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entitled-fangirl · 2 months

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A gentle wolf.

Cregan Stark x Arryn!reader

Summary: Rumors had spread of the Lord's fierceness. When the reader marries him, she fears if the rumors are true. He defends her at the ceremony, and she believes that perhaps he's just a gentle wolf.

Warnings: talks of sex, cursing, blood and death, crude comments, attempted s.a. (not from our boy), a bedding ceremony, read at your own discretion

A/n: This was based on a few different asks!

Masterlist

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Y/n's father, Lord Arryn,was a firm man. Headstrong, he fought for the best for his children.

When Rickon Stark accepted the proposal of Y/n Arryn to his only living son, Cregan, the smile that came to her father's face was the only one she'd ever seen graze his features.

This betrothal was the highest honor her family could have received.

She had never met Cregan before, but only being eleven, there was much time before she had to worry about such things.

…

The years had moved by quickly, a rapid approach to the girl's end to childish things.

The rumors through the years of Cregan's growing formidable northern spirit increased tremendously.

Perhaps some of them were true.

He's ruthless. Heartless. More animal than human.

She grew fearful of how her future husband would treat her.

"Perhaps he'll finally get the bratty behavior out of you," her brother mused.

Her brother's wife, the future Lady Arryn, hit his chest, "Be gone with you. Do not frighten the poor girl."

When he had left, the woman turned to Y/n to speak, but Y/n beat her to it.

"Will it hurt as bad as they say?" She asked in a hushed tone.

She paused to answer her, careful of her word choices, "It… may not be pleasant, my lady."

She had to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.

"But I'm sure Lord Cregan will be merciful to you."

She wanted to believe her sister-by-law. She really did.

But even she could not believe the tense look in the woman's eyes.

…

Cregan was just as intimidating as the rumors had made him.

Strong. Hardy. Gruff and unforgiving. Stern and harsh.

Yet his eyes always held an unfamiliar look to them, as if his next move was completely undecided to the person that stared into them.

A small smile came to his face as he held a hand out to her, "I'm sure your family wishes to rest from their long travel. I would be overjoyed to show you Winterfell if you'll allow me."

Y/n looked over to her father, who gave his stern look that he always gave. A silent warning to behave.

She took Cregan's hand with her own, trying to still the small tremor to it. Her voice was meek, "I'd like that, my lord."

"Cregan."

"Hmm?" She questioned.

"My name," he began, "It's Cregan. Please use it."

She nodded, "Very well… Cregan."

His smile grew as he studied the girl. As the two began to walk from the main hall, Cregan softly murmured to one of the servants to show her family to their chambers.

"I do apologize that Winterfell has no lavish garden or beautiful art to view. It's rather lacking in color." He spoke lightly after a while.

She let out a soft breath, relishing in his voice finally. It was low, yes, but not the growl that she had thought it would be.

"However," he continued. "It has formidable walls and a strong structure. Those who stand on this side of it are safer than King's Landing."

She hummed, "I don't believe the North really focuses on color and art over warmth and survival."

A chuckle escapes his throat, "Aye." His steps slow as they near one of the few balconies, "But perhaps you may breathe life into it."

She wanted to turn and question him, but the view from the balcony caught her attention.

He made a motion with his hand, encouraging her to look out.

She took slow steps, reaching the bannister as she looked out at what Winterfell had to offer outdoors.

What she didn't notice was what laid within the walls as well, for Lord Cregan Stark's eyes had softened tremendously as he watched the young woman.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to be a lady," she lightly remarked as she looked over the courtyard.

He stepped forward to her, meeting her at the bannister, "It is not a matter you know, it is one you learn."

When she looked over, she finally took him in.

The man was every bit the wolf they had said. She knew that.

But like every Stark, he was still a man.

"I became the Lord when I was only three and ten," he said. "It was frightening. I was hardly old enough to know the sword, much less to lead such a people as the Northerners." His eyes softened again as he looked into her eyes, "It will come in time. Do not fret."

"Thank you, my lord."

He head tilted lightly, a small twinkle to his eyes.

"Oh. Cregan, I meant," she bit back a small smile at her words.

A surprising chuckle bubbled from him as he looked out over the bannister. "You're a quick learner, pretty girl."

She fought to keep the blush rising to her cheeks at bay.

She couldn't let the wolf sink his teeth into her just yet.

…

She was completely zoned out for the ceremony. She wanted to be involved and remember it, yes. But everything was just too much.

Right now, she focused on the heavy feeling of Cregan's cloak draping over her shoulders as he stated his vows to protect her under his house.

She had already stated her part, leaving her to stare up at Cregan. She couldn't look away from how his breath could be seen in the cold chill.

Her attention reverted back when his hands cupped her cheeks and he leaned down to her, placing a heavy kiss to her lips.

Her hands gripped his wrists, thrown off at the feeling.

When he pulled away, a wide grin was pulled across his face. His forehead rested to hers. "I am yours, and you are mine," he whispered to her.

A breath escaped her lungs at his proclamation.

Perhaps she truly was a lamb brought to appease the wolf.

But then why was the wolf's smile so charming?

…

She sat in her seat anxiously, her entire body practically shaking.

She was supposed to sit with Cregan and enjoy the feast.

But she couldn't stop worrying of the bedding ceremony.

To be naked in front of all these people? It made bile rise in her throat.

"Something amiss?" Cregan asked as he leaned towards her.

She quickly shook her head, "Just nerves is all."

He nodded slowly, debating a thought. Finally, he handed her his own cup, "For the nerves."

Y/n took it gratefully, sipping the dark wine.

She barely noticed when Cregan stood and kissed the crown of her head. "I'll be back momentarily. I've a few guests to greet."

He straightened himself up, leaving the table to disappear into the crowd.

Perhaps a moment alone in her thoughts would be good-

"Excuse me, Lady Stark," a new voice mused.

The lady paused, looking up to the voice. Across the table was a man no older than thirty, his surcoat a bright red. His smile was all teeth, and it put her on edge.

"Lord Bolton, my lady." He bowed his head before letting his eyes rake her form, "I was hoping to ask you for a dance."

"Ah," she quietly acknowledged. Her eyes began to look around for her husband. "I was led to believe that a first dance is required between a husband and his w-"

"-Lord Stark doesn't dance, my lady. Most northerners don't."

"I suppose that makes you… different." She said as she studied him.

He grinned again, "Aye. I suppose so."

With no Cregan in sight and no reason to say no despite wishing to, she nodded and began to stand, "Very well, Lord Bolton."

When she rounded the table, she took his hand, forcing a smile to her face.

The two descended down to the floor as the small quartet began to play.

Lord Bolton's moves were careful and calculated, that much was clear. That alone seemed to describe him wholly as a person as well.

Another man rushed to Bolton, a smile on his face as he leaned to him, "Is it time yet?"

Bolton sighed mid step, "No. I will inform you when it is."

The man sulked off. Before the woman could ask, Bolton made a quick effort to spin her, distracting her from the conversation before.

She tries to ignore the feeling of Bolton's hand on her waist. It's forced, uncomfortable. She feels controlled under his grip.

As the song comes to an end, he makes no move to step away. "I must say, my lady, I have been most eager for this."

"Hmm?"

"The ceremony, I mean. I am quite eager for it."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

His hand reaches up to her cheek, his thumb running along her bottom lip as he stares at it, "To tear your clothes from you and watch you be throughly fucked by your lord husband."

Cregan stood with a cup of ale in his hand, his laughs loud through the hall as he joked with a friend of his. With his back turned to the high table, he had yet to notice his wife's absence from it.

Until a voice whispered in his ear.

His head turned, his face suddenly serious. "Repeat that?"

"The Lady… she danced with Lord Bolton."

His attention was completely lost from the previous conversation as he looked over to the busy floor.

Sure enough, he saw Bolton with his filthy hand on her cheek, his eyes full of lust.

When Bolton reaches up to the shoulder of her dress and tugged harshly, Cregan moved.

A downright mob formed, eager to begin the bedding ceremony of stripping the couple and marching them to their room to consummate. But any body that moved toward Cregan was met with injury.

He pushed and shoved bodies left and right, finally getting to Bolton.

Y/n laid on the floor, pushing Bolton's hands away, as well as others, as they pulled on what material they could. She cried out with every sound of the ripping dress.

Fire filled the Stark, and his voice showed it.

"GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!" His voice echoed through the hall.

All the attention shot to Cregan, silence filling the room.

He forced himself to breathe. "I said," he muttered lowly, "Get. Away."

One by one, the people stepped away from the girl, creating distance. When Bolton stood, he straightened his clothes, huffing as he did so.

Y/n sat in tears as she pulled up what material she could to cover herself. Her dress was all but tatters, her shift containing large rips that only chilled her already shaking body.

"Bolton," his voice growled out.

A shiver ran down Bolton's spine at the sound of Cregan's voice. He stepped to the man, "My lord?"

"Explain yourself before I murder you at my wedding."

"The bedding ceremony," he said as if it was obvious, "We were beginning the ceremony."

"And I told you there would be no such thing. Did I not?'

"Aye, but it is tradition," Bolton continued.

"Aye, but I'll have your fucking head for this," Cregan mocked him.

Cregan knelt down to Y/n, helping her cover herself in what he could, as well as his own body shielding some of the stares. His voice was soft in her ear, "Are you harmed?"

She moved to speak, but her breath was all hiccups from her tears, so she shook her head instead.

Cregan turned his head to look at the nearest servant.

"Bring me Ice."

Whispers moved across the hall immediately.

What would Lord Stark need with his longsword?

Soon, Ice was in his hand, and he stood from his wife to glare at Bolton. "I'm going to take something from you. But I'm noble enough that I'll let you choose."

Bolton's eyebrows shot up, "Take, my lord? W… What do you-"

"I was not finished," Cregan growled. He paced back and forth in front of the man. "I can take your hand, your tongue, your feet," he paused as a smirk came to his lips, "…or your cock."

"This is outrageous-"

Ice was suddenly pointed at Bolton's throat, "The next words from your mouth will be your answer or I will take your head entirely."

When silence filled the room again, Cregan turned his head barely to his servant again, "Get my cloak for my wife to cover."

When the warmness returned to the woman's shoulders, she pulled the cloak to her as much as she could, hoping it would sooth the chill and embarrassment that had settled into her bones.

"Take her to our chambers," he muttered lowly, not letting his eyes leave Bolton. "I'd hate to ruin her wedding night with the sight of blood."

…

Cregan met her a few hours later as he entered their chambers. His shoulders were still tense and his eyes still held fire, but it was better than before. "Forgive me."

She looked up from the sofa, a new, unripped shift covering her body now. "For what?" She asked softly.

Her eyes were still puffy, her nose a bright red from irritation.

It didn't help his anger.

"I made a vow to protect you under my house and my name and I've already failed you."

"No, forgive me," she sniffled.

His mouth opened to rebut against her, but no words came out.

"I… I did not mean to mislead Lord Bolton. I… I have sullied the Stark name. Dirtied it with… with a mere dance. I am sorry."

Cregan wanted to scoff. "What?"

"I mislead him. He-"

"Quiet," he said. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I've not angered you?"

He took a step to her.

Her sniffles grew to hiccups, "Please don't."

His confusion grew, "What are you speaking of?"

But when he stepped to her again, she flinched away, pushing herself further down the sofa.

"My sweet wife, please speak plainly," he tried to reason with his hands up.

"I… I can be better. Give me a chance, please."

"B…Better?" He scoffed. "You are an image of the Mother herself. I hold no anger to you."

She hiccuped again as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, "None?"

"No. Only a creature of a man would ever be angered at his wife so. I defended you, did I not?"

Y/n considered his words. She was deep enough in thought that she didn't notice Cregan's closing steps until he was sat on the sofa next to her.

His hand reached up to her chin, pushing her face up to look at him. "I promise. I promise to be entirely too gentle with you."

This was no wolf at all.

All of this time, she feared the Warden of the North. The wielder of Ice. The Stark Wolf.

She hadn't considered that she had married Cregan.

"What have you done to Lord Bolton?" She dared to ask him.

His head tilted, "Enough to help him learn better."

He may have been all of those frightening things outside of their chambers. But for her, he was only Cregan.

He laid her down with careful movements, his touch light as he began to undress her.

…

She was unsure what happened to Bolton that night, but rumors spread throughout the castle that the man's blood had to be cleaned from the Winterfell floors over a dozen times over to get the stain out.

