myfanficacademia - Tumblr blog

myfanficacademia · 16 days ago

Text

Game of Chaos Emeralds

Sonic the Hedgehog x Game of Thrones

Chapter 1: Sonic

The King was coming. That’s all Sonic was told.

Servants scurried about Winterfell, their voices bouncing off the rough stone walls. He peeked his head out of his chambers, taking in the strong scent of fire and roasting meat. The stoves were at full tilt. It’d been a while since the castle felt so alive—the last time being his birthday, of course. Well, their birthday.

“Have you heard?”

Sonic turned, meeting the sharp gaze of one of his siblings, Manic. The green hedgehog looked every bit the noble heir, dressed in a fine tunic embroidered with their house sigil, the direwolf. His face gleamed now that it was naked after a shave. Though, the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his polish look, a reminder that beneath the noble facade, Manic was still Manic.

“Of course I have. It’s all anyone’s been talking about for the past week,” Sonic replied, stepping out of his chambers and shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. “I don’t think I’ve seen so many people at work since our birthday.”

“You know how Mother is,” Manic said, falling into step beside him. Their boots clicked against the stone floor as they walked. “She’s very particular about celebrations. Nothing happens here unless she decides it’s worth the expense.”

It was true. Since their father’s death, Sonic could count on one hand the number of feasts or festivals held at the castle. Lady Aleena wasn’t one for revelry—not anymore. The cold walls of Winterfell seemed to reflect her demeanor: stern, unyielding, and quietly grieving.

“When I’m Lord,” Manic began, throwing his arm around Sonic’s shoulders, “I’ll have parties every week. I’ll bring life back to these dreary halls.”

Sonic chuckled. “You and your grand plans. You forget the responsibilities that come with being Lord.”

Manic grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Responsibilities are boring. That’ll be the first thing to go when I’m Lord. Perhaps I’ll invent a new position—Lord of fun—and leave the rest to someone else.”

“When you’re Lord, I don’t care what you do. So long as I can be your knight.”

“But of course. There’s no one else I’d trust to put their life on the line for me other than you.” Manic chuckled, shaking off the thought. “For now, let’s focus on making the most of the King’s visit.”

The brothers wandered to the opposite side of the castle, enjoying the company of one another. They greeted the servants as they passed, happy to see their halls so full. Even the weather was pleasant. Despite being within the castle walls, a typical northern chill nipped at them, softened by the summer’s warmth. They stopped short in front of a chamber door. A voice from inside reached their ears—shrill and commanding. Their septa.

“You’re quite beautiful, child. I can assure you, the Prince will be utterly enthralled when he lays his eyes on you.”

“But how can you be so sure?” protested their sister, Sonia. “It’s been seven years since I last saw him. I can’t wait another seven—I must impress him now.”

Sonia had always been a romantic, daydreaming of the day she’d marry, her future as a Lady, and her elaborate wedding. Even as a child she forced Sonic into her make-believe ceremonies, crowning him the reluctant groom. He’d never understood the appeal. Why would anyone want to be tied down when they could have freedom? Marriage was just another shackle, and knights weren’t meant for such things. They didn’t need wives. His dream wasn’t to wed; it was to become the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms. He had no need for such distractions.

“Why does she care what that knave thinks?” Manic whispered, scowling.

Manic had never liked the Prince, nor had Sonic. The boy was arrogant and insufferable, caring more for his reflection than the people around him. Sonia, though, seemed blind to his flaws.

“And you will,” their septa reassured. “You mustn’t get so in your head about it. You’re far too pretty for that.”

Sonia continued to voice her concerns, downplaying her charm and chances with the Prince. Sonic knew better than anyone that his sister was worthy of someone more honorable than that cowardly boy, but what could he say to help her see otherwise? She hadn’t been in the woods with them seven years ago to witness the Prince’s true nature. Sometimes, though, he wondered if that would’ve even changed her mind.

Their septa’s voice eventually grew louder as she walked towards the door. Before the brothers could react, it clicked opened, and their septa appeared, her sharp eyes narrowing as she caught sight of them. “And what are you two doing? Haven’t I taught you it is impolite to eavesdrop?”

“We were not eavesdropping,” Manic argued. “We were merely….” He hesitated, glancing at Sonic for help. “…coming to check on our sister and inform her of the King’s arrival.”

“The King is here?!” Sonia popped her head out, her voice tinged with excitement.

Sonic scratched the back of his head. “Well...no, not yet. Though, the servants have been whispering rumors of his arrival at any minute.”

Sonia scrunched up her nose. “Then why did you come bother me?” She huffed, turning sharply and retreating to her room. The brothers exchanged a glance before following her inside, leaving their septa muttering in the hallway. Sonia sat at her mirror, pampering herself up even further.

