#two-part one-shot

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Wake up (part 2)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky will not abandon you unconscious while hoping for answers about what viciousness is running through your body. After all, Hydra always takes everything a person has to offer.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past; Bucky is going through some emotional shit here; Hydra; vomiting; seizure; guilt and self-blame; medical setting and distress; grief; PTSD; anxiety; panic attacks; so much angst

Author’s Note: A second part to Wake up has been the winner of my poll, so here we are. I’ve been sticking with the angst of the first part and I'm not gonna lie, this might have been the hardest thing I’ve written so far. So, please read the warnings before diving in and be beware that this does not end well. (I really don’t believe that all hope’s lost but read for yourself) But I actually do like how this turned out despite it hurting me so much lol. Let me know what you think ♡

part three

Angstober Masterlist | Masterlist

Bucky Barnes has lost a lot in his long life.

He has lost pieces of himself - some torn away violently, others slowly dissolving in his grasp no matter how hard he tried to keep them.

It was torturous and agonizing, prolonged over time, creating empty voids where something complete once used to be.

He has lost the weight and warmth of his own limb, his left arm stolen from him under the most excruciating circumstances, only to be replaced by a piece of metal that messed badly with his nerve endings.

His body bears the evidence. Scars marrying his flesh, muscle and sinew replaced by cold and unfeeling vibranium.

His mind has suffered even worse. Memories shattered, rewritten, erased. A name that once meant something - James Buchanan Barnes - reduced to something foreign, something he had to claw his way back to.

He has been unmade and remade too many times to count, his identity fractured into a thousand pieces. Each one holds remnants of the pain, of orders barked in languages he barely recognizes, of faces he was forced to forget the moment they fell.

His past is an open wound that never quite heals, no matter how much time passes. He has lost friends, family, freedom - every tether to the life he once lived.

But he survived.

Somehow, despite the things Hydra did to him, despite the decades of blood staining his hands, despite the decades of his limbs moving to another brain, despite the guilt slithering through his veins and dragging its nails down his spine. He survived.

He fought his way back. For you. Because of you. You helped him get himself back.

And that’s why this loss - your loss - would be different.

He doesn’t even acknowledge this with dramatics, doesn’t try to make it sound noble or poetic. It’s not something to be proud of. It’s just the truth. A certainty.

If you leave him, he will not survive. He would not even try.

A simple fact that is not simple at all.

It’s the most devastating, soul-crushing fact of his existence.

Because if you never open your eyes again - if those beautiful, expressive eyes, the ones that soften whenever they land on him, the ones that twinkle like stardust only for him because you love him so much - stay closed forever, then what reason does he have to go on?

If he never sees that smile again, the one that makes his knees weak, that makes his chest feel too small to hold everything he feels for you - the smile only made for him because you love him so much - then what point is there in taking another breath?

If you never wrap your arms around him again - never squeeze him so tightly he can feel your affection seep into him, warming the coldest, most forgotten parts of him, because you love him so much - then what is he supposed to do with himself?

If your lips never touch his again, never press against his skin, never ghost over his own in those kisses that steal his breath even if it is a simple peck, or if you end up breathlessly clinging to each other, all because you love him so much - then he might as well have nothing at all.

And if your voice - your sweet, adoring, and grounding voice - never speaks those three words again, the ones that leave him on this world, the ones that remind him that despite everything, despite all that he has done and all that he has lost, he is still capable of being loved - if he never gets to hear those words again, then there will be nothing left of him.

Because without you he is just a man with too many ghosts and too little purpose. A man trying to walk on broken legs, reaching for something, grasping at something, hoping for something, that will never be found.

He would not survive it. Not again. Not this time.

Bucky doesn’t remember the run to the med bay.

It went so fast but also way too slow.

Moments before, he was in your shared room, shaking you, begging for you to wake up, and then, he was barreling down the hallways, your body limp in his arms.

His boots slammed against the floor, his breath coming in ragged rasps. His grip around you was so tight that if you had been awake, you would have told him to ease up, that you weren’t going anywhere with that soft and gentle voice of yours. But you weren’t awake. It was only him.

He doesn’t remember how many doors he crashed through, doesn’t recall how many people shouted his name as he stormed through the compound like a man possessed.

All he could focus on was you, your weight in his arms, the unmanageable silence coming from you. It was too quiet. Too still.

