. She was just such a poor judge of character when it came to men. She saw what she wanted to see as opposed to who the guy in question actually was.

She wanted to see Frerin as a decent guy, interested in more than just getting off.

She wanted to see him as relationship material—faithful and upfront with her. And interested in more than just getting off.

But at the same time, he had a very convenient reason ready-made and always believable. And he was a guy, so maybe he wasn't interested in more than just getting off.

How depressing.

How infuriating.

Another sigh and she moved to swipe the bag up from her bed and all but threw it into the closet, then slammed the door. It made her feel better, but only for a minute. When the initial sense of satisfaction faded, she realized she felt rather empty. She’d been looking forward to seeing him again, especially to seeing if Heather’s prediction would come true.

But it wasn't meant to be.

****

The ER was a madhouse. For the better part of twelve hours, Frerin did nothing but run from one exam room to another. A three car pileup on Route Nine. A Christmas tree fire that brought a family of five in with various degrees of burns and smoke inhalation. Two emergency deliveries—one a C-section to boot—and seven merry makers not quite ready to let go of the season who drank bad egg nog and were now currently hunched over emesis basins puking their guts out.

By seven o’clock, Frerin wasn’t certain he’d remember his own name if anyone asked. He sank onto the sofa in the doctor’s lounge, head back, a coffee mug in one hand, and as his eyes closed, he muttered, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Dr. Durin?”

“He’s not here.”

“You’re needed in Curtain Three.”

He lifted his head and opened his eyes to stare at Carol. “Are you kidding me? I just sat down. First time since four o’clock. Christmas is over, why are they all still coming through here full of egg nog and candy canes?”

“Because some people don’t want the season to end, Dr. Scrooge.” She moved to the counter where the Keurig was and opened the cabinet to take out a Krispy Kreme pod. “But, I promise you, this one isn’t throwing up. At least, not yet.”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Is it at least someone under eighteen?”

She nodded. “Twelve year old. Possibly appendicitis. A real, live pedes case for you.”

“Wonderful.” He pushed up from the sofa with a crinkle of what had to be thirty year old naugahyde, and bowed his back with a low groan before setting his cup on the table. “Curtain Three?”

“Yeah. Holly is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” He tugged open the lounge door and maneuvered his way through the sea of bodies toward Curtain Three.

He paused outside the closed drapes that acted as privacy walls. “Jessica Mauro?”

“Come in.”

He stepped around the curtains to find a pale and tired-looking preteen girl in the narrow bed, and an equally tired looking older blonde woman sitting next to it. He looked over at Holly. “This my rule-out appy?”

Holly nodded. “She has lower right quadrant pain and a temp of one-oh-one. No vomiting but she’s tender to the touch.”

“Okay. Let’s take a look.” He took the chart and perused it briefly, then set it on the tray table. “Hi, Jessica. I’m Dr. Durin. You’re not feeling so well?”

She shook her head. “I feel like crap, to be honest.”

“Jessie!”

“Sorry, Mom.”

Frerin smiled, reaching for the box of gloves on the shelf near the bed. “It’s all right, Mrs….?”

“Mauro also.”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today, Mrs. Mauro. Tell me, when did the pain start?”

Jessica pursed her lips. “It’s been bugging me all day, but I thought it was just,” she case a side eye glance at her mother, “really bad cramps.”

A hint of color came to her cheeks as she said it and he moved closer to her bedside. “No worries. Do you mind if I take a look?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good.” He tugged the hospital gown up and carefully pressed about the general area, freezing when she gasped and cried out at the same time. “Sorry about that, Jessica. There’s no other way to do that.”

“So, it’s her appendix?” Mrs. Mauro asked.

“It could be, but we need to rule out a few more things first.” He looked up at her. “Why don’t you go and get a cup of coffee while I chat with Jessica for a few minutes.”

Mrs. Mauro sat up straighter. “Is there something else it could be? Something I should worry about?”

“I didn't say that.” He glanced over at Holly. “Nurse DeLuca, could you show Mrs. Mauro where the coffee machine is?”

“Sure. Come with me, Mrs. Mauro. Dr. Durin only needs a few minutes.”

She looked over at her daughter, who said, “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Five minutes, Mrs. Mauro,” he said, holding up one hand, fingers splayed out.

He waited for Holly and Mrs. Mauro to leave, and then turned back to Jessica. “How old are you, Jessica?”

“Thirteen… well, I’ll be thirteen in two weeks.”

“My daughter’s thirteen. It can be a tough age.” He drew over the low stool and sank onto it. “So, you’re in sixth grade?”

“Seventh.”

“Seventh grade. I remember seventh grade.” He smiled. “Do you have a boyfriend, Jessica?”

She shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Kind of. Kind of how?”

“I don’t know. Just… kind of…” She twisted the blanket’s binding as she added, “Why?”

“Well, I just need a bit of history, to rule out anything else. And I can get another nurse to come in here if you’re uncomfortable with me. Or we can wait until your mom comes back, if you’d be more comfortable that way.”

“No, this is okay.”

“Good. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions that might be uncomfortable, but it’s really important that you’re honest with me, Jessica. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“When was your last period?”

