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g1rlken · 1 year ago

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┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups.

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

#aemond targaryen x wife!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #Aemond Targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanart #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen

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saiyanprincessswanie · 4 months ago

Text

The Ultimate Risk - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4500

Series Summary: Reader is a full-time college student at 30 years old who is starting over in life. When she loses her full-time job as a waitress, CEO James “Bucky” Barnes steps in with a proposition. Can he sell you on a way to help you by offering a Sugar Daddy relationship? In time who will get feelings first? Can a Sugar Daddy relationship really work out?

Series Warnings: Sugar Daddy au, Reader is 30 & Bucky is in his 40s, trust issues, angst, eventually falling in love, smut, oral (m & f).

The Ultimate Risk Masterlist

A/N: @avengers-assemble-bingo for James Buchanan Barnes - 108th Birthday Bingo

Square: Sugar Daddy (card #4B 024)

A/N 2: Thanks to my beta readers @gremlin-girly & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog Thank you to @nekoannie-chan for reading this. Thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for my amazing moodboard.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site or run through AI. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen.

The alarm went off way too early for your liking and you instantly hit the snooze button on your phone. You roll over with a grumble and fall back asleep instantly. Ten minutes later your alarm goes off again and you curse at the loud alarm. You grabbed your phone, turned off the alarm, and placed your phone on the bed. Your eyes finally open and you’re hissing at the sunlight that is streaming through the curtains.

You let out a groan knowing your long day has just begun. You stay in bed for another ten minutes before you climb out and shuffle to the bathroom to get ready for your day.

After showering and getting changed into comfy clothes you grab your laptop. Logging onto the college’s website you start working on your homework for the classes you have today. You would have done it sooner but you worked a late shift again last night.

You wish you could complain but you really needed the money to keep a roof over your head.The apartment was quaint; one bedroom and one bathroom. It had a small kitchen that was open to the living room. It may not be much but it was yours to rent.

A part of you wished you could win the lottery to help get you caught up on bills. That way your money wasn’t going mostly towards rent. You sigh, thinking how long it’s been since you had a vacation. What you needed was a miracle but those don’t happen for you.

An hour passed and you had completed your school work. The next two hours pass and you get two online classes done. By the time you knew it it was noon and you had two hours to get to work.

You changed from your comfy clothes to work ones. You grabbed something to eat for lunch so you had food in your stomach. Placing the plate in the sink you go put your shoes on. Grabbing your purse, phone, and keys you head out the door, locking it behind you, and head to work.

At the sidewalk sits your 2010 Toyota Corolla. It’s not much to look at but it gets you from point a to b. Unfortunately, the check engine light is on and you have no idea how much longer your car will last. Maybe one day you will get a better car.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive to work and you huff getting out of the car. Your boss likes you at work an hour before your shift so he can go over the special guests who will be attending tonight. It’s an upscale restaurant that you work for but one you would never visit due to funds.

The group of staff members stand in the back as your manager speaks.

“Tonight is Friday night and we have a list of “A” list customers coming in. I need you all on your “A” game tonight. Remember our goal is to keep the customers happy.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes with his last sentence. Your boss believed the customer came first and foremost. Which you believed in, because, depending on who they are some of these customers tip well.

He spoke a little more about business and an hour later he ended the meeting. You thank the heavens above that he was finished. Taking a breath you get ready for your shift.

At first, it was the usual slow afternoon crowd. You enjoyed the slow time but were anxious for the real crowd to roll in. The crowd filters in around five in the afternoon and you were busy working tables. Taking orders and bringing food out was stressful at times but you smiled through it all. Thankfully nothing was dropped.

At seven in the evening, you were informed that James “Bucky” Barnes had requested to sit in your section with his friends. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. The man was the CEO of a company in the heart of New York. He was well-mannered, benevolent, charming, and easy on the eyes. To say he was your favorite was an understatement.

Taking a deep breath in and out you head to a table in the back of the restaurant. Bucky likes his privacy, so this is where he would sit when he came here every week.

Approaching the table you see Bucky and two other men. When Bucky’s eyes look up from the menu he offers his million-dollar smile. His blue eyes gaze into yours for a minute before he greets you.

Smiling at him first then the other two, you ask for their drinks for the night. They give you their alcoholic drink of choice and you are off to grab their drinks. After a few minutes you return to the table and give each man their drink.

Bucky introduces you to his friends Steve and Sam. You shake their hands and smile at each one.

Sam blurts out, “You were right Buck. She is beautiful.”

You look from Sam to Bucky and see Bucky blush. Was he talking about you to his friends? Why would he, you’re just a waitress. You were nothing special.

Bucky looks at Sam with a dirty look. “Shut up.”

Bucky glances back at you and apologizes for his friend's behavior. Changing the subject, he quickly orders his food followed by the two men. You smile at Bucky before you head to the back to put their order in. As you leave you hear the men mumbling to one another. Hopefully, whatever’s going on doesn’t involve you. The last thing you want to be is a butt of a joke to the one customer you enjoy.

You continued to serve other customers in between grabbing Bucky’s table more drinks and eventually their food. The night seemed to be going well until your ex-fiance showed up with a couple of his friends. The greeter was leading them into your section as you cussed under your breath. The night just took a step in the wrong direction. You huffed a little before plastering a smile on your face and heading to your ex’s table.

“Good Evening gentleman my name is…”

John Walker interrupts you before you can say another word. “Yeah, darling, we know who you are. Why don’t you grab us some beers and be quick about it.”

“Sure thing,” you bite out.

You headed to the bar and grabbed the beer they liked. Taking your time you bring the beer to the table and place them on the table.

“Oh darling, why do you look so glum? Wait, don't answer that 'cause I don’t care.” John sneers. Making his friends laugh before you take his order.

As you turn to leave John grabs your arm. “Oh, don’t forget to keep the beers coming. Gotta work for that tip.”

At that moment Bucky turned his head to the right and saw John’s hand around your arm. Before he could get up to say anything, the man let you go and you quickly headed to the back/kitchen. You put in his order and then stepped into the hallway that led to the bathrooms to take a few breaths. You knew John was going to make your life hell and there was no doubt he would tip garbage. While you were trying to calm down Bucky stepped into the hallway with a sad smile.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay? It’s just I saw that man put his hand on you before you walked out of the dining area.”

Embarrassed, you covered your face briefly with your hands. “I can’t believe you saw that.”

Bucky gave you a small smile. “Hey, it’s okay. Do you know him or is he just a handsy customer that needs to be spoken to?”

You looked at Bucky and gave him an awkward smile. “He’s my ex-fiance, John Walker. He left me 6 months ago and ghosted me. He didn’t even give me a reason why he left. Gosh, I shouldn’t be sharing this with you, you're a regular customer here James.”

“Please call me Bucky. No need to be formal, sweetheart.”

“Bucky. Well, I should get back in there to do my job. Don’t need the manager mad at me for being back here.” You start to walk away and you look over your shoulder to see Bucky staring at you while smiling.

You get back in the dining room area and see John flag you down. Again, you huff but head over to the table.

“Where the hell were you? I told you to keep the beer flowing. Now be an obedient waitress and go get us more!”

Everyone in the restaurant turned around to look at you and John. People were whispering amongst themselves as you headed to the bar to grab more drinks for the table. Tears started to form in your eyes at the embarrassment that John was causing. He was trying to cause a scene and so far he’s been successful at it. You took a deep breath and headed back to the table where you switched the empty cups for the new ones. Walking away before he could say a word you turned your attention to Bucky’s table. You see they are almost done eating and ask, “Do you gentlemen need any boxes to go?”

Bucky puts his fork down. “I’m good. Steve and Sam, do you need one?” Both men shake their heads saying ‘no thanks.’ Bucky flashes his smile at you. “How about another round for us when you get the chance? No rush, sweetheart.”

You smile back at Bucky and head to the bar area.

After you leave the dining area Bucky hears who he now knows is John talking about you. He doesn’t like the sound of the conversation or how vulgar it’s about you. His hand is making a fist on the table and both his friends can see the vein in his neck twitch from the anger that is building. Bucky doesn’t want to cause a scene but this man and his friends are being obnoxious at this point. The other diners listen in as John talks loudly about you. Bucky looks Steve and Sam in the eyes before he stands up to go to John’s table.

Bucky walks over to the men at the table and smirks. “Good evening, gentlemen. I just wanted to come over here and say the whole restaurant can hear your disgusting conversation about the nice waitress who is serving you. How about you drink your beer in peace and leave her alone.”

John stands up and is nose-to-nose with Bucky. “How about you mind your fucking business and go back to your table?”

“Or what…?” Bucky cocks his head to the side and stares him down.

John turns a shade of red and starts to poke Bucky in the chest. “Or else I take your sorry ass outside and shut you up.”

Bucky laughs out loud. “I honestly would love to see that.”

You come back from the bar with drinks in hand and see the men causing a scene. You spot Bucky and the other men, who are now all standing, and place their drinks on an empty table. You walk quickly over to the men and try to separate them.

“John, Bucky, this is a restaurant. Whatever has been said just let it go or I’m going to ask that you leave.” Bucky takes a few steps back and keeps staring the man down.

John’s blue eyes are cold as he looks at you. “Why don’t you shut up and leave the men to the conversation?”

“John, I'm asking nicely for you to stop or else I will have you removed from this establishment. No excuses, sit down or leave.”

John swiftly grabbed his beer and started to chuckle. “Women. They just don’t know how to listen.” Walker turns to you and spills his glass of beer over your head causing you to shriek.

That was all Bucky needed to see before he punched John in the face, causing him to fall backward. The two other men jumped out of their seats and before they could swing at Bucky, Steve and Sam punched each man. Patrons were screaming over the fight and other waiters and waitresses were trying to calm them down. Within seconds the manager rushed into the room and started shouting at all six men who were going at it. The manager made his way into the middle of the pack and he was yelling he was going to call the cops. That made the men separate real quick.

“Pay your bills and leave this establishment!” The manager yelled at them. Your manager looked at you covered in beer and made a disgusted face. “And you are fired. I want you out of here now.”

“Wait, please I didn’t do anything.” You started to panic but your boss pointed toward the exit.

“They were your customers and clearly you know them. Guilty by association in my book.”

Your tears finally fell down your face as you were screwed with no job and the rent was due next week. “Please, sir, I’m begging you…”

John starts to mimic you as he tosses down bills on the table. “Please, sir, what? He doesn’t want you around anymore like I don’t. You’re a pathetic piece of trash who whines too much.”

Bucky was about to punch John again when Steve and Sam started to walk him back to their table to pay. As each table was paying their tabs you walked into the back to get your purse and leave. You walked through the hallway and glanced over to the men who were now leaving.

Great.

You hurried along and headed to your car. John left with his friends and they laughed about what happened.

“Hey, sweetheart, wait up!” Bucky called after you.

There would be no seeing him ever again after what just happened. You wiped at your tears as Bucky reached you. You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Sorry Bucky I really should be going.”

“I know but first I wanted to give you your tip in person.” He hands you two hundred dollars. “I know it’s not much but I want you to take my business card with you. I have a possible opening if you’re interested in it. We can talk tomorrow over lunch if you want. See if it’s right for you or not.”

You held his money and business card in your hand. With bills due in a week what would the harm be? You knew he was a kind-hearted and generous man. “Yeah, that sounds fine. Which number do I call on here?”

“Oh right.” Bucky chuckles. He takes the card from you and writes his cell number on the back of the card. “Here, now you can text me when you are ready tomorrow.” He hands you back the card.

“Thank you, Bucky for the money and card. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You turn back around and walk to your car. Getting in you turn it on and slowly drive away. In your rearview mirror, Bucky is standing there watching you drive out of sight.

He is hopeful that you will be interested in taking the job. He’s watched you for months and knows the kind, caring woman you are. Bucky walks to his expensive car, gets in, and drives home.

Fifteen minutes later when you arrive at your apartment you strip out of your clothes so you can shower. Under the warm water, you think back to how John was acting. This was his normal behavior so you were glad he left you when he did. The guy was a total jerk. As you continue to wash your mind shifts to Bucky. The man was charming and the best part was he stood up for you. No one has ever done that before. You wonder what kind of job offer he has for you as you step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel.

You dry yourself off and hang your towels up. You change into a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt before you collapse on your back on the bed. What kind of job would a CEO have open for you? You were now unemployed and a full-time college student. Would the job be able to be flexible so you could continue your studies? First things first, you need to talk with him about it before worrying.

The next morning after your shower and morning routine you texted Bucky.

You: Hey Bucky, I was wondering when was a good time to meet with you today?

Bucky: Hi sweetheart I’m so happy you texted me. My noon is wide open so let's meet for lunch. I’ll have a driver come by your place and pick you up. Just text me your address and everything will be covered.

Thinking about being picked up made you a little nervous. What if the job interview didn’t go well? He would then know where you lived. On the other hand, you were still tired from not being able to sleep that much last night due to being fired. Of course, this could also be a test to see if you trusted him. You texted him your address and hoped to god he wasn’t some psycho.

Bucky: Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.

Well, now that you got that over with, you take your time getting ready. Since this felt like an interview you dressed yourself in a black pencil skirt that was just above the knee with a small slit in the side. Next, you pulled on a cute light blue blouse and you finished off the look with a pair of black heels. It wasn’t an expensive outfit but it will hopefully do for this meet-up. Your hair and makeup were perfect; striking the balance between natural and formal for your interview with CEO Bucky Barnes. You gave yourself a glance in the mirror one more time before you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys and headed for the front door.

You headed down the stairs and opened the front door. Sure enough, there was a black SUV parked at the curb waiting for you. A man got out of the driver's seat and walked around the vehicle to where you stood. He nodded to you and opened the back door. Taking a breath, you climbed into the back and waited as the driver climbed back inside. He pulled away from the curb and off you went to wherever Bucky had planned your lunch. It was a fifteen-minute drive from your place when the driver pulled in front of a fancy restaurant. There was no way you could afford to eat here but as you were pondering your choices, the man opened the door and helped you out.

Great, now you had to head inside to this beautiful restaurant in your clothes that would not fit into this type of place. Clutching your purse you walk inside to the restaurant. Light classical music echoed around you as you made your way up to the hostess with a nervous smile on your face. She looked you up and down, sneering at you.

“Can I help you?” She asked with faux-politeness, staring you down with cold eyes.

Feeling embarrassed to be there you took a step back. “Sorry, I must be at the wrong place.” You turn around to walk away and bump into Bucky.

He looks down at you and smiles. “There you are, sweetheart. I was wondering if you made it. I’m so glad you are here.” Bucky lightly wraps his arm around your back and makes his way to the hostess.

This time she is all smiles when Bucky stands before her. “Mr. Barnes, what an honor to see you today. Would you like your regular booth?” The woman looks at you, seeing his arm around your back and you can tell she is biting her tongue.

“Yes please, a table for two today,” Bucky states as the hostess leads the both of you to a booth in the far back.

Bucky waits for you to take a seat and he soon follows. You are both handed a menu and you start to glance through it. Seeing the exorbitant prices on the menu made your stomach instantly twist and turn. Biting your bottom lip Bucky can see the wheels turning in your pretty head.

“Don’t worry about the prices. Today is my treat as I asked you to meet me here.” He gives you a warm smile and makes you feel more at ease.

“Are you sure? I mean I don’t want you to feel like you have to pay or anything.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you have nothing to worry about today. Let’s just eat and talk.”

You nod your head. “Okay.”

Bucky’s blue eyes wander on your outfit for a moment and he smiles. “You look beautiful.”

“I don’t know about that. The hostess didn’t seem to like my outfit.” Your hands fidget as you look down at yourself.

Bucky reaches across the table and puts his hand on yours. “Well, she’s wrong. I’m telling you that you’re beautiful and as long as you feel it too that should be enough.”

You give him a shy smile. “Thanks, Bucky.”

The waiter comes over to take your order and to pour some wine that Bucky requested. Taking a sip of it made your taste buds explode in your mouth as you have never had wine like that before. The taste had you moan lightly and quickly you realized how silly you were acting. But Bucky was just staring at you with a smirk on his face.

Your lunch arrived a few moments later and you both made small talk as you ate. He talked about his day at work and how he had a few charity events coming up. You talked about schoolwork and working towards your dream career.

After you both were done eating Bucky smiled before he cleared his throat. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you here and not at my place of work to talk about a job I’m offering.”

“Yes, I’m very curious. What is it, a secretary job? I’m not sure how many words I can type per minute but I’m good at typing up reports for college.”

“No, it’s not like that, please let me explain. In my job I don’t have time to go out and meet women. I’m a very busy man with my job. Right now, I’m looking for some companionship to keep me company at work events, charities, and sometimes my travels.” Bucky was the epitome of confidence and giving you a reassuring smile as he spoke. “Someone who will be my shining light during these exhausting times. Someone kind, smart, funny and beautiful. In return, I would take care of that person financially. They would want for nothing.”