“You’re taking this way too seriously, Sonia. It’s just the King. We’ve met him before.” Manic yawned, stretching his limbs as he climbed to sit on her bed.

“And that is where you’re wrong, dear brother. The King does not travel without reason. Even less so with his family. The Prince tagging along is a sign.” She turned to him. “Can’t you see?”

Manic smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “A sign of what? That he wants to bore us with another one of his grand speeches?”

Surely the King didn’t come all this way for a speech, Sonic thought. But would the King really travel to discuss alliances, politics, or power? The realm had been at peace for years, what matters could he have in the North? “You’re overthinking it, Sonia. Maybe he just wants to visit his loyal northern House.”

She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “A King doesn’t visit just for pleasantries. I’m telling you, this is bigger than you realize.”

Manic rolled his eyes. “Bigger? Like what? Are we suddenly in danger of being attacked? Does he think we’re a threat?” He faked a gasp. “Is he coming to take our heads?”

Sonia glared at him. “Don’t joke about such things.” She sighed. “Have you thought about why the Prince is coming? It’s not a coincidence. The ride from King’s Landing is long and tiresome, he wouldn’t bring his son without reason.”

Sonic frowned, his relaxed posture stiffening. “What are you getting at?”

Sonia glanced between her brothers before chuckling. “Do you seriously not get it? The Prince is of age, and so am I.”

Both brothers processed at the same time. Marriage? But they were sixteen. Didn’t Sonia want to explore her freedom a bit longer? Sonic couldn’t imagine being tied to someone already.

Manic burst into laughter, doubling over on the bed. “You? Marry him? You’d be better off marrying a troll!”

Sonic didn’t laugh, instead crossing his arms. “If that was true,” he said to Sonia, “Mother would have told us.”

“Would she?” Sonia countered. “You know how she keeps things close to her chest. Besides, a union like this could tie the North to the crown. Imagine the position our family would have.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in.

Manic finally sat up, his laughter fading. “Do you really want this, though? To marry someone like him?”

“Of course! The Prince is so handsome, and a sweetheart. Any Lady would be lucky to marry him.”

There it was again. Sonia’s yearning for love always overshadowed her judgment. The last time Sonic had spoken with the Prince, he’d been nothing but rude. His cruel laughter rung in Sonic’s ears at the memory.

He pushed off the wall, his voice firm. “Handsome? You haven’t seen him for seven years! You have no idea what he looks like.”

“He’s a prince, Sonic. I don’t need to see him, I know he’s handsome. You’re just jealous.”

He scoffed. “I’m not jealous. I could care less how I look or being a prince. I’m just speaking the truth, sister. You deserve better than him.”

Before Sonia could respond, the distant echo of a horn cut through the air. The three siblings froze, exchanging glances.

The King was here.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sonic au #game of thrones #got au

0 notes

myfanficacademia · 1 month ago

Text

Didn’t expect to end the year writing a Sonic the Hedgehog x Game of Thrones inspired fanfiction, but here I am.

Coming soon…hopefully.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #game of thrones #GOT #sonic #sonic au #got au

6 notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 2 months ago

Text

A Reflection Of Venus

chapter: 1 chapter 2 | 3

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: For years Acacius was able to keep his precious and only daughter away from the Emperor's eyes. But after his latest victory, he couldn't evade the already inevitable.

Note: Reader is the daughter of General Acacius and his wife, which is not Lucilla in this fanfiction.

word count: 3.1k

General Acacius was a hero for the Roman Empire, a sun that was burning brighter with every new victory he won in a new war campaign ordered by Emperor Geta and his twin brother Emperor Caracalla. The reign of the twins was nothing compared to one of their deceased father Emperor Septimius Severus, who was once one of the closest friends and brother-in-arms of Acatius. While Severus fought wars mainly to protect the borders of the already massive Empire, his sons' hunger for expansion became clear from the very first day they inherited the title "Emperor". And general Acacius became their tool in this project. Nothing was too expensive, they backed him with legions, war-ships, the best equipment and supply, and the capable general became an unstoppable force, a soldier of the God Mars himself. But at what cost?

As the years went on, he'd rarely been home, always travelling with his marching soldiers and being on the front line of every battle he fought. And when he came back, he felt sick from all the pomp and gold the Emperor's threw at him, the victory processions through Rome, while the smell of blood still lingered in his nose and the cries of the women and children echoed in his mind. It was one of those days. The sun stood high over the wide street that lead to the Palatin, the sides filled with the cheering crowd - common people, soldiers, slaves, senators, merchants, they all celebrated his victory in a triumphant procession. His marching soldiers were led by Acacius chariot, clothed in the white armor of a victor. His face could've been one to be carved in marble, stoic and upright, facing the great Palatin, where the Emperors would await him.