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#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #cregan stark x female reader #cregan stark x wife reader #cregan stark #cregan stark imagine

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sodaabaa · 4 months

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shadows and spirits, part one

azriel x reader reader is azriel's mate but she hasn't accepted the bond yet due to her fear of azriel himself.

tw: slightly nsfw, brief mentions of illyrian misogyny, suggestions of edging and arousal

part two

Bells rang as the door to the bar opened, signaling the arrival of the day’s first customers – or so Y/N thought. She walked to the bar counter, leaving behind the half opened crates of newly shipped wines and spirits. She’d deal with those later.

“Y/N! How’s my favorite bartender?” Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court walked in with his arms raised and a friendly, welcoming smile on his face.

She fought the urge to smile at the sight of her friend, “I’m only your favorite because I give you discounts and secrets,” she whispered the last part as he approached.

Y/N ran one of the most popular bars in Velaris, being a favored spot for many because of its proximity to the Sidra River and the spectacular view it offered (and of course, the variety of top-shelf liquor favored by Rhysand himself). Y/N knew everyone and anyone that frequented her bar. She often provided a shoulder to cry on and a few shots of tequila to mend broken hearts. Because of this, she gathered vast amounts of information from the citizens of the beautiful city and when needed, she reported back to Rhys.

Rhys smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter. She swatted at him with a towel, “I just cleaned that.” Rhys chuckled but didn’t remove himself from the dark wood counter.

She opened her mouth to ask Rhys why he was here when something pricked at the back of her neck. Her eyes darted to the man trailing behind Rhys like a shadow, and then back to the High Lord. She stood a little taller, back straightening as she steeled herself.

“Here on business, I guess?” She asked him. His smile faded as he nodded. She poured herself and the High Lord a drink to avoid any more eye contact with the man who’d just entered. They clinked their glasses and downed their drinks. With a sigh, Rhys pulled something out of his back pocket.

“Have you seen these men?” He placed a few pictures on the counter and waited for Y/N to recognize them.

“I may have seen them, they look familiar. I can ask the girls, maybe they’d have more luck identifying them,” she replied.

Rhys nodded, “Alright, be on the lookout for these guys. They’ve been stirring up some trouble and I’m gonna need to put an end to that before it gets worse.” “Are they Illyrian?” “Unfortunately,” Rhys replied with a sigh.

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” she gave him a curt nod.

“Take care, Y/N,” and with that, Rhys turned to leave. Azriel on the other hand, stayed behind. Y/N quickly busied herself with wiping down the counter and tidying up in hopes he’d get the signal and leave.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Y/N,” he finally broke the silence, his voice deep and flat – it rumbled through her, causing the hairs on her arms to raise.

She threw the towel onto the counter, “Watch me,” she spat back. Big mistake. His hazel eyes darkened, shadows coming to life around him; twisting and flaring with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. He exhaled, silently making his way out the same door he arrived in.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You could at least try being less hostile towards him, the poor man is in a constant state of sulking these days,” Feyre said as she swirled the glass of ruby-colored wine in her hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at getting her to talk to Azriel. Feyre frequently visited the bar since it was closeby to her art studio. The two had hit it off quickly, becoming close friends and bonding over art, music, and men. Feyre had found out about Y/N’s mating bond issue and because she was biased (being friends with Azriel), she constantly pestered Y/N about it.

“Feyre, I already told you. I don’t want anything to do with Illyrians – they’re possessive, violent, and they view women as breeding machines,” she looked at the High Lady, “and I mean this with all due respect to Rhys, I don’t want to be mated to an Illyrian.”

“He’s really a big softie, I promise. Just get to know him, he has the same complaints about Illyrians as you do!” Of course she would defend him, they’d been close friends ever since Feyre first arrived at the Night Court. But she overlooked the innate instincts of the warrior species.

Y/N sighed. She tried to repress the memories of her parents – her mother, like Y/N, was mated to an Illyrian. She knew the culture they were raised in, the way they looked down on women, the violence they were accustomed to. To top it all off, Azriel was the Spymaster of the Night Court – the rumors about his cruelty and power were enough to keep Y/N away from him in fear. Luckily, she knew he’d stay away until she accepted the bond.

“I somehow doubt a man who tortures people for a living could be a 'big softie',” she replied with a scoff.

Feyre sighed, “He doesn’t hurt the innocent – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hurt a fly even,” she took Y/N hands in hers, “He’s a good man, Y/N. Give him a chance.”

Y/N huffed, “I’ll think about it.”

Feyre squealed, an uncharacteristic sound for a High Lady to make, and pulled Y/N in for a hug.

“You won’t regret this!”

I somehow doubt that, she thought to herself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the sun began to set, the bar came alive with people ready to unwind after a long day of work. The air hummed with laughter and conversation, glasses clinking in the air while soft melodies floated about. Y/N looked around the bar for the men Rhys was looking for, taking in the lively atmosphere – a jolt of pride running through her as she surveyed the place she built up from the bottom.

Despite the bustling noise of the bar, she felt that damned prickle on the back of her neck, her eyes catching on the shadows in the corner. He did this every so often – lurked in the corners, watching her. She rolled her eyes, returning to the customers at the counter asking for drinks.

“Hey sweetie, give us a smile!” One of her unfortunately regular customers called out. He leaned forward, trying to get in Y/N’s way.

“Find someone else to bother tonight, Devon,” she replied, topping his glass with more liquor avoiding eye contact with the sleazy man who constantly vyed for her attention.

“Oh, but I wanna bother you,” his hand grabbed hers.

“Devon, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, let go,” She said as she tried wriggling her wrist out of his grip. The nuisance of a customer pulled her closer but stopped in his tracks, abruptly letting her hand go and backing away from the bar. He all but scurried away and Y/N sighed. She knew there was only one man who could make people shit their pants in fear like that.

“You could’ve at least let him pay before he left,” She said without even bothering to turn around as she picked up the abandoned glass of whiskey.

The man behind her dramatically placed a few coins on the counter. She braced herself for the brooding face and shadows as she turned around. She glared up at him, the height difference between them all the more prominent as he stood not even a foot away.

“Stop sending Feyre to do the dirty work of convincing me to accept the bond,” she tried to sound intimidating – or at least serious but she found it difficult when faced with his presence, it consumed all of her confidence and left her feeling small, defenseless against the Spymaster.

“I didn’t send her,” he replied rather monotonous but she could see the tinge of amusement on his face at the sight of her trying to put up a confident front.

“Well if you’re done playing savior, can I get back to work?”

“Would it kill you to say 'thank you?'” He blocked her from passing by with his aggravatingly large obsidian wings.

She put her hands on her hips and mustered up all the vitriol she could, “Yes, actually, it would. Now get out of my way before I kick you out.”

He let out a breathy laugh, a laugh. Y/N, now fuming at the man before her, shoved him in the chest, knowing it wouldn’t amount to much but it helped relieve her annoyance.

This time, he chuckled, a sound that resonated through her, only serving to fuel the fire that was Y/N’s anger. She grabbed one of the soda guns under the counter and aimed it at the nuisance before her. His brows lifted in surprise and he lifted his hands in a mock surrender. Her eyes fell to his scarred hands and her stomach dropped as her hands gripped the soda gun tighter.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, “I’ll be around.” With that, he returned to the shadows and Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

At the end of the night, the final few customers stumbled their way out of the bar and Y/N took a seat at one of the tables, exhausted from the day’s work. She poured herself a drink, relishing in the quiet – though her relief was short lived when she sensed the shadows in the corners. She squinted, grabbing a towel from her apron and threw it at the corner. He caught it, revealing himself from the shadows.

“If you wanna lurk here after hours, the least you could do is help me clean up.” Amusement once again danced over his dark features. No doubt thinking about all the ways he’d make her pay for her rude behavior. He didn’t say anything as he started wiping down the tables, eyes occasionally finding their way back to Y/N, shadows brushing her skin when she walked past him.

They cleaned in silence, Y/N taking a mop to the floors while Azriel put up the chairs and collected stray items off the tables. Something clicked in her then, she felt almost at ease with his presence. Almost.

“Do you know what happens when accepting the mating bond is delayed?” He said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him from across the room as he put up the last few chairs.

“What happens?”

His eyes darkened, narrowing at her, “There are reports of males being unable to stop themselves from taking their mate, over and over," he paused, giving her a moment to process, "I like to think I have more restraint than my dimwitted brothers but even I cannot control nature,” his voice was dangerously low as he spoke. It made Y/N stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t contain. Her skin prickled as she took in his words. Her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm, suddenly realizing she was at a crossroads.

She’d been putting off accepting the bond for years now. They had first met at the grand opening of the bar. Rhys had come to congratulate her and survey the bar and of course, he had brought the inner circle. They became her first customers. A feeling of dread welled in her stomach when she first laid eyes on Azriel and somehow she knew it was him, her mate. She cursed the Cauldron for pairing her with the deadliest Illyrian in Prythian.

“You won’t be able to delay it forever, Y/N,” he stalked closer to her, massive wings dragging behind him, a predator approaching its prey.

She took a step back, stumbling into the table behind her and she flinched. He smirked at her clumsiness.

“Eventually, you’ll feel it. The primal, unavoidable need. The raw desire,” he drawled.

She swallowed, looking up at the man who now stood too close to her for comfort. She leaned back, her weight shifted to her hands gripping the table behind her to put as much distance between them as she could. He only looked down at her, his intense gaze raking over her body, sensing her fear. He leaned down, she could feel his breath tickle her ear as he said, “That’s not fear, Y/N. It’s arousal.” Her breath got caught in her throat at the show of his abilities. He straightened and stepped back, giving her room to breathe.

“Good night, mate.”

He disappeared into the night, leaving her dazed and flustered.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N entered the bar, grumbling at Daisy, one of the bartenders, as she passed by the bubbly girl.

“Woah, what’s got you all crabby this morning?” She glared at Daisy, prompting her to find some task to tend to as Y/N slouched on the counter. She couldn’t get a wink of sleep the last few nights. Azriel’s words echoed in her mind, keeping her up.

It’s not fear, it’s arousal.

After he left the bar that night, she found herself almost constantly in an aggravating state of arousal. Despite this, she couldn’t find any relief no matter what she did. She tried pleasing herself but when all she could think about was Azriel and his dominating presence, she decided to erase the memory of him through a string of one night stands. To her utter dismay, none of it worked. It nearly drove her mad. She hadn’t seen Azriel in the past few weeks since that night and she realized he was giving her space on purpose, to heighten her need to see him again. Asshole, she thought.

She poured herself a drink, hoping it’d dull the throbbing in her head (and in other places she deigned to acknowledge).

“Day drinking? Is there something bothering you, Y/N?”

Great. As if the day couldn’t get any better.

The velvety, deep voice rang through her, causing damned butterflies in her stomach. He stood before her, dressed in his fighting leathers, blue siphons pulsing with power. He gave her a knowing smirk.

“I can’t deal with this today,” she said as she walked off.

“You could give in, you know. It would provide you with the much needed relief you’re so desperately trying to seek,” he taunted.

“No thanks, there’s bound to be some half witted man that can satisfy me plenty,” she shot back.

The shadows around him flared, reaching out towards her but not quite touching her. Azriel’s eyes were dark. Maybe it was stupid of Y/N to taunt him, dangerous even, but she'd spent the last few days in sleepless agony because of him. He could suck it.

“Aw, is the big bad Spymaster jealous?” She teased.

“Don’t play games with me, Y/N.” She walked back over to him, lifting her chin in defiance.

“Or what? We both know you won’t touch me until I accept the bond.”

He smirked, “You will accept the bond. And when you do, you are going to be at my mercy. Begging for relief,” he gripped her chin with a hand, sending a chill down her spine, “And I’ll take that as an opportunity to remind you of your obstinance.”

“I bet you’re just as pent up as I am. It gives me peace knowing you can only find relief with me. Maybe it’ll give me the strength I need to continue denying you.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “I have centuries of experience on you, little girl.”

Her stomach dropped at the degrading title. The reminder of his age dawned on her. He fought in the first war against Hybern, Y/N hadn’t even been born then. She was a mere century and half to his five centuries.

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He taunted with a smile.

She shoved him off in a sudden movement. Grateful to be away from him.

“Fine, I’ll give you some room to breathe. Cauldron knows you’ll be needing it.”

He left as fast as he had appeared, once again leaving Y/N off-centered for the rest of the day. What have I gotten myself into?

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar series #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction

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kbwrites · 2 months

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Up In the Clouds Ch.4

synopsis: you're friends arguing reaches a breaking point... for you. what will you do when you find out the real reason they've been fighting?