“So why not get an escort? I mean that’s what they’re there for. Why even have this conversation with me? I’m an unemployed college student. Why even come to me with this?” You didn’t know how to feel about this conversation you were having with Bucky.

Bucky leaned forward and smiled. “First I don’t want an escort. Second, you meet all the qualities I’m looking for in a companionship or, in layman's terms, a sugar daddy relationship.” Bucky paused for any reaction before continuing. “We already know each other, which is a plus. I enjoy being around you. So why not?”

You stared at him, speechless. Not knowing what to make of this sugar-daddy relationship. What the hell is that? Is this the kind of job you want? What would people think?

“When you say you would take care of someone financially what does that mean?” Curiosity was getting the better of you.

“I would take care of your rent and all your monthly bills. That includes your tuition as well. I would give you a monthly allowance so should you need anything you have money to do it. I would also bring you clothes shopping to update your wardrobe. You will need dresses to attend events with me. You will want for nothing and all I’m asking in return is your companionship.”

You pondered what he just said. “All of that just for a sugar daddy relationship? What about sex?”

“Do you want sex to be involved?” Bucky asked, his eyes never strayed from yours.

“No, I mean is it required?” Now you thought you sounded like a fool but you needed to know if you were going to be a whore to him or not.

“I’m not seeking that but if down the road you want to we can talk about it then. I’m just looking for friendship and a companion. Nothing more.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “When do you need to know? Like, can I think about this?”

Your nerves were getting the better of you. Because of John, your trust issues had blown through the roof. This sounded too good to be true.

Bucky smirks at you. “Take all the time you need. But in the meantime let me help you with your rent and bills that are due next week. No strings attached I promise.”

You were going to be short on money next week so you nodded your head in agreement. “Okay, thank you Bucky. Give me a couple of days and I will reach out to you through text.”

The waiter came over with the bill and sure enough, Bucky paid for the entire meal. You just watched him as he stood and held a hand out for you. After getting out of the booth Bucky once again walked with his hand on your back until you reached outside. The same SUV from earlier pulled into the curb in front of you. Bucky opened the door for you and kissed your cheek gently.

“Whatever you decide I will be fine with. Now, go focus on your school work and I’ll head back to the office.”

“Okay, Bucky. Thank you for lunch. I had a great time.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You climbed back into the SUV and gave Bucky a small wave as it peeled away from the curb, leaving him smiling after you. Again, you drove in silence and after the short drive, you finally reached your apartment. Once inside you changed into leggings and a T-shirt and flopped onto your bed.

You knew for sure you liked Bucky and thought he was handsome. You also knew what kind of man he was; kind, caring, protective, and smart just to name a few. This was going to be a big decision to make and you’re gonna need all the time to make it.

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toadminako · 3 months ago

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In the wake of the follow-up Davechella Q&A, I've assembled my interpretations of the modern AU characters - I tried to keep it mostly in-line with what's in the text, but a few headcanons have slipped in. Feel free to disagree!

15. Gibson: The most sullen gay you’ve ever met who listens to the most miserable songs you’ve ever heard. Deeply cares about his boyfriend Hickey and supports him getting therapy. Always goes to DJ DollEyes gigs even though he claims he doesn’t vibe with that kind of music – in fact he’s secretly counting down the days until the new Lady Gaga album.

14. Hartnell: Just a cool guy having a chill day. A major simp for his hot blonde girlfriend. Likes a Sunday morning lie-in.

13. Collins: A sensitive man who suffers from thalassophobia and thanatophobia, but tries to cope with his anxieties by being a terminal Wife Guy. Enjoys a bit of metal.

12. Hodgson: Loves a diva and singing in French. An obsessive James Bond fan who will bore you with factoids if given the chance. May have just gone through a messy breakup, or maybe that’s just Christos’ ultra-sad playlist talking.

11. Bridgens: A sweet, old-fashioned fellow who just wants to be left alone to enjoy gardening in privacy with his problematically young husband.

10. Tozer: A newly minted bisexual with a huge collection of threadbare hoodies who will provide the Spotify Premium account and happily drive for hours to fuck you if you ask him nicely. Sometimes dabbles in a messy BDSM relationship with Undiagnosed Hickey, but he knows it isn’t good for either of them.

9. Irving: Somehow manages to be even more of a repressed homosexual than his OG counterpart. Still a practicing Christian to some degree while having a lot of concerns over the role the church plays in modern politics. Collects blurays of sentimental queer movies but rarely gets laid. May have an unrequited (?) crush on Hickey or Tozer which he spends a lot of his private time “unloading” about 😏.

8. Blanky: By far the coolest of your friends’ dads. Spent his youth smoking weed and vibing to Santana, but nowadays he just wants to grill. He fucks for sure, and he fucks great, but doesn’t always have the energy (or the pills) and is just as happy to throw on a prog rock vinyl with you.

7. Jopson: The bestest and most specialist DJ, beloved by all, who only very occasionally gets introspective about his mummy issues. Curated Jamie’s hospital playlist.

6. Little: Spent some years serving in the armed forces but it’s left him with a lot of misgivings over modern imperialism and what it does to the young people who join up. Now he’s stuck in a middle management job with a boss he hates. Suffers from depression and anxiety which he raw-dogs by listening to Green Day.

5. Goodsir: A well-meaning guy who loves world music. Probably has an insufferable instagram account where he posts photos of his travels with the hashtag #blessed. Still in some manner of close relationship with Silna.

4. Hickey: Without treatment he was really struggling with a confused sense of identity and feeling generally disconnected from the world and other people. Post-treatment he still has a lot of anger but is slowly working through some major daddy issues he didn't even realise he had. His relationship with Gibson is much more stable now that he’s medicated, and he keeps sending his boyfriend achingly romantic mixtapes, which Gibson fucking hates.

3. Fitzjames: A beautiful man who became a beautiful woman and didn’t hurt anyone in the process, only gathering love around her 😭. She may have also been in the armed forces in the past, which left her with some trauma, but she has a great deal of love for the people she served with. A dog person who loves going to the opera.

2. Crozier: A miserable old grouch but one who isn’t actually doing that badly all things considered. He’s now at an age where goodbyes take up a lot of his life, but ever since he made a veiled confession by putting “Your Song” on Jamie’s hospital playlist, they’ve been steadily growing closer.

1. Silna: Living her best life, enjoying both modern music and exploring her cultural roots. Still carries some anger over how women and indigenous women especially are being treated today, but she has a close, supportive family of strong women who lift her up. Has a romantic partner whose gender is left ambiguous.

#I haven't included the extra playlists since I haven't thought too deeply about Gore or birds yet #I welcome any alternative takes or challenges y'all may have #Dave K had so many thoughtful and funny answers once again!#davechella #the terror

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hamzahsbaby · 2 months ago

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WAIT just imagining how confused slushys would be in young dad!hamzah universe….. like why is this man posting fatherly inspirational quotes every fortnight & knowing a weird amount about labour. like boy why r u talking about being fully effaced mid mukbang 😭😭

ppl just accepting he was (finally) unpacking his daddy issues or maybe discovered his dream of being a gyno n averting their eyes LMAO

this made me audibly laugh i love you. it’s so funny because it’s so real, i can so see people posting clips of him from like his patreon or something of him talking about how he’s been thinking a lot about what it means to actually be a good dad and how he never really had a good solid emotionally available father, so he’s going to be one. and everyone is like “hamzah’s gonna be such a good dad in the future!” not knowing the ‘future’ is literally 4 months down the road cause ur ass already pregnant.

or him talking on the podcast w martin about how he recently had to assemble a baby crib with absolutely no help and everyone just assumes that he must have been helping a friend or something because there’s just no way hamzah got you pregnant …. like it deadass does not cross any of the slushy minds lol.

and yes oh my god it’s such a hamzah thing for him to do a shit ton of research on pregnancy after finding out the news. he’s like so worried about you and wants everything to go smoothly, esp the delivery so he’s like extra educated on that area lmfao

#this is so cute i am crying #꒰ ⊹ young!dad!hamzah ♡#꒰ ⊹ hamzah thots ♡#hamzah ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x you

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malvoile · 2 months ago

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Me and the Devil ; v

ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴜʟ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴡᴀꜱᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴏɴ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀʀʙᴏʀ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.

word count: 11.2k warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to past abuse (feyd rautha warning), blood, v light allusions to smut, choking, height difference mentioned (paul is taller), more mommy & daddy issues, nothing else i can think of but always lmk if you see anything notes: okay part five!! yay!! referendum/arraignment is coming v v soon ... also i know that the beginning parts may be boring (i try hard to make them interesting!!) but they're becoming increasingly important to the plot so just letting u all know!! feedback very much appreciated :) series masterlist

Houses Prepare to Assemble for Landsraad Council:

Next week's Space Trade Referendum, set to take place on the capital planet of Kaitain, will see the great houses Major and Minor deciding on crucial galactic matters, foremost among them the future of space trade routes.

Following these decisions will be the proposals to establish standardized protocols for resource extraction and deposit of space debris; as well as the final arraignment in the trial of House Bourbon and their case against House Harkonnen.

Expected on the agenda is the recent and surprising disruptions in Spice supply, which has forced the Spacing Guild to explore alternative fuel sources in preparation for the increased traffic of intergalactic travel for the Referendum. Nexarite and Petroleum have both arisen as proposed substitutes by Guild engineers. Although Nexarite proves to have dimensional warping implications if used at lightspeed, petroleum is still secondary and, similarly to Nexarite, less effective than Melange.

Pressure has befallen Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, whose governance over the planet Arrakis provides House Harkonnen the most influence in Melange trade; While petroleum may serve as a stopgap measure in the absence of Spice, its inherent limitations underscore the urgent need for a sustainable, long-term solution to the galaxy's Melange consumption.

Will there be a decision drawn up at this Referendum, or will the scarcity of Spice thrust the market power of these new fuel sources?

– Collected Galactic News report sent to Duke Leto Atreides, 10191. Caladan.

CASTLE CALADAN HUMS WITH LIFE IN THE EARLY MORNINGS.

Even before the sun rises over the cliffs, before the bright orange and pink haze begins to leak into the sprawling halls and tickle the high wooden beamed ceilings, there is movement.

Coughs, whispered words, faint laughs. They ebb and flow, the foam of the sea curling along a dewy and sleepy shore; footfalls, approaching and disappearing outside the heavy doors to your chamber.

Today you dress yourself in thick layers of gauzy Pine – slow and syrupy, mind numb with the languid whispers of memory; A strange way to wake up, gasping in fear with Paul's name turning to ash on your tongue.

A sharp gasp, a glint of crimson – Paul, slumping against you, those mossy eyes fading to gray. Your throat is tight; the scent of the drying lingonberries upon your table sends your stomach churning.

You’ve left them for days; a favored snack, one you’ve enjoyed since childhood. Hestia brought them days ago – you’re not sure how she knew they were from Sabberon, nor why you’ve refused them – or why you protested their departure from your chambers.

Rotten fruit, your mind hums in some amused way – and your gaze tears from the mirror before you.

Your nameday blade sits untouched upon your boudoir across the room; today you leave your chambers without it, a sick taste upon your tongue as it glints mockingly in the morning light.

The halls hum with life, though you float through them – for the Strategy Council awaits, and you are not one to keep them as such.

You arrive in the chamber, heart thrumming, mind cast far away from the Referendum, from the arraignment. No – as you walk into the room full of House attendants and members, you think of one thing.

One thing, one dream, one memory; of a blade plunging into flesh, of eyes turning in eerie familiarity. The gasp of recognition. You think of him.

And his chair is absent.

Though your face remains placid, you swallow back the biting inhale of concern that claws up your throat. Paul’s chair is absent.

Your worries are not eased as you take your seat, nodding numbly along as Duke Leto begins the meeting, avoiding casually as Lady Jessica stares through your skin; and though there is a hushed din of murmurs, it is ceased with the caramel lilt of Duke Leto’s voice.

“Before we begin, there is a matter of great importance to address,” Duke Leto’s eyes find your own; an intent tone, which brings memories of your own incompetent father to shame.

“The arraignment of House Bourbon is set for the day following the Space Trade Referendum. It is imperative that we prepare for it accordingly.”

You blink. It has all but been accepted in your mind that, come next week, you’ll be labeled a criminal in front of the Imperium; and during sleepless nights you've prepared yourself, through painstaking bitter humility, to beg the Atreides to buy your bail in front of the Landsraad Houses.

You’d not expected to discuss it – and certainly not at a Strategy Council.

Your hands shake; you clutch them in your lap. Ever since news of the charges levied against your house and the consecutive assassination of your family came, you’ve efficiently ignored the inevitable. But now, it is here.

You must look it in the eyes.

You nod, glancing to the empty seat beside Duke Leto. “Yes, my Lord,” you steel yourself with a flare of humiliation at the heavy stares around the war table. Your lips part again, heat floods your cheeks – no words come.

But Duke Leto gracefully fills the deafening silence, curbing the unwanted attention upon you and commanding it towards himself with a flash of something warm in his eyes. Your stomach curls in something like shame.

“The council and I have discussed it, and I am fully committed to advocating for your house’s interests during the arraignment on behalf of House Atreides.” He leans, elbows firm upon the table, “I plan to do everything in my power to convince the other houses to see reason and vote in your favor as well.”

Your brows raise, mind swarming with the warmth of gratitude and the icy stab of fear in your stomach. Given the political complexities surrounding the case, your doubts flicker.

Your lips puff before you find your voice. “This...could put you in a precarious situation, my lord,” you begin, swallowing around a dry throat, “I appreciate it more than you'd know, but…”

Your throat stings; and around you, faces that were mere enemies to you weeks ago. All of them, loyal to the end of the House they serve; the House that is claiming you as one of their own, even in the looming presence of what might come.

You clear your throat. “The Harkonnens are –” you flounder under the scrutiny of attention, and you’re struck with a sudden embarrassment. “Powerful,” you finish dumbly, cheeks hot, heart filled with dread.

“We understand your concerns my dear,” comes a voice from down the table; Lady Jessica, with lips poised and eyes kind, “But you are a part of our House. We will protect you.”

A surge of gratitude bursts through your chest as you concede, nodding smally, catching the gaze of Duke Leto before lowering to stare at your curled fists to hide the sting in your eyes.

“House Bourbon has long been allies of House Atreides,” Gurney Halleck affirms from down the table, “this is a return of the favor.”

Your voice comes, and it is warm for what might be the first time in a long time. “Thank you,” you breathe, knowing your cheeks are warm still, “Your support means more to my h– to me than I can express.”

You force a smile onto your face, hoping it comes across less as a grimace.

“I cannot speak for the other houses,” Duke Leto admits, “but I worry there may be those who seek to exploit this situation for their own gain. Whatever the outcome, you have the support of House Atreides behind you.”

He has voiced your very own concerns; The great houses are not in your good graces, and you not in theirs. And Harkonnen pockets run deep.

As the subject is laid in preparation of the upcoming off-world travel, you try your hardest to absorb the information about the Referendum next week; though your mind gnaws at its cage. A small gnat lumbers past your vision, and you blow it off-stream with a gentle breath, watching it flutter towards Paul’s empty seat.

The council ends after only a few hours – by now the sun has risen in the sky, and your gut has twisted from fear into a sharp, pressing anxiety.

The council is dismissed; You fight off visions of your dream as you rise and bid farewell.

A pained voice gasps in your ear; labored breathing, a stutter of your name curdled with blood. Feyd-Rautha’s sickly skin glinting in the sharp sunlight.

Blood spills, and it sounds like rain.

The hallways are alive.

You must find Paul.

IT DOES NOT TAKE ANY SHEER FORCE OF WILL, NOR A MIRACLE, FOR YOUR LUCK TO BE STRUCK.

Duke Leto accompanies you out of the council; and to your surprise, invites you to his own quarters for another meeting.

It is the first of what is likely many wedding planning sessions; A smaller party in number than the Strategy and War Councils, yet infinitely more intimidating.

You were never awarded a voice in your wedding plans with Feyd-Rautha; perhaps, in some ways, that is why it never came to pass. Though you haunted the dark halls of Giedi Prime for four long cycles unwed, you are fortunate indeed that he spent those years instead behind the closed doors of war rooms, spice councils, and roaring arenas.

He was a beast infinitely more loyal to conquest than vows – and, if the matter ever did surface, it was dismissed with the flick of a knife and an insistence that marriage meant little unless you bore him an heir.

And though the taste of power that leaked from the bite of baroness on your tongue was sweet, you knew just as well that it dripped with poison; and you learned to bite your tongue. Not that you ever dreamed of veils or vows – but here you are; and what are you to do when your future is carved by another’s blade?

And so the pleasant enthusiasm you express, however incredibly minute, goes over well with the Duke; for perhaps he reads the lilt of your eager yes to be some girlish fantasy of gowns and handsome boys. Though truthfully, the verity of your willingness lies in the assurance that Paul could not possibly miss this meeting – lest his parents chastise him like a petulant child.