Geta and Caracalla - the twin-sons of Septimius Severus, Emperors of Rome. They stoof there in golden Armor like sun gods with their golden crowns on top of their short gingerblonde hair. Their unusual pale skin was a testament to their wealth as they could afford to stay out of the sun, which burns especially hot on summer days like this one, and of course on the battlefields in Africa, where Acatius' men had to fight against the rebellious Nubians. They awaited their victor with proud smiles on their lips, while Acacius' procession ended at the footsteps of the Emperor's palace. He walked the marble steps towards them, his long cloak moved in tact with his walk. He didn't look forward to see the faces of Rome's tyrants again, but they hadno idea.

Instead, he greeted them as he was used to. His hand on his chest, speaking the words.

"I greet you, my Emperors. Nubia is no more. I present a new victory to you, to the realm and to the Roman people."

With a proud look on their faces and a wide smile, the twins stepped forward. Emperor Geta hold the laurel wreath of victory in his hands and places it on top of Acacius' greying hair.

"And Rome rewards it's heroes with gratitude and admiration. We bow to your victories, General Acacius."

With those words, he offered him to turn around and face the celebrating crowd. Geta and Caracalla took their places at his side, giving him a moment of spotlight, applauded by the people, while they did benefit from it as well. Acatius was their general, their armored knight. Every victory he presented was another triumph for their own reign and power. After the earned celebration in front of the common folk, the Emperors and Acacius retreated inside, where servants quickly served them wine for a toast.

"Another great victory, you never disappoint us, dear Acatius," Geta expressed and hold his glass up for a toast, his brother Caracalla following the gesture. "To the glory of the Roman Empire".

"To the glory of your reign", Acacius lied and took a sip from his glass, trying to numb himself a bit with the taste of the alcohol. How he hated conversations with both of them.

" But don't get too comfy here, my brother and i were already discussing another campaign soon. You'll get everything you need, just tell us how many soldiers and ships and it will be granted," Geta explained, which left a bitter taste in Acacius mouth. His jaw clenched for a moment, while he tried everything not to show his distaste about another war campaign.

"Please forgive me, my Emperor, but isn't the realm big enough already? Rome has already difficulties to feed the people. Further expansion would-"

"They can eat war", Emperor Caracalla threw in with an almost diabotical grin, while Acacius got a warning eye from Geta. It was clear that his words weren't the ones both wanted to hear right now.

"Don't worry about things like that, Acacius. You're a military general, your job is to win battles - nothing more. Do you understand?"

"I understand," he answered, even though he hated to hear that he was reduced to this. He'd experienced war and peace alike and therefore he knew about the dangers of continuing this madness. Moments like this really let him question if those maniacs were of the same blood as Septimius Severus.

"But you're right, you've earned yourself at least a bit of rest - one or two weeks. Don't worry, we've taken care about the wellbeing of your family. They got everything they needed and more in our attempt to show our gratitude for your service to the throne. Speaking of which.... we expect you to join us for a great feast tonight - here in the palace. A party to celebrate your victory, it is accompanied by a couple of fights in the arena tomorrow," Geta explained joyfully, while Acatius tried to keep his mask up.

"I am incredibly honored, but would prefer to spend time with family after being away for such a long time."

"The Emperors show you their gratitude and you're insulting us. We expect you to come and you will come", Caracalla hissed with a sudden shift of tone, his eyes staring at Acacius in clear anger, while his brother placed his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But his staring eyes were warning Acatius once again.

"Of course, we don't just invite you, but your whole family. Bring your wife and... you have a daughter, if i'm not mistaken? We haven't had the pleasure of getting to know her yet, since you never brought her to any festivities. I am sure she will be delighted, if you don't plan on hiding her again."

Acacius stood there in silence, a reaction that made Caracalla burst out into laughter as if he'd just heard the funniest joke from his brother. The respected general didn't even look at him, why should he. Standing here in front of them should've been an honor, yet it felt like a disgrace. They were nothing but spoiled kids with the power of an empire in their hands. And now they even forced him to reveal his dear daughter to them. Something he tried to avoid for too long, knowing fully well about the debauchery and excessiveness of Geta and Caracalla.

"We're waiting for an answer, Acacius?", Caracalla purred with a wide grin on his pale face, revealing his gold tooth.

"It will be an honor to be your guest... together with my daughter."

_____________________________________________

You watched the face of your father sunken away in his thoughts, as you made made your way to the palace in a palanquin carried by a couple of slaves and protected by soldiers. The city was painted in darkness which made the palace seem like a temple with all the lights that welcomed you. It was an exciting moment for an upper-class lady to be a guest at the palace, especially for you, a woman that usually stayed away from the most parties. Not because you wanted to, but because it was an order from your father. You obeyed, yet it bothered you, even more when you'd reached the age of a young woman - the age in which it was expected from you to find a proper husband.