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⚝content: sugusato x f!reader, sfw, satosugu arguing, but they're arguing over youuuu

⚝wc: 1.4k

Suguru and Satoru always fought. From the year you’d known the duo, that much was obvious. Petty arguments and stupid disagreements were rampant in your trio. But, at the end of the day—usually forced by you—they would make up. Today, however, there was a disquieting air around them, an unfamiliar tension that gnawed at your peace of mind.

You three were in the courtyard for lunch, a place usually filled with the sounds of your laughter. You and Suguru ate bentos while Satoru dug into a sugary donut.

But something was... different.

No annoying quips from Satoru.

No heavy sighs from Suguru.

Just complete and utter… silence.

The courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon light, felt oddly still. The rustling of leaves and distant chatter of other students did nothing to alleviate the growing unease. You shifted in your seat, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

“Did Yaga yell at you two or something?”

Suguru glanced up, his hazelnut-colored eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “No… it’s not that.”

Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his dark sunglasses. “Yaga yelling would be wayy easier to deal with than Mr. Perfect.”

The raven-haired teen’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m Mr. Perfect now? That’s rich coming from someone who thinks they know everything, Satoru.”

“At least I don’t try to control every little thing” Satoru shot back, his words muffled by the mouthful of donut. ”Not everything has to be done your way, Suguru.”

“Maybe if you used your head a bit more, we wouldn’t end up in half the messes we do,” Suguru retorted, his tone icy.

You sighed, feeling like a mediator between two stubborn children.

“Guys, seriously, what’s going on? This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is Suguru thinking he can tell me what to do.” Satoru snapped, his voice tinged with frustration.

Finally, you’d had enough. The frustration and tension had reached a breaking point. Without saying a word, you stood up, grabbed your lunch, and turned to leave. The soft thud of your bento box as you placed it into your bag seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

Satoru’s blue eyes widened as he noticed you standing. “Wait, where are you going?”

Suguru’s head snapped towards you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What—?”

But you were already walking away, your footsteps brisk and determined.

“Great, just great! Now ya made her leave because you’re too scared to tell her the truth!”

Suguru’s face flushed with anger. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a contest and made it impossible for me to even tell her how I feel!”

Satoru shot a glare at his best friend, his voice laced with bitter irritation.

“Well… I don’t care!”

A week. Seven long days without your best friends. They avoided each other entirely, which was pretty hard to do considering how small the school was.

The hallways almost fell deafening silent without the pair’s obnoxious laughter echoing through. According to Nanami it was “The best week of my life”. But for you, it was a slow descent into madness. The absence of your two best guys, who were always there to bug you and share in the chaos, was unbearable.

Hell, even Yaga was starting to get worried.

Shoko wasn’t much help. Completely jaded by the routine of arguments and breakups between the second years, she shrugged off the situation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “They’ll make up… eventually.”

You were never one to just sit back and let situations play out. So you whipped out your phone to set your plan in motion.

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(Y/N) (Y/N) Hey, movie tn? My place. Movie night 2nite? Sugu Toru Sounds great. I’ll bring the movie. Heading 2 the store! You sigh in relief. They WERE going to make up today, whether they liked it or not. Your phone buzzes again. Sugu Toru Hey… just us right? Me n you right (Y/N)? (Y/N) Yep! Just us!

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You prepared your dorm, fluffing out the pillows, grabbing your softest blankets. Hiding any sharp objects. The soft glow from the tv and your fairy lights set a cozy atmosphere. You only hoped that it would help soften the tension between them.

Knock Knock

Your ears perk up at the noise, you stood up, smoothing your clothes as if they could somehow help soothe the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. As you opened the door you saw Suguru, leaned casually against the doorframe, his raven hair falling in soft waves around his face. His kind eyes tinged with nervousness.

“Hey Suguru!” Your voice warm as you greet him, stepping aside to let the taller boy in. He settled into his favorite spot, grabbing the blanket he’d left here one too many times. You settled next to him as he pulled out four DVDs showing you the selection.

“I haven’t seen any of these yet actually.” He says looking at you.

As you both discussed the movies, you heard another knock at the door. You quickly stood up, hoping Suguru wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

“Hmm? Shoko Coming?”

“Not… exactly.” You laugh nervously as your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. As the door inches open you see Satoru, his white hair slightly damp from his (never-ever missed 8pm Shower). He greets you with a smile, striding into dorm. Immediate irritation flashed across his face when he made eye contact with Suguru.

Their eyes narrow at each other, then at you.

“What’s HE doing here?”

You place your hands on your hips; side-eyeing Satoru to sit down. He begrudgingly takes a seat next to the raven-haired teen, pouting.

“We are watching a movie. And you’re both staying.” Your normally soft voice, firm as you glare at the two older teens.

They both shoot each other glares before sighing. You had won… for now. You took your place, right in between them.

You tried your hardest to just watch the movie, but it was so boring. Usually Suguru picked out pretty decent movies, but this documentary was NOT a decent movie. You stole glances at your friends; if you weren’t so pissed off at them you would’ve been blushing at the prospect of being sat between two attractive guys.

Their close proximity made your heart race. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and every small movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Your hand reached into the popcorn bucket. As the pair saw your hand go in they both reached in with you, hoping to touch you.

Both flinching as their hands brushed each other’s instead of yours. They shot each other a glare before turning their attention back to the TV. A minute passes before Satoru speaks.

“I could’ve picked a better movie with my eyes closed.” The white-haired teen mumbles, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Just watch the movie, Satoru.” Suguru replied with an exasperated groan, though his eyes never left the screen.

“This shit is gonna bore me to death.”

“That isn’t such a bad idea—”

You sigh heavily, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. You stand up, looking down at the two sorcerers.

“Alright. What the hell’s going on with you two?” You demanded

They both looked away, avoiding eye contact. Satoru crossed his arms, pouting even more, while Suguru ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

You tap your foot, glaring down expectantly.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, their eyes meeting in a brief, intense exchange. Satoru’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Suguru seemed to take it as a cue. He drew a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)...”

“We’ve been acting like this because, well..”

“We’re both...” Satoru continued.

“In love with you.” Suguru finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, stunned by the confession. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stared at them, trying to process their words. Your breath hitched, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. It felt like a storm was raging within the confines of the small room, each thunderous heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“You’re… what?” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling.

Satoru stood up, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “We’re in love with you, (Y/N). Both of us.”

Suguru’s nod was slow, almost hesitant.

“And it’s tearing us apart.”

taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk @yunho-leeknow @starriesworlds @hiblue123158 @n3ptoonie

#jujutsu kaisen #kbwrites #jjk #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu #jjk x reader

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suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year

Text

For Lack of a Burger

**finally I have written! Sorry for the long absence, folks- my cat is a needy little thing and I love her. Enjoy!**

“As blood son of Batman, it is only natural that I train here to become heir to the Bat.”

Dick- well, Nightwing right now- looked down at Robin, who was staring out over Gotham with his brow furrowed.

“And what of the league? I can’t imagine them letting the heir to the Demon’s Head run loose.”

Robin stiffened a fraction more than he already was- something that Nightwing wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t trained by Batman himself.

“I know only one thing for sure concerning the heirship of the league.”

“What is that?”

“Grandfather will not taste relief in death.”

Nightwing wasn’t sure what that meant, but Damian seemed so assured of the fact. He would have to tell Bruce- maybe Ra’s had discovered a better method of immortality than the pits?

An alert pinged on their communicators, and the two of them checked it before heading off to save the citizens.

~~~

“I miss real food, Clocky.”

“You are currently unable to process it.”

“I know. Ectoplasm just isn’t the same though.”

Danny sprawled on Clockwork’s floor, lazily filling out paperwork from ages ago and yesterday.

“It has been a very long time since you left humanity behind.”

“I wish there was a safe way to go back and get some food.”

His mentor paused briefly, and Danny looked up. Was that a gleam in Clockwork’s eye?

“There is a way.”

Danny shot up into a seated position, crossing his legs.

“Tell me!”

“You will face many hardships.”

“Clockwork, serious as a funeral, I would kill for a burger right now.”

Clockwork smiled enigmatically.

“You may have to.”

He flicked his fingers and Danny found himself pushed back. He allowed it- at this point in his existence, he could overpower Clockwork, but he’d asked for this.

The world went dark around him.

~~~

In the year since he’d come to live with Father, Damian had not said a word about his brother. He’d been told, before being unceremoniously bundled away from the only home he’d ever known, that he was to be the heir of the Bat and Daniel was to be the Demon’s Head.

His mother had told him that Father would try and steal Daniel away from the League- that Damian would yet again be the lesser son. After a few months with Father, Damian had stopped believing that. There was no thing as a ‘lesser’ child for Father.

And yet.

Grandfather was a powerful man, and Grandfather treasured Daniel more than he had ever cared for Damian.

Daniel al Ghul, second son of the Bat of Gotham, was brilliant. He kept his emotions in check, fought with practiced ease in any situation, and spoke circles around even mother. It never took him as long as it took Damian to learn a new skill, and most of the time he spent studying, even when they were both allowed a break.

Damian loved him, even as the younger child overtook the position Damian had striven for his entire life.

What was not to love? Damian had loved him ever since his tiny hand had curled around his finger in infancy.

He had always been fond of small, cute things.

But if Daniel left the League, Grandfather would come after him, and it would be unsafe.

Damian held his tongue and loved his baby brother from a distance, even though he might never see him again.

~~~

John “Hellblazer” Constantine needed a drink. Or several.

Bats had appeared on the Watchtower with yet another new Robin, and this one was probably the most concerning out of all of them.

No, it wasn’t the sword.

It was the massive fucking protection order from a powerful death god that radiated off his small form.

“Bats.”

“Hm.”

“I need to talk to you and the kid.”

Bats nodded, a gesture John took to mean ‘go ahead’.

John sighed.

“Not here, Bats. Too many ears.”

“Hrn.”

The Bat swept away, followed closely by his brightly colored companion. John followed as well. He was pretty good at speaking Bat, after all these years working together.

They made their way into the bowels of the Watchtower, into a sitting room John hadn’t known existed.

“What do you need, Constantine?”

John paused for a moment, assessing. Robin was watching him suspiciously, hand on his sword, and Batman was standing half in front of the little bird protectively.

“Did you know this one was friends with a death god?”

“What?”

The Bat and Robin spoke the same word at the same time, in the exact same tone. Did they practice that? Anyways.

“Yup. Little redbreast screams hands off.”

“I am not acquainted with any gods.”

John shrugged.

“Doesn’t mean you knew they were a god. To get to the bottom of this- has anyone ever sworn to protect you in some way?”

Robin went still and pale behind his mask, before darting a glance up at Batman.

Batman, who was looking down at his sidekick.

“Robin? Report.”

The boy stuck his chin out.

“It was many years ago, Batman. He- they couldn’t have been a god.”

“You don’t know that, kid. Where did you meet him?”

“He wasn’t a god!”

Robin had become defensive, sword halfway out of it’s sheath, glaring at John- presumably for the sin of being alive.

“If the League of Assassins has contact with a deity of death, we need to know, Robin.”

Snarling, Robin started out of the room.

“I will not discuss him with either of you. He is safe where he is.”

“Robin- chum. Who is he?”

Robin stopped in the door, not looking back. His voice wobbled a little as he spoke.

“My younger brother.”

John needed a drink, and fast.

~~~

Danny stood over Damian’s bed, watching his older brother breathe shallowly. Grandfather had beat him badly, and Danny was still unsure why.

Talia wouldn’t look him in the eye, and Grandfather had gone to soak in the pits.

“Daniel?”

“Damian!”

Danny bent over his brother, placing a hand over his pulse to check it.

“Why?”

Why had Grandfather beaten him? Why had he stood and let it happen? Why didn’t he run?

“He… wanted me… t’kill you.”

Danny felt rage swell up in his tiny seven-year-old body. What right did Ra’s al Ghul think he had, to beat a child almost to death for such a reason?

What right did that man have, to touch someone Danny had come to care for?

Closing his eyes briefly, Danny allowed himself to meditate for the few moments it would take to let his rage die down enough to comfort his brother.

Once it had, he opened his eyes again and pressed his forehead to Damian’s.

“I swear I will protect you, ahki. Ra’s al Ghul will not taste relief in death.”