You walk the halls to his quarters. The Duke makes for a surprisingly easy interlocutor; you find comfort within his voice, a welcome distraction from the shadows of dread. You even draw out a short huff of laughter from him – after admittance of your interest in learning to pilot a ship, Duke Leto informs you that he himself wished to be a pilot when he was young.

The Duke’s Study is a more intimate room; a round table with five chairs, two of which are occupied – and the moment you cross the threshold behind Duke Leto, you find what you’ve searched for all morning.

Paul stands abruptly from the table – a jolt of water spilling from the glass before him, his lips part. Though you are far more focused, dead in pace, upon the alarm swimming within his gaze.

He must know.

A curling horror slides through you at the thought, and you hardly blink before Paul has crossed the space towards you, drawing the surprise of both his father and the other person in the study.

His hair falls unruly; your neck cranes as Paul steps towards you, glare stony as it slips from your visage and lower, as if searching you once more. What you search for rests far away in another wing of the castle, you wish to tell him, it is not here.

But just then: A blink. A furrowed brow as he flicks his gaze suddenly back up to your own, then to your mouth; and Paul stares at you, nearly bewildered in the tense silence. A sickening thing grows unnamed and unknown in your stomach.

Yet he seems to remember himself; A barely visible shake of his head. “Good morning,” he greets stiffly. It comes breathless and heavy with unspoken urgency, with a gaze struck with alarm.

Your heart stamps into your throat as you greet him back. You must speak – but not now.

And so Paul guides you tersely – eyes screaming, swimming – towards the table, pushing your chair in and accidentally brushing against the twist of your hairdo as he lowers himself into his own seat. Two pairs of eyes stare in varying degrees of observation as you and Paul settle stiffly, cheeks aflame, hearts racing.

“Thank you both for joining us. This is our House Administrative Assistant,” he introduces the woman to you; a woman with a strong nose and an accent from the Eastern continent of Caladan.

You wish indeed that you could be more grounded in the moment, for she draws an interest from you that the subject material cannot; but alas your mind drifts, uncooperative, shielding you from the weight of what this truly is.

The thought of planning a wedding — your wedding — is dull, distant; for much more pressing is the threat that looms beyond silken ceremonies.

War brews; economic or perhaps otherwise – and you know far too well who pulls the strings. Sinister, manicured hands which reach into every House, every bed, every bloodline. And you want no part in the role they’ve written for you.

Or, if his words from last night are true – for Paul.

It’s then your gaze slips to the final empty chair. Of course — it must be for Lady Jessica, who has not attended. You find yourself regretting her absence; for her poise, her loyalty to both House and Sisterhood are, in truth, admirable.

Beside you, Paul has shifted – his fingers trace the curve of the table absently, knee bouncing restlessly underneath. There is some residual relief in your heartbeat now that you have located him; and this very thought draws stubborn hackles upon your back.

You look away from his profile, gaze slipping into the middle distance – when did you start to see yourself on Paul’s side?

Hardly was it the lunch shared between you, nor the books of your culture kept so diligently at his bedside – you know better than to place your trust in something as futile as kindness.

Was it his candor about his mother – and about the Reverend Mother’s visit? Are you truly so simple as to forget one adversary, when a larger foe emerges more present in the distance; so foolish as to believe that the enemy of your enemy is your friend?

No.

Perhaps, it’s the dreams.

Not those laced with heat and hunger — those, you insist to your rebellious heated cheeks, are irrelevant. Desire is a weapon, not a weakness. You are not so easily undone.

But it is the other ones that stay with you. The darker ones, that feel more like memory than fantasy.

And just as your thoughts begin to turn, you are pulled from the depths by the accented voice drifting from the table.

The coordinator launches into plans – gliding over the surface of logistics, a blade over still water.

You nod along with a placid enough expression as she glides from venues to guest lists to ceremonial rites. And you – a ghost at your own table, drifting just beyond the veil of the present. Beside you, Paul traces the grain of wood with his nail absently.

An evening affair – elegant and grand, with most of the court and family in attendance. A traditional wedding.

Memories of marbled floors and echoing halls, of feasts and grandeur while flurries of snow pile high and squalls howl outside castle doors; and you are washed with a horrible bout of nostalgia.

A traditional wedding – a mockery of an idea.

The words come before you can think twice, and they curl around a sharply vicious stare. “Shall we invite my father to walk me down the aisle as well?”

The room stills at your words.

A horrible thing, the slow stares of three virtual strangers – uncomfortable, tense, discomfited. Duke Leto sits straighter; the woman pursing her lips as words die on her tongue. Paul’s eyes flicker in your peripheral, latching upon the pendant round your neck. And you, alone, a pine in a clearing of skeletal trunks; shivering in the dead of winter.

Your regret comes instantly.

In the quiet, you see it too clearly: a body crumpled in the arena, the crack of spine against sand, head flung back. The glint of a crushed signet ring, a snarling wolf coated in slick, black blood. Weak, lifeless.

A puppet with severed strings.

After a thick silence, the coordinator forges through with a hard blink and a clear of her throat as shame curls around your cheeks and flushes over your throat.

“I would actually like to speak to you on the matter of your family’s traditions, if that is okay,” the coordinator delivers delicately. Images still cling like cobwebs as you snap your gaze to her own: a blood-slick blade, the gasp of a dying breath, brown curls soaked in crimson.

“We’ll be sure to incorporate them into the ceremony as you see fit.”

A slow shame draws your brow, for she doesn’t elaborate, which leaves you little room to feign understanding. Your hands fold tightly against the table, as if to keep yourself from unraveling. Paul’s fingers tap once more against the grain to your right.

“I must admit,” you start, “I’m not as familiar with my house’s traditions as Paul is.”

Paul’s gaze meets yours – steady, unreadable until he betrays some glint of amusement. A tilt of his head: I offered you the book, his eyes remind you with a boyish flicker.

Your eyes flash in reply, your embarrassment melting into some unfamiliar warmth: I know.

The corner of his mouth lifts, brief as a candle flicker — gone before it can fully become a smile, lest the idea of one. And yet still, something coils in your stomach.

You look away sharply – across the table, where the Duke’s lips twitch into a quiet, knowing smirk. He’s seen something, read something in the moment; something you didn’t intend.

“Is that right?” the Duke asks his son – and Paul nods, gazing out beyond the treeline of the window, detached and unbothered, though his cheeks have grown pink in the stormy light of morning.

Duke Leto nods once more, the remainder of his smile bringing heat to your own cheeks. “Whatever rituals you deem appropriate will be incorporated into the ceremony,” he promises, “We're aiming for a date just before the galactic year’s end.”

His gaze lingers on you, quietly gauging your reaction. You give him none.

He nods in lieu of your silence. “I believe that concludes things for today. Perhaps the two of you can review Bourbon and Atreides customs and speak with our coordinators once you've agreed on what feels fitting.”

Paul nods with the practiced ease of a well-trained highborn, his eyes flicking to you like a signal.

You meet his glance, stare unwavering – silent, urgent. You nod once, with a rush of heartbeat in your throat and a buzzing desire to talk without prying ears.

“Do you still have the book on Bourbon customs?” you ask, voice flat as polished stone; and Paul, if he’s as perceptive as he prides himself to be, will understand what you’re really saying.

“I do,” he answers simply. Behind his stony stare, there are machinations; a strategy forming in his mind.

“Perhaps we can reconvene after the Referendum,” he offers. “In the meantime, Lady Bourbon and I will review our house traditions and decide what feels most appropriate for the… ceremony.”

A flicker of approval touches the Duke’s features — satisfied, though glinting. Analyzing.

Dismissal follows swiftly, but Paul is already on his feet, striding toward the corridor before you’ve even begun to rise.

The required pleasantries are traded with the coordinator and the Duke, each word a small weight as you glance over your shoulder to the empty threshold; your mind whirs, buzzing to trace the disappearing footsteps out in the hall.

You move swiftly, shadowing Paul’s retreat with a pace that’s nearly a chase; Your blood thrums, fingers itching for the familiar feel of worn leather.

Your urgency is buried expertly beneath silk and etiquette, but it thrums below your skin.

“Paul.”

Your voice carries far down the dim hall leading to Paul’s quarters; his tunic is nearly gray in the low light.

“Paul.”

Your footsteps echo off the stone, hard and fast as you try to match his pace – mercifully, he stops, though only just enough for you to catch him.

Your name escapes his mouth edged in urgency and, without pause, he takes your wrist and pulls you with him, deeper into the shadows.

You nearly stumble after him, off-balance, jarred by the feverish anger so suddenly radiating from him; He’s always been precise, measured – but there is a burn in his eyes now, something wild. Something familiar.

You hardly make it into his room before he spins on you, voice low and sharp as a blade.

“It was you.”

There’s a look in him you haven’t seen before – dark, unguarded. You don’t ask for clarification.

Your nod is solemn, heart clenching. “Yes,” you affirm. Then, after wetting your lips, slowly turning your head, pacing around him in slowly measured steps as he turns in your radius, tracing your movements with his gaze. “And you–” you cut yourself off, wary of the fear stabbing your stomach.

He barely inclines his head, but the gesture is enough. Your breath catches.

“It was ordinary at first,” he affirms, wide emerald gaze hooked on your own, voice thin with disbelief, and cheeks pink after the word ordinary. “But then we were standing there – and…I felt it.”

He stares you down, jaw tense. You feel sick – and then, his voice comes again. “I know it was you.”

Before you can react, his hand grips the edge of your robe and yanks it aside – fingers searching, expecting the familiar hilt at your hip. “You used this.”

But where he expects to find the incriminating evidence, there’s nothing. No blade, no sheath, just the quiet press of your skin against fabric.

He stills in a moment of surprise, and you use it to your advantage, catching his wrist and wrenching it away – but you keep him in your grasp, tight and defensive. Charged.

Paul's lips part slightly, confusion clouding the jungled fury that lives in the outskirts of his verdant irises. Eyes roam, hungry and searching – scanning your figure as though the weapon might still be here somewhere.

It takes the moment of hesitation, the look of uncertainty in his visage, for it to hit you. Your stomach drops as you realize it –

He dreamt that you stabbed him.

Your bewilderment must reflect upon your visage. “Paul. I didn’t–” you begin, voice tight, “I didn’t stab you.”

His eyes shift to the stone wall behind you, sharp breath leaving his nose. His wrist is heavy, warm and sharp in your grasp. His heart races in your grasp, wild and erratic. “You did.”

Your voice comes stubborn, breathless. “No, Paul. He was behind you.”

The room cracks with a strange heat, a static hum in the air between your bodies. As if awoken from a trance, Paul rips his wrist from your grasp and your hand drops to your side, fist curling tight in the absence of his weight.

“Feyd-Rautha,” your voice is laced with the hackles upon your back, “he had my nameday blade.”

Paul’s brows draw; a devastating scowl, a pout laced with stubborn apprehension. “You stabbed me. I felt you.” He sighs sharply, tongue dipping over his lower lip. “You were with me.”

An urgent fear arises in you, and with the knowledge of fate hanging in the balance in just a week’s time, you have suddenly lost whatever control you had. “–I know I was,” you snap. “But you’re not listening.”

“–Why should I?” His voice breaks the hush of urgency, sharp and cold.

“I—” You drag your hair from your burning eyes. “Fuck, Paul. I don’t know.”

And you don’t.

But the implications strike, a sharpened blade plunged into the soft side of your stomach. But it felt so real – not a dream, but a memory. And if what passes between you bleeds into dreams and reality alike… your heart seizes, and a darker fear begins to fester.

Staring up at Paul – who watches you in turn with a heaving chest and wild, fearful eyes – you swallow thickly. Whispers curl in the depths of your mind, at the edges of his irises.

The fear grows, festers.

And you pray, silently and without hope, that Feyd-Rautha has been sleeping in dreamless silence.

Because if he hasn’t – then something far older has already chosen your path.

After a moment, Paul’s voice comes faint, solemn.

“We can’t trust her.”

You blink, nodding faintly – he needs not elaborate of whom he speaks. “I know,” you breathe, licking your lips in an anxious tell. Paul’s gaze catches the movement, dropping lower for a moment over your frame.

You are suddenly aware of the slight chill upon your bare shoulders; the tank-top you wear is breezy without your robe to cover your exposed skin. The material pools lazily around your bent elbows and yet you do not move to pull it up.

“We can’t risk telling her,” Paul murmurs, urgency threading his voice. “If she finds out about the dreams, she’ll never let us pursue Sabberon.”

It catches you off guard – that he’s already done the calculations in his own head, staked claim without needing convincing.

Again, you’re struck by the quiet insistence despite what you tell yourself: that he is not only sharp, but merciful – a future ruler shaped by something perhaps more than just ambition. And a match worthy of, perhaps, more than just circumstance.

You drag a hand down your face ungracefully. “So we just hope she can’t read us?” your voice is bitter, “Paul – that’s nearly impossible.”

He pauses, a shadow settling behind his gaze; unnamed, heavy. “She’ll stop at nothing if we stray from their orders, whatever they may be.” His voice drops low, eyes swimming. “We just…don’t know what we’re doing. Yet.”

Your spine is rigid. Steel lines your voice. “I won’t let them take my planet.”

You don’t know if you mean the Sisterhood or the Landsraad; or if, in the end, they’re simply the same serpent with two heads. But before he can answer, footsteps fall down the stone corridor.

The echo of them is short, distant after a moment – but it serves to startle both of your erratic dispositions.

Paul’s hand grasps your arm swiftly, both bristling like startled hares in a disrupted burrow; Without a word, you together draw back from the doorway, further into the hush of his quarters.

Near the bedpost, he leans in; you circle him once more. His breath is warm against your skin, your cheeks warm under the sidelong beam of sunlight.

Paul’s curls hang loose, uncombed, and his eyes are rimmed with sleepless thought: Rumpled, real. Your throat tightens.

His gaze flits to the table, then back to you. “I think...” he swallows thickly, “I think you need to let my mother train you.”

You blink – the shock lances through you like icewater, sharp and buried deep beneath your ribs. A bitter, disbelieving laugh escapes you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But somewhere quiet and traitorous within you, you know he does.

Paul’s stare does not leave your visage. “I do. And you know it.” His voice is grave, “Even if we can’t lie to her, we need to know what the Sisterhood wants with these dreams. They mean something, or they wouldn’t keep coming. She wouldn’t keep asking about them.” He whispers your name softly, sternly. “We need to be ready.”

You lift a brow, folding your arms. His gaze breaks to follow your movements before returning sharply to the uptick of your chin. “And if nothing comes of it?”

He searches your face, something flickering in his expression, some exasperation leaking through. “You really think this is all in our heads?”

There’s a crack of vulnerability in his tone; a leak, a glimpse. Just enough to hear the boy beneath the heir – hoping the terror might be imagined.

Your sigh is sharp; He takes it for the answer it is.

“You didn’t bring up the Harkonnen petroleum reserves for no reason,” he presses. “Or the materials on Sabberon. The threat is real — and even if it isn’t, the dreams are. That should be enough.”

Sharp, glistening fear flirts with the nerves in your chest.

“You sound like your mother,” you snap, the words cutting out too quickly. “She clutches at every syllable that comes from the Reverend Mother like it’s gospel.”

His eyes flare, incredulous. “And you were in my dream. Or have you forgotten?” His voice: steel behind silk, boy behind heir.

“Unless we unknowingly drank Spice before bed, that was real.” His sardonic tongue needles at your temper; He’s right, though this merely carves the dread deeper.

Paul was raised under the Sisterhood’s doctrine, you remind yourself; You stare at your betrothed for a moment in the late morning light.

The curls which hang by his temples, the pout upon his lips, the turn of nose, his sparkling, sharp stare. His chest, rising and falling with the same futile attempt to calm his heartbeat that you mimic.

A male Bene Gesserit.

The possibility scratches at the edges of your mind, begging a name; A prophecy. Whispers curl in your mind, but you do not understand them. The shortening of the way, they taunt.

The phrase shivers through you – Ancient, unmoored; You do not know what it means, but the words feel as though they were pressed into your bones long before you were born.

In a moment of paranoia, you wonder if Jessica had somehow dosed your morning tea – some odd alchemical manipulation; a Spice-laced seduction of the subconscious.

But even a drug-induced fate feels almost kinder than the truth that haunts your blood, slinking in shadows and whispering through empty, ransacked halls leagues away: that this has always been coming.

That this path was carved before your ancestors ever drew breath.

“Paul.” You start evenly, brows knitting upward in what you know might reveal a vulnerable expression, the first of any such thing to cross your features in his presence. He drinks it in patiently, eyes boring into your own.

“This is a bad idea,” you say plainly, grateful – truly grateful – that you can argue with your husband-to-be without threat of a palm across your cheek. That he allows you your voice and, within the last day, even seeks it; even when it cuts. And, in a bristle of defiance, you tilt your head, “why should I trust your judgment?”