"Why are you so worried, father?", you finally managed to get off your lips, pulling Acacius out of the battle he fought in his head. He couldn't just tell you that he despised all of this and especially the Emperors himself as he couldn't be sure if someone outside this palanquin could hear him. So he simply took your hand and placed a soft and caring kiss on the ring that had been a present for your last name day.

"I guess I'm rather tired than worried. The parties in the palace are always quite excessive, music, dances, feasts... i just came back from the desert and now i have to enjoy all those things", he sighed and looked at you. "And i don't want to stay too long, especially not till the orgy starts. The servants will come and bring us home before that." And even you knew he would rather go and murder Dyonisos himself than allowing his daughter to stay and witness this.

All those words and yet you knew it wasn't everything.

"I'm glad that you take me with you this time. I've only known the imperial palace from afar," you confessed, while you straightened the long, blue dress you wore. It was decorated with all sorts of silver embroidery and jewelry, encapturing the stars and moon. Your long hair was styled by your servant Yanna into a high braid and finalized with a silver diadem. For the first time you really got the chance to make yourself so presentable that you almost felt like a princess. In the end, you were about to meet the Emperors which made it important to look like the woman you were - the daughter of a general. And you also presented his household tonight, because your mother felt sick tonight. She often suffered from migraine, which kept her a prisoner for days sometimes.

"You really look beautiful", your father said to you, it was honest, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes, which you still couldn't grasp. But there was no chance to take this conversation further as the palanquin stopped. Acacius got out first to help you out. He knew the way as it wasn't the first time for him to attent an official ceremony or party here. Through a long corridor you reached a large room with with an open access to the garden terrace facing the beautiful gardens. It was packed with people from the Roman upper-class, wealthy merchants, politicians and military officers, who were accompanied by their wives, sons and daughters. While they chatted and feasted on the large selection of delicious looking food, a group of musicians played their melodies to which professional dancers moved their bodies.

All those private parties at the homes of your friends seemed to vanish straight from your mind, nothing could be compared to what you were seeing now. It nearly took your breath away, while two royals were watching you from the other side of the room.

_____________________________________________

Geta and Caracalla were sitting on a higher ground, which was highly decorated with two golden chaise longues, cushions and velvet drapes. They were accompanied by a selected group of slaves, women and men, who were assigned to bring them anything they wanted, to do anything they wanted.

While Geta was in in a conversation with one of the senators, which clearly bored him according to his facial expressions, it was Caracalla, who noticed the new guest first, while he fed his little monkey Dondus a grape.

"Such a shame that he hid his daughter for so long. She is a gorgeous looking bird, don't you think? ", he whispered to his brother with a mischievous grin, patting his arm so that he would turn his attention to Acacius and you. Geta's eyes quickly went to you, admiring the way your dress hugged the shape of your curves.

"The gods must've sent us Venus herself to honor us with her presence," Geta answered, while an unreadable smile played on his lips. „No wonder our dear General is so protective of her. Is she already promised to someone?“

„Why do you ask me!?“ Caracalla snapped back, as if his brother didn’t know that he had a lot of spies around the city, who delivered him the newest gossip from the streets of Rome. With an annoyed eye roll, he leaned forward, adjusting the golden laurel wreath on his head. „No, she is a blank parchment. Probably untouched too.“

Geta still watched you with an intense interest as if you were a rare diamond, he needed to claim. But he was not the only one in this room, because Caracalla stared at his brother, noticing the way he looked at you. There it was again, the old melody. Whenever he wanted something, Geta wanted it too. They already shared the title of Emperors, their wealth, their whores… It was already something that cooked in him for a long time. But now he had an eye on you and wasn't happy about the fact that Geta might try to get you too.

Before he could even bring this thought to an end, his twin brother Geta already stood up from his chaise lounge and made his way through the crowd, the direction was clear. Caracalla's nose twitched in a mixture of nervousness and anger, and he got up quickly as well, not as gracefully as he wanted to, but he didn’t care. He had to tame the inner urge to backstab his brother before he could even reach you.

_____________________________________________

You still stood at the side of your father sipping on your first goblet of fine wine, while your eyes went over all the different guests and the excessive decor. Your father was sunken in a conversation with another general, Marcus Galbanus, an old friend and brother-in-arms of Acacius. But their conversation quickly stopped as soon as the Emperors approached them. Both your father and Marcus Galbanus lowered their heads and greeted them according to the etiquette, while you curtsied deep. This was the very first time you got the chance to meet the Emperor's of Rome Caracalla and Geta. And given the importance of those two figures, you even felt a little nervous.

"We almost feared you wouldn't show up to your own party, Acacius. But we're happy you made your way here... we already heard that your dear wife lays sick. Please, send her our best wishes. Nonetheless we would be delighted if you could introduce us to your company tonight", Geta demanded in a playful tone, knowing how much Acacius had tried to delay this. Caracalla stood at his side, his staring blue eyes drilled themselves into your appearence. Even though he was a man that had tasted a lot of men and women, one even more sensual than the other, your whole appearence, your face, your lips, your smile, everything - you reached a sentience in his mind that could only be gifted by the gods. The mere thought of having you infected his brain like a curse.