You were and still are the only thing in his focus. The only thing in his mind.

The moment he bursts into the med bay, Bruce is already moving, eyes wide behind his glasses as he takes one look at Bucky’s desperate face - at you - and points to the nearest examination table.

“Put her down. Now.”

Bucky hesitates for only a second.

“Barnes!” Bruce snaps, voice sharp.

And Bucky moves, his hands trembling as he lowers you onto the cold metal table, his touch lingering longer than it should have, afraid you will leave him the moment he lets go.

Then Bruce is there, hands on you, tilting your head, checking your pulse. Bucky feels something inside him snap.

Bile surges up his throat, hot and acidic, and before he can stop himself, he staggers backward, barely making it to a medical waste bin before his stomach heaves violently. His whole body shakes with the force of it, his metal hand clutching the edge of the table so hard it groans under the pressure.

He only hears someone - Tony - mutter behind him. “Jesus. Alright, Barnes, maybe you should-”

“No.” His voice is hoarse, sore. He doesn’t even look up, just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body coiled so tightly he feels like he might snap in half.

He is not leaving.

He doesn’t hear whatever else is said because Bruce is calling for Dr. Cho, his voice tight, controlled but urgent. She appears within moments, already shrugging into her white coat as she assesses the situation with a practiced eye.

“Tell me everything,” she demands, moving beside Bruce as they work over you.

“She was exposed to something - some kind of airborne agent.” Bruce says quickly, Bucky not able to get a word out. “Came back from the mission fine, but then-”

“Then she wouldn’t wake up,” Bucky rasps, his voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He forces himself to step closer again, his fingers jerking at his sides. He wants to touch you, needs to touch you, but Bruce has already started attaching monitors to your chest, your temples, your wrist.

So Bucky can only stare at your unmoving face, and his gut contracts dreadfully, twisting like a wrung-out rag. A breath flees his mouth in a rough gust.

Because you are lying here, looking as if you are fading further away by the second.

Bucky is grateful that no one is paying him any mind.

Every ounce of attention in the room is on you, and that’s exactly where it needs to be. No one spares him so much as a glance, and hell, he is thankful to be ignored.

Because if they looked at him, they would see the way his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Even the metal seems to be quivering, the nerve endings in his shoulder acting up. They would see his chest rising and falling too fast, his breaths sharp and strained like he is moments from shattering into something unrecognizable.

But none of it matters. Because you are still lying there, too still, too limp, too silent, too pale against the stark white of the medical bay’s harsh lights.

The color has drained from your face, your lips slightly parted, your breathing faint but regular. It’s the only sign of life you give.

Your head remains tilted unnaturally to the side, strands of hair sticking to your cheek from the moisture of Bruce’s sensors as they gather data, searching for something that might explain what the hell is happening to you.

Tony is somewhere behind him, speaking hurriedly into his earpiece. “Yeah, well, tell me something useful, here, Fitz!” His voice is sharp, frustration a part of it, but there is something else there, too - something too close to fear. Bucky doesn’t hear that in Tony often. “I don’t care what Fury’s saying - no, I don’t care - just get me those samples analyzed faster.”

There are agitated voices somewhere to his left. Steve and Natasha. Steve is trying to get to him. Bucky knows it without turning around. He can feel his best friend's presence, hear the urgency in the way his boots scruff against the floor, the way his voice lowers as he mutters something to Natasha, arguing. But the redhead doesn’t budge, Steve doesn’t reach him, and Bucky is left standing in place, barely keeping himself upright.

Bruce and Dr. Cho are working in tandem over your body. Bruce adjusts the monitors, his fingers hovering over your wrist for a moment, measuring something by touch alone. His jaw is tight, his usual steady hands moving just a fraction quicker, his eyes switching between the data on the screen and your unmoving form.

Dr. Cho is settling up and IV, her hands deft as she inserts the needle into the delicate skin of your forearm. The bag above you fills with something clear, something Bucky doesn’t recognize, but he trusts her. He has to. She murmurs something to Bruce, and he nods, glancing at one of the monitors before adjusting the oxygen mask now resting over your face.

“We need a full toxicology scan,” Dr. Cho says, voice firm but calm. Something Bucky can’t manage right now. “Start running a metabolic panel and check for neurotoxins. If this was airborne, we need to know if it’s still in her system.”