He exhales, a dry scoff. “Why should I trust yours?” His arms cross, a mirror of your own. “You try to kill me in half my dreams.”

Your glare is instant, vicious, and your huff is exasperated. “Well, I haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

His returned look is dry. “I know my house better than anyone. I know my mother better still.” Your glare is hot at the growing resolution in his tone. “So... We train with her. Together. It’s the only way to unearth what they want from us. And Mohaim can’t know.”

You sneer. “You’re naïve if you think she won’t. This is futile.”

Paul’s jaw ticks; your eyes track the movement. “I’ve spent my life preparing to make choices like this.”

Your voice whips back. “And yet you choose wrong.”

His eyes flash, stooping down towards you. “Watch your tongue.” His voice; low, quiet – a warning laced with silk. “I will be your Duke one day.”

“And I your Duchess,” you retort swiftly, lifting your chin. “That title means little to me, my lord.”

You are close now – so close you can smell the hush of his soap, the warm edge of sweat, of citrus and the forest far across the grounds. His breath is tight, visage angled to take in your molten gaze. He’s nearly regal in his anger; sharp cheekbones, curled locks, shadowed eyes.

“That means little to me, my lady,” he returns, cruel and quick. “You’re here, so you’ll do as I say.”

His eyes are greener than the billowing grass fields outside his window. Something wild coils in you.

You’re mine to keep. There's plenty of life left for you to serve. Feyd’s voice, twisted and slick in your mind – and for a sickening moment it morphs. It becomes Paul’s.

Your hand flies without thought.

A burn of instinct and old scars; You aim to slap him, to strike, to wound, to reclaim your breath.

But he catches you.

Faster than you imagined – his fingers wrap tight around your wrist, stilling your blow an inch from his cheek, hovering with a buzzing heat that makes your heart stop.

Time freezes – the chimes by the window stir, whispering in the stillness, in the back of your mind. Paul’s nostrils flare, and as the energy in the room shifts, his lips barely move.

“Don’t.”

Not spoken – but threaded into you; It ripples through your spine, turns marrow into ice, turns your limbs into jelly. Not yet refined, not yet absolute – but there, unmistakably. The Voice.

You truly, stupidly fight the urge to obey.

You fight the weight that pushes your hand down, as if you could still strike the boy in front of you despite the way you cannot move your arm.

A trickle of fear rolls down your spine – a whisper.

Power: Real, ancient, terrifying. His.

You knew Jessica trained him, though perhaps you haven’t thoroughly understood what that truly means.

You linger in limbo, thoughts warring in your mind of what it means to see patterns where others see only dust.

The Shortening of the Way. It echoes in your blood like prophecy remembered, though you snap from your haze with a sharp inhale and a renewed fury.

You twist your wrist in an attempt to wrench yourself free – though his grasp is resolute, and your other hand comes to shove hard against his chest, sliding your thigh to pin on impact.

Paul’s spine thuds against the wall beside his bed with a dull knock. A sharp exhale of breath, his grip iron-locked upon your wrist, your fear bubbling into rage.

Your forearm comes to flatten against his chest, holding him to the wall as his heart thuds fast, uneven beneath your grasp. His eyes are wild, and in their reflection you seethe.

“Do not ever use the Voice on me again.”

His breath is as wild as your own, and your lip curls. “No man holds power over me,” you spit. “And you are no different.”

His breath changes minutely, but he doesn’t let go. Neither do you. And there you remain, both sucking in air through flared nostrils, two creatures caught mid-transformation, mid-dream; mid-destruction.

His eyes are hooded with shadows you cannot find as he tilts his head to you calmly. Far too calm.

“It’s not just men you should fear.” His gaze does not waver, though a curl comes across his brow as he shakes his head gently. “Whatever else they are – the Bene Gesserit can give us power.”

The weight of it presses on your ribs; Your fury simmers, but something more weak coils underneath it: dread. Destiny.

In your faltering heat, Paul snuffs the flame. “After all, you should be used to living with enemies.”

Your jaw sets to snarl, to lash out; but something whispers in your mind – that he is right. You are used to this. The Sisterhood is not your friend, but neither is it wholly your enemy.

Slowly, your arm drops from across his chest.

Though your other hand falls, his fingers still clutch your wrist with some leaking wariness – the flicker of fear that if he lets you go, you might drive a hidden blade through his stomach.

He’s right, you know; to walk blindly into what waits ahead without any attempt at control is a foolish fate. Independence – that stubborn thing that laces the straight line of your spines and tilts your chins high – will not be enough.

You are not thinking clearly these days – a storm brews, and in its thunder is the promise of the upcoming arraignment.

Paul still watches you, hackles raised, chest heaving. Eyes wild. His breath is warm against your cheek. Your lips part to speak, but just at the very moment–

“Paul?”

The voice is not yours.

It cleaves the silence, a blade through gauze – and you both jolt, heads whipping to the door in tandem, marionettes startled from rest.

“I’d hoped to speak with you about my absence—” But the words wilt in Lady Jessica’s mouth as she crosses into the threshold. A Houseworker follows behind her, arms cradling a basket of linen, stopping with a short blink.

Quite immediately, Lady Jessica’s gaze drifts – first to your flushed face, then to Paul’s, then in a horrific series of quick equations in her mind – to the bed so dreadfully close to you.

You can almost see the thoughts rolling through her surprised stare: The heat, blooming thick in the air, a rustle of bedsheets warm from the sudden absence of bodies.

Your face burns, a wildfire of panic and embarrassment – and your stomach, knotting tight as a sailor’s rope.

Lady Jessica’s poise is impressive, though a strange color rises to her cheeks – surprise, suspicion, and something stranger still.

Your heart freezes. How much did she hear?

Between you and Paul, a glance unfurls wordless, warlike, and quickly flashing into a shared agreement. The truth is perilous, but the lie is easy; almost comforting in its simplicity. Caught lovers. It is decided in the blink of two pairs of eyes.

“Forgive me,” Jessica murmurs in her polished steel, “I hadn’t realized—”

Paul at once steps away from the bed with an awkwardly careful grace. “No.”

You gather your composure like a young bird draws in a broken wing – unease, tilting on uneven feet with a slight flutter.

A quick breath before Paul's knuckles brush your shoulder; he's adjusting the sleeve of your robe, untwisting it over your shoulder as you hide an unwanted shiver under a glance to his rouged cheeks.

Lady Jessica’s eyes follow the movement with something warm and almost approving; you let out a quiet breath. Good – better to be caught in passion rather than treason.

“We were just... discussing,” he excuses, “the wedding.”

The Houseworker has busied herself leaving the basket beside the door, her lips pressed in a tight line. You know how the words will wind their way back to Hestia by this evening, you’re sure of it; your cheeks heat at the thought of the inevitable lies you’ll have to sew to her.

Jessica’s smile is soft, knowing. “I did not mean to interrupt, truly. My apologies. I can find you later.”

She turns to leave, and you blink with a short breath, lips moving quick. “No – please, my Lady–”

She pauses kindly and you fix her with a smile; a tender, paper-thin thing that feels rather alien still after all this time. “I was just leaving,” you assure with a small nod.

And with your words, with your heart hammering in your chest, quaking with the worry that Lady Jessica had heard much more than she let on – you drift toward Paul soft-footed, swift.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as you hoist yourself upon the tips of your toes – he stiffens, eyes flaring as if you might unsheath a blade and gift it so sweetly to the flesh between his ribs.

And perhaps if this were another moment, another day, another life, you'd have giggled at the panic behind his calm visage, at the swirling irritation and bewilderment living behind the mossy banks of his gaze.

But you hardly give it time.

And as your breath stirs against his cheek, he bends imperceptibly down towards you – sharp, he is, and he has found your cover at last.

His hands are fists, but still they come to your hips as your lips hover by his cheekbone. “Find me later,” you whisper, soft as breath.

His curls brush your face as he nods just imperceptively; and so you press a brief kiss to the sharp ridge of his cheek.

Over his shoulder, Jessica averts her eyes.

And as you pull away, your heart thuds with the hope that the scene is convincing; shy young lovers, stealing a moment. If only it were that simple.

When you turn to leave, there is a slight blush blooming across Paul’s cheekbones.

A convincing actor, then.

You offer a quick bow to Jessica before you slip past them, heart in your throat, palms clammy.

PAUL DOES FIND YOU LATER.

Out in the gardens of Castle Caladan, the season ends with the turn of the year – the plants that bloom are resilient to the less rainy months that come. Paul watches the fatter drops of dew slide from thick corded leaves beside him as he winds his way into the garden.

Light trickles down from gaps in the clouds, spilling like thin milk over garden stones. His hair catches in a disjointed wind, warmer than cold – Paul walks past petals which close when they should bloom; in the near distance backwards birdsong echoes in the forest. The air tastes faintly of copper and cinnamon.

He finds you drifting ahead of him, barefoot, your pale dress damp and whispering at your heels. A slow thing; so unlike you to walk with little purpose, syrupy and languid all the same but with less resolution.

He steps closer, though before he can call your name, your body snaps in reaction to his presence behind you.

A creature startled — you turn, pressing him into the hedge with the same force you’d unyieldingly used just this very morning; thorned leaves tickle his neck and Paul’s hands find your form with more instinct than intent.

One, falling to brace at your hip – the other, sliding to cradle the winged muscle of your shoulder; as your eyes flash into his own, the pad of his thumb presses into the hollow at your throat to stabilize your wrath.

Though where he expects anger, fear, fury – he finds none.

Your voice comes syrupy and knowing. “I dreamt of you this afternoon,” your voice trickles, thinner than rain. Paul fights a vague uncanny haze, blinking as he watches your humming frame. An odd mood he’s found you in this evening – it serves to wholly unease him.

“Did you?” he wonders breathlessly.

You lean closer, lips grazing his; there’s no kiss, merely a whisper, and his heart beats at his throat in confusion. He swallows thick, ears humming with lapsed birdsong and an upwards roar of sinking waves in the far distance.

“In a throne room,” you confirm. The words unfurl, soft petals in the first shy glance of spring; your breath mists upon his neck and his fingers flex just to feel the erratic beat of your heart below his palm. “Spice, glittering in the sand that trailed in through the doors.”

There is a numb alarm in his chest, though it dissolves with the stroking of your hand. You curl further into him, eyes sharp as a reverence, hungry as a threat. Paul sinks into the thorned hedge, still holding you close despite the unnerving glint in your stare.

“You were on the throne,” you breathe, “...and I knelt before you.”

His stomach flips; Your hands slide lower.

The alarm is a faint memory now; Paul lets you guide him. Lets you sink, a priestess before some altar, eyes flashing with gold and flicks of strange cerulean hues.

Paul’s vision swims; velvet, static. Hands trail down his stomach, and his hands grasp a veil he cannot see.

You speak against him, lips brushing his tunic; Paul’s warmth and confusion grown in a sick tandem. You smile; an omen.

“I heard it, Paul.” You hum, “But it wasn’t your voice.”

Paul tries to recall what you’re saying – what you’d said before; anything, perhaps, to make sense of your uncharacteristic behavior and why he is not putting a stop to it –but your mouth is warm and you’re humming softly. The garden spins. A moan escapes him, gasping, quiet.

And when you look up, your face is beautiful and wrong, blurred around the edges; a painting submerged in oil.

Behind you, the garden grows darker, wilder – a glint in the hedges, the glint of a blade behind thorned leaves and a faint glimpse of sickening, pale skin. Above him, the sky is bruised with clouds, and it begins to rain; though the drops seem to rise up from the ground.

Paul opens his mouth to speak, but the taste of cinnamon and copper curls in his throat, and then he’s–

Paul jolts upright, breath caught in his throat like a noose; cold sweat sticks his tunic to his chest, the breeze from the open window chilly. The room is bruised with the dusk-light of a sky about to break open – already, the rain has begun to weep.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice ragged as his head drops back against the pillow, heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Water whispers against the yard outside his open window. He must’ve slept for hours – the sun was high when he returned from his lesson with Thufir to his chambers, lying down to rest only for a moment.

Now, the sea churns and swallows the light – the castle’s wing is quiet and bare. He’s missed supper.

Dragging himself up, Paul stumbles under his shower – frigid water to cool heated skin and a racing, betraying heart; and he stands there, unmoving, as it bites through to his bones.

And still, the dream clings. The memory clings.

And the dread remains.

EVENTUALLY, PAUL RESIGNS TO SEEK YOU IN THE LAND OF THE LUCID.

He emerges from his chambers – shower-freshed and storm-eyed, steadfastly ignoring the whispers of his dream, pacing the corridors in search of any hints of you.

It’s late; you’re likely finished with lessons by now, perhaps stowed away in your quarters with supper and your stubborn solitude.

His footsteps carry him to your chambers with a lilt of hesitance; the dream lingers, taunting and mocking – his cheeks remain red as summerberries even when his knock echoes through the corridor.

He calls your name into the still room, when there is no response, eyes cast down in hopes of avoiding any improper sights – tracing instead over the few personal belongings scattered through the chamber.

“Paul?”

He rounds the corner to find Hestia, standing beside your modest table. She blinks at him as if he is some apparition, arriving before its haunting hour.

“Oh,” he says simply, brow twitching upward. “Hi.”

Before her sit two place settings; a crumb stubbornly remaining at the corner of her mouth. She nods at him, eyeing him warily – a waver in her stance, clearly just as thrown off by his presence as he is with hers.

There is a set for two that she gathers from the table and a flicker of interest curls in his gut. “You’ve been eating together,” he observes, “voluntarily?”

Her lips press together, brow raising, “Perhaps I like her better than you,” her voice comes with no regard for status between them; a thing Paul quite admires about her, even when she is taking a tone of tease. “She doesn’t sulk nearly as much.”

His expression must be incredulous – for she laughs shortly, shaking her head as she clears a jar of jam.

“Well, I guess she just has better reasons to sulk,” Hestia mends, “–And she does it more gracefully.”

Paul gave her a flat look, though he knows it’s true. “You’ve known her for two weeks.”

“Some people don’t need years to be tolerable.”

A short breath exits through his nose — a growl that’s halfway to a laugh, yet bristled. “Where has she gone?” He wonders, eyes flicking to her own now.

A smirk grows on her visage, arms crossing. “Who?”

Paul’s eyes narrow, some odd warmth spreading in his stomach.

“My betrothed,” he levels, less than placated by the teasing glint in her gaze.

With a hum, she glances to the lapsed rain, where night covers the misty ground. “She left for the gardens.”

Paul’s stomach drops in surprise.

Out your window is a distant view of the rolling sea; far and glinting in moonlight, it is swallowed by marshes and moors of darkened green and whispers of long grass in the shadows of night. Lost in thought, Paul notices after a few moments the odd look in Hestia’s stare.

“What?” He asks, nearly defensive.

“It’s a little uncanny, you asking after her like this.” She says bluntly, lifting a brow, “you’ve not exactly been showing her much… gallantry.”

He fights the twitch of his lips, something shameful curling in his gut. His voice comes out the same, sharp and defensive. “I speak to her.”

She blinks at the crossing of his arms across his chest, her lips quirking. “Barely.”

Paul shifts. “I listen to her.”

Her brows raise incredulously. “When?”

A retort dies on Paul’s tongue as he scoffs – cheeks grow warm, lips flounder. The night’s sky is speckled and clotted with clouds which draw heavier and low by the minute.

“Do you plan on pestering me all night, or will you let me leave?”

A huff falls from her nostrils – an amusement at his exasperation that curls over the bend of her lips and the crow’s feet of her eyes.

“Depends. Are you going to tell her you came looking?” Her accent, a thing of deep Caladan native heritage, rolls thick off her tongue just as her mother’s.

His eyes roll to the heavens and back to her. “Why else would I look for her?”

Hestia seems to be enjoying herself.

“Plenty of reasons,” she flashes a grin, “though, none either of you would admit.”

He lets out a bitter sound and backs toward the door with a parting glare. She’d do well to remember her place; though he’s never once chastised her for speaking her mind before.

“Hestia,” he grumbles, instead, “do try not to gossip too much before I find her.”

“And you,” she calls sweetly after his retreating figure, cheeky grin bleeding through her lilt, “try not to look so desperate when you do.”

IT DOES NOT HIT PAUL UNTIL HE IS ALREADY TOO DEEP WITHIN THE GARDEN.

He retraces phantom of footsteps past shadows; down hedgerows, damp earth curling into the air, a flicker of lamplight beyond the sprawling walls of green – he was here not hours ago in a dream.

But Paul is awake now; and any warmth that climbs onto his cheeks is quenched with a roll of his eyes towards himself. Coincidences won’t kill him, he reminds himself, but you might.

You repose against a bench at the center of the garden – wrapped from head to toe in piney gauzed fabric, face bare in the moonlight as you squint up towards the soft mist darkening the sky.