The next day Danny watched invisibly as Talia dipped Damian in the Lazarus pits to heal him before putting him on a plane to Gotham.

~~~

“You have made me proud, Daniel.”

Ra’s watched as Daniel bowed, having taken out a squadron of elite ninja for his tenth birthday.

The ninja were still breathing- Ra’s was sure Daniel had spared them so as to not weaken the ranks of the League he was set to inherit.

It pleased him that his young grandson was so wise, despite his youth. His older brother had no such wisdom- rash and impatient, still full of emotional weakness. Ra’s would no longer claim that boy as his grandson once Daniel passed his newest test.

With a wave of his hand, several ninja brought forth a young man. They had managed to kidnap Richard Grayson from under the nose of the Bat, and now Daniel would kill the other.

“Grandfather?”

“This is your Father’s oldest ward. He is a usurper to a place that rightfully should be yours. Kill him.”

Daniel walked towards the bound man, and the ninja holding the captive backed away respectfully.

“May I ask him a question, Grandfather?”

Ra’s nodded. There was no harm in it.

The boy drew his sword and stepped around the man, holding the blade to his neck.

“Tell me, Grayson. Is Damian well?”

The lilt in his voice spelled danger for Damian, and Ra’s could barely contain his grin at Daniel’s ferocity.

“He is protected,” the kneeling man forced out. “You won’t harm a hair on his head.”

Daniel smiled, not unlike a shark.

“I know.”

Before Ra’s could blink, Richard Grayson’s bonds had fallen to the floor as if he had turned into a ghost, and Daniel’s sword was stabbed into the dirt between the Demon Head’s feet.

“We are leaving, Ra’s, and you will not stop us.”

The venom in his calm grandson’s voice when Daniel said his name made Ra’s pause, but only for a moment.

At a gesture, ninja poured out into the courtyard, intent on recapturing Nightwing and taking down the heir to the Demon.

Seconds before the ninja collided with the two, Daniel grinned, his eyes locked straight on Ra’s, grabbed Grayson’s hand, and the two vanished.

~~~

Dick was… Confused didn’t quite cut it. His day had been a disaster, and then this tiny meta who looked like a carbon copy of Damian appeared.

“So… You a clone?”

“No.”

“Oh. Uh. What are we doing, by the way?”

The boy smiled serenely at him, and then continued his work.

“Jacking a plane.”

“You’re like, eight.”

The boy shrugged.

“If you like.”

“Where are we going?”

“Gotham.”

“Who are you?”

The boy turned and put his hands on his hips, and Dick was starkly reminded of Bruce by the posture and facial expression.

“Look, Grayson, I get it, you’re confused. But if you don’t shut up and let me finish this wiring, we’ll never get you back to Gotham before the League catches up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

The boy turned back around and continued his wiring.

“Call me Danny. Too many fruitloops call me Daniel.”