Bruce is already moving, tapping rapidly at a tablet screen. “Her vitals are stable, but they’re low - lower than they should be. She’s there, but barely.”

Bucky’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms, he is sure even the metal will have marks. His head is spinning, everything outside of you irrelevant to him. There is too much movement, too many sounds, too many people talking, but none of it matters because you still haven’t moved. You still haven’t opened your eyes.

His bones feel like they are collapsing. Like a house of cards caught in a slow fall.

And Bucky swears that if you don’t wake up soon, he won’t be able to breathe at all.

The waiting for results is maddening. He is hardly moving, hardly breathing, only able to wait for someone to say something that will make sense of this.

Bruce is the first to speak. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, squinting at the tablet in his hands like maybe if he looks at it long enough, the numbers will rearrange themselves into something different. Something fixable.

“There’s nothing,” he says, voice quieter than before. Stunned.

Bucky blinks, his body stiffening. “What?”

Bruce glances at Dr. Cho, but she is already busy studying the results on a separate screen, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Nothing toxic in her blood,” Bruce continues, carefully neutral. “No neurotoxins, no foreign substances - nothing that should be causing this.”

Bucky’s insides lurch, churning like a sea under a violent storm. He tilts his head forward as if he misheard, his mind running. “No. No, that’s not-” He gestures uncoordinatedly to where you still lay, unmoving, breath slow but there. “Look at her! There’s gotta be something.”

Dr. Cho finally speaks, measured but voice set. “Medically speaking, she should be awake.”

Bucky got shot in the chest once.

He still doesn’t know how he survived. It hurt like hell.

But those words are the bullet that will tear through his heart, make him crumble, kill him.

Should be awake.

Should be awake.

But you fucking aren’t.

“You’re saying she’s fine,” he grits out, his tone steely, voiced with something dark. The same darkness that knots deep in his belly. “But she’s not moving, not waking up, not-” His voice breaks, and he presses his mouth closed so tightly to make a sound stop from boiling up. His head shakes vehemently. “There has to be something.”

“Bucky-” Bruce tries, but Bucky doesn’t let him finish.

“Check again.” His voice is lower now, dangerous, but everybody surely hears the desperation in his tone. “Check again, check everything - you must’ve missed something.”

Bruce exhales, rubbing his temples. “I’ve run the tests twice-”

“Damnit, then run it a fucking third time.” Bucky’s voice rises.

“We’ve checked everything. There is nothing wrong-”

“Then why isn’t she waking up?” Bucky roars, and suddenly, everyone in the room is dead silent.

Tony looks between Bucky and the doctors, his expression grim. Steve, who had edged closer, takes a careful step back, but looks at Bucky warningly, yet still utterly sympathetic. Natasha has just the slightest sheen over her eyes herself, but tries to keep her composure. Sam is standing in a corner, watching without a single remark. That’s new for him.

Even Bruce and Dr. Cho pause for just a second, eyes falling to him.

Then Dr. Cho exhales sharply, snapping her gloves off with quick, almost harsh movements. “Everyone out. Now.”

Tony raises a brow. “You kicking us out, doc?”

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “You’re all in the way. We need to focus. Here are too many people. This won’t help us and it won’t help her.”

Steve hesitates but eventually nods, throwing one last glance at Bucky and at you before stepping out, Tony following behind. Natasha slips out almost quickly, searching for a place to be alone. Sam leaves without a word, expression stony. The room empties.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

“Bucky,” Bruce says, softer now, as if he is speaking to a wild animal, careful not to startle it. “You should go too.”

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Dr. Cho frowns unpleased, crossing her arms. “You’re not helping her by being here. You’re just getting in the way.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bucky grinds out, planting his feet like a goddamn mountain. His breathing is too rough, his pulse too high, but he doesn’t have time to care. The only thing he cares about is not to leave you.

Dr. Cho lets out a breath through her nose, but she doesn’t argue further. There is no time to fight with a stubborn ex-assassin who looks like he’s one wrong word away from losing his mind.

“Fine,” she relents, turning back to Bruce. “Then stay out of the way. We have work to do.”

Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Guilt sits in his chest like something rotten. It is an anxious tangle of nerves and dread and agony that curl in his stomach, inescapable. It’s as if his body is rejecting him all over again.

It feasts on every nerve and every cell and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws, hollowing him out from the inside.