He calls your name from far enough away; Your gaze finds him slowly, as an owl might watch a mouse meander over a field from her perch. “Paul,” you greet in that rich cadence – whispers of your homeplanet seeping from your tongue.

He comes to rest beside you; wind threads through the night, a breath from the cliffs that climb higher still than the ones this ancient castle sits upon. The sky clotted with thick dark clouds that rumble gently, heavy with the remnants of rain.

“I told your mother I will resume my training,” your eyes remain upon the clouds, “I don’t believe she heard anything today.”

A breath unravels past Paul’s lips as he drags a toe through the moist dirt below. You’re watching him with that look of yours, eyes wide, wise beyond your years.

“She seemed pleased,” you add, voice drifting like a solemn, faraway lyre. “Suggested I begin after the Referendum.”

Paul knows better than to say I told you so, but it sits smug on the back of his tongue.

He’s not surprised; only days remain before the Houses leave for the Referendum – and your arraignment. It would be trifling to begin training in the looming shadow of such events.

A cold shadow brushes the back of his neck; the dulling loom of the arraignment. Your eyes catch the low light – and in them, dark and glinting, there is encroached dusk, the glow of the castle windows – a blanketed storm of flurries.

“How do you feel about it?” At his words, you exhale sharply through your nose – that familiar, clipped disdain that leaks through girlish tones of amusement; though tonight, there is none of that.

“You must know how I feel about the Bene Gesserit by now, Paul,” you whisper into the swirling mist of eve; and Paul tilts his head to catch the glossy tresses of hair that slips away from the ornamental wrappings of your clothing.

“No,” he murmurs, cheeks warm despite the bite of an early spring chill. “The arraignment.”

You, a pine stilled in an ancient forest, shifting only in the breeze as you blink – calculated, measured. There is a ripple in the pool of your masked emotions, and Paul sees it for what it is.

Fear.

He knows that very phrase that echoes in your own head as much as in his own at this moment; a silence, punctuated by the whispers of women long past. I must not fear.

But the silence persists, and he does not rush to fill it.

When he does speak, he blinks ahead at the climbing green walls, at the rustle of thick brush and the distant swish of wild grass far off in the nighttime breeze.

“The Baron is a cruel man,” Paul glances to you, studying the turn of your nose in your profile. “We’ll do everything we can to keep him from swaying the other Houses. And when the time comes…” Your throat bobs only slightly where it disappears in the swaths of fabric, but Paul continues, “We will defend your heritage.”

A slow brush of wind drags your gauzy dress skirt along his calf. A chill brings shivers down his spine. Paul’s voice is a whisper in the soft sway of hedges.

“We will defend you.”

And after a breath – a shift, a shake of snow from the petals of a winterbloom – your lips curl into a smile. Soft, elusive; a ghost passing through frost.

It is a slow thing, one that suits you almost too well. It is a beautiful one.

“You’re so much like him,” your voice comes oddly reflective; As if speaking through a door not quite open. “Your father.”

A bloom of pride curls in his stomach – though he doesn’t know why you say it. There is that familiar haunt clouding your eyes as you watch a toad hop lazily from a pond out to the walking stones, a baby upon its back. Paul watches your lips twitch as the small toad holds on to its mother tightly.

He doesn’t know why you say it, but Paul also doesn’t ask – and as two fingers trace the damp stone beneath him, he realizes a part of him simply doesn’t mind.

A hush settles between you, and then, quietly: “You’ll be a good Duke.”

From you, it is not some empty praise.

Paul’s chest tightens as your words curl around the mist. There is something here, his mind whispers; perhaps, days ago, he’d think your words were some slithering trick. But for once, he doesn’t bristle or deflect.

His cheeks are warm, and he knows well that he cannot hide the twitch of his own lips. “And you,” his voice is far too soft, “will be a good Duchess.”

You laugh, breathy and laced with disbelief. You do not meet his eyes, and he does not dare push you to – but your cheeks glow even in the faint lamplight through the windows of the castle.

The silence ebbs when you take a deep inhale, voice coming once more hollow and steady.

“I know House Bourbon holds no true claim over Sabberon anymore,” your nails pick at the loose cut of your gauzy dress absently, lips bitten between breaths, “But it still falls under our sovereignty–” you purse your lips, blinking languidly. “–My sovereignty, by decree,” you mend with a glow upon your cheeks again. His heart cinches.

Hedges sway slowly across the way, listening as if your words are being pulled out from some cavernous place within you.

“When I lose it next week,” you continue, so sure in the future that it blends and obscures in that way that dreams have begun to, “when that decree is rewritten–” Your lips purse, though he sees the tremble beneath. “It cannot go to the Harkonnens.”

There’s something deadened in your tone, but something burning beneath it, too, as you shake your head towards the cloud-muddled moon high above.

“They are… unfathomably evil.”

And Paul knows; he does. But he understands, now, that he does not know like you do.

Your fingers graze absently over a faint scar on your hand, spun silky and webbed in the moonlight.

He has seen the blade that made it; in waking, in dreams.

He has read the histories, the customs, the barbarism hidden beneath their traditions.

A nameday knife, meant for a bride of House Harkonnen.

You came to Caladan in a kennel; teeth bared, voice barbed, fury like a hound at your heels. Paul should never have been so childish enough as to blame you for it.

A beast, you wanted to be seen as – but you are not a beast.

You are difficult. Frightening, often – just as storms, or change. You are frightening, he decides as your eyes meet his in the dark night of spring, but you are not unknowable.

You are just a girl, as he is just a boy; Thrust into the hands of old men and old women and older laws.

And today; the memory curls back into his mind as your toes trace idly along the damp earth in a stunted, unknowing waltz with his own – a memory of warm breath on his cheek, lips pressed against skin.

A teasing remark over the books by his bed. A joke about Paul’s word choices. A laugh tampered down before it could turn girlish and true.

A glimpse of someone real; Not a specter, or a strategy, or a title.

You speak before he can come to terms with the realization. “My aunt is the Lady of Ginaz,” you murmur – though it is a fact spoken more to fill space than inform; Paul watches with growing tension in his jaw as your fingers dig along the edge of the stone bench, worrying at the crumbling cracks.

“On Giedi Prime, her letters were destroyed before I could read them.” You stop with a slight pause. “But I’ve been speaking with her again.”

Paul says nothing; with you, silence carries more weight than answers, and his head has begun to ache from the waves of fear that tremor through his skull each passing moment.

“They’ve long remembered their oaths to House Atreides. If we need bodies – projectiles, blades – I could write her. Ask for the Swordmasters.” Your voice carries with the wind – the word blades curls, smoke in the air; you say it far too softly, too familiar. Paul’s nerves dislodge.

You sigh then, nearly a smile – a ghost of a thing which flits across your visage like a leaf stirred by the wind. “We’ll have to invite her to the wedding, of course.”

It is a brittle joke, a poor one, but Paul huffs a quiet laugh nonetheless, lips curled like he’s chewed something bitter. His eyes catch your own. “You looking forward to choosing the flower arrangements?”

You tilt your chin; the moonlight kisses your cheekbone. “I suppose it’s a good thing our house colors are both shades of green,” you muse in that rolling tone, “one less decision to fight over.”

He huffs smally, “more time to argue over the ribbon for the handfasting.”

The breeze blows a spray of mist-thick air over Paul’s nose, lashes fluttering in the chill air. Your gaze is upon the hedgerow – the very same one that has swallowed both Paul’s and your stare again and again.

Your lips purse and then puff out a small breath, “whose tradition is that, yours or mine?”

Paul’s swallow is thick, a pang of contrition singing in his veins. “Yours.”

You nod slowly, and Paul suddenly cannot look at you any longer. A deep churn of his stomach catches, and he lowers his gaze to the flowering shrubs along the path in the dim midnight air.

“When you arrived,” Paul murmurs, “I was cruel to you. Because I knew you were Bene Gesserit.”

You watch him; he can feel your gaze hot upon his profile as he sets his jaw. “How did you know for certain?” You wonder.

His jaw clicks, recalling the cool drop in the back of his mind the moment he saw your veiled figure slink out of the transporter in the rain those weeks ago.

��I just...knew it. When I saw you.”

If it is significant to you in any way other than disbelief, you do not reveal it in your expression; your stare penetrates, and Paul continues despite the slowly accelerating beat of his heart.

“And I knew what kind of power you could hold over me if it was true.”

You look at him, and it is not a kind expression. “And are you not afraid of that same power, which your mother holds over you?”

A twitch of irritation, Paul’s jaw ticks – though he does not let you disarm him. He does not answer your question; instead shakes his head, “my mother loves me too much. If she knew we were both dreaming of death, she would not let us go to Sabberon.”

You wipe away one lone raindrop from your thigh and he continues in a slow murmur, “You don't love me. If you were Bene Gesserit, and knew what path the sisterhood intended for me - for us - you wouldn't hesitate to encourage it." He admits, and feels no particular heartbreak at the concept; after all, you hardly know each other.

You appear similarly unaffected. “I don't know,” you sigh, “but I'll be Bene Gesserit again soon. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.” You mutter bitterly, voice imbued with regret.

A curl of your hair ripples in the breeze; His own lashes catch the cold dew of the coming rain.

Your resentment to the idea formulated is clear, and Paul sighs quietly. “I know you don’t think training with her is right,” he murmurs, “but what would you have us do?”

“I don’t know,” you answer sharply, “but it feels like we’re walking straight into a trap.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Paul mutters, the phrase worn; armor that no longer fits.

“I know we don’t,” you insist with crossed arms, “But... what if every good thing we try to build is just another step toward the wrong path?”

It is a thought too many times agonized in his mind; and now, out loud with you, Paul is struck with a miserable foreboding. Something is coming; it stirs in the storm clouds, lurks upon the horizon. He knows you feel it too.

“So then... we play the hand we’ve been dealt,” he says – stiff. Empty.

Your voice, when it comes, is frost crawling over glass; icy, uncaring. Sharp.

“But that's so easy for you to say.”

Paul’s gaze snaps to yours, a curl of heat in his chest at your tone – your eyes blaze with some spitting condescension and your lips curl around the words that come next. “It’s all means to your end, isn’t it. Aren’t I?” You scoff, “You were never meant to suffer for this. You were groomed for it. Studied for it. Taught secrets that should’ve been forbidden.”

A long-awaited reaction; from the very moment Paul told you he’s trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, he has awaited the moment that festering seed of mistrust would bloom – yes, the accusation is not new, but it still stings. You do not truly trust him.

He has power, he knows; and you remind him of it not because he forgets that he has it, but because you never can.

And despite how your words are received unobjected to him, despite the truth in your argument – you, too, are highborn. And you, too, speak as though in some ways, the Sisterhood has already claimed you, throat and hands and soul alike.

Paul was meant for something. So were you.

He wonders, suddenly, if you know more of the odd prophecy whispered behind doors shut than he does. One of two candidates, the voice whispers. You have more than one birthright, boy.

Paranoia grows; Paul can imagine your nerves are tender from the upcoming arraignment and the fear of the trade war impending. He, too, faces the silky webs of despair in the quiet moments within his mind. But there is pride laced into Paul’s heart. And where there is pride, it can be wounded.

Paul’s voice is sharp – the last knife in the drawer.

“I don’t know why you pretend to know me.”

You don’t flinch. Your voice is small, but it is ice. It cuts cleaner than any knife could.

“Me neither.”

There is nothing left to say; in three days, the House will leave for the Space Trade Referendum, and you will accompany him and the representatives to Kaitain. Only a few days after, you will be representing your own House for the final arraignment. There is nothing to do now but wait.

You don’t look at him any longer; your nails trace along the cracks in the stone, jaw set, eyes shining with wrath.

He leaves you in the gardens, surrounded in the dark.

THAT NIGHT, PAUL DREAMS OF YOU AGAIN.

Beneath the Great Pine that cracks and weeps resin, there is a hiss; serpentine, unseen. Below him, you tremble in his hands, buzzing and alive, breath fanning warm against his throat.

But somewhere beyond that velvet dark, something watches.

A flicker of silver: a knife, unfamiliar in shape but not in meaning. A pale hand wraps around the hilt. Then, in the midst of some trembling, ground-shattering distraction, your gasp comes; sharp, small, broken.

Visions crash through his mind: a reddened horizon, a warm desert wind; your face, streaked darker than water, washed away by freezing rain. And Sabberon. Always Sabberon.

And then, threaded through it all – a voice. Not yours, not his mother’s, nor the Sisterhood’s.

It coils, smoke through a keyhole: low, sweet, curling, rotted at the root.

“I will never let them keep what is mine, my pet.”

You – pressed half in agony and half in ecstasy at his throat, teeth scraping along his racing and fading heartbeat – do not hear it.

But Paul does.

And when he wakes with your name in his mouth, the echo of it clings like ash to his teeth, dying on the dry heat of his parched tongue.

I will never let them keep what is mine.

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venussaidso · 6 months ago

Text

𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 🖊️

in video format to hone in my points.

more notes.

ashwini moon native troy baker voiced loki in multiple medias, including avengers assemble and lego marvel super heroes.

tom hiddleston's version of loki uniquely emphasizes this aries + ketu theme of ruling through conquest and trickery (thor (2011), avengers (2012) & thor: the dark world (2014)), setting him apart as a direct "lord of war", rather than being a jester.

similarities between loki and hela:

both feel entitled to the throne of asgard, harbouring resentment and anger when it is denied to them (ketu and heirdom themes).

their relationship with thor is marked by rivalry and attempts at dominance (uncertain of thor's astrological significance to be caught in conflicting positions with a raven-haired sibling, twice, who has ashwini influence – could be a coincidence).

they have daddy issues. their father, odin, is played by a mula moon native. interesting, as mula is the one who sees those whose roots are pure or not. though debatable if he's a terrible parent, loki's roots had been highlighted as monstrous and hela was a sociopath. this could go back to ashwini's association with serial killers, contrasting mula's inherent force of goodness and ashwini still finding itself (acting out selfishly and destructively for the self, 1H themes of identity are more prominent with loki though).

both possess a ruthless desire for power and control, which is vampiric and draining on a massive scale (causing literal genocide — ketu is the great destroyer and mars is the great conqueror).

loki excels in illusion, shapeshifting, and deception (already touched on this through other ashwini characters of the same abilities). his deceptive and trickster nature, again, linking back to ketu. the mcu character agatha harkness is a trickster who is played by an ashwini moon native, and has been compared to loki as she is infamous for her backstabbing, mischievous tendencies.

both loki and hela struggle with feelings of abandonment and loneliness. they quite literally live in the shadow of thor, who could be played by a possible uttara phalguni moon native (which explains loki-hela being shadows of the sun, which would be thor. ketu is darkness and ignorance, while sun illuminates and wards off darkness. thor could be interpreted as a solar native. sun nakshatras are very kingly themselves, after all).

both commanded terrifying armies, solidifying their roles as forces of destruction. hela's army were skeletal, zombie-like soldiers while loki's army were fearsome chitauri alien creatures. army = war, battle. battle and wars = mars. loki and hela both make the most sense as aries characters, especially ketu with their association to beastly creatures as they were commanding them under their war-like force (aries, again again again *thinking of ARES, THE god of war*).

loki’s green-and-gold and hela’s black-and-green armours are interesting. another highlight of the colour green is in the character morgana. although, green is exclusively associated with mercury. but, green is said to lessen anxiety, evoke a sense of renewal, hope, and new beginnings... literal ashwini themes. ashwini = rejuvenation, healing, freshness... all the energy which green possesses.

artemisia in the film 300: rise of an empire also wears gold-and-black, much like loki did in thor: the dark world. she's played by ashwini native eva green. this is all a coincidence but a funny one. gold makes far more sense too, as the ashwini kumaras are the golden armoured horse headed twins. speaking of horses, loki is the parent of sleipnir.

in the mcu and norse mythology, both hela and loki are figures associated with or commanding wild beasts — a major ketu hint. hela is the master of fenris, a gigantic undead wolf. in norse mythology, fenris is instead ruled under loki – which just signifies the ashwini influence. loki is the literal father/mother of some of the most terrifying beings including fenrir, jörmungandr (a large serpent) and sleipnir (an eight-legged horse) and hel herself who is beast-like too.

there is an interesting connection with serpents and aries (and ketu, as ketu is the tail of the serpent or dragon), as the serpent is the sacred animal of ares, the god of war. the serpent was a symbol of rejuvenation to the ancient greeks because it shed its skin — and ares has a lot of animal symbolisms!!! ares was also associated with famous dragons: the ismenian dragon and the colchian dragon.

(source, left: LOKI - The Hell's Children by tomzj1 on DeviantArt; source, right: vikingtrinkets)

loki's 3 terrifying animal children in norse myths, and one of them being hela's pet in the mcu (ketu, again again again again).

loki's redemption arc is interesting, as i already explored such a theme in my sun dominant themes post. there, i touched on ashwini as well, and talked about renewal and new beginnings, and how these themes further support the sun's exaltation in ashwini. loki's redemption arc is literally representative of a new beginning from his infamously backstabbing, trickster nature.