You could sense the tension that raised in your father as if everything in him resisted the situation. Yet he placed his hand softly on your shoulder and did as they wished. "This is my daughter, y/n..."

"I'm honoured to meet the Emperors of Rome", you said in a soft voice, earning you an appreciating smile by Geta and an unreadable grin of Caracalla.

"Oh the pleasure is on our side, my dearest. How do you like this Ceremony in honor of your father's victories?", Geta asked. But before you could even answer, his brother added, while he took another sip of his wine "Your father is a Roman hero through and through, isn't it right Acacius?" His tone had something else in it, almost as if it was some kind of mistrust. But you needed to ignore the irritation you felt and simply nodded.

"It is breathtaking. I've never witnessed something like this and it makes me incredible proud to see the gratitute he earned himself through the love he has for Rome and its people," you answered, trying to remind the Emperor's of Acacius loyality, which was undoubtful.

"Then you'll enjoy the ceremony in the arena tomorrow as well, i'm sure. Please, we invite your father and you to be our guests."

"I don't think that such entertainment is suited for a young woman of her status," your father suddenly interfered in a calm yet set tone, only earning the laugh of Caracalla. "Let your daughter decide for herself, General."

The atmosphere shifted to an unspoken intensity. You could sense your father's worries and given all what you've heard from the colosseum, you didn't really think of it as something worth to witness. Seeing people die in such a terrible way only for the pleasures of the masses seemed like a farce. Acacius always called it the most needless form of brutality amongst humans, he despised this himself and therefore avoided going into the arena whenever he could. But you also read the eyes of Geta and his brother, who waited for your answer and would not accept a simple 'No'.

"It would be an honour," you answered, and Geta leaned forward a bit, which made your father's jaw clench in anger. Not because of your answer, he was aware that a choice was not existing, when facing an Emperor, but because the way the twins looked at you as if you were a price they could simply claim. But you were a smart girl and definitely not naive, so he fully relied on that.

"So this is a 'Yes'?", Geta asked again and you looked him straight in the eyes, not backing off. "Yes."

"Excellent!", Caracalla shouted and clapped into his hands. "We'll have a lot of fun tomorrow."

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched to a smile and he nodded in response to his twin. Yet he hid his displeasure of having him as a rival in this little game. It was clear that Caracalla had layed his eyes on you too, but he won't allow him to simply take and fuck you like you were a common whore. Maybe you could've potential for something more and strenghten his position as well as his popularity. Because both Emperors were still unmarried - and it was expected from them that this would change sooner or later.

2K notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 6 months ago

Text

If I was in Asoiaf world, I would become a lady knight just so I can win tourney to grant him the flower crown and name him the king of love and beauty.

Might as well write that idea

1K notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 6 months ago

Text

america's sweetheart olympian 🥇

53K notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 6 months ago

Text

You will all excuse me but I'm still here. Go Oscar.

194 notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 10 months ago

Text

"Painting" - Feyd Rautha x Reader

a/n: a drabble as a request for dad!feyd combined with some of the headcanons i've talked about @barbiedragon and @dreamlandcreations about hehe. i gave the harpies and the twins russian names as vladimir (the baron's name) is of slavic origin! 🩷

Summary: Painting Feyd before battle has become one of your favorite pastimes.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 1,200

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Painting your husband has become one of your favorite pastimes. It is an intimate moment before he walks out into the arena, risking his life. A moment where he just gazes at you, watching your delicate fingers moving along his chest, his abdomen, watching in the mirror as you paint his back. With his slaves, it was different. They seemed to be in a hurry to do it and get away from him, not wanting to risk his ire, not wanting to risk being left at the mercy of the Harpies. You, however, take your time, relishing in the closeness it allows the two of you. You smile up at him playfully when you move to paint his face, his hand grabbing your wrist before you can.

“What? I just thought I’d write my name.”

Feyd snorts out a laugh, shaking his head at you, “You’re ridiculous. But…” He pauses, meeting your gaze, “I wouldn’t be averse to you painting your lips and leaving a kiss above my heart.”

“What was that?” You taunt, peering up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes, “You want me to leave my mark upon you, my darling husband? Why… How positively sentimental of you.”

He rolls his eyes, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his voice a low rasp as he replies, “I suppose you’ve made a bit of a romantic out of this bloodthirsty warrior.”

“They’ll say you’ve gone soft,” you murmur as he dips his finger in the bowl of paint, bringing it to your lips, coating them in the black substance, his touch lingering on your skin a few moments longer than necessary, “That the great Feyd-Rautha has lost his edge.”