He let himself believe that you were fine. That this is just his paranoia, just his need to keep you wrapped up, shielded from every possible danger - the worry he always feels for you, the way he clings so much.

But your chest rises and falls so slow and mechanical, and it’s not right. Your color is drained to the point that you look ghost-like. It’s as if your body is just pretending to be alive. As if it’s just waiting for something, stalling.

You look like you are already knocking on death’s door.

And they try to tell him there is nothing wrong.

The words make his scull vibrate with rage, but even more so with fear. Such a gripping and burning fear. His pulse is a single beat he can feel all along his skin.

Because what if there really is nothing? What if there is nothing to fix and you are already half gone?

His hands are trembling so hard, not even forming a fist can stop it.

He should have brought you here sooner. Should have forced you here the second you got back, should have ignored your reassurances, your sugary and alluring voice telling him that you feel fine and that you love him and there is nothing to worry about.

But he did worry.

He did have that awful, gut-deep feeling, a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong. But he convinced himself that it was just him. That you are fine. And you would be fine. And this was nothing. And there was nothing to worry about. That you would wake up and smile that soft smile at him and wish him a good morning, honey. You sleep well? with your endearing morning voice and all would be fine because you would be there and awake and with him and in his arms and the sun filtering in would illuminate your body and make you gleam in your ethereal glow and he would tell you you look beautiful and you would giggle and you would kiss him and you would tell him you love him and he would repeat it a thousand times over and-

He wants to throw up again, feeling the nausea rise. He wants to undo whatever led you here, wants to rip apart the universe until he finds the moment where he should have acted, should have saved you, should have known better.

Because things like that happen to Bucky Barnes.

The voices are there. Bruce and Cho speaking in hushed and clinical tones, words slipping past his ears. He hears them. Knows they are saying things that should matter. Should mean something.

But he can’t focus.

Because the only thing his brain registers, the only thing anchoring him to anything right now, is the slow and rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

It pounds in his eardrums, in the space behind his eyes, sinks beneath his skin. Unchanging. It should be a comfort. A reassurance. But it’s not.

It sounds too artificial - as if it’s the machine keeping you here instead of your own will. Instead of you.

His heart seems to try and outrun a fate that has not been decided yet. His hands flex and curl, doing nothing else. He is so helpless. Drowning in the air, like a scream caged behind his ribs with no way to escape.

Bucky is not a man who would ever think about praying.

But for you, he would sink down onto his knees and beg, beg until his lungs give out, plead until his voice dies, and him with it.

He wants to move. Wants to do something. But all he is forced to do is watch. Watch the way your body doesn’t stir, the way your lips remain slightly parted, breath scarcely there. You seem asleep in a way that isn’t right.

Bruce says something. He doesn’t catch it.

Dr. Cho responds, sharper this time, with a note of urgency in her tone. But Bucky still can’t process the words.

Because the beeping is the only thing.

The only proof that you are still here.

The sole factor preventing his thoughts from plunging into a darkness he can't drag his way out of.

The sound of your heartbeat, manufactured and distant, is the only thing between him and utter ruin.

And then it stutters.

Just for a second. A fracture of a hesitation, a hiccup in the mechanical pattern.

But it is clear.

And Bucky’s breath seizes, every nerve ending in his body lighting up under a fire that might just burn him to the ground.

Another stutter.

He lunges forward without thinking, knocking something over in the process, metal clattering against tile. Bruce shouts his name, Cho curses, but Bucky doesn’t hear anything.

Because something is happening.

The beeping stutters again. Then again.

Then your body jerks. A sudden, unnatural motion, like a puppet with its strings, yanked too hard. Your chest arches up, limbs jolting, fingers curling in on themselves like they don’t belong to you anymore.

The heart monitor lets out a rapid sequence of beeps, the steady pattern broken, discordant - like a song ripped apart note by note.

A seizure.

Bucky doesn’t even have time to feel the utter terror pumping up his belly and rushing up to his face in less than half a second, only that it is propelling him forward. He doesn’t care that Bruce and Cho are already moving, doesn’t care that there are hands trying to hold you down, voices shouting instructions.

He drops to his knees by your head because his legs won’t hold him up anymore. His hands reach instinctively - one cradling the back of your head, the other threading into your hair, gripping almost too tight, as if he can keep you here just by holding on. He never should have let go in the first place. Another thing to hate himself for.