I'm still learning; this is just me laying out the obvious for myself. I might come back to this as it's laid foundation of my thoughts regarding this nakshatra. It's nothing much for now.

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lemonlover1110 · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟑𝟖𝟏

Toji Fushiguro

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[Chapter 12] Toji's Second Job

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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Getting something for Toji is a task that you find impossible. You’re not sure what kind of gift he’d appreciate. Your big issue with Toji is that while you think that you’ve got his personality right, you’re not too sure about his interests; so when it comes to buying something, you’re completely clueless.

You’re making him a cake, cooking something special for him, the last thing you’re missing is his gift. You have no idea what to get him, and since Toji is back to work in new years, you’re taking care of Megumi; no one knows Toji better than Megumi. Of course, you hadn’t thought it through.

“What do you think your daddy would like for his birthday?” You ask him, his eyes are just focused on the buttercream that you’re working on. He sits on the counter while you’re working. He licks his lips, his mouth salivating at the sight. You chuckle, “Megumi, I’ll let you taste the buttercream if you tell me what you’d think your father would like.”

“Um… Your teddy bear.” Megumi answers, pointing to the big bear that you have in your apartment. You chuckle, and you tilt the bowl so he can stick his finger in and get some of the frosting. He gave you an answer, just not the one that you were expecting. Maybe a shirt is good enough.

“Thank you for your help, Megumi.” You pat his head. Once he gets the bit of frosting, he asks to be put on the floor and you help him down and watch as he runs to the TV. You keep thinking about what you should get for Toji though, even though a shirt should be enough, it isn’t. He’s the same man that got you a charm bracelet for the holidays even though you weren’t expecting anything.

Toji isn’t expecting anything from you but you still want to give him something. Maybe when Megumi is asleep in his apartment you can… No, sex isn’t a birthday gift. You’re completely empty, and you try to occupy yourself with the cake that you’re making. A shirt will suffice.

You’re doing more than what you intended, and definitely more than what he expects. You just have to finish the cake and you’ll go out shopping with Megumi to get Toji’s shirt. Maybe you’ll go to his apartment to look at the size he wears (most likely a large or extra large) before going shopping.

“Do you want to go shopping, Megumi?” You ask, and he’s too focused on the television to care about what you’re saying. It makes you laugh; you’ll repeat the question later, but now you have to assemble this cake.

Your phone rings, and you almost miss it, but thankfully Megumi hears it. He breaks from his trance and walks over to you, holding up the phone that displays Toji’s name. You pick it up, a smile on your face before you mutter a thank you to your little helper.

“Hey, Toji. What’s up?” You greet him. You watch as Megumi walks back to his spot, ready to continue watching his show.

“Hi…” He sounds embarrassed. You wait for him to say something else because you’re not going to repeat yourself. “I’ll be showing up late.”

“Late? How late?” You ask him. You don’t want to spoil the surprise, so you’re just hoping that he doesn’t have to work till too late. He tells you the time, and it’s a bit late but you can make it work. “Alright, I’ll see you then, Toji. Megumi and I will have so much fun without you.”

“You’re mean.” He responds with a chuckle. You laugh as well, saying your goodbye and hanging up the phone.

You stare at the buttercream of the cake, and realize that you have a lot more time to spare now.

There’s a knock on the door, way past midnight. It awakens you. You realize you’ve got your arm thrown over Megumi and you’re both on the floor. You get up from the floor, a yawn escaping your lips as you stretch. There’s another knock, and you begin to walk to the door. It’s probably Toji, who’s way too late. He told you a somewhat reasonable time, not– Your eyes fall on the digital clock that you have. You squint your eyes and read it. Three in the morning.

You open the door to find Toji, a sheepish smile on his face. He steps into the apartment to pick up a sleeping Megumi. His eyes fall on the counter, where he finds a plate of cold food, a plate that was meant for him. He picks up Megumi from the floor and goes back to the door. He bites down on his lip before muttering, “Didn’t think it’d take so long.”

“You’re fine.” You try to smile at him, your eyes closing on their own. You yawn again and point at the counter, “There’s some food there for you, you can heat it up and eat it if you’re hungry.”

“Okay, thank you.” Toji responds, he takes the plate of food. He walks out of the apartment, and you shut the door. You lay down on your bed, and your phone brightens up. You can’t help but pick it up to see what it is. It’s just a stupid notification for a game but then you notice you have multiple messages from an unknown number.

You’re about to turn off your phone to go back to sleep, assuming it’s just a stupid scam but your curiosity gets the best of you. You unlock your phone and click on the message. The images wake your half-asleep-self back up. You’re wide awake.

“That lying son of a bitch.” You say, looking at the pictures. You really can’t believe it, the man that swore he wasn’t dating is right there.

He’s all dressed up, his arm intertwined with another woman’s– The same woman that you accused him of dating. Momoko. They’re smiling at each other. You swipe to see the next picture and he’s pecking her lips. You feel your stomach churn and you drop your phone.

You want to run to the apartment next to you and pound on the door, letting him hear a piece of your mind. You manage to take a deep breath before laying back down on the bed and shutting your eyes. It’s not worth it.

You’re not wondering who sent you the images, you just know that you’re so fucking pissed off at Toji. You’re fucking jealous.

You hear a knock on your door again, and you know it’s him. You’re thinking of just ignoring him and trying to fall asleep. You’ve set your mind to it, but he knocks again. You’re raging, you doubt that you’ll fall asleep so it’s best to handle the situation now; so you get up from the bed and open up the door to find Toji much more comfortable.

“Hey… The food was good, I meant to–” He begins, and your blood boils as you hear him speak. You can’t handle just standing there emotionless.

“I know that you were on a date with Momoko!” You burst, and his eyebrows furrow. He looks confused, and you’re starting to wonder if that was actually him in the pictures. Maybe your heavy eyes saw wrong, and it wasn’t him. You almost believe it when he responds,

“What are you talking about?” You step into the room to get the birthday bag with his gift. You hand it to him before sighing.

“That’s your birthday gift.” You tell him, and he looks inside to find a shirt. It has nothing to do with your current conversation, but you don’t want to hold on to it. After taking a peek at the shirt, he goes back to your original conversation.

“What do you mean about Momoko?” He asks.

“I don’t know who but they sent me pictures and–” You begin, and he bites down on his lip. Maybe he should apologize for lying to you, but that’s the last thing he’s going to do.

“That’s not your business.” He says, and you raise your brows. You’re taken back by his response, and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You have no idea why he– He’s so fucking confusing.

“I thought we had something going on, Toji. You kissed me yesterday… Not even just that. I spent my entire day taking care of your son free of charge, baking a cake for you, cooking dinner, I went out of my way to buy you that gift. The least I deserve is an explanation and not a lie.” You tell him, fighting back your tears. Toji bites down on his tongue, not sure how to respond. He’d give all his money away to be able to know what to say right at this moment, but he doesn’t. You chuckle, trying not to cry. “Would you look at the time? I should go to bed.”

“Wait– I swear Momoko is no one.” He stops you when you begin to walk away. It’s three in the morning, the main thing in your mind should be sleep, especially since your eyes are closing on their own. You shouldn’t push for an answer, you should let him go back to his apartment to sleep and continue a cordial relationship with him. Yet you still say,

“Right… That’s why you were kissing her.”

“Show me these pictures.” Toji orders, and you purse your lips together. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if you want to actually show him. You still walk to get your phone, and you pull up the pictures. When you hand him the phone, he takes a deep breath. It’s him. There’s no way he can deny it.

“I don’t care if you’re seeing her, just don’t… Try to get with me or lie to me about what you’re doing.” You respond, and it’s taking everything in you to not burst into tears. Toji sighs, and he’s trying his best to figure out what to say. “I’m tired, Toji. I don’t know why I believed you.”

“We’re not dating.” Toji says, even though he saw it clearer than day how he kissed another woman.

“Do you just kiss random women?” You ask him, and his lack of response makes you shut the door but his hand stops it. You’re not ready for the words that leave his mouth next.

“I’m an escort.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #daddy toji #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fic

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under0-0s · 1 month ago

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Stephen Strange makes a portal into Tony's lab, dragging behind him a pouting Barton. The sorcerer looks deeply annoyed and frustrated.

"Stark, this trash panda asshole was once again trying to make a nest in the sanctum. This time, under my fucking bed! Please, for the love of Vishanti, keep this bird in YOUR home!"

Stephen used his magic to literally put a child's harness on Clint, handing Tony the leash for it. Then turns to walk back through the portal, closing it behind him.

@askatrigenderlgbt

Tony stared at the closed portal.

Silence.

"...You know what? Not even the weirdest thing I've held today."

He exhaled through his nose, tossed the leash on the workbench beside a half-assembled arc modulator, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay. Cool. I'm babysitting a fully grown S.H.I.E.L.D. agent now. Sure. Why not. Add it to the resume. Right between ‘built a suit in a cave’ and ‘taught a literal god how to use a microwave.’"

Tony turned toward the intercom and muttered, “FRIDAY, remind me to install Barton-proof security in the sanctum. And maybe a containment field. Something sorcerer-grade, but... bird-compatible.”

He stared at the leash one more time, then turned back to his bench, muttering “God, I miss when the weirdest thing in my day was a sentient robot with daddy issues.”

#iron man #tony stark #avengers #avengers assemble #peter parker #the avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #marvel movies #roleplay #roleplay blog #roleplay promo #rp blog #rp finder #new rp #rp #ask blog

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marieanthonysoprano · 2 months ago

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[Into Darkness/Beyond]

---

Watching the '09 Star Trek flick and my live reactions:

As someone with astigmatism this opening feels like a look into what having cataracts when I'm old might be like.

I know Kirk grew up in Iowa but this is corny.

Winona Ryder typecast as mum of autistic gay sons with bowl cuts.

Autistic Gay Sons and their debut album Bowl Cuts is Kirk's Midwest emo band.

@charliewfell96: "[Pike] can whistle the communicator tone?"

Me: "This old man is hot now."

McCoy being scared of flying instead of transporters is actually pretty funny as a deep cut joke.

Karl Urban is pretty.

Karl Urban is so, so pretty.

This Enterprise looks like it's been given the landlord special.

Chekov's Wussian accent is widiculous but I gotta have solidarity with his voice recognition struggles. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿😔

McCoy running after Kirk and repeatedly injecting him feels like a scene from a school anti-drug assembly.

Not gonna check how long he meant by minutes there buddy? Like if someone told me the complete obliteration of the planet was minutes away I'd clarify how many minutes before beaming down.

SFX note: don't make your tragic destruction of a planet look like an anus swallowing itself.

Spubble closeup.

Nero explaining his plan: "The only thing that can stop a bad guy with a genocide is a good guy with a genocide! I win murder forever, mwahaha!" (The five year old in charge of writing this script started smashing the heads off his action figures with rocks at this point in the creative process before being escorted to timeout by security for setting a paper bin on fire.)

This planet is so white Tumblr could make a sexyman out of it.

The demogorgon from Stranger Things first role.

OG SPOCK. I LOVE HIM. Leonard Nimoy my beloved.

This whole plot only happened OG Spock got stuck in space traffic and shared hole with Nero.

OG Spock really trying to hide his disappointment in what a little bitch this vers of Kirk is being rn like he's watching a nervous kitten pish on his favourite cardigan.

Simon Pegg's Scottish accent is pretty good, but English actors doing Scottish accents makes me a bit uncomfortable bc Scottish actors are expected to use RP by default for roles and being treated as inferior to English has endangered our native languages (Scots, Gaelic).

On the other hand he's a great Scotty and you can tell how much love he's got for the role.

"No Jim, I'm not coming with you, I was really expensive to cast. What are they going to do, not have Leonard Nimoy appear in this film? No, I won't be back again until the finale, which the studio calculated to have the best cost to heartstrings pulled ratio."

🖖😢 too buddy you're the best part of this film.

"I'm going to go cry in my room, please note this in the log, this is going to fuck up my schedule for the day."

Sarek is so well cast in this. Ben Cross plays him with a subtlety that stands out in a movie that is mostly loud and dumb.

Mind melding with a dead guy? Girl he has no brainwaves he's a meat flopsicle.

"I know your face." Nero that is an entirely different actor than William Shatner you are faceblind.

"My name is Nero Montoya. I killed your father. Prepare to die."

We've all been on a Zoom call where someone's connection was that poor.

When you've got so many daddy issues you'll even call yourself Dad to get a crumb of paternal attention.

Well that felt like being at the opticians.

#star trek #tos #aos #star trek 2009 #film #space opera #live reaction #personal

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nothazellevesque · 2 years ago

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the thing that works about baldurs gate is that individually, each companion would be the most insufferable bitch in your group project group, yet they all have to work together:

Shadowheart is preachy and hides relevant information from other group members- imagine working on a group project and one of your group mates doesn’t tell you that she’s got a resource that can help you finish the project until you’re already a third of the way in. girl why

Lae’zel believes in her own supremacy over everyone else’s. imagine a working on a project with a group mate who she insists that the entire project be done her way, and she shoots down everyone else’s ideas. yuck. plus, she’s extremely devoted to her queen, so she’s like a teacher’s pet. but like the teacher’s pet for the teacher that’s going to get fired at the end of the semester for trying to murder a student

Astarion- has a tragic backstory, which, cool. but he’s a massive flirt, likes trickery and manipulating people for his own gain, and doesn’t believe in helping others for the sake of helping. imagine working on a project with a guy who tries to extort you or just feeds you incorrect information any time you ask him for help. and that’s not even getting into the whole “literally needs to drink your blood” thing

Gale- fucked a goddess. so massive teacher’s pet. plus he’s got a massive ego and seems to think he’s smarter than everyone else, not to mention his whole goal of “being the greatest wizard”. he’s like the guy who says on his first day of work that someday he’s going to run the company, and any time you have to work with him, he’ll talk about how things will be different when he’s in charge. sir take several seats we work at the same wendys for minimum wage

Wyll has daddy issues and makes deals with devils about it. plus he’s insanely stubborn, complains all the time about how he’s reaping what he’s literally been sowing this whole time. imagine working with a guy who complains that he’s failing the class when you know he’s sitting in the back of the damn classroom watching superhero movies every day and thinking about how he wants to be a hero. sir please god stop watching spider man two and plotting to murder your classmate so you can help me finish this

Karlach has anger issues and a bloodlust that is honestly lowkey terrifying. she WOULD be the kid who snapped in class and threw shit at the teacher. imagine working with a girl who wants to use your whole project to enact revenge against the people who have wronged her (aka your teachers). hellish. plus wyll wants her ass DEAD

and somehow, these six nightmarish bastards have been assembled to do a group project. and if they (and you) fuck it up, the world literally ends. absolute comedy scenario

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #karlach #bg3 karlach #shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #lae’zel #astarion #bg3 astarion #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #all of these clowns want to kill each other and fuck Tav and it’s hilarious

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dexlexia · 2 years ago

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daddy issues (ver. 1) - toji x reader

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader rating: 18+ summary: Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it. tags: pwp, daddy kink, smut, pet names (princess), d/s, rough sex, lingerie

Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it.

But you weren't the princess of a big castle in a far off land, you were the princess of a spacious apartment in the heart of Tokyo. And the daddy who spoiled you was a perverted older man with a shit relationship with his son and needed something to fuck into the expensive mattress.

And you were never one to say no to pretty, cute things and a thick cock that made you see stars. So being the princess of your own kingdom seemed like a fitting title for what your charmed life was.

You woke up around noon and found that Toji was gone. You wanted to curl back into bed for another couple of hours but you had to get your day started at some point. you got on your fuzzy slippers and stretched your arms above your head, arching your back in the process. In the kitchen you found a note from Toji

'be home tonight. wear the two piece when i get home. - t“

You brought the paper to your nose and inhaled the scent of the cologne he used and probably sprayed on the letter. You squirmed a little at your love for him as you started your day.

A nice hot cup of coffee and toast with bananas, powdered sugar and syrup on it. You sat on the couch and watched the news as you rested your feet on top of the coffee table. You briefly remembered Toji trying to assemble the table when you first moved in. He swore up a storm as you coyly handed him different screwdrivers. Eventually he took a break and ended up fucking you on the shag carpet next to the semi built table.

Toji could be a rough lover, he liked things that didn't break. He pushed you to your absolute limit to make sure he was getting his money's worth. He said it was like hitting the gas at full speed on an expensive car to make sure the engine didn't burst.

Your day went by quite quickly, most of the time you were kept at the apartment. Toji worried about bad men getting their hands on you, something so sweet and fragile should be protected at all costs. But when you were inside, you had full reign of the apartment. Usually it was spent trying new recipes for Toji, snuggling with the massive stuffed animals he bought you and watch television.