Dick expected a long flight ahead of them.

~~~

Damian was strapping on the last of his gear to go rescue Richard from the League of Assassins when the man himself strolled into the batcave, looking tired but no worse for wear.

“Dick!”

Batman- no, he took his cowl off- Father threw himself across the room to assess the health of his son.

Damian started unstrapping his gear.

“How did you get free?”

“We apparently had a man on the inside?”

“Had?”

“He blew his cover to save me.”

“Nightwing, report. Where is this man now?”

“I was landing the plane. Nice digs, dad.”

The cave fell silent, but for the ringing of the batarangs Damian dropped as he spun to face the newcomer.

“Not sure what I think of the ‘cave’ vibe you have going on, though.”

“Daniel?”

Daniel met Damian’s eyes, and a look Damian had never seen on his little brother broke out on the boy’s face.

A true, genuine, joyful smile.

“Akhi!”

Damian pulled out his sword and held it towards the stranger in his brother’s body.

“Who are you?”

The boy laughed.

“I’m a little weird now, right? It’s okay, Damian, it’s me.”

“What was the last thing you said to me.”

Damian felt that was a good question. No one but Daniel would know.

“I said I would protect you, and that Ra’s al Ghul would not experience a pleasant afterlife.”

“That-“

“Isn’t quite it, I know. Still true, though. I brought the Lazarus pits with me. Ra’s can’t use them anymore.”

Damian heard Father and Drake choke at Daniel’s words. This was Daniel, despite his complete personality change. No one had been with them when Daniel had made his promise.

“Since when were you a god of death?”

Daniel laughed.

“It’s a long story, Ahki.”

Damian sheathed his sword and held out a hand.

“Come then, habibi, tell me.”

“Can I have a burger to go with the story? I’m starving."

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x batman #damian wayne #danny fenton #batman

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ahqkas · 4 months

Text

♯ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE ; mattheo riddle

❛ when you cycled by

here began all my dreams ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the countless nights he spends fighting over any sized inconveniences were getting to him. he didn’t even think about visiting the professional medic to patch his wounds, not when he had you (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.9k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fighting, blood, angst + fluff, kissing, violence, rage filled + soft mattheo, slytherin reader, friends to lovers, lovesick idiots

NOTES! my man my man my man

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

TO MATTHEO RIDDLE, FIGHTING FELT LIKE A SECOND HOME. He could insert all of his rage and anger into the punches and kicks because it was required to do so. You wouldn't throw a good punch if you didn't put your emotions into the action and so that's exactly what he did. Fought with his emotions.

The courtyard was a peaceful place for the students of Hogwarts to relax for once, bringing a sense of peacefulness with its stone pathways and patches of greenery. The yard was often filled with laughter and conversations for everyone to hear. But on some days, you could hear more than the good nature of people. Curse words and spells casted at another, yells and shouts of anger. The same goes for violent actions. The sickening snaps of bones and emotional sounds from the audience that gathered around the ongoing fight was heard for miles away.

The same goes for today.

The joyful laughter quickly turned into terrifying shouts when a nearby fight broke out among the students in green robes. Slytherins fought the most. Mattheo Riddle fought the most.

A small group of onlookers had gathered around him and another boy, his robes the same green color to match Mattheo's. Their hushed whispers and excited yells were echoing through the halls, bringing even more attention to the crowd. Just exactly what they needed.

The other boy, Aaron Banks, stood with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face, his arms crossed as he stood chest to chest with Mattheo. A dangerous combination, considering that Mattheo's bad temper could handle only this much and Aaron's instincts for his own life weren't working like they should. This situation screamed trouble.

"You really think you're something special, don't you, Riddle?" Aaron sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Just because of your name, you think you can walk around like you own the place."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed into a glare. If one looked deeply into his eyes, they would be able to see the dark storm brewing in their depths. "You don't know what you're talking about, Banks. Why don't you keep your mouth shut before you say something you'll regret?"

A mocking laugh escaped the other boy's throat, the sound harsh. "Oh, I think everyone knows exactly what I'm talking about. A Riddle will always be a Riddle. Trying to pretend you're better than the rest of us won't change that."

The crowd murmured among themselves, little jabs and comments about the two boys escaping from their lips. Bets were already in the making, money being thrown around like it meant nothing.

"Last warning, Banks. Walk away now," his jaw tightened, a muscle tickling in his cheek. He looked tense and if you looked close enough, you'd see his nails digging into the heel of his palm, trying to control his temper. He had promised to someone to do so.

"Or what? You'll run crying to daddy? Oh wait, you can't, can you?"

That was it. In an instant, all of the restraints Mattheo was trying to gain snapped away and he launched himself at Aaron Banks, who had a death wish in his eyes.

Mattheo's fist connected with Aaron's jaw in a bone-crushing punch. The audience could hear the sickening snap of a breaking bone and let out an empathic 'Oooh'. The boy's fate had already been written and no one would dare to stop the writer from his art work. They'd have a death wish as well. Aaron staggered back, more shocked than hurt at first, before he quickly recovered and his fists were flying toward another face.

The courtyard erupted into chaos of excitement and shouts of frustration as the two boys collided in a flurry of punches and shoves. Mattheo landed another hit to the boy's ribs, making him grunt in pain, which Aaron rewarded him with a swift uppercut that snapped Mattheo back.

Blood trickled from Mattheo's split lip, but he barely seemed to notice. With a snarl, he drove his shoulder to Aaron's chest, knocking them both to the ground. The two of them hit the floor hard and rolled across the cobblestones and grass.

"Fight! Fight!" some of the onlookers chanted, probably the ones who placed their money into a bet, their voices holding an edge of excitement as they watched the fight like muggleborns watched soccer matches on TV. Others tried calling for help, but their calls got lost in waves of noise.

Aaron managed to get on top, his fists raining down on Mattheo. A brutal punch on his cheek sent blood spraying on both his face and the ground beneath them, painting the green grass scarlet. With a burst of strength, Mattheo twisted around and reversed their positions, pinning Aaron beneath him. The Slytherin boy started landing a series of blows, each one hitting the blond harder and harder, with such a force it almost made his face look unrecognizable.

Aaron's nose finally cracked from the pressure Mattheo was punching with and blood gushed around his fingers as he tried to block the violence and shield his face. It didn't work.

"Had enough?"

"Stop! Both of you, stop this instant!" a voice boomed across the courtyard and the audience of students departed to make a way for the owner to walk through.

Professor McGonagall strode into the circle with her wand raised and eyes blazing with authority. The witch flickered her wand, and the boys were magically separated, levitating a few feet apart and struggling against the invisible force that held them. Mattheo was still seeping with rage, his eyes showing exactly what he wanted to do to the other boy.

"This is disgraceful!" her voice trembled with fury. "Both of you, to my office, now!"

Mattheo could see the few students that placed a bet on his behalf collecting galleons with a satisfied expressions on their faces.

The silence in Professor McGonagall's office was thick and oppressive, broken only by the ticking of an ancient clock on the wall. The room, usually a place quiet authority, now felt dangerous, like the eye of a storm. Mattheo Riddle and Aaron Banks stood before her desk, their faces bruised and swollen, their uniforms disheveled and splattered with blood.

Minerva McGonagall stood behind her desk, her expression a mask of controlled fury. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, darted between the two boys, assessing the damage and the simmering rage that still radiated from them.

"What, precisely, did you hope to achieve with this barbaric display?" McGonagall's voice was icy, each word clipped with disapproval. "Explain yourselves."

Aaron shifted uncomfortably, wiping at the blood still trickling from his nose before he spoke up first. "He started it, Professor," he muttered like a child, casting a resentful glance at Mattheo. "He couldn't handle a bit of teasing."

"A bit of teasing?" McGonagall's voice rose, incredulous. "You think this is acceptable behavior in response to teasing? Violence is never the answer, Mr. Banks. And you, Mr. Riddle, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Mattheo's jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on a point just above McGonagall's head. He refused to look at Aaron. "He insulted my family," he said quietly, but with a hard edge to his voice. "He went too far."

McGonagall's eyes softened, just a fraction, but her voice remained stern. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even herself, but the woman had a soft spot for the boy. "And you thought physical violence was the appropriate response? You are both old enough to know better. This kind of behavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts. We are a respected school, and such actions undermine everything we stand for."

She paused, letting her words sink in. The boys remained silent, their hostility now mingled with the sting of reprimand.

"What makes this even more disgraceful is that you're both members of Slytherin. Slytherin house values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. This situation not only reflects poorly on you but also on your house. You should be allies, supporting each other in your ambitions, not tearing each other down."

"You will both serve detention for the next month," McGonagall continued, her tone brooking no argument. "Every evening after classes, you will report to Mr. Filch. And you will write a letter of apology to each other. Not just a few lines, but a sincere apology. This kind of conduct must be addressed not just with punishment, but with understanding and reconciliation."

Aaron's face twisted in disgust, but he nodded. Mattheo, though still simmering with anger, gave a curt nod as well.

"Furthermore," McGonagall added, her eyes narrowing, "you will each receive fifty points deducted from your respective house. I hope this serves as a reminder of the consequences of your actions."

The silence that followed was heavy, both boys digesting the severity of their punishment. McGonagall's gaze softened slightly as she looked at them. "I understand that emotions can run high, especially with matters as personal as family. But you must learn to control yourselves, to find better ways to resolve conflicts. Violence only begets more violence."

The witch walked around her desk, standing closer to them. "You are both capable of better than this. I expect to see you prove that in the coming weeks."

With a final, stern look, she dismissed them. "You may go. Reflect on your actions and do better. Dismissed."

Mattheo and Aaron walked out of her office, the tension between them still palpable but now mingled with a grudging acknowledgment of the consequences they faced. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving McGonagall in the quiet of her office, the ticking of the clock the only sound as she sighed, returning to her desk with the hope that the punishment would lead to some measure of understanding between the two boys.

Ignoring the sting of his split lip and the throbbing on his bruised jawline, Mattheo headed down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the destination clear in his mind. The logical choice would have been the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey would undoubtedly patch him up with expert care, even if it meant hearing the scolding she'd have prepared. But Mattheo wanted something different - someone different. He needed to see you.

Mattheo wouldn't call himself desperate but he wasn't far from being just that if it involved you.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual, the murmur of hushed conversations about today's fight between their two housemates barely audible over the crackling fire. Mattheo slipped past the few students lounging on the green leather couches, their eyes following him with curiosity and whispers trailing after his steps. He ignored them like always, his focus solely on reaching your dormitory.

Reaching the door to the girls' dormitory, he hesitated for a moment, then knocked softly. His bloody knuckles rapped on the wood of the door, each tap sounding more quiet. What was the worst that could happen? The door creaked open to reveal you, your eyes widening as you took in his battered appearance.

"Mattheo, what happened to you?" you whispered urgently, taking in the bruises and cuts marring his face.

"I got into a bit of a disagreement," he said, downplaying the severity of the fight because he knows how much you worry about him. Which he doesn't deserve, he thinks silently.

Your eyes narrowed, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across your face at his behavior. Mattheo Riddle stood at the entrance of your dorm, bloodied and visibly in pain. "You should be in the infirmary," you exclaimed, the tone of your voice firm but gentle.

The dark haired Slytherin shook his head. "I'd rather you patched me up," he admitted, his tone softening. "Please."

Sighing, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. "Alright, come in," you immediately went to help him in, taking most of his weight with the way you slung his arm around your shoulders, closing the door quietly behind him. Your dormitory was cozy, the dim light from a few enchanted candles casting a warm glow over the room.

"Sit," you ordered, pointing to a bed that probably belonged to you. The giveaway was the single snake plush he gave you for Christmas in the third year. Mattheo obeyed with a pleasant feeling spreading across his chest, sinking into the bed with a groan as the adrenaline from the fight wore off, leaving him acutely aware of the pain coursing through his body like a lightning.

You rummaged through a small trunk at the foot of your bed, pulling out a vial of healing potion and some clean cloths. Dipping a cloth in the potion and gently dabbing at the cut on his lip, your touch was both tender and precise as your palm met the side of his face that wasn't hurt that badly.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"I've been told," he replied with a smirk, though it quickly faded into a wince. "But Banks had it coming."

"Even so, you need to control your temper," your fingers working deftly to clean the blood from his face. "You're better than this."

Mattheo's lips stretched into a grin despite the pain, causing you to wince at the new blood that started to ooze out of a cut on his bottom lip. Without another word, you took his jaw into your hand and angled his face so you could examine and attend to his injuries better. Your thumb brushed against the forming bruise in a comforting manner as your eyes locked. Your irises, a shade of [colour], met the brown of his ones. The dim lighting of the lamp cast a glow on your face and Mattheo could see the highlighted concern etched into your brows.

You have never looked so beautiful in his eyes. He felt a warmth spread through him, the sight of you dulled the pain more effectively than any potion could.

"There," you said finally, stepping back to examine your work. "That should hold you until you can see Pomfrey."

His hand, almost of its own accord, moved to the small of your back to keep you close to him. The warmth of your skin under his fingertips was electrifying, the soft fabric of your shirt having ridden up slightly. Mattheo caressed the bare skin there, his touch both gentle and hesitant, as if afraid to break the spell between you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, your eyes widening just a fraction, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your own hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

He could be tough and rough around the edges, but he found himself melting in your presence.

The proximity was intoxicating. Mattheo could see the faint freckles across your nose, the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks. He could feel your warmth seeping into him, a contrast to the cold reality of the world that brewed outside this moment. The world was dark out there, but he felt safe in your arms.

"[Name]," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed, even in your presence. Your name felt like a plea, a confession, and a promise all at once.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering down to his lips for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. The tension between you was palpable, a taut string that could snap at any moment. His thumb traced small circles on your back, the simple motion sending shivers down your spine as he gazed up at you with those big brown eyes of his, his breath intertwining with yours. Mere inches kept you apart and he looked at you as if you've hung the moon on the dark sky and brought the stars with your heavenly beauty.

"Mattheo," you whispered back, voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name on your lips sent a jolt of desire through him, making it even harder to think clearly. Although, he couldn't think straight already.

Your breaths mingled in the small space that separated you, and Mattheo felt a pull, an almost irresistible urge to close the distance, to bridge the gap that had always seemed so close yet so far away. And so he did.