“No, no, no, baby, baby, please-” His voice is wrecked. Shattered and gravelly, rasping against his throat like it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. The words barely make it past his lips, broken things gasped between strangled sobs.

“Stay with me, doll. Please. Please, don’t- don’t do this, you don’t get to do this, not to me, not to me-”

His breath is failing him, catching on every desperate syllable, every plea. His chest aches and caves under the panic and horror, he can’t hold himself up properly anymore. His forehead presses against yours, his tears hot where they land on your skin, his entire body shaking against you.

He is crying, saying things not even he understands. His voice is a single crack, a sound so undone it doesn’t sound human. He begs and begs and begs, but you continue to cramp.

A sob rips through him, brutal and loud, and he sucks in a desolate breath between the wreckage of his words.

He doesn’t know the way Cho and Bruce are working frantically, doesn’t hear the sounds of other people in white coats hectically running around.

All he knows is you.

And the way your body seizes beneath his hands, the way your face remains slack, the way your breath catches as if your body itself is deciding whether to keep you here or let you go.

Bucky grips you harder and presses his lips to your temple in a way that is almost rough.

“Stay with me,” he whimpers against your skin, voice not even a real whisper, hoarse and thick with cries. “I can’t lose you. Won’t survive. I won’t survive.”

You gasp.

Your body stills. Limbs falling back onto the hard table with a sharp clang.

And his world is falling apart, into itself, collapsing, crumbling. His eyes fail, not showing him the whole picture anymore, burning his vision away and replacing it with cruel pictures. He falls into an abyss so deep he won’t ever meet the ground and the reprieve of shattering into the floor-

Beep.

A single note.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s rhythmic. It’s there.

Your heart is still beating.

The sound sends a shockwave through his chest, his heart, his core, him. It rattles his ribs.

Bucky shudders. A deep, guttural sob rips through him and he buries his face against your hair, his arms wrapped so tightly around you it’s as if he’s trying to fuse you to him, trying to force the universe to let him keep you.

He chokes on a sound, nothing more than a shattered breath. His body sags, overwhelmed, drained, but his hands refuse to loosen their hold on you, careful of the cables attached to your body.

The chaos of the room dims just slightly, shifting to more focus.

“That-” Bruce analyses in a clipped tone. “That wasn’t just a seizure. That was an autonomic collapse. Her body just shut down.”

Bucky is still swimming in the aftershock of nearly losing you, he can’t comprehend anything other than the smell of your hair and skin.

“That’s not possible,” Cho considers, voice low, but there is just the tiniest hint of concern in her voice now. “Not without something triggering it.”

There is shuffling around him - machines being adjusted, readings being analyzed. But Bucky stays right there, forehead pressed to yours, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones as if you were made of glass. “Come back to me,” he breathes, pleading. “Please come back, please. I can’t- I can’t do this without you. Can’t do anything without you. Y/n, please!”

Bruce releases a breath somewhere nearby. Bucky lost all his senses.

“I need to see the chemical breakdown of that gas - now,” he instructs.

“Come back. Come back to me, baby, come back,” Bucky croaks out, still not addressing the two discussing your situation, his voice rough and barely working. His lips don’t move from your temple.

Cho’s hands move over the tablet, scanning your vitals. “Her body didn’t just react to it. It adapted to it. And now-” She pauses, face tightening as she processes the data. “It’s waiting for something.”

Bucky heaves up a breath, a sick and swirling tension writhing in his stomach like a nest of snakes. “Waiting for what?” he finally acknowledges.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up, something apologetic and utterly pained behind his eyes. His voice is careful. “A command.”

Silence slams into the room like a sudden, vicious drop in pressure.

Bucky grows cold. The sickening sensation in him spreads. His hands tighten around you in instinctual protection.

Fucking Hydra.

“This wasn’t just some toxin or experiment,” Cho continues, flipping through the data, her expression darkening. “This was programmed. Her nervous system - her brain - it’s been put in a dormant state. Not a coma, not unconsciousness. Something else.”

Bucky is shaking his head before she even finishes speaking. “No. No, she - she’s right here, she’s breathing, she-”

But he can’t deny it. Can’t ignore the chilling, creeping terror worming around his spine, despair festering it. Because he knows this. Knows the way Hydra takes people and twists them, programs them like machines, like weapons, like him.