“They will be wrong,” Feyd whispers back to you, “They don’t realize that if one is fighting to come back to the woman they love, they will fight harder than ever before.”

He watches, his gaze so tender that it makes the same butterflies that filled your stomach the first time you saw him start fluttering again as you press your lips to his chest. Feyd gazes down at the mark you left behind, nodding to himself, lips parting to reveal his darkened teeth as he gives you a smile. It isn’t one of the threatening smiles he gives his opponents in the arena, or the false ones he gives his uncle. This one is genuine. And soft and loving. He rests his forehead against yours and you whisper the words you say to him before he leaves for every fight.

The words of his house that were always spoken before they sent their men into battle.

“Come back to me with your shield or on it,” you say, brushing your lips against his.

He nods, “I will, my na-Baroness. I will.”

For a final touch, you dip your hand in the paint bowl before pressing it to his chest, helping him into his gear, watching him stride into the arena to the cheers of the crowd.

Once your children are old enough to partake in this ritual, it becomes a bit more chaotic. The twins - Vanya and Katia - fight over who has to hold the bowl versus who gets to paint him. You watch the scene with amusement, as does Feyd, tiny little handprints all in black decorating his alabaster skin along with the meticulously painted lines you have already adorned him with.

“Papa, I want to fight in the arena too!” Vanya declares, “I can beat all these people! I can even beat you! You’re getting old, Papa, it’s time to let the man of the house take over!”

Feyd looks at his son, utterly amused, before glancing over at you, “Vanya, I need you here to protect Mama and the baby in my absence. Isn’t that more important than some silly fight in the arena?”

Vanya looks between the two of you, his gaze lingering on your rounded belly before nodding, drawing the mini crysknife from his belt, waving it in front of him, “I will kill anyone who tries to hurt Mama or the baby.”

“That’s my boy.”

“He’ll only end up killing himself,” Katia comments dryly as she continues painting her father, “He doesn’t know how to hold the thing.”

“I know better than you-”

“Oh, please, Vanya, we both know I can kick your ass-”

“Who taught you that word?” You question, arching a brow at your daughter, “Katia?”

You can tell by Feyd’s sheepish expression that it was him who did so, and unable to remain cross for too long at any of them, you shake your head, nodding at the Harpies, asking them to take the twins for their training. However, before they leave, Katia rushes to Feyd, tugging at his loincloth to get his attention, nearly making the poor man faint in his panic to keep it wrapped around his waist.

“Braid my hair.”

“Sweetheart, I have to be in the arena in five minutes-”

But the way she looks up at him with those big watery eyes, her lower lip wobbling ever so slightly reminds him far too much of you. And just like with you, he’s unable to say no to her, sighing as he sits down, quickly getting to work at braiding her hair while you and the Harpies try to keep Vanya occupied. Ania, the eldest of the Harpies, pretends to be grievously injured by your son, falling to the ground as she begs for mercy. He giggles as the other two, Polina and Maria, grab him and attack him by tickling him, joking that they’re going to test his mettle against their own and avenge their sister.

You watch the scene, a hand resting on your belly, feeling your third-born moving against you, feeling grateful for this small moment of peace in your and Feyd’s lives. Feyd’s fingers move deftly through Katia’s hair, styling it to perfection. He always enjoyed braiding your hair and seems to enjoy braiding your daughter’s as well, if the smile he tries to hide is any indication. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead, the Harpies escorting the twins out of the room, giving you and your husband a moment of privacy.

“Would you like your hair braided as well, my love? I still have ninety seconds,” Feyd smirks.

You roll your eyes, instead moving to press your lips to his chest, leaving your usual mark, “The little handprints all over you will make your opponents think you’ve gone soft, my Baron.”

“They’d be fools to think I’ve gone soft. I have a beautiful Baroness and three little demons to return to,” he caresses your cheek, smiling as you lean into his touch, “I have more to fight for than any of them, more that I wish to come back to.”

You nod as he rests his forehead against yours, “I don’t care about whether you come back with your shield or not. Just come back.”

It would appear motherhood has made you soft, if only ever so slightly, he muses as he leans in to kiss you, “I will always come back to you. Nothing will ever keep me away from you, my sweet, sweet wife.”

1K notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 10 months ago

Text

Just thinking about the fanfiction that’ll come out after Boy Kills World and I personally cannot wait

#bill skarsgård #boy kills world

19 notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 10 months ago

Text

This was..SUCH a challenge to paint but I’m happy I got a chance to try because I’ve had it on my “attempt” list for a long time now. I lightened up the other side of his face a bit because I wanted a better look at him. The original image was heavily shadowed and you couldn’t really see much. And that vest? Don’t even get me started.🫠

136 notes · View notes

myfanficacademia · 10 months ago

Note

So. You’re masters of the air fic? It killed me. I am ded. I need more. Like, immediately.

lol but in all seriousness, it was great. You write them so well, and really captured their personalities. I loved how it was spicy but we also got to see the softer side of their relationship too.