“I told the nurse it was right around Thanksgiving.”

“Before or after?”

“Uh.. before, I think.”

“Okay, now when you say you have a boyfriend, are you doing anything with him?”

“Why?”

“Because there are certain conditions that present like appendicitis, but aren’t. And I need to rule them all out.” He pulled off his gloves to toss into the trash can. “So, are you doing anything with him?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Kissing or more?”

“More.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Are you and this boy having sex?”

She didn't answer at first, but a deep blush swept up along her cheekbones and she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Are you using anything?”

“We used a condom.”

“Good. That’s good. Protect yourself. That’s the most important thing.”

“But it slipped off.”

“It slipped off?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. He said he found it, though. You cannot tell my mom any of this. She will absolutely kill me if she finds out.”

“I’m not going to tell your mother, Jessica. Not without your permission.”

“Wait, you mean, you aren’t going tell me that my mom won’t kill me? That I should tell her?”

“Well, in a perfect world, yeah, you should tell her. But it’s your decision, not mine. You know your mother.”

Her dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you think I should?”

“Well, let’s wait and see what the problem is first, okay?”

“What do you think it is?”

“I want to run a couple of tests and it won’t take long.” He looked up as Holly and Mrs. Mauro came back. “Ah, perfect timing. Holly,” he rose from the stool and moved over to her, “let’s get a CBC, and urine dip and check the icon.”

Mrs. Mauro looked from Holly to him. “What are those?”

“Routine bloodwork. I’ll need your consent for them, though.” He took the chart from the tray and held it out.

“Is one of them a pregnancy test?”

“It’s routine, Mrs. Mauro. All female patients of child bearing age are tested.” He held out a pen as well.

“Why would you test a twelve year old girl?”

“Because twelve year olds who have already gotten their periods can get pregnant.”

“But my daughter is not—”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jessica broke in quietly, the blush gone from her cheeks. “Just sign it, okay?”

“Jessie…” Mrs. Mauro turned to her, her eyes wide. “Are you telling me…?”

“Just sign. Please?”

“Oh, shit…” Mrs. Mauro muttered even as she scrawled her signature across the sheet. “You’re only twelve, Jess…”

Frerin looked over at Holly, whose eyebrows rose as Jessica said, “We were bored.”

“Jess!”

Jessica must’ve decided her mother wouldn’t kill her after all. Biting back a smile, Frerin turned to Mrs. Mauro. “I’ll be back as soon as those test results come in, okay, Jessica? If you start to feel any worse, just let Nurse DeLuca know and she’ll come find me.”

“Okay.”

Holly followed him to the edge of the curtain. “What are you thinking?”

Peering in at Jessica, he said, “I want to rule out an ectopic, just to be safe. So, put a rush on the bloodwork.”

“I’ll see what I can do. The lab is just as shorthanded as we are.”

“Well, tell them this is a Code Red and needs to be done before anything else. Tell them it’s a kid if you have to.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

They parted ways then and he wove his way back to the desk and the still-overflowing rack of charts. “Who’s next?”

Ashley looked up from the forms she thumbed through. “Take your pick, Dr. D. The waiting room is overflowing.”

“Any kids?”

She gave him a look. “I don’t memorize the charts. I just rack them.”

“Okay, okay. Yeesh…” He moved down to thumb through them. “Aha! Two year old with the croup. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Exam One. I’m waiting on some lab results for Curtain Three, so can someone let me know the minute they land in my inbox?”

“I’m on it, Dr. D.”

“Thank you!”

“Dr. Durin? Lab results on your ectopic are in.”

Frerin looked up from the chart he was reviewing as Ashley held out the lab slip. “Thanks, Ashley.”

As he looked down, a heavy sigh came to his lips. Carol came around the corner of the desk. “Bad news?”

He looked up. “Twelve year old with an ectopic. Ashley, get OB on the phone for me?”

“Sure thing, Dr. D.” Ashely dialed the number and a moment later, held out the phone. “Dr. Miller’s covering.”

“Good.” He took the phone. “Randi, it’s Frerin Durin in the ER. I’ve got a twelve year old down here with an ectopic pregnancy that we need to take care of ASAP.”

“Damn, twelve…” Randi Miller let out a whistle. “Give me a few minutes to secure an OR and I’ll meet you up on Six once you get consent.”

“Great. I’ll have her there ASAP.”

“Sounds good.”

Frerin handed the receiver back to Ashley. “Do you know where Holly is?”

“I think she’s in Exam One.” Carol gestured toward the exam rooms down the hallway.

“Okay.” He picked up Jessica Mauro’s chart and tucked the lab slip in with it, then made his way down to the exam rooms and poked his head in. “Excuse me, Holly, do you have a moment?”

She looked away from the elderly woman she was with and nodded. “I’ll be finished here in just a few minutes.”

“Okay. Meet me in Curtain Three?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Sorry to interrupt.”

The elderly woman smiled. “It’s no trouble. Feel free to interrupt again, if you like.”

Holly burst out laughing. “Mrs. Zwicker!”

“What? He’s cute.”