His stomach sinks, drops, falls - down, down, down. Falling into the abyss. Never to land. Never to return.

Nausea rolls over him in sick ways. But he can’t let him heave it up again. Because therefore, he would have to let go of you. And he will not do that.

“It’s got to be some kind of activation sequence,” Bruce says grimly. “A failsafe. Whatever was in that gas, it did something to her. Put her into a kind of-” he pauses, carefully glancing at Bucky, “-standby mode.”

Bucky’s jaw is hard, it would hurt if he could feel it. “Then wake her the fuck up.”

“We’re trying,” Cho snaps back, stress sharpening her usual calm tone. “But this isn’t just a medical problem, Barnes. It’s neurological. It’s programming.”

Bucky flinches. His fingers tangle in your hair and he tucks you impossibly closer. “She’s not a machine,”he spits out, voice shaking, harsher than he means it to be but not able to change it. “She’s not like-”

He stops himself. The words She’s not like me nearly escape, but he forces them back down his throat, though it burns.

Bruce and Cho exchange a look.

And that’s when Tony speaks up from the corner of the room - seemingly having allowed himself to come back inside - voice resolved, hard. “Then we need to figure out what the hell they were trying to turn her into.”

No. Please, god, no. Not her. Not you.

Bucky is unaware of his movements, of the way he is clutching you tighter, the way his body trembles, the sting in his throat from how ragged his breathing has been for the last couple of however long he’s been here already.

He can’t keep you from this. Can’t protect you from something that has already taken root inside you.

Just like it did in him.

His vision is a hot fog. The room nothing but a smear of sterile white light and moving shadows, the voices of Banner and Cho turning into indecipherable noise as they scramble for answers.

Tony is heading to his lap to probably run every scan known to a man on that goddamn gas. Steve is speaking too. Where did he come from? Since when is he here again? But Bucky doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen.

Because you are still motionless in his arms.

They are talking about activation sequences. Standby modes. Neurological programming. They’re using all these terms, these medical, scientific explanations - but none of them are saying what it really means.

Hydra did something to you.

Hydra put something in you.

And if there’s one thing Bucky knows, one thing that has been burned into his very being, it’s that Hydra does not give. It does not take halfway. It does not leave things unfinished.

They only ever take everything.

And only with a little bit of smoke in the air, you have been exposed to for mere minutes.

A rough, strangled sound makes its way up his throat, and it takes him a second to realize it’s even coming from him. A horrible, cracking noise of grief and rage and devastation. His fingers dig into the warmth of you, your neck, your back, your thigh, needing to feel you, needing to have you here with him even though his mind is screaming at him that all the parts of you he had are gone already.

But he won’t accept that.

Shaking fingers card through your hair, pushing damp strands away from your face, his metal hand cradling your cheek.

His voice is an aching whisper. “You’re stronger than me, you know that?” His breath shudders over the words, his quivering lips brushing against your forehead, lingering there. “You always have been.”

His thumb gently strokes over the hollow beneath your closed eye, his jaw clenching hard as he takes in the deep stillness of your body. His chest tries to draw in air but is constricted.

He can’t see you like this. You are never this still. Never motionless. You live in the moment - in bright, uncontainable energy.

“You’ll get through this.” Each word drags thickly from his throat. It hurts so much. Everything hurts so much. “I know you will. You always do. You always pull me with you, too.” His laugh is soft and hollow, broken like the man he is in process of becoming again. “Even when I didn’t want saving, you just-”

He swallows hard, squeezes his eyes together, and takes a deep breath filled with your scents. But it mingles with the sterile smell of that moisture and clinic. A tear slips past his lashes. Another follows.

“You never let go.”

His head bows, his forehead against your temple, a shallow gasp slips from his lips.

“And I won’t either.”

His flesh thumb presses lightly to your neck, enough to feel your pulse. He hears the beep of the monitor but he needs to feel it.

“I’m right here, baby,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He presses his lips to your temple, to your cheekbones, to your forehead, your nose, everywhere he likes. Everywhere he has to. He lets himself feel the warmth of you, the thumps of your heartbeat against his fingers.

Another tear slips past when he presses another strained whisper to your skin.

“I’d go anywhere with you. I’d follow you to the end of the world. But you gotta wake up, baby.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice finally meets his ears, but it sounds too damn soft. As if he is talking to a wounded and aching creature.