His hands, resting on the small of your back, pressed into you, urging you even nearer until you stood flushed between his legs.

Your hands, previously light on his chest, tightened their grip as you felt the heat radiating from his body. Your fingers trailed up to his face, where you angled his head slightly, silently urging him to meet your lips. Mattheo obliged, his heart pounding in both nervousness and excitement. Lord knows how long he wanted to do this.

With a surge of courage, Mattheo closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss. It was like a spark igniting between you, a rush of emotions and longing finally being released. The kiss deepened, fueled by years of unspoken feelings and the intensity of the moment.

Mattheo's hands, now fully embracing you, held you close as if afraid you might slip away once he let go. You responded in kind, fingers tangling in his dark curl, anchoring him to you as he touched you nothing but love and passion.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, the world around you fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only Mattheo and you, nothing mattered anymore. Not any stupid fight. Not any family problems. Just you two.

For in each other's arms, you had found love, love that would carry you through the darkest of times and cherish the brightest of eternity.

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bookished · 11 days

Text

( a collection of starters or dialogue prompts. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

"You don’t get it, do you? Every time I walk away, the ground pulls me back toward you like I’m tethered to this place, to you!"

"I swear, even the rain mocks me, falling harder every time I try to forget you!"

"Why is it that every time I try to move on, the stars spell out your name like they’re taunting me?"

"I hate how every single flower blooms brighter when I think of you! It’s like even nature is against me!"

"I can’t stand it! Every time I get close to letting you go, the wind whispers your name, like it won’t let me forget!"

"Every time I try to bury these feelings, the earth shakes beneath my feet as if it knows what I’m doing!"

"I’ve tried to walk away a hundred times, but every shadow, every flicker of light reminds me of you. It’s like you haunt me!"

"Even the ocean keeps pulling me back to the shore where we stood. Do you know how infuriating that is? I’m drowning in memories of you!"

"Every time I close my eyes, the wind rushes in like it’s carrying your scent! I can’t escape you, even in my dreams!"

"I’ve screamed at the stars, demanded they stop reminding me of you, but they just burn brighter. They know, don’t they? They know!"

"You have no idea how much I’ve fought against this, how much I’ve tried to tear you out of my life, but even the trees whisper your name!"

"It’s like the moon itself mocks me, shining brighter whenever I think of you! It’s unbearable!"

"I hate how even the fire crackles louder when I’m angry with you, like it’s feeding on my frustration! But I can’t stop!"

"Do you know what it’s like to try and forget you, only for the rivers to murmur your name every time I pass by?"

"I curse your name every time I see the sun set, but it still paints the sky in colors that remind me of you!"

"I tried to burn the letters, the memories, but the fire wouldn’t take them! It’s like the universe won’t let me forget you!"

"Every time I get close to leaving, the stars realign, the air shifts, and it feels like the world won’t let me go!"

"You think I want to feel this way? Even the storms rise up when I try to let you go, like the sky is angry at me!"

"I’ve tried to bury it, to push you out, but even the ground beneath me trembles with your name!"

"Every time I get close to moving on, the world bends in your direction! Why can’t I escape this?"

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sato111u · 11 months

Text

rich boyfriend gojo, who is 8-9 years older than reader (who is a master degree’s student in this fic)!

sees you for the first time on the lobby of one of his big chain hotels.

a cup of black expresso in the table in front of you while you worked on a project.

he approaches you confidently, fully transparent about his intentions.

expresses his feelings, by saying you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life, and how he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

he managed to get your phone number, and a few days later, gojo politely asks you out on a date.

gojo was always a true gentleman, picking you up, opening doors for you, taking you home and making sure you go to sleep safe and sound.

but there was something else that brought gojo immense pleasure. taking care of you financially.

gojo always had money. since the moment he was born, he had already his life taken care of.

spending a few millions was like nothing to him.

but there was something about spending money on you that made gojo’s heart feel so warm, even if it was a few dollars on acrylics. it brought a feeling of accomplishment, knowing he was taking care of his girl. he felt his stomach doing cartwheels when you sweetly thanked him, your gentle eyes looking up to him.

far into the relationship, gojo made sure he was paying for your education, and other expenses you had, such as acrylics, salon appointments, dinners with your girlfriends, etc…

but at first you felt uncomfortable, and expressed to him that you genuinely liked him, and you were not with him just for the money. he simply respected you and asked you just to accompany him so he could buy new suits, telling you that your opinion on the matter was more than important.

and there you were sitting pretty on the expensive chair watching your boyfriend try on suits.

after that, gojo innocently guided you to other stores, to see if anything would catch your attention.

and for your surprise, gojo wanted to buy almost everything you layed your eyes on.

a few mall visits later, and you were already more comfortable with this idea.

having your tall, attractive boyfriend, enter lingerie stores with you, making everyone in the store feel slightly uncomfortable.

gojo, with no shame, would point at the most sexy lingerie’s in the store and confidently say “this would look so good on you princess, let’s buy this in red, black and white. maybe blue too so it can match my eyes” as he lowers himself down to give you a quick kiss.

passing by fancy clothing shops, stopping and pointing at dresses and affirm that he was 100% sure that the dress was made for you, which was an excuse to buy it in at least two different colors.

the dates were always super romantic, either taking you to really nice restaurants, or going more for a casual vibe, taking you to museums, walks on cute parks and so much more. and of course, everything was always taken care of.

he loved bringing you to his apartment. cuddling with you on his big king size bed. playing with the strap of the cute pijama he bought you, as he fought against his sleepiness. loved to fall asleep on top of your chest, making him feel safe and loved.

waking up to you playing with his undercut, telling him that he needed to wake up or else he would be late for work. but what difference did it make? he was the CEO after all.

you made his house feel like a home. your love was such a beautiful energy, and everytime you left, he felt like his house was empty.

“satoru, baby, if you don’t get up i’m going to by squashed by you!” you said giggling. gojo was laying on top of you, head in between you breasts.

“'m so cold … ion wanna leave…” gojo said, still half asleep, hugging you tighter.

“then how about i change positions with you hm?” you said caressing the side of his face.

“mkay” gojo slowly got up, guiding your hips so you could lay on top of him. he didn’t wanna waste a single second without you being on top of him.

you gently sit on his lap, and lower your head to his chest. one of his hands instinctively goes on your lower back, while the other one plays with your hair.

“can i ask you something?” gojo said, his voice sounding a little bit more awake.

“yes” you said.

“do you want to move in with me?” he asked.

“you don’t need to answer right now, but i really needed to ask you. the last 10 months have been so great, all because of you. you make me want to be a better person, with better habits and better experiences. waking up without you on my side feels wrong, therefor i ask. would you like to live with me?”

read the bonus here

IN MY DREAMS, I HAVE A PLAAANNNN IF I GOT ME A WEALTHY MAAAANNNNN

anyways ty for reading 😮‍💨🙏

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navybrat817 · 8 months

Text

Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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shegatsby · 3 months

Text

Summary; Feyd has dreams and finally meets you, he is so overhwelmed by emotions that he paints a picture of you with his blood.

Words: 5. 143K

Warnings: War, fighting, weapons, kidnapping.

A/N: Hi guys! I had this one shot fic idea for a while, here you go. Let me know what you think. xxx It resembls your request to I hope you'll like it babe @ilikefeydrautha

‘’We’re under attack!’’ Your fellow Fremen yelled and with his voice everyone around you geared up in a second. Ever since the fall of House Atreides you have been in numerous battles with the House Harkonnen. At first Duke Leto’s son Paul and his mother Jessice were refugees under your roof, thankfully they grew accustom to your way of life and since then they have been a great help. With their help and strategy you and your people won every battle against Glossu Rabban, however, with the change in command you met someone new. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Baron’s youngest nephew. He was much more unpredictable than his older brother Rabban and much more vicious. One night, Jessica, now Fremens’ Reverend Mother, had gathered you and other important soldiers to give information about Feyd-Rautha and you felt your blood run cold even in the hottest planet in the entire galaxy.. he was psychotic. Since you were the daughter of a skilled warrior you were trained as such, and you had responsibilities; leading your people in these dark times. Unfortunately these dark times have been unstoppable.

The first time you had encountered him was at the desert.

You and your group had been trying to steal spice, well, it couldn’t be considered as stealing if it was your own planet.. the Harkonnen soldiers attacked. The open field had turned into a grave, crimson color spread on the sun dust sand which turned it into mud. After slaying a soldier you were pushed to the ground by a kick but you managed to get back up quickly, you were like a garden snake, swift and like liquid, but your opponent was a viper. He was covered in black head to toe but you could tell he was from a higher rank since he got some medals on his broad chest, a worthy opponent to kill and leave his body to Shai-Hulud.

You attacked but he pushed back, under the fire sun you fought, with his elbow he managed to punch back your helmet and it fell to the sand, your face exposed to him…

He didn’t attack but circled you like a predator who is contemplating what to do to his prey. He did something which surprised you.. he removed his helmet and tossed it aside. You took a step back in revelation, thanks to Reverend Mother’s description you knew who your opponent was… Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen himself. The monster who put you and your people in this situation.

Why wasn’t he attacking? His blue eyes under the sun gave the impression of two shiny diamonds, piercing through your skin like the heat. As he circled you and came to a stop he leaned closer, you didn’t know what to do or to say, he made sure to leave a safe distance between the two of you but he was much more closer than before. ‘’Pleasure to meet you, desert flower.’’

The ships to help Harkonnens were approaching and your commander ordered for you and other Fremen to fall back. As you ran you could feel his diamonds on your back, mapping you, his presence made you uneasy and questioning his behavior.. why didn’t he attack?

After meeting him flesh and blood you went to Reverend Mother Jessica, you were hesitant at first, she was on the ground, you could smell the spice coffee she had, the walls of her room held handmade carpets, Jessica’s baby bump getting more and more visible each day, ‘’Come forth young girl.’’ Her voice wasn’t the same as the first week she had been with them, more in charge and demanding. ‘’I am disturbing your meditation, I shall take my leave.’’ You said, regretting that you even went to her in the first place, you were covered in sand and blood, your face burning with embarrassment and the exposure you had from the sun, Jessica’s blue eyes were magnetizing, ‘’Sit.’’ She used the voice on you and you found yourself sitting in front of her, ‘’I’ve heard you had to fall back. What happened?’’ Jessica asked, her question had under tones of deep curiosity for something else. ‘’We were ambushed.’’ You shortly replied. ‘’You have met him, haven’t you?’’ with the mention of him Jessica noticed the change in your posture, you were alert. ‘’Be not afraid child, he cannot reach you here. Now, pray ell. What happened?’’

You found yourself giving each detail to her.

‘’So chose not to attack you… how strange..’’ Jessica was more talking to herself than you, ‘’You are dismissed.’’ And you left without getting any explanation of answers.

Ever since that incident you kept battling him or his soldiers, you were so fed up with the situation that you prayed to Shai-Hulud to end this war one way or another… you would come to realize in near future that when one prays for something one should be specific.

The second time you have seen him was at the skirts of the palace which Harkonnens had built 80 plus years ago when they first sent to your planet by the emperor. How you loathed the man.

You and your team’s plan was to provoke the Harkonnens by bombing their walls, creating damage and most importantly pissing them off. You couldn’t finish planting all of the bombs because alarms started to go off but that was enough anyway, it was close to dawn. Your fellow Fremen were brave and fighting the enemy like drinking fresh water… insanely devoted.

A bulky man was your opponent, he had a war, carrying it both of his hands, it was so heavy that whenever he missed hitting you hit the ground you felt its earthquake. You didn’t want to imagine the damage it would inflict on you.. imminent death.

‘’She is mine!’’ you heard a man scream with a raspy voice and in a second the bulk man with the hammer lost his head with a swift blade motion, you jumped back and fell on your arse, the bulky man’s head rolling towards you, you pushed your body back to get away and you saw him. Feyd-Rautha just killed one of his solider and stepped on his dead body to come to you…

You kept slithering back on the sand, the sky was getting brighter with each minute, the heat getting higher. He used his heavy boot to press on your ankle and make you stop getting away from him and you screamed in pain and cursed. With his heavy boot still pressing on your ankle he knelt down to be on the eye level with you, ‘’Hello again.’’ His pale face made him look like he was sculptured by most talented artist of ancient times, his shiny eyes never leaving yours, he then looked at his hand which was holding the blade and then looked back at you. His hand came to your face, you didn’t have your helmet, only a dirty scarf covering your face, except eyes. How did he even knew it was you?

With the tip of the blade he cut open yours scarf and revealed your face to him, ‘’There she is.’’ His voice raw and dominant, it made you shiver in fear and curiosity.

Your ankle was hurting you but you held your face blank as much as you can, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. How could he look so calm and collective while there is a chaos surrounding him, Fremens and Harkonnens fighting to death. You tried to pull your leg but he didn’t budge and it hurt even more, ‘’Why so hasty desert flower?’’ he mocked, you noticed the smirk shaping on his plump lips. You refused to give in so you kept your mouth shut, didn’t want him to get a reaction from you. The tip of his blade traced the strand of your hair, his eyes observing your hair like it was the most important thing in the world. Why was he interested in your hair anyway? With his other hand he grabbed your hair and pulled your scalp, you yelped. He cut few strands of your hair, you froze in your state, he lifted his hand to show you, ‘’Till next time.’’ He got to his feet and left you there.

This time you didn’t go to her, the Reverend Mother came to you, you were in your room applying a soothing gel to your ankle. As soon as you saw her you tried to get up in respect, ‘’Relax child, sit down.’’ You did what you were told. She came to sit next to you on your bed, ‘’I’ve heard some rumors and I wanted to hear the truth from you.’’ And you told her what happened, Reverend Mother Jessica looked deep in thought, calculating. ‘’Maybe there is hope for us yet.’’ She said turning to caress your cheek, like a mother caring for her child, you didn’t understand the ‘’hope’’ in question but these were dark times and your people relied on hope to survive for centuries.

And you were under attack few weeks later of that incident. Guess the Harkonnes needed time to build back the walls you had bombed. But how could they find the secret siech you wondered. Was there a rat among you? There was no time to think, you geared up and left your room to fight, ‘’Get women and children out of here.’’ You told one of your men and moved to the battle, in the common area of the siech your men and warrior women were fighting the monsters, Harkonnen war drums were beating so loud and deep, you felt he vibration in your body. You could see the monsters with torches, burning the messenger birds, birds that you had been taking care of… you found yourself screaming in primal hate and you marched to the closest Harkonnen soldier to kill, you were so quick the man didn’t even see it coming. You sliced his throat like it was nothing and kept moving, slaughtering men after men with your lust for blood your fellow Fremen warriors got the courage that needed, your home was invaded and you had nothing to lose at this point. Or so you thought.

You climbed on top of a rock to see the battle field, you could see Harkonnens popping up from every whole like a bug infestation.