Frerin chuckled as he ducked back out of the exam room and wound his way back toward the Curtain areas. At Curtain Three, he said, “Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

He came around the curtain to find both Jessica and her mother looking even more exhausted now. “Your labs came back. Mrs. Mauro, would you mind giving us—”

“It’s okay,” Jessica said slowly, reaching for her mother’s hand. “You can say whatever it is.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “It’s okay. I already told her.”

He looked from mother to daughter. Mrs. Mauro certainly didn't look as if she was about to kill her daughter, so he took that as a good sign. “I’m afraid you have what’s called an ectopic pregnancy.”

She stared at him. “I’m pregnant?”

“Holy crap,” Mrs. Mauro whispered.

“Mom!”

“Okay, hold on,” he broke in softly. “You are, but instead if implanting in the uterus, the fertilized egg is in your fallopian tube.”

“So, do you need to operate to move it?” Jessica asked, her fingers visibly tightening about her mother’s.

“We do need to operate,” he said, “and I’ve already spoken with the OB on call and when we finish here, we’ll take you up to surgery, but I’m afraid we can’t move it, Jessica. It isn’t a viable pregnancy.”

“So, I’m having an abortion?”

“Is that really necessary?” Mrs. Mauro asked.

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Mauro. And it has to be taken care of as soon as possible to avoid any complications. So, I have a consent form I’ll need you to sign and—”

Mrs. Mauro stared at him. “And if I refuse to give it?”

“Mom!”

“Mrs. Mauro, under law, pregnancy emancipates Jessica, so she technically doesn’t need parental consent. However, it would make things easier for you both if you would.”

Mrs. Mauro bit her bottom lip as Jessica broke in with, “But, I don't want an abortion, Mom. I—I want to keep the baby.”

“It’s all right, baby,” she replied, smoothing Jessica’s sleep-matted dark hair away from her face. “This is different, okay. You’ll be fine.”

“Mommy… no…”

“Jessica, listen to me,” Frerin set the chart down and with his free hand, caught the stool to bring it to her bedside, “I know it’s kind of scary, but it really does need to be done. If we don’t operate quickly, your life could be in danger. Like I said, this isn’t a matter of choice. This has to be done.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to.”

“Jessie…” Mrs. Mauro cleared her throat. “Dr. Durin, could I speak with you outside?”

“Sure.” He rose and followed her from the exam area. “What is it?”

“Her father came into this hospital three months ago. He’d had a heart attack and his doctor told him he needed to have a stent put in, so he agreed and he died from complications of having it done.”

“I understand and I’m sorry for your loss, but this really is not something that can wait. It truly is a matter of time. If we don’t terminate, the fallopian tube can rupture and Jessica could hemorrhage to death if that happens.”

“No, I understand and I’m not fighting you on it. I just wanted you to understand why she is.”

“I do understand. And I don't blame her at all.”

“So, where is the consent form?”

“Inside.” He moved the curtain to allow her to pass by and once they were at Jessica’s bedside, he said, “I’ll go up with you, Jessica. Trust me, you’ll be in the best hands in the hospital. I promise.”

She didn't look entirely convinced. “Will you stay with me?”

Holly came into the room along with someone from Transport. “Dr. Durin, do you need me to go up with Jessica?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ll go up with her. Why don't we and Mrs. Mauro, I can answer any questions you might have on the way.”

“Sure.”

Mrs. Mauro signed the consent and passed it back to him. “Will I be able to see her before she goes in? That’s really the only question I have.”

“You’ll be able to be with her until she does.” He took the form, tucked it in with Jessica’s chart and looked down at her. “Are you ready?”

Jessica didn't look ready at all, even as she nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re going to be just fine,” he told her, moving as the guy from Transport came around to unlock the wheels of Jessica’s bed.

“You ready, Miss Jessica? I’m Tony and I promise you, I won’t hit the bumps too hard.”

“I’m ready.”

He rolled her out and Mrs. Mauro turned to Frerin. “She looks so much younger than twelve.”

“They always do.”

“Do you have any children?”

“I have three. My daughter is just a little older than Jessica.”

“You can’t keep them safe, you know? You try and try and try, but… they are going to do what they’re going to do.”

“The important thing is communication, Mrs. Mauro. You keep those lines open, and you’ll be amazed at what happens.”

“Dr. Durin?” Jessica called over the top of her bed.

He fell into step alongside her. “What is it, Jessica?”

“Are you going to be doing my operation?”

“No. I’m not. Dr. Miller is and she’s really good. You’re in the best hands. I promise.”

“You never answered me about staying with me. Would you?”

“Dr. Durin?” Ashley poked her head around the corner. “You’ve got a drunk slip and fall waiting in Exam Four.”

“Get Zander to take it. I’m going up with my twelve year old.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be back down when she’s in Recovery.”

“Okay.”

He glanced down at Jessica. “I’ll stay until you go into surgery.”

“Thank you, Dr. Durin.”

He reached down to ruffle her hair as they all got onto the elevator and the doors slid shut. Reese would be pissed, but he’d get over it. And even if he didn’t, Frerin didn't care.

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Modern AU #ER AU #Hospital AU #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction

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