As if he expects Bucky to break. He might. He will.

Bucky snaps his head up, and the look on his face must be something terrible because Steve actually takes a step back.

“You think I don’t know what this means?” Bucky growls, his voice a debris of sound. His hands shake so hard against you, he can’t even hold you as tight as he wants to anymore. And for the first time in his life, he hates the warmth of his flesh. Hates that the metal doesn’t run through both arms, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel this overpowering helplessness.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel human enough to understand what it means to lose.

Maybe then he could just return to be the machine he was supposed to be all along.

He already feels himself going back to him.

“She’s not like me,” he snarls, voice catching on the words, breaking them apart. “She’s not going to be like me.”

No one answers him.

No one says no, of course not, she’s going to be fine, we’ll fix this, we’ll wake her up and this will just be another nightmare we all wake up from.

Because no one knows if that’s true.

Bruce’s fingers move over his tablet. “Whatever Hydra did… it’s not finished yet. We need to be prepared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky’s voice is lethal, pure steel dipping into panic.

“It means,” Bruce hesitates, glancing at Steve for help but the blonde doesn’t seem to know better, so he continues. “We don’t know in what state she is in. This could have done anything to her-”

A low, animalistic sound rumbles from Bucky’s chest. “Then we stop it.”

Bruce looks at him, eyes trying to soften, but he seems too remorseful. “We don’t even know what it is yet.”

“We stop it,” Bucky repeats, harsher this time. Because the alternative is something he can’t think of.

He sways, a choking sense of deja vu inching up his spine. He knows this feeling. He’s lived this feeling. That moment, the harsh, dizzying drop into nothingness, when you realize you don’t know yourself anymore. That you never really did.

And now, Hydra is doing that to you.

Cho stiffens suddenly, eyes rapidly moving across the screen in front of her. “Wait - something’s changing-”

Every muscle in Bucky’s body locks as his gaze snaps to you, his breath stalling.

Your fingers. The barest twitch. A tiny, nearly imperceptible movement against his chest.

But it’s there.

Bucky sucks in a breath so sharp it burns. “She’s-”

Before he can finish, your entire body spasms intensely.

Alarms shriek. Machines stutter to life. A sharp, erratic beeping floods the room.

Your scream tears through the space. Guttural and fervent and wrong.

Bucky’s blood freezes mid-flow, turning to shards of ice beneath his skin.

Because you are screaming like you are dying.

And suddenly, everyone is rushing around. Bruce and Cho are lunging forward, Steve is cursing under his breath.

Bucky can’t move.

Frost crackles through his veins, leaving only numbness behind.

You continue screaming. It sounds like it’s affecting your vocal cords.

There is winter inside of Bucky.

His arms tighten around you, his body moving on pure instinct, pressing you to him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he gasps out, not even sure if you can hear him, but he can’t help it. He cups your face between his hands, hoping to still the way you thrash around and bump your head against the metal beneath you. “I’m here. It’s me, baby. It’s Bucky. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But your screams don’t stop.

Your hands claw weakly at your own chest, at your throat, as if trying to get something out, as if your own skin is suffocating you. Your nails leave scratch marks on your collarbone.

And Bucky loses it.

“Do something!” he yells, his head whipping around to Bruce and Cho, his voice shredded with desperation. “Help her!”

Bruce quickly injects something into your IV, Cho adjusts the monitors as they beep wildly.

But Bucky doesn’t see any of it.

He only sees you.

His world narrows down to your face, to the way your lips part on a strained gasp, the way your body shakes in his grip, the way your screams turn to whimpers and then stop altogether.

Then, your eyes snap open.

Bucky stops breathing. Stops moving. Only stares agape.

Your gaze is on him, wide and glassy and soaked in terror.

But you look at him in a way you never looked at him ever before.

You look at him like you are not yourself anymore.

You look at him like you don’t know him.

You look at him like you don’t recognize him at all.

“Without you, the world means nothing to me.”

- Emily Brontë

Part three

[feirceangel]

Okay so you’ve written protective/possessive Feyd—what about protective Paul seeing his wife badly hurt or narrowly escaping an attack? I live for the “who did this to you” trope, got me weak at the knees 🥹

I sorta missed the whole wife part, whoops! But I hope you still like it!!