You could also see how your folk falling to the ground, monsters were too many and you had to do something about it and you heard the drums change rhythm. He was coming.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen marched in with soldiers on his left and right, slaughtering men who stepped on his path. He walked like a man who owned the entire galaxy.

You jumped from the rock to keep fighting, you either won or die among your people.

Soon you have come to realize that Feyd was after you, his soldiers were opening the way for him to reach you and you kept changing your location, ‘’Get her!’’ the battle scene was hectic, screams filled your ears, you were covered in blood, you weren’t sure if it belonged to you or someone else.

A hand grabbed you by the hair and yanked you back, a kick came to your knee to make you kneel, you screamed in pain and looked up it was a Harkonnen soldier, smiling down at you like an animal.

Feyd-Rautha came, focused on the man who was still holding you by the hair, ‘’How dare you touch her hair!?’’ his scream made you look at him, with a quick move he cut the man’s hand and the hand dropped, the solider screamed in pain and fell on his knees next to you and Feyd beheaded him.

The man’s blood splashed on your face, you closed your eyes to pray, he was going to kill you, you were sure of it. You have heard that he loved to play with his victims and then kill them, he had play with you long enough, it was your time and you welcomed death.

A woman’s voice was heard and you opened your eyes.

‘’ENOUGH!’’ Reverend Mother Jessica yelled using the voice, her hands up she was standing on the highest rock, ‘’Tonight we shall end this bloodshed once and for all!’’ her voice was so demanding and dominant, everyone stopped and looked at her, including Feyd.

‘’Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, leave our lands, let us harvest spice and end this warfare, and we shall give you what you want.’’

You didn’t believe that this animal could agree on something and leave you all alone.

‘’My terms are this,’’ he began, looking directly at Jessica, everything seemed off putting to you. Like there was something behind this scene.

‘’I will have 90% of the spice. I don’t want any Fremen at the city and outskirts of it. ’’ He said his terms, Jessica nodded, ’’Then you shall have it. Tonight marks the day-‘’ Feyd caught her speech, holding the room’s full attention,

‘’And I want her, as war prize.’’ He pointed to your direction, you were still on your knees. Your breath caught up in your throat, your fellow Fremen looked at each other in shock, an outsider having a Fremen as a war prize? No way.

‘’Then it is settled.’’ Jessica’s words cut you like a hot blade, you were in hypnotic state, not understanding what was going on. Feyd held your arm to make you stand up and you started to scream like a mad woman.

‘’No, let go of me, no, no!’’ you screams could be heard outside of the siech. Over minutes you were placed on a ship and taken away from your home, your desert.

The doctor inside the ship gave you a glass of water and within seconds you passed out.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen boarded the other ship after he gathered his troops, he had to go back to Giedi Prime, his servants had already sent his belongings back to his home planet, and after tonight he had to go back, report to his uncle and take care of his business there, he had been in Arrakis long enough and since he had established a good spice deal there was no point for him to stay there. He laid on his bed and as he drifted to sleep his mind was on her and how he got her.

Feyd-Rautha was having his breakfast when he received a message, the language was foreign to him so he had to get it translated. In the message it said that Lady Jessica was willing to make truce in exchange of something they both need. Feyd had sent his spies first, he tracked Lady Jessica and they met in secret. At first he thought this was a scam but Lady Jessica had promised to him that they would benefit from this truce.

‘’A little bird told me you have taken an interest in someone… Is it true? If it is then we can come to an agreement.’’ Reverend Mother spoke, there was a safe distance between them, ‘’What if I have? What are you willing to give me?’’ he questioned, his neck moving like a snake, ‘’Leave us alone, have some of the spice so that your uncle wouldn’t get suspicious and you can keep her to yourself. How does that sound?’’

After their secret agreement she gave the directions to the secret siech and they staged the entire battle. If the battle wasn’t realistic no one would believe them.

Feyd didn’t know why but ever since he saw her he kept having these dreams, she haunted him day and night so much so that he found himself drawing her on a gigantic canvas, every time he got a pen and paper he found himself drawing her eyes, her mouth, her hands.. he didn’t believe in coincidences, the universe put her in his path for something…

You opened your eyes in a comfortable bed, the comfort made you question your surroundings since you weren’t used to it, your head was pounding like a hammer to a rock, you slowly sit and look around. You were in a big room, the walls were black, also the furniture, the bed you were in was bigger than your own bed and the fabric made it feel like liquid running through your skin, your hand went to your head and noticed the dampness on your hair, you smelled your hair and it smelled like roses.. when you noticed your lace night gown you jumped to your feet, it was long and had laces, you ran to the nearest tall mirror and looked at your reflection, you had bruises due to the fight.. yes the battle. You tried to remember what had happened..

The fight

Reverend Mother and Feyd-Rautha’s agreement…

Everything came back to you like a running stream…

So that wasn’t a nightmare, you were actually kidnapped and brought somewhere you do not know. You walked through the open doors of your room’s balcony, the sun was out but something was different. Everything looked black and white and you were surely not in Arrakis anymore, how long have you slept? Most importantly who bathe you and made you were this gown, as you stood there watching troops walk into the fortress you were trapped in you noticed how black the walls of the fortress, this wasn’t a friendly planet.

The metal doors of the room you were trapped in opened wide by two guards who were covered in black, a bald female servant walked in, her head was low, and in front of her there was an another woman who was older than the servant, she wore doctor’s uniform but it was also black like other people’s clothing. ‘’I am here to examine you, my lady.’’ You were standing on the threshold of the balcony watching them ‘’Lady?’’ you thought, ‘’Please sit.’’ The old woman said with an authoritative tone, she was also bald, you immediately moved away from them, you looked around to find a weapon but the room was so basic you started to panic, ‘’My lady, please calm down.’’ The old woman warned, you started to scream like a savage and threw the lamp on the nightstand by the bed you woke up in, the old woman covered her face with both of her hands, she was carrying a leather bag, ‘’My Lady please, I have to run some tests and give you hormonal vitamins to make you more fertile-‘’

You froze, ‘’fertile’’ for what? Your panic grew more in your stomach and chest, the room was suffocating you.

You wished you were on the desert, the scent of spice in your nostrils, riding a sandworm. You threw whatever you could find, you didn’t even utter a word you simply screamed at them.

Soon the doctor and servant left you alone, you could hear the heavy lock on the doors.

You were marching up and down when your doors opened again, and you saw him. Followed by the doctor and the servant girl again, ‘’My Lord,’’ the doctor began, they were watching you rather examining you like an exotic animal. ‘’She has been difficult.’’ The doctor said looking him but Feyd-Rautha’s blue eyes were fixated on you. He was in more casual clothing, his hand behind his back, he seemed more in his element here, ‘’Leave us.’’ His raspy voice made you shiver, with his order they left the room and when the doors locked you were alone with him.. in a room where you are trapped.

You didn’t say anything but watched him, he looked around, ‘’Don’t worry you’ll be moved to a better place once I get things done.’’ He was talking as if you were his friend or.. someone close to him…

You refused to speak. He was walking around the room, ‘’We’re in Giedi Prime, my home planet.’’ He began coming closer to you, you found yourself walking back slowly. Being in his presence was something you experienced before but it was always in a battle, he looked so calm and collective when there was no chaos.

He came to a stop when he noticed your trembling form, even though you looked sacred you had this fighter aura, he knew no matter what you would be ready. ‘’Let the doctor help you, I chose her specifically because I don’t want any man to touch you.’’ His confession startled you, his pinky finger coming up to your face to removed a strand of hair away from your face, ‘’More beautiful close up.’’ He was more talking to himself as if he was in trance of a witch, ‘’Let them serve you.’’ His eyes moved away from your hair to your face. And with that he turned and left, his march echoing in the room and halls of the fortress.

You let the doctor and maids help you, your maids explained that this will be your room for a while, they emphasized on the word ‘’for a while’’ you watched the doctor injecting liquid in you so many times, you felt your body like a puppet, being shoved around by people around you.. well.. if you could call them people. What made you curios is that man and women were all bald, skinny and the fear in their eyes were showed you the menace of House Harkonnen. For centuries they brought nothing but suffering to the people they own. And you were one of them now, someone they own.. not even a someone anymore, just a relic to add Feyd-Rautha’s collection.

‘’My Lady,’’ one of the girl approached, she had a black dress that showed her rank, she was a maid, you turned to her, her head was down, ‘’You can look at me’’ this was the first time in hours you have spoken which startled the poor little girl, she slowly raised her gaze, she had jet black eyes, ‘’If you would like to see the fortress I can escort you.’’ Her offer med you smile in pain, even the servants pitied you it seemed. ‘’I would love that.’’

Together you left the room you occupied, you have heard so many storied about House Harkonnen’s fortress but nothing compared to what your eyes witnessed. A magnificent jet black fortress, standing proud and tall in the center of the city, walls, floors were mostly made from obsidian, Harkonnens didn’t understand much of furniture and decorating but they knew how to be intimidating.

Guards were at every door, the servant girl showed you the throne room, it was a grand hall with a black throne and steps to reach to it, you felt the thin carpets under your feet, ‘’They are human skin my lady.’’ The girl explained and you could feel your body freeze in disgust, ‘’Animals!’’ you muttered under your breath, ‘’Can we please go somewhere else?’’

The girl took you to the courtyard, you were expecting to find trees or flowers, even in Arrakis some regions had desert plants but here… you found none. Just an open space with pearl white floors and statues, sitting places and guards.

‘’Follow me my lady.’’ The girl said and you followed suit, you walked back into the fortress, this was a prison and you were sure of it now, more than ever. Your heart yearned for your home, the smell of spice in the sand, riding your sand worm, your community…

What you noticed was that as you walked servants bowed to you, and they kept calling you

‘’My Lady’’

You weren’t a lady, you were just a member of a Fremen family who were powerful and influential. Your ancestors were fighters and so are you.

‘’My lady, please wait here, I will fetch you in a minute.’’ The girl bowed and left her in a small library, this must be a personal library. You walked around and read the titles of the books, some were in different languages that you don’t know, some Chakobsa, your native tongue.

You loved the smell of books and tranquility this room held, you felt at ease, as you were walking around you saw a door, it was slightly opened, something in you warned but your curiosity got the best of you and with caution you approached to the wooden door, you were surprised that this fortress had wooden doors because they were mostly metal or stone.

With your left hand you opened the room and thankfully no one was there. It was a small room, as soon as you entered you could smell the carpet’s scent.. it was spice, most likely came from your home planet. The walls were also wooden and dark red, by the wall you saw a huge canvas, it was covered with a dirty white sheet, near the canvas a set of brushes and painting materials were on display, you wondered who was the owner of this painting room.

Your Fremen senses were begging you to leave but your feet approached to the canvas and your hand grabbed the dirty sheet to reveal the painting behind it and what you saw made you take a step back and inhale in shock.

The painting was mostly finished, on the surface you saw Arrakis’s desert, sun was setting and you were standing in the middle, in your warrior suit and yet your hair was loose, as you observed the painting you noticed the crimson color on your hair, you got close and you could smell it.. it was blood. Someone was painting you and used blood to paint your hair… but why?

Even though the entire situation made your heart beat in fear you were also in awe of the painting. Whoever did it must be a great artist, the details of you and Arrakis were uncanny.

You and the painting version of you were staring at each other, you were captivated by the entire painting when you heard the sound of the door closing behind you and you jumped in fear. When you turned you saw him, locking the door and leaning his back against it, his hands behind his back, a strange calmness on his pale face.

‘’You shouldn’t be here desert flower.’’ His raspy voice was low and serene.

His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed the knife scars on his hands and wrists, ‘’I should thank your maids for they know how to make dresses fit you so well.’’

And you lowered your head to look at the dress they had made you wear, a dark blue dress with open chest and back, the cut on the chest would made any men lower their eyes on your firm bosom. The fabric was satin and to Feyd it made every male being on this planet to crave to feel it on you and he loathed that idea.

You noticed that he put the key into his pocket and his posture got tall, now his hands were in his pockets, ‘’Do you like it?’’ he mentioned the painting but you kept your silence, you never uttered a word to him directly and you could see it was driving him mad. He exhaled in annoyance, ‘’Until I met you I have never believed in fate, dreams or any prophecies really,’’ he began approaching to the tall window, his back was turned to you know, ‘’What I knew was that the world was black and white, strong and weak, dominant and submissive…’’

You walked away from the painting and put a safe space between you and him, even if it meant you would be at the corner of the room, ‘’Before I left Giedi Prime to govern Arrakis I had a dream,’’ you could sense how thrilling he was to tell you the story, ‘’In the dream I saw you, all I thought was that I had a dream of some random girl, and that was it… but when I saw you first time on the battle field… when your helmet fell off I didn’t know what to do desert flower, there you were.. the girl from my dream.’’

‘’That’s why you didn’t attack me.’’ You gasped in shock, your folk believed in dreams and prophecies but you had never expected to find yourself in one. As soon as you spoke he turned to you with a smile, a brutal smile on his plump lips, ‘’Yes!’’ he exclaimed with such happiness it confused you, ‘’I have spoken to every Bene Gesserit that I could find and finally Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam came to my rescue…’’

He was starting to take steps towards you, your feet moved to the back and you felt your back make contact with the cold wooden wall, you felt the shiver but you didn’t know if it was because of the wall or his dark aura approaching. He came to a stop, just few inches between you and him, you had to look up to meet his blue eyes, his eyes were naturally blue not because of spice and it was the first example you have seen in your life. You remembered the oceans Paul told you one night, if those oceans were true than they have a competition because his eyes were more alluring than any ocean can offer. Up this close you could smell his body, gun powder and mint, it was strong.

‘’I had to have you desert flower,’’ back of his fingers traced your cheek and you could feel your face heat up with the tender action. ‘’We are meant to be together. Can’t you see?’’ he started to sound irritated when you didn’t reply to him, you could only stare at his ocean eyes, he pulled you to face the painting, he was standing behind you, one of his hand wrapped around your waist and pulling you to his front body, ‘’Look at her, such a strong and wild creature,’’ he mentioned the painting, ‘’you and I, we are meant to rule Arrakis, two bodies one soul.’’ He had a point, you looked very courageous in the painting. His other hand went to caress your hair, you could feel his nose, smelling.

‘’Say something.’’ He said with a sharp tone, he turned you to face him, holding you by your upper arms, shaking you, ‘’Say something!’’ he raised his voice and when he saw how sacred you were you witnessed the sorrow in his eyes, ‘’I apologies you must be-‘’

‘’Yes.’’ You replied and his orbits grew large with satisfaction, ‘’I will be on your side.’’

''Prove it.'' he said desperately, you lookd around and found a tiny knife, you cut your palm looking into his eyes, and held his hand to cut his palm as well, blood was dripping but you didn't care. You entwined your hands together. With a pleaseing smile he leaned in for a kiss.

Thank you so much for reading. :)

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frostbitebakery · 4 months

Text

Nutshell.

“Let’s put you out of your misery,” Doom says, checking the charge on his blasters while keeping an eye on the stray droid crawling towards an abandoned E-5 rifle.

“You’re mine,” Doom grits out, gets his fingers around the leg of the droid making for General Tiplar. He pulls, rolls. The droid is on his chest and he clamps an arm around it, sinks his knife into its neck. Wipes the blood out of his eyes.