You weren't too sure when Toji was going to come home. It could be at three in the afternoon or one in the morning, he was a busy man after all. But he knew he had a sweet girl to come home to, someone who'd take care of all of his needs once he walked through that door. After all, you'd do anything for daddy, that's what made you such a good princess.

You brought the giant brown teddy bear from the corner of the bedroom and rested against it on the couch, it smelled like him. After all, you did spray it down every few weeks with his cologne when he wasn't looking. You threw the stuffed arm over your shoulder and relaxed against it, imagining it was your daddy. You really couldn't wait until he got home, you were so excited that while in the process of getting the stuffed teddy, you laid out the two piece for him.

The lingerie wasn't anything too special. It was a white bra and panties set with cherries printed all over it. You didn't get what turned him on about them so much, you had so many nicer, more expensive sets but he wanted you in it all the time. When you asked him, he shrugged and said the fabric was durable for when you 'played rough'.

But you wouldn't be putting it on for a while now, as you got comfy you felt your eyelids grow heavy, and it wasn't long before you fell asleep in front of the television. You weren't too sure how long you had been asleep, but then suddenly you woke up to the sound of the front door closing. You popped your head up and looked over the back of the couch to the door and saw your daddy kicking off his shoes.

His dark eyes looked over at you and the corner of his mouth curled, “I see the princess is tired? Didn't sleep well last night?” His voice was low and deadly, it struck a chord in you as you rubbed your thighs together. He was the sorcerer killer after all, he was a force to be reckoned with. He came up to you and rounded the couch so he was in front of you. He reached down and grabbed your chin, “I thought I said I wanted you ready.”

“I'm sorry, daddy.” You gave him puppy-dog eyes as he held onto you. There was no fucking around with Toji, you might be the spoiled princess but he was the man who funded your charmed lifestyle, his word was law within the walls of your apartment, “You didn't tell me when you were coming home.”

He reached for your ass and grabbed it tightly. His calloused hand felt your flesh as he kept his eyes on you, his grip was almost bruising which made you wet. He ran his tongue across the scar on his lip and then said, “Well, baby, you have five minutes to make yourself presentable or else you won't be sitting right for a week. One, two, three, go.” His voice was a growl as he got out of your way to let you get up and rush to the bedroom.

He laughed to himself as he watched you run away, you really were his good little princess. He knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, he'd spoil you as long as you were good to him. But he knew you'd always be good for him, you didn't have a bad bone in your body.

A few minutes passed, in all honesty Toji wasn't keeping track, he then called out, ”thirty seconds, princess.“ And dropped himself onto the couch, his erection strained the front of his pants. His eyes were kept on the door to the bedroom where he heard you bumping into things and cursing to yourself. It was almost adorable how you tried to keep up with him, but he never wanted you to worry your little head about anything. Just sit there, suck his cock and look pretty.

Soon the door swung open and you looked perfect. Toji grinned to himself like a crazed man, that was the princess he knew and loved, wearing something skimpy for the man's eyes only. He adjusted himself in his seat and said, ”C'mere now.“

You even put on the little sheer white thigh high socks with the satin bows at the top. Perfect, perfect, perfect, Toji had no excuse to punish such a sweet angel, his darling princess. You straddled his lap and kissed him on the cheek, ”How do I look, daddy?“

”Like a dream.“ He rubbed his clothed erection up against your panties, you moaned and he grabbed onto your hips, furthing pushing it up against you.

You noticed he had a bruise on his face and went in to carefully kiss it. He hissed through the pain and then moved his head to kiss you on the lips. You had little room to protest as you just melted into his touch. You could feel yourself grow more wet as you felt his hard cock pressed up against you.

”Daddy.“

”Yes, princess.“

”Will you fuck me on the couch?“ You asked, your tone sounded so innocent compared to what you said. Your voice made his cock twitch in his pants. Soon you were placed beside him and he began to pull down his baggy pants past his cock, he freed it and it looked impressive against the black of his athletic t-shirt.

Then he started to fully undress you, he liked the power that came with your nude and him fully dressed. It also gave him more exposed skin to leave marks on. He pulled the panties past your thighs, if this was a cheaper pair he would've ripped them right off. Once you were nude, he leaned forward and smacked your ass as you scrambled back onto his lap.

”There we go, princess. Fuckin' perfect. You're mine right? You're so addicted to my cock that no other man could satisfy you?“ He said, his dark eyes looked darker with lust as you grabbed onto his shoulders and slowly sank down on his cock. He grit his teeth as he felt his cock enter you, a tight wet heat that felt like a punch to the gut.

You whined, ”Yes, daddy.” And sat yourself on his impressive length. You already felt hot all over, the thrill of having sex with him was exciting. You loved the feeling of his cock bullying your insides as he pushed you closer to climax. You especially loved it when he left large, dark marks on your skin, it satisfied a deep part of you that wished to be owned.

“Such a good girl for me. That's it, ride daddy's cock.” He licked his lips, he had that look in his eye that he got when he was fighting. It could be chalked up to the similar feeling of the thrill of the hunt. Toji was the beast and you were the bunny that he wanted to sink his teeth into. He began to bite at your chest. He sucked dark marks on your chest, leaving especially dark ones near your nipples. He knew you'd been feeling them for some time afterwards. That thought excited him.

You moved your hips at a nice, easy pace in an attempt to accommodate yourself to his size, but the pace soon bored your daddy and he gripped your hips and started to bounce you on his cock. His lips were on one of your nipples as he bit and roughly pulled at it. That combined with the also aching feeling of his cock being pushed in and out of your poor pussy made your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“That's my good girl, such a perfect princess. Always a cock slut for me. You know how to satisfy me.” He groaned as he continued to harsh movements on you. He felt painfully hard, and he couldn't wait to paint your insides white. Thoroughly owned by him.

“Ah, daddy!” You moaned, “Please that feels so good, thank you daddy! Yes! Yes!” You whined as your breasts bounces as you fucked him. You believed that you were a good girl, this was what you were made for. For the affection of older men who enjoyed fucking sweet pussy.

The two of you moved on the couch, Toji could feel the sweat of his body making him stick to his t-shirt and the leather couch. He looked over and saw the stuffed animal looking back at him. He reached out for the giant toy and knocked it to the ground so it would stop staring at him.

“Daddy, that was rude!” You whined as you gripped onto his shoulders tightly, still thrusting your hips up and down on his cock.

“I didn't like how he was lookin' at us, sweetheart.” He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you down for a searing kiss as you continued to move up and down on his cock. The kiss was hot and messy and you could feel his cock bruising your insides as you moved. The sensation left your mind running blank.

Toji thought you looked perfect riding him on the couch, he always thought you looked beautiful when you were nude before him. You were his dream come true as he buried his cock as deep as he could inside of you. He liked his princess, well behaved, generous with her love for him. He wanted you submissive and all hs, even if you could be a brat.

You both felt close to orgasm as the two of you continued to fuck. The kiss soon became open mouthed and Toji's tongue was basically down your throat, muffling all noises that came from you. He grabbed your breasts and played with them, his grip was hard and you knew it would only lead to more bruising. But you loved when Toji bruised you, it made you feel good.

You pulled away from the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoved your breasts in his face to get a good position to ride him. Toji groaned at the feeling and let you work your magic on his cock. He groaned and gripped your hips once more to guide you like the good daddy he was.

With a few more hard thrusts you soon arched your back and came around his cock. The feeling was immense as you felt all the fight leave your body as pleasure filled up your skull like cotton. You dropped yourself against him, smothering him further with your breasts. He picked up the slack however and continued to thrust up into your limp body as the curl of pleasure formed in his gut.

Soon he was finishing inside of you with a groan, and peeled you off of him to look down at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your mouth hung slightly open as you gulped for air. He grinned and slapped your ass, the sound rang in the air, “That's it.” He purred, “That's a good girl. My darling princess, such a good slut for me.”

You nodded, body hot all over. You slid off of his cock and by his feet on the couch. You rested your cheek on his leg as you tried to catch your breath. And he played with your hair while he relaxed. Where you belong with him. His dark eyes gazed down at you, and you looked up at him.

He smirked at you, “Well c'mon, princess. Why don't you clean daddy up?”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jjkedit #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen smut

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saiyanprincessswanie · 3 months ago

Text

The Ultimate Risk - Part 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 5975

Series Summary: Reader is a full-time college student at 30 years old who is starting over in life. When she loses her full-time job as a waitress, CEO James “Bucky” Barnes steps in with a proposition. Can he sell you on a way to help you by offering a Sugar Daddy companionship? Who will get feelings first? Can a Sugar Daddy relationship really work out?

Series Warnings: Sugar Daddy au, Reader is 30 & Bucky is in his 40s, reader has trust issues, talks of anxiety, angst, eventually falling in love, smut, oral (m & f), nicknames (sweetheart and doll.)

The Ultimate Risk Masterlist

A/N: @avengers-assemble-bingo for James Buchanan Barnes - 108th Birthday Bingo

Square: Sugar Daddy (card #4B 024)

A/N 2: Thank you to my beta writers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @gremlin-girly. Thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for the header.

Please Read, Reblog, & Comment. It lets me know you like my work. 😊💜

It was ten in the morning when Bucky picked you up at your apartment. He wanted to show you the space that his friend, Steve, had for rent. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, maybe something with a second bedroom so you could paint. When Bucky pulled up to a beautiful house, your jaw dropped. Outside on the porch was Steve who was waving at you.

“Ready to take a look, sweetheart?” Bucky asked as he watched you take the home in. Your giddiness made him smile.

“Is this for me?” You questioned as you stared at the house waving back at Steve.

“If you want it to be then yes. Come on, let's go greet Steve.”

You both got out of the vehicle walking hand in hand up to Steve. The two men greet each other with a hug and Steve turns to you giving you one as well. You weren’t used to hugging people but this was Bucky’s best friend so you made an exception.

“So Steve, is this the place you were telling me about?” Bucky asked as you grabbed his hand again.

“Yeah, this was a place I built years ago intending to settle down with Peggy. But you know how that story goes, Buck.” Steve sighs for a moment. “Anyway, I know you said your girl needed a bigger place and I was already looking to rent this out so why not hook up your girl?”

“Well, I appreciate it, punk. I know I love this house already, but let’s see if she does. Now, let's go inside and take a look around.” Bucky states as you grin at both men.

Steve leads the way while you both follow behind him. The porch was beautiful and already came with furniture on it. You loved that you could come out here and drink your morning coffee.

The outside of the house was white and had a cute blue front door. As you enter the two-story house you instantly notice the open floor concept. To the left, you had a large living room with a beautiful stone fireplace. The colors were cool tones in the living room. Continuing through the living room you walked into a kitchen and dining room that was huge. Stainless steel appliances with light oak cabinets on the wall made you gasp.

“My goodness, this kitchen is amazing! I would love to cook here and sit at this bar to eat. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” You say excitedly.

Heading out of the kitchen there was a half bathroom, to the back of the house was a laundry room that was as big as your living room in your apartment. It had the latest high end model washer and dryer. Walking out of the laundry room you found the first bedroom. The room was big enough to be an office in the front.

Bucky was watching you take the house in. He could tell that you loved it and there was still upstairs to see. If this is the place you wanted it would be yours in a heartbeat. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and you turned back at him beaming. Bucky loved seeing you this happy.

Steve led the way upstairs as you both followed him. In front of you was the next bedroom and full bathroom. The bedroom you loved as it gave you plenty of outside light.

“This will be my painting room,” you declared as you walked around the spacious room.

Steve nodded his head. “That’s what I made this room for actually. But it was for me to do my sketches here.”

Bucky grinned at you. “This would be a perfect room for your painting. I can see you now in here creating new work.”

“If you think this room is great, wait until you see the master suite,” Steve stated as he led you to the final room.

The master suite was huge. You walked in and were immediately speechless. Again, the windows were everywhere and gave you a beautiful view outside. You walked over to the closet and giggled.

“You have got to be kidding me. This closet is the size of my bedroom in my apartment! This could hold my old and new clothes perfectly. Plus, there is room for more.”

Bucky and Steve laughed at your reaction.

“I think she likes this place, jerk.” Steve softly spoke to Bucky.

Bucky watched as you headed into the master bathroom and you squealed in delight. “I think so, punk.”

“Bucky this bathroom has a claw foot tub and a huge shower separated. Double vanity so I can place all my stuff.” You come skipping out of the bathroom and a huge smile on your face. “This is perfect. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“The question is, sweetheart, do you WANT it? Say the word and it’s yours.”

Bucky watched as you nodded excitedly.

“Yes, I would love to live here,” you gleefully stated.

Bucky turned to Steve and chuckled. “Looks like we will be renting this beautiful house from you.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for you both. I will get the documents drawn up and faxed over to you tomorrow. You can move in at the end of the week. Here are the spare keys to the house.”

Steve handed you the keys and you all headed back downstairs. The guys were talking as you headed outside. The neighborhood was quiet and filled with houses like this one. You sat on the front porch swing and sat in silence. This was amazing and you pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Both men walked outside and were laughing. You watched them as they joked with each other. It saddened you for a moment because you wished you had a friend like that.

Bucky glanced at you and sensed your mood shift briefly. He walked over to you and reached a hand out for you.

Hesitantly, he took your hand and rubbed the back of it to ease your mind. “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

“I’m ready. Though I have to say this place is perfect and so beautiful. I can’t believe I’m going to be living here. Thank you for thinking of me to live here.” You bit your bottom lip as Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now let’s go car shopping.”

You squeal in delight as Bucky leads you back to his Escalade. You turn to wave goodbye to Steve one last time before climbing into the SUV.

Bucky gets in the driver's seat and pulls away from the house. His hand seeks yours and gently holds it.

“So what car does my doll want? It can be anything you want and the price doesn’t matter.”

“Honestly I’ve had my eye on the 2025 BMW X5 SUV. It’s enough for me to feel comfortable yet look spacious.”

Bucky smirks at you. “If that’s what you want then let’s go get it.”

Bucky drove for twenty minutes until he reached a BMW dealership. You both went inside to talk with a salesperson. Bucky did most of the talking explaining what you wanted.

You chimed in on the color and things you wanted to come with the car. Just so happens they have what you are looking for and you can drive home in it today.

You were excited to be getting the SUV you wanted. It was a red BMW and fully loaded. Bucky and the salesman negotiated prices. You watched Bucky with ease as he shook the hand of the salesman finalizing the sale.

Bucky got up from the chair and walked outside with you and the salesman. The BMW SUV was pulled to the front of the building and you let out a squeal of excitement. Bucky smiled at your expression and watched as you hopped into it. He rounded the BMW to the driver’s seat.

Pulling out his phone Bucky looked at you and said, “smile.” As you did he took a picture of you. He wanted to remember you at this moment.

“Since this SUV is yours now why don’t you follow me to the bank so we can get your allowance setup since it’s almost the first of the month. Gotta make sure my girl is taken care of.”

You smiled back at him. “Thank you, Bucky for the rental house and the car. I’m a little overwhelmed but I’m so happy. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Bucky took your hand and kissed the back of it. “This is not a dream sweetheart. This is just what’s to come in our arrangement. I want you spoiled. I want to see you happy.”

Your heart fluttered at his statement. It’s only been a couple of days and he has spoiled you rotten so far. How were you supposed to get used to this? You inwardly smiled at the thought of being treated like a princess. No one has ever done what Bucky has. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to this but for now, you’re going to enjoy it while you can.

“So what happens with my other car? I mean it’s kinda on its last leg.” You wondered what to do with it because right now the apartment has one space for your vehicle.

“Don’t you worry about that sweetheart. I plan to have a scrap yard pick it up from you today and they will give you a couple hundred dollars for it. I will make the call on the way to the bank. All you gotta do is follow me.”

You nod your head. “Okay, let's go.” Sitting back you pull your seatbelt on while Bucky closes the door. You take in the feel of the BMW and smile wide. This SUV was going to be perfect for you. It had space, it was comfortable and as you follow Bucky out of the parking lot the ride is smooth. “I can get used to this ride in no time,” you say out loud to yourself.

You follow Bucky back into town where you both park at this huge bank. Getting out of the BMW you lock the doors and head over to Bucky who just got out of his Escalade. He smiled at you as you stood before him.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bucky takes your hand and you both walk into the bank. You can tell by the looks of it that this bank is for the richer folks. There were leather brown chairs in the waiting area but Bucky didn’t wait. He walks up to an office that says Tony Stark and knocks on the open door.

Tony looks up from his computer and greets Bucky. “Ah, Bucky, good to see you and who is this lovely lady behind you?”

You peeked out from behind Bucky and smiled at Tony. Bucky introduces you to Tony and you both shake hands. Tony tells you both to take a seat.

“So what can I help you with Barnes?” Tony asked.

“I’m here to set up a monthly draft from one of my accounts to hers.” Bucky sits back and watches Tony nod his head.

“How much do you want to be transferred into her account monthly?” Tony was typing on his computer as they spoke.