Would you ever be interested in writing something where we get to see more of their protective side for reader? I can picture with the period, maybe someone says something about how she acts with them and they defend her. Or maybe even more of a physical hurt. I just think that 3 hunky boyfriends would be perfect for the protective bf trope 🫶🏼

Author's Note: You just flattered the absolute hell outta me, nonny. Wanna get married? 😭💍 And I'm so into this idea, especially if she comes to visit the base or maybe the boys have passes to the flak house and she visits them there? 👀 Probably wouldn't be historically accurate, but that why we write, hm?

Warnings: angst, the use of the word *whore* as an insult, fistfighting, protective boyfriends <3

No one ever really took notice of you before, not because you weren't noticeable, but because you were one of many hundreds of women attached to an overseas soldier and that in itself wasn't too significant. The only reason you were being noticed now was because very few of those women made it a point to try and visit their sweethearts if they were deployed—a big reason for that was the amount of money it cost to travel so far and how dangerous it was to even try—and because of how close you seemed to be to the two most well-respected Majors at Thorpe Abbotts and their friend, Curtis Biddick.

Gale seemed to be the one you were closest to, wasting no time in marring his cheek with a bright red lip print and tucking yourself into his side as he spoke with some of the other pilots. But then John had snuck up behind you without missing a beat and snaked his arms around your waist, hugging you so dearly and with a grin while his best friend looked on with a fond expression.

"Thought you were gonna surprise me, didn't you, sweetheart?" John asked, wagging his finger at you good-naturedly. "You're a bad one."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," You feign innocence as he twirls you around, making you giggle. "I'm a good girl, Major."

"Uh huh." His eyes crinkle at the edges. "You wanna help me find Curt?"

You nod excitedly and look over at Buck, who reaches out to take your white glove-clad hand, kissing your knuckles.

"I'll be right here." He assures.

You disappear in a whirl of skirts out of a doorway with John and someone—a fairly new pilot on the base by the name of Greer—decides to comment on it.

"Don't you feel a little weird about that?"

Buck sips on his soda, face scrunching up in confusion. "About what?"

"Well," The pilot looks unsure if he should say anything. "Egan looks awfully cozy with your girl."

"We've all known each other a long time." He shrugs. "Honestly, she's the glue that keeps us together. Don't know where we'd be without her. Bucky'd probably be brawling in bars every night and I'd probably still be back in the states."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "She's the one who encouraged me to sign up as a flying cadet when I expressed interest. Don't know if I would have gathered the nerve to do it on my own."

Greer looks skeptical but Buck pays him no mind; the rookie takes it as his cue to find someone else to converse with, leaving the major in peace.

He doesn't show it, but the exchange leaves a bad taste in Buck's mouth. He downs the rest of his soda to try to get rid of it, grabbing the bartender's attention with a lift of his fingers.

"Gordon, could I get one more, please?"

***

Bucky holds the barracks door open for you and you both find Curt folding his spare uniform slacks to tuck away in his foot locker. He's alone and in his head, humming a song under his breath.

"Hey, baby boy." You bite your lip and his whips his head up, grinning immediately.

"Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?" He opens his arms for you and presses his face into your hair. "God, I missed you. You've no idea."

"I think I might have some idea," You mumble over his shoulder, your gloved hands holding him as close as humanly possible. "Try missing three people at once—you're all driving me bonkers."

He hums his assent, breathing in the perfume you so sweetly spritz across your letters. It makes him miss you despite having you in his arms now, makes him miss waking up in the mornings, tangled in your bedsheets and peeping through bleary eyes to watch you do yourself up for the day.

It can't be easy for you, he's sure of that, and it makes him all the more grateful that you've taken time out of your life to come all this way to see them and possibly give them a bit of a reprieve from everyday military life.

"I miss you, I love you," He mumbles again, making Bucky smile affectionately as he watches, crossing his arms. He normally has so much to say, but he knows how much this means—to all of them. He knows you need this, knows it's gonna break your heart to have to leave them here when you go back home.

Christ, it's gonna break his own damn heart.

"I love you, baby," You reply, willing yourself to keep your tears at bay. This isn't the time and you don't want them to worry when they have so much on their minds already, better to weep in peace when you're back on a train or in the privacy of your own home. "I heard you had a little tussle a while back."

"Some Brits were insultin' us," Bucky defends without wasting a breath. "I was gonna take 'em, and then Buck was gonna, but then Curt wanted a swing—"

"You're joking." You press your lips together and Curt has the decency to look properly scolded, but Bucky just raises his hands in mock surrender, not feeling the least bit sorry.