“I need answers,” Doom says, arms crossed so he doesn’t try to strangle the holo. “See that you get them.”

“I will get them,” Rex promises, voice stoic to resemble a Commander’s.

Doom doesn’t snort but it’s a close call.

“I’m sorry for your lo—“

He flicks the comm off. He doesn’t have the capacity for niceties.

Tiplee is slowly finishing the transport box for her sister. “We fought a lot growing up,” she says. “We were in separate crèche clans even.”

His jaw ticks under his bucket.

“We only grew close once we were both adults. People are in motion, always. In body, in spirit. Sometimes you are only meant to meet at later points in your life even if you’ve known each other since you were born.” She strokes a careful hand over Tiplar’s forehead. “I will let you say your goodbyes.”

Doom steps up to the box once Tiplee is gone.

Tiplar hasn’t gone grey yet. There’s a furrow burnt in her brows, the confusion over a clone shooting her carrying her to death.

“I will watch over her,” he states. Promises don’t mean anything in war. So he doesn’t promise. His heart skips a beat. He was meant to watch over Tiplar as well.

“Botany,” he slurs out, clinks his cup to Tiplee’s when she holds hers up. “I love sunshine. And plants. There’s so many!”

“I’m gonna,” she hiccups, booze sloshing over the rim of her cup when she points at him, “I’m gonna sneak you into the gardens in the Temple and show you the strawberry patch.”

“Sneak?” He thought everything in the Triple Zero Temple is free to roam for all Jedi.

“Totally,” Tiplee agrees with an enthusiastic nod and he realizes he’s spoken aloud. “But sneaking is funnierer— funner— funyun?”

He nods right back. “Funyun sounds right.”

“What do you mean, poisoned?” Doom asks. According to survival sim training, the strawberries look pretty unpoisoned.

Tiplee holds up a berry, turns it around a bit. “The Dark is ever growing. Spreading throughout the Galaxy, into the earth of every planet. It has changed the very matter of things.” She smiles up at him. “I remember them sweeter.”

“I will help your strawberries be the best they can be, I— promise.” He wretches the word out of himself. Pulls and pulls until it’s off his tongue and out in the open. “Hold on until then, yes?”

Tiplee smiles at him, taps her thumb against his temple. “Doom, you have found a place where you feel you are meant to be. It will be alright even if my time has come.”

“Uhm,” he says. Blinks. Swallows.

Maxir leans back, hands disappearing into the robe sleeves. “I’ve read this wrong?”

Probably not? “I don’t know,” he almost says until instinct takes over to not show indecisiveness. “Yes.”

Maxir’s face colors. He doesn’t tend to get cute blush spots high on his cheeks but rather an all consuming flush that looks close to blistering. “I’m sorry. I misjudged. It will not happen again.”

Jedi are so graceful in their apologies, Doom has learned. It’s charming.

He holds up a ripe non-perfect strawberry. “You look like this.”

“I beg your pardon—“

“You’re safe,” Doom gasps, wildly looking at Maxir’s frozen figure. “You’re safe.”

“Come here. Sit down.”

The calm authority in Maxir’s voice has him on his feet and back on the ground before he knows it.

“You are safe,” Maxir reassures him for whatever reason, filling Doom’s spotty vision and leaving room for not much else. “May I touch you?”

It’s a new helper droid. Gangly limbs for reaching deep into the foliage without damaging it. Looking like a B-1. The clippers looking like a blaster.

Its head lies halfway across another crop’s field. The body stabbed with its own limbs and the clippers.

“You are safe.”

Doom doesn’t believe him yet.

“I don’t recognize you anymore,” Doom says to his reflection.

There’s laughter lines around his eyes, his mouth. He has freckles from the sun. Permanent dirt under his nails he recognizes as dirt, not blood. His body is covered in flowers.

Last night he met up with the last of the 962nd and Master Tiplee. Six, Mimic, and a few others had helped him haul around the huge crates of produce into the AgriCorps’ building and kitchen.

They’d blasted each other’s asses while peeling, tasting, cooking, and fighting over seasoning. They fell asleep under the stars, occupying chairs and hammocks dotting the terraces. Tiplee had drooled on his shoulder, the tips of her fingers still red with strawberry juice.

“I don’t recognize you anymore.”

“Mrnng,” Maxir mumbles, slowly shuffling his way past Doom to the shower.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Doom says to his reflection.

“No,” Doom murmurs, wrings his shoulder against the doorframe to Maxir’s office.

The desk is cluttered with data pads and flimsiwork bearing the AgriCorps seal. Analyzing crop conditions and rotations has taken up most of what is left of their day after tending to the fields and labs.

Maxir looks at him over his glasses before pushing them up, ruffling the short hair just under one of the horns. “No? I surely thought there was caf left…”

Doom pushes himself away from the door, takes the three steps to the desk before sitting down on a free-ish spot. “No, you didn’t read it wrong,” he non-explains. “Also, for safety reasons I disposed of the last of the caf.”

Maxir glances at the clock above the desk. “It’s been five hours. The sludge level must still be within reason.”

Doom blinks blandly at him.

Maxir blinks back before it visibly clicks. “Oh!” He buffs the back of his hand against Doom’s thigh. “I told you I’m nearly always right. Also,” he parrots back with a mischievous grin, “the fact we’ve kissed and held hands and you let me dote on you—“

“Excessively.”

“Excessively,” Maxir agrees. “I broke all constraints when I bought you last meal that one time.”

Doom pushes Maxir away from him by way of the rolling chair he’s sitting in while Maxir recalls in detail and with a lot of hand gestures how Doom had gracefully accepted being cared for.

“Or when you let me clean all the petri dishes by myself,” Maxir says excitedly, seat slowly spinning in a circle. “You were snoring so adorably on the lab bench.”

“I regret meeting you.”

“Mimir shoo for half the night cycle!” The chair slowly rotates back towards Doom. Maxir’s eyes soften. “I, for one, am very glad we met when we did.”

WIP and backstory

#commander doom #star wars #star wars tcw #star wars fanart #commander doomxoc #<- sorry about that #my art #frostbitebakery art

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rcmclachlan · 4 months

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civil twilight (buck/tommy)

For @dadvans, who is a dirty enabler whenever I start having ideas and thoughts. Del, here are your damn bucktommy wedding vows, are you happy now?? 🩷

With a smile, Bobby looks out at the congregation—one hundred and fifty people squeezed onto the Ceremony Deck of the 1909, including what appears to be every first responder Buck has ever met—and announces, “I’m happy to say we’ve come to the part of the ceremony that Buck and Tommy have been looking forward to the most. They’ve prepared a little something for each other to be shared for the very first time today. What they say now will sanctify this moment now and forever.”

Excitement and anticipation chase each other under Buck’s skin like dogs, and he can’t help but bounce a little on his toes, which are pinched like hell in the shoes Maddie made him buy.

It took him almost a month to comb through the rolodex of his life—taking out cards from between color-coded dividers organized by year and studying each one to remind himself of exactly how he got to this point—to find the right words. He thought about them every second of every day. He filled his notes app to the point they made him pay for extra storage. He fought a five-alarm warehouse fire alongside almost twenty other companies and spent the entire time rearranging sentences in his head.

There were nights he lay curled against Tommy’s back and practiced for hours against the heat of his skin—soundlessly, of course, although with the way Tommy snores after a double shift it’s not like he would’ve been heard—until he was satisfied.

But the thought of Tommy doing the same makes Buck a little crazy. Did Tommy scribble half-baked thoughts on the back of a Pizzeria Sei receipt, or did he watch Love, Actually for the two hundredth time and take notes while Colin Firth gave a speech to a very confused town, or did he crowdsource ideas from the yahoos over at Harbor? Knowing Tommy, he just started spitballing at the horizon from a thousand feet above the city and got it on the first try.

Buck’s been vibrating in place for months thinking about this exact moment, and now that it’s finally here he’s going to explode all over all their guests before he even gets to say “I do.”

“Buck? Tommy?” Bobby’s voice is warm, like he knows exactly how much oxygen is feeding the fire in Evan’s belly. “Take each other’s hands and hold on tight.”

Before Bobby’s even finished talking, Tommy’s already stepping forward and reaching for Buck, which is good because Buck’s already reaching for him, too. Their hands come together with the ease of automatic doors in a department store, sliding to meet like they were made for nothing else. Their fingers tangle and lock, and Buck is thrilled to find neither of their palms are sweaty. Tommy’s smiling so hard his nose looks like it’s about to scrunch its way into his hairline, and Buck’s moved so close he’s practically stepping on Tommy’s feet. They meet in a very narrow middle.

“Buck."

He closes his eyes and presses his lips together to keep the fireworks in his belly from erupting out of his mouth and incinerating the entire canopy. From where he's standing behind Buck, Eddie taps him twice on the shoulder with his fist as if to say, we were all forced to listen to you talk about this for half a year; you've got this, but also don't screw it up.

“You’re up first.”

Drawing in a trembling breath, Buck reaches deep down into the little gilded space where he’s been keeping the words safe all this time. He holds them for a moment, traces the familiar edges of them, and hopes every person on the deck right now is going to be able to hear him. He wants them to know.

Tommy squeezes his hand gently, and Buck looks at him, at the shape of his smile that Buck could draw with his eyes closed. It's suddenly so easy to open his mouth.

"My first real memory is of going with Maddie to the park down the street from our house so we could watch the sunset. I sat on a swing and stared at the sky until it got dark, and even then I couldn't tear my eyes away. Maddie said it looked like I was searching for something."

Like every other time Buck's brought up some random story from when he was a dumbass kid, Tommy's lips roll inward. The first time it happened, he thought Tommy was trying not to laugh at him and he wanted to crawl under a rock like a bug to escape the threat of being completely crushed. But then Tommy admitted to being so charmed by Buck's story that he had to hide the sheer goofiness of his smile so Buck didn't think he was a total psycho. It's true. When Tommy lets that particular brand of smile out, he looks like a serial killer, so whenever Buck sees the inward lip roll, he knows he's one spate of cute aggression away from being turned into a human coat rack. It's awesome.

"It wasn't until I started writing this and looked back on my life that I realized how often I did it. No matter where I was, who I was with, or what I was doing, I'd end the day with my eyes on the sky. It sort of felt like something was going to come swooping out of the clouds just for me and I didn't want to miss it when it did. I didn't really think about it until after the first time I met you, because I didn't have a chance to look at the sky that night—you took me straight there instead. I haven't come back down since."

The tail end of the sentence grows soft and tight, and his eyes grow wet and hot. Which isn't a surprise. He hasn't made it through a single practice run of this part without his taps going on. He clears his throat and squeezes Tommy's hands tightly, reassured by the strength of them, in the firmness of the grip.

Mortified and elated, he blinks so the tears fall. Tommy sucks in a breath, then distangles his left hand from Evan's right so he can reach up to thumb them away.

"Turns out Maddie was right," he says, smiling wide and pressing into the touch. "I didn't know it, but all that time I was searching for you."

Tommy presses his lips together, but it isn't to hide a smile—it's to hide the way his mouth is trembling and he's doing a shit job of it. Buck chokes a little on a wet laugh. His chest feels sweetly sore, like a pressing on a bruise.

"That was beautiful," Bobby says. He's looking at Buck in the way that always makes him wonder at just how incredible his life would've been if he'd been Buck's dad from the get go. Which is probably a mean thing to do right now, considering his actual father is sitting in the second row, but if Bobby weren't officiating the ceremony he'd be sitting in the first, and that really says everything.

Beaming, Bobby turns to Tommy and inclines his head. "Your turn, Tommy."

Anticipation sings in Buck's chest, and when Tommy meets his gaze, his eyes bright and clear like an autumn sky over the San Bernardino mountains, it lights the fuse on a whole new batch of fireworks under his skin. He inhales shakily and gives him what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

Tommy's expression evens out, but sweetness still lurks at the corner of his mouth.

"Evan."

Buck's eyes flutter a little. It's amazing to think he used to hate the sound of that name. When Tommy says it, it feels like sunlight.

"I spent most of my life afraid," Tommy begins. His voice is steady. "I grew up thinking I was made wrong, and I cut off pieces of myself to try and fit in where I thought I was supposed to belong. I tried finding peace in the sky, but all that emptiness did was remind me of how alone I was."

Heart pounding, Buck squeezes Tommy's hands so tightly he thinks they might meld together.

"You know, I owe the 118 a lot. They helped me become a better teammate, a better friend… a better person. But there's no way I can ever repay them for how they changed me by bringing you into my life."

After all the time he spent thinking about Tommy simply writing his vows, it somehow never registered that he would actually have to say them out loud. In front of all their family and friends. That he'd be cracking open his chest and showing what's inside to the whole world as proof of his devotion. That he'd willingly do it for Buck simply because he loves him and wants to love him for the rest of their lives.

"Evan, from the moment I met you, you've shown me what it is to be brave. You've taught me how there's courage in loving with your whole heart and living your entire truth."

There is no way in hell he's going to be able to stand here and listen to this without gnawing on the deck railing or launching himself at Tommy to put his mouth on his bare skin. How do people do this without being charged with a misdemeanor?

"You found the pieces of me I thought were gone forever and put them back together differently. Better. You helped me make someone who isn't afraid of anything. I know we tease you about going The Full Buck, but because of you, because I know you're next to me ready to face anything that comes—" His voice breaks. "—I'm brave enough to go The Full Tommy."

Buck can barely see him through the tears that won't stop welling and falling, and if they were anywhere else, he'd wrap himself around Tommy like a snake and squeeze him until the storm passed, but because he's bound by dumb things like decorum and obscenity laws, Buck can only keep hold of his hands and try to transfer every ounce of love and comfort in his body to Tommy's by way of their tangled fingers.

Then, suddenly, a shit-eating grin splits the gentle and earnest expression on Tommy's face, and he feels a bit like a bird right before it's sucked into a jet engine. Warning bells go off in the back of Buck's mind.

"Evan," Tommy says, with the gravity of someone about to drop an atomic bomb, "you are the best ally I could've ever asked for."

The ugly, snotty laugh that punches its way out of Buck would earn him the respect of even the grubbiest of Jee-Yun's daycare friends, and he finally throws decorum out the window so he can step forward and bury his face in Tommy's shoulder. Between his tears and the spit he's horking from laughter, the suit fabric is definitely ruined.

"I love you so much," he wheezes. "I'd maim a thousand best friends for you."

He can't see Eddie's face, but he knows exactly what it's doing and it only makes him laugh harder. Tommy presses one of his high, incredulous laughs into Buck's hair, followed by a firm kiss to the crown of his head.

"What do you say?" Tommy pulls back a little, but he looks so proud of himself. He looks proud. "Should we finish getting married or what?"

Buck sticks the tip of his tongue between his teeth teasingly. "Or what?"

"Or I go home and order pizza," Chim pipes up from the front row to a smattering of laughter. On his left, Hen drops her face into her hands, but her shoulders are shaking. On his right, Maddie smacks him on the arm like she's mortified, but she's grinning too hard to really sell it. It looks like she's crying just as hard as Buck is.

"All right, all right," Bobby says, ever the voice of calm and reason, but he's very clearly fighting laughter, too. "Why don't we finish this up?"

"You ever get tired of herding cats, Cap?" Eddie asks, a grin in his voice.

"Never," Bobby says. He lifts his brows pointedly at Buck. "Are you ready?"

Buck turns back to Tommy, and in the curve of his smile he sees the same glowing possibility that he's seen in ten thousand different sunsets, and his entire body clenches with the exhilarating and terrifying feeling of something's coming for me and I can't miss it.

Heart pounding, he grins and holds his hands out again. They're immediately enfolded into Tommy's, like there was never a question about where they should go.

He glances up through the canopy to glimpse the pockmarks of blue between the trees, but there's nothing coming for him. When he looks back down and meets Tommy's gaze, that hungry anticipation settles into warm fullness. He can call off the search; it's finally here.

Buck smiles wide enough to encompass the sky. "I've been ready, Cap. Let's do this."

Now on AO3

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #911 fic #911 abc #wedding fic baybeeeeeee #my fic

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