“I would say five thousand should be sufficient to start with. What do you think sweetheart?” Bucky looks over at you and your jaw drops.

“Fi-Five thousand? Bucky that's a lot of money don’t you think?

“Well, you do need to pay for food, gas, and whatever else you may need personally. I want to make sure you have enough.”

“How about we say three thousand instead and call it even?” You reply and bite your lip.

Bucky grins at you and nods his head. “Fine three is it but if you need more do not hesitate to tell me. Deal?”

You lean closer to him. “Deal.”

“You both are so cute together. Setting up the monthly draft. Now, I just need your information hun.”

Pulling out your checkbook you hand it over to Tony who starts typing in your information. Within minutes he handed it back to you and printed off paperwork for Bucky to sign. Once signed everything was finished.

“Thank you Tony for doing this for me. I will be calling you tomorrow to start setting up her bills to be pulled from this same account.”

“Anytime Bucky. I’m always here if you need me.” Both men shook the other’s hand and you stood up from the chair. “It was a pleasure meeting you too hun. I hope to see you both again.”

Bucky and you left the bank together and headed to your apartment. You both parked at the curb and got out. Bucky went to the Toyota and took your license plates off the car.

You started moving things from your old car to the SUV. After twenty minutes you finished and the scrap yard tow truck pulled in front of the car. You watched Bucky and the driver talk for a few minutes. Then the driver handed him a paper.

Bucky walks over to you and hands you the piece of paper. Turns out it’s a check for three hundred dollars that the tow truck guy gave Bucky.

“Now you have a little more money to put in the bank. Hopefully, you can buy something nice for yourself.” Bucky grinned at you and you wrapped yourself around his arm.

You both watched as your car was towed away. A part of you was sad but the other part was excited over your new BMW. If your ex friends could see you now they would be excited for you.

Heading up to your apartment Bucky followed you up. Opening the door you both walk in and you grab menus.

“I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. You pick something out and I’ll call it in for delivery.”

A few minutes later Bucky picked out Chinese food from one of your favorite places. You called the food in and they said it would be twenty minutes.

In that time you and Bucky started making a list of all your bills that need to be paid every month. He even writes down your student loans that have to be paid.

“Bucky you don’t have to pay them. They’re in the thousands of dollars and my debt that I racked up.” You whispered nervously.

“I know I don’t have to do this but I want to. I want you to be debt-free and not worry about any of your bills while you focus on college. Now let’s focus on the positives of this arrangement between us.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “You‘re right, let's focus on the positives.“ You gave Bucky all the information he needed to pay off your debts and current bills. It was weird to think you would have no debt.

By the time you finished up everything the food arrived. Bucky paid for the food and placed it on the counter. You both dug into the food and once again sat on the couch.

“So the charity event we are going to in three days is formal. I was thinking your long black dress with a high slit would be a good choice to wear. I have a black suit and tie to match. If that’s okay with you?”

“That sounds perfect to me, Bucky. Though all my stuff is at your penthouse and nothing has been washed or steam cleaned.” Your anxiety started to kick up a little as you thought of everything you had to do.

“Don’t worry doll. I already had all your dresses cleaned. They are in the spare room closet waiting for you. I figured you could get ready at my place so we could save time,” Bucky stated.

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for doing that for me. I think that would be fine getting ready at your place.”

You both ate in silence as you filled up with food. When you were done you placed the dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up after yourselves.

It was nice having Bucky around. You didn’t feel lonely when he was with you. Though your anxiety still flared up at times Bucky would help you calm down and breathe. It was nice having a companion to do things with.

Bucky watched as you put the leftovers away. You were definitely lost in thought but you had a smile on your face the entire time. He wonders what you’re thinking of. He knows he is thinking about you all the time. Bucky has never met anyone like you before and that makes him nervous but excited for the future.

Bucky’s phone rings and he takes the call. Talking for a few and feeling annoyed he hangs up the phone.

“Sorry to take that call but it’s work. Unfortunately, I have to go in this afternoon as it's an urgent matter. I had a wonderful time spending half the day with you.”

You give a small pout but nod. “I understand. Work calls you have to go in. I’m going to be busy with online classes anyways tonight to get ahead work-wise.”

“I will see you later sweetheart. Take care of yourself and start to pack in between your schoolwork. I’m thinking of moving you into your new place sooner than later.”

Bucky walks up to you and kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around him and hug him.

“Thank you, Bucky for today. I had a blast.” You give him one last squeeze hug and part from him.

“I will text you later. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

Bucky walks out the door and leaves you behind. You couldn’t really complain considering the day you had. For now, you would concentrate on your schoolwork and get yourself ahead so you could enjoy yourself later.

Several days have passed and you’re all caught up with schoolwork. You attended your classes and handed your work in on time. You have heard from Bucky through text only as he has been busy with work. However, he made sure to text you this morning as the charity event was tonight.

Bucky: Hey sweetheart, how is my doll doing today? Are you ready for the event tonight?

You: Hi Bucky, I’m doing well today. Both excited and nervous about tonight. I’ve already showered and just waiting for you to pick me up.

Bucky: Excellent. I will be heading to get you within the next hour. Also, don’t be nervous about tonight. I will be with you every step of the way tonight.

You: Thank you Bucky, that means a lot to me.

You took your time applying makeup and doing your hair that an hour flew by and Bucky was at the apartment. You grabbed your makeup just in case you needed to do touch ups. Grabbing your purse, makeup bag, phone and keys you head to the door to greet Bucky.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky warmly says looking you over. “You look beautiful. I can’t wait to see how you look with the dress on.”

“I’m sure I will look fine. Just dressed up.” You try to blow off the compliment because you don’t see yourself the way he does.

“You’re more than fine, you are gorgeous to me. I’m sure you will be turning many heads when you show up.”

Locking the door behind you, you made your way towards the stairs. You both walked down them and headed outside to his Escalade. Bucky opens the door and you climb in. Once he is inside he pulls away from the apartment and heads to his penthouse.

You sit in silence trying to control your breathing as you were nervous about tonight. Would you be able to fit in among the wealthy class? You start to fidget with your hands.

Sensing your nervous energy Bucky reaches for your left hand and lightly holds it. Bringing your hand to his lips Bucky kisses your knuckles.

“It will be okay sweetheart. Just remember that I will be with you all night.” Bucky tries to calm you down the best he can while driving. He does breathing exercises with you and that helps calm you down. By the time you get to the penthouse you’re breathing normally again.

Pulling into his parking space you both get out and head for the elevator. Bucky hits the button to the top floor as you both are inside. When you finally reach the top floor you both get out and head to his front door. Once inside, Bucky shows you to the spare bedroom where you will get ready.

The dress was hanging on the closet door when you walked in. You stare at the dress and take in the beauty of it. Your stilettos are underneath the dress and you can’t wait to play dress up.

“If you need anything I will be down the hallway in the master suite.” Bucky states as he smiles at you and leaves.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You call out as he heads to his room.

You shut the door and take a deep breath. You got this… Undressing, you get down to your black lingerie and unzip the back of the dress. You slip into the dress and start to zip it back up but realize you need help. You slip your feet into the expensive stilettos and take a quick look at yourself in the mirror. You do have to admit you look pretty.

Continuing to get ready you touch up your makeup and hair until you’re satisfied with the way you look. About thirty minutes have passed so you decide to go to Bucky’s room so he can help you with the zipper.

Walking to the room you hear the click of your heels on the hardwood floors. Your heartbeat is beating a little fast due to your nerves. Will he like you dolled up? You stand outside his door for a few seconds then knock on his door softly.

About thirty seconds pass and you hear him walking to the door. Upon opening it you’re met with Bucky standing in an all Black suit and tie. He looked straight out of a GQ magazine.

Bucky cleared his throat to get your attention. “Sweetheart, you look gorgeous.”

You offer a shy smile. “Thank you, Bucky. I was wondering if you could help me and zipper up the rest of the dress?”

“Absolutely doll. Just turn around and I will help you.”

You do as you’re told and turn for him. His fingers are gentle as he grabs the delicate zipper and slowly drags it up the rest of the way. You can’t help but shiver from his touch. Exhaling, you turn to face him and offer a smile.

“Thank you, Bucky. I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Before you could walk away he calls out your name and you turn to look at him. “I have a gift for you that goes with your dress.”

You followed him into the master suite and couldn’t believe how big the room was. He has a California king-size bed up against one wall. Two expensive chairs off to the sides, a bookcase, a gigantic walk-in closet, and a master bath off the other side of the room. You can’t help but stare. This was the biggest bedroom you have ever seen.

Bucky walks back over to you carrying a black velvet jewelry rectangle box. You had no clue what was inside as the box was medium-sized. He had a huge smile on his face as he approached you. “I got you something that will go with your dress. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will Bucky.” Your eyes went from Bucky back to the rectangle box. What could it be? A necklace probably but you weren’t sure.

Bucky opened it up and inside was a diamond tennis necklace with matching earrings. You gasped at how beautiful it was. The diamonds were clear in color. The look was elegant and sparkled. This had to cost a pretty penny. “Bucky, I don’t know what to say except it’s beautiful.”

Bucky took the necklace out and undid the clasp. “Here let me put it on you.”

You turned your back to him and let him put the necklace on. Once the clasp was back in place his soft firm hand lingered for a moment on your neck before he removed it. You were nervous about having something so expensive around your neck. You turned back around to face him and he handed you the earrings. One by one you put them on and smiled back at him. He walked you over to the closet mirror and you were finally able to look at the jewelry with the dress. It was beautiful against your skin and the diamonds sparkled in the light.

“This is yours now, so you can wear it with your dress clothes. I wanted to do something special for you and this occasion just called for it.”

Touching the necklace and earrings you take a slow deep breath. “This must’ve cost a fortune.”

Bucky chuckled. “No price is too much for you sweetheart. Just focus on how beautiful you are and how happy you make me. Remember to breathe and if you get too overwhelmed let me know so we can leave at any time. All I have to do is make an appearance.”

Nodding your head at him you say, “That sounds good to me.”

“Now my dear let us go have some fun.”

Bucky looped your arm with his and you both walked out of the bedroom heading to the front door. Grabbing what he needed he led the way out of the apartment. Getting to the elevator Bucky pushed number one instead of the parking lot.

Once you reached the first floor you walked through a stunning grand entrance foyer. Walking through it took your breath away as Bucky continued to lead you through it and outside. At the curb sat a black limo waiting for you both as you headed down the steps. A driver opened the door for you and you climbed in followed by Bucky.

The drive was fifteen minutes away so you took in the drive like you were in some fairytale. You have never been in a limo dressed the way you were. You looked over at Bucky who was grinning at you. Your hand found his and gently squeezed it.

“I know I’ve already said this but you’re so beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off you.” Bucky gently squeezed your hand back in reassurance.

“Thank you, Bucky. You’re handsome as well.”

You both made small talk all the way to the charity event. Then you pulled in front of a hotel. You heard of this place before from people at the restaurant. It held major events here among the socialites in New York. Tonight was going to be an important night for the charity being held.

“Are you ready sweetheart?”

“I am.” You anxiously answered.

“Take my hand and remember to breathe.” His voice was soothing and gentle.

The door opened and Bucky stepped out of the limo. He held his hand out to you and you grabbed it while getting out. Some cameras were taking pictures of you both as you made your way inside the hotel. To the right was a ballroom where everyone was filtering in. Your arm was looped in his now as he led you through the crowd. Bucky was saying hello to some people who briefly greeted him. They looked at you and nodded in return.

“Would you like a drink doll? Some wine may take the edge off.” Bucky asked.

“Yes, please. I could use a drink.”

You both walked over to the bar where you both ordered a glass of wine. Once you were handed yours you took a big sip and felt the wine start to warm you up. You needed to be careful because you were a lightweight and the last thing you needed to do was embarrass Bucky.

He led you through the sea of people and found an open table. Bucky held your chair out for you and helped you scoot into the table. As he took a seat a man came over to Bucky and greeted him. Bucky shook the man’s hand and greeted him back. The man looked over to you and smiled.

“And who is this lovely lady seated to your right?” The gentleman asked.

Bucky gave him your name and the gentleman smiled.

“Sweetheart, this is my business associate T’Challa. He is my second in command in my business.”

“Oh, what a pleasure to meet you.” You offered a friendly smile back.

T’Challa took your hand and kissed the back of it. “The pleasure is all of mine.” T’Challa took a seat to Bucky’s left and they started to chat about the business.

As they talked you could hear them discussing plans to release a new prototype for disabled veterans who have lost a limb from being in combat. Bucky was talking about a government deal that would help them start with veterans first and then expand the project as needed. You were fascinated to learn that this is the business he was in. You just learned the charity event was for disabled veterans so it made sense he would be working on something like that. When they finished talking a young woman approached T’Challa and greeted the three of you.

“This is my sister Shuri. She is the head department leader in these prototypes we were discussing. We call it Wakanda Technology. She is literally a genius,” T’Challa said.

Shuri shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Anyone who can put up with Barnes is an absolute angel in my eyes.”

“Now, now - no ganging up on me.” Bucky chuckled.

“Just remember Barnes if you don’t take care of your girl I’m always here to do so.” T’Challa jokingly says.

“Okay, enough out of you two.” Bucky teased back.

The night continued with the dinner that was brought out for everyone. The tables were full throughout the ballroom. Bucky had kept his promise by including you in the conversations with his friends and colleagues. Seeing Bucky light up at times and laugh brought a smile to your face. This man is something else and you had to admit you love his business side as well.

There were speakers at the podium and guests who kept coming over to Bucky to not only talk about his business but also to meet the radiant woman he brought. It both made you anxious and excited that people thought you were a princess in your outfit.

It had been about two hours when Bucky decided it was time to leave. Both you and Bucky said goodbye to his friends and headed to the limo that was waiting. Once inside the limo, you couldn’t help the yawn that you released.

“Tired, sweetheart?” Bucky asked softly.

“Yeah, just a little bit. Plus I can’t wait to get out of this dress at your place.” You looked at Bucky who swallowed hard at your admission. “I just mean changing back into normal clothes is all.”

“I knew what you meant doll.” Bucky watched you with his dark blue eyes and smirked.

The fifteen-minute drive back to his place was in silence as you looked outside at the moving city. It was a nice evening of meeting his friends and colleagues. Especially when you learned about his business. He is helping millions of veterans nationwide with his technology and prototypes. That to you proved his kindness and generosity.

When the limo came to a stop you were back at his place. Getting out Bucky once again gently gave you his hand and you took it. You headed back up to his penthouse on the top floor and once inside you kicked off your heels. Bucky chuckled as you let out a loud sigh of relief. Moving to the spare bedroom you called to him.

“Hey, Bucky can you help unzip me so I can change?” You called out.

Bucky shrugged out of his jacket and rolled his sleeves up as he approached you. His tattoos on his arms were like a work of art to you and you couldn’t help but stare for a minute. You wondered what the rest of his body looked like under the suit. Was he covered in tattoos or was it just his arms?”

You turned around for him when he reached you and he slowly unzipped the dress for you. His knuckles rubbed softly against your skin.

He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and whispered in your ear, “I caught you staring at my tattoos again. Is there something you like?”

You shiver at the sound of his voice and how close he is to you. “I love the art behind some of them and the unique designs. They are beautiful to me.” You turn around, look up into his blue eyes, and hold your breath. What you would give to feel his lips on yours. He must have been thinking the same thing as he took a step back.

“I will leave you to change.” Bucky smiles and walks out of the room heading towards his room.

You close the door and let out the breath you were holding in. You changed quickly back into your clothes and took the jewelry off. There was no way you were bringing it to your small apartment.

When you were fully ready you opened your door and carried the jewelry to Bucky’s room. He was about to come out when you showed what was in your hands.

“Can I keep this safe with you for now until I move into the new place?”

Bucky smirked at you. “Of course you can doll. I will keep it with my watches.” Bucky took the jewelry and put it back in the velvet rectangle box. He walked it to his walk-in closet and came back out to see you. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants that hung low on his waist. If you would ever see him like this in public you would never guess he is a billionaire.

Together you both walked out of his penthouse and to the garage. He opened the Escalade door for you and you climbed in. When he got in on his side he turned the SUV on and pulled away to head to your apartment. You held hands on your way home and you couldn’t get the kiss on your shoulder out of your head. Did it mean something or was it friendly? Maybe you were trying to see something that wasn’t there. Yes, he was affectionate but being anything more was not what he was looking for.

Bucky pulled up to your apartment and turned the SUV off. He walked to your side and once again opened the door for you. You hopped out and walked to your building with him following behind. He walked you all the way to your apartment door and waited while you unlocked the door.

You turned to face him and smiled. “Thank you so much for bringing me out tonight with you. I had a lot of fun.”

“Anytime sweetheart. I'm happy you could join me as well. We will have to do this again sometime soon.” Bucky leaned in and kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You went into your apartment and sighed. You couldn’t wait until the next time you went out with him.

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