"Can't take these goons anywhere." A voice sounds off behind Bucky, leading you to crane your neck to look around him. A man you don't recognize grins as he walks into the barracks, and you surmise that your boys don't like this fella, not even a little bit, their slightly uncomfortable expressions giving them away.

"Angelico," Bucky forces a smile anyway. "Thought you had a weekend pass."

Angelico shrugs, hands in his pockets as he comes to stand in front of the three of you.

"Did. Missed my bunk."

Bucky hums, eyeing him suspiciously, but Curt scoffs in disbelief.

"Nobody misses their bunk," He tells you seriously. "Not over a cushy bed and a lady."

"Ladies up in London are boring," Angelico confesses, his roaming eyes making you feel uneasy as they pass over your figure. The way he observes you nearly makes you feel as if you're completely naked and not in a good way. "Not like your dame here."

Bucky's eyes shift into something dangerous, but he doesn't move.

"She's Buck's dame," He corrects. "You know that, though. Don't you?"

Angelico looks pointedly at the way Curt has his arm around you. "Doesn't look like it from here."

"We're all close friends." You steel yourself, unwilling to back down as you hold Curt to you harder.

"Close enough to whore yourself out to 'em, huh?"

Bucky lurches forward, fully prepared to defend your honor, but you're able to grasp a handful of his sleeve to yank him back, Curt reaching for him, too.

"Oi, oi, Bucky—"

"John, it's not worth it," You glare at Angelico as he just chuckles to himself. "Let's go back to the Officer's Club."

"I just want to say," Angelico takes his cap off, holding it to his heart, face morphing apologetically. "I meant no disrespect. I think you’re real pretty, honest!"

Bucky scoffs disgustedly at his nerve, allowing the two of you to pull him backward and in the direction of the door.

"What about adding a fourth? Could be fun!"

Bucky breaks away from the two of you, eyes nearly black from his rage-expanded pupils. The shouts and the protests he hears from you and Curt fade away; his ears ring as his balled up fist connects with Angelico's stomach, knocking the air from his lungs and making him double over. He pummels his other fist on his back, knocking him to the floor in a coughing fit.

He doesn't know how much time has passed when someone pulls him away from Angelico—doesn't even know who it is. He'd let the man get up at one point—wouldn't have been fair otherwise—and he'd admittedly given Bucky a run for his money. The ringing in his ears was made worse by a mean right hook to the face, and he was pretty sure his lip was split.

He's pulled along outside, a big hand underneath his armpit. Sweat is pouring down his chest and back through his uniform shirt, the night's breeze cooling him down.

"—hell's wrong with you, kid? Were you trying to kill him?"

He looks up into Colonel Harding's perturbed face as he's steadied by hands on his shoulders, fingering his lip as he catches his breath, looking down at the blood that comes away. It's because of this that he notices the blood covering his shaking knuckles.

"Major." Harding smacks a palm to Bucky's cheek, getting his attention. "What happened?"

The adrenaline wearing off, his voice shakes as bad as his hands. "I—Colonel Harding, I'm—"

The older man watches him for a moment before looking to his left.

"Biddick? You want to explain?"

Curt swallows. "Angelico provoked him, provoked all of us. Said some things to her—" He inclines his head toward your upset and curled in form, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly.

"—She's Cleven's fiancée."

Harding narrows his eyes as you sniffle, and looks back at Curt. "Some...inappropriate things, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, sir."

He looks back at Bucky, finally letting his shoulders go. "I want you to clean yourself up, you hear me? After that, I don't want to see you back on this base until next Monday. I'm sending you to the flak house."

Bucky's mouth opens in protest but Harding waves him off exasperatedly.

"With Cleven and Biddick. Christ, the three of you might as well be attached at the hip."

He starts walking back inside the barracks to presumably deal with Angelico with a shake of his head, but he points a finger at Bucky one last time.

"Get a goddamn handle on yourself. You can't just go around kickin' the shit out of my soldiers. Next time you're grounded for good, war be damned."

When Harding's out of sight, you rush to Bucky's side and cup his face.

"You're an idiot," You blurt with tears in your eyes. "Why would you do that for me, huh?"

He presses his forehead to yours.

" 'Cause I love you," He pulls your hand from his face. "Now come on, you're gonna get your gloves all dirty."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do. I paid three-fifty for those suckers."

"Buck's going to give you a lecture." Curt winces as they all walk towards the infirmary building in search of some antiseptic and possibly some butterfly bandages.

"I know, I know."

***

"Can't leave you alone for five minutes, Bucky, goddamn it."

"Ooh, I got him to swear."

"This isn't funny. You got us grounded for a week!"

"Oh, shut up and enjoy some downtime for once."

"If the two of you don't shut the hell up, I'm gonna punch yous. Baby's gonna be back any minute."

"Yeah, you hear that, Buck? Baby's almost back from the store."