Imagine | Beloved (Paul Atreides)

Word Count: 1,820

Warnings: reader is harassed, I invented an OC to be the antagonist, protective! Paul, hurt/comfort

The halls of Castle Caladan are cold tonight.

Goosebumps are already forming on your arms as you walk through the dark.

Perhaps going for a late night stroll wasn't the best idea, but you just couldn't sleep tonight.

So you stroll instead, peering out of the windows to observe the rain clouds forming.

Castle Caladan has been your home for ages, even though you are not an Atreides. You've lived alongside House Caladan, having come from one of the lesser houses in an attempt to give you a better standing in society.

You're not angry about it.

In fact, you're grateful to live on this oceanic planet. And, you're happy to be alongside your best friend, Paul Atreides.

There weren't any others your age in Castle Caladan, so naturally you sought each other out early on.

Being friends came easily.

Paul has always been sweet, adventurous, friendly - and you are much the same.

Of course, you both had different teachings and priorities, but you always found each other whenever possible.

There was no greater joy than racing through the castle and playing near the waves alongside the boy with dark hair.

And now you're both older.

Life has intruded upon those times of peaceful play and brought forth more schoolings and politics that the young aren't susceptible to.

Although he has a higher standing in society, Paul always manages to remember you, make time for you. He vowed to never abandon you.

And you believe him.

But the subtle glares that Lady Jessica sends your way are not easy to ignore, nor are the signs that others in the castle are uncomfortable with the situation.

You try not to dwell on those things. Because the only thing that matters is being there for Paul. He deserves to have a friend that isn't a mentor or a parental figure.

As you walk though the sleeping palace, your find your mind troubled. Maybe that's why you can't sleep tonight.

Footsteps silent on the stone floor, you arrive before Paul's chambers. You hadn't realized you were walking here. Unconsciously, you sought him out in your time of uncertainty.

Resting your palm on the door, you close your eyes and sigh. You wouldn't disturb him at this hour- you know how bad it would look.

Before you can continue on your way, a voice calls out from the shadows.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

It's a male's voice, one that you wish was unfamiliar.

"I didn't realize I couldn't roam as I please, Aric," you reply comply to the guard who walks closer.

His grin is wolffish, "I didn't realize you were stupid enough to come to him after dark."

"I was not going to disturb him."

"Oh no, I imagine he'd be excited to see you at this late hour."

"I don't like what you're insinuating," you start to walk away, hearing him continue after you.

He is right beside you, “I meant no insult, I assure you.”

“Your assurances are as empty as your head,” you retort, not even giving him a glance.

You’ve never liked Aric, so you see no reason to be civil with him. He’s always been an ass to you, finding any reason to make your life a bit more miserable.

“That was uncalled for,” he growls, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking away.

You fix him with an unimpressed stare.

“What do you want, Aric? It seems like you’re always following me,” you say calmly as he releases you.

He regains his composure, “I want you.”

You blink at him.

“I’m serious, I want you to stop fawning over Paul and turn to me instead,” his whisper is harsh and grating to your ears. “Be my wife. You’re of age now and I know you have no other offers.”

You can’t help but scoff. Stepping back from him, you cross your arms, “I do not fawn over Paul, and I am certainly not fond of you. I will do is both a favour and pretend you never asked.”

Rage lights up his features, his hand forming a fist at his side.

“I could give you everything you could ask for.”

“And you would take everything from me in the meantime. I know you, Aric. You are not kind,” you hiss, stepping back while he steps forward.

“Kindness gets you nowhere in this life.”

You shake your head, “Your actions in this life determine the outcome. And so far your actions are untoward. Cornering me at this time of night?”

“Paul will never marry you, you know,” he changes tactics.

You roll your eyes, “Admit defeat, Aric. I will never be yours.”

Suddenly, he is right in your face, sneering down at you, “I can take what I want. Like you said, it’s late, no one is here.”

“I will not let you.”

He laughs, grabbing your arm in a bruising grip once again. He wrenches you forward but you twist out of his grip and shove him into the wall.

He groans and recovers quickly, shoving you violently. You hit a corner and collapse on the ground, your arm dripping crimson.

Infuriated, you stand and glare at the smug bastard.

“Leave now,” you command him, using the Voice. You’re not a master at it, by any means, but you’re trained enough to get this brute to back down.

He leaves without a word, and you realize that you should have done that right away.

You grasp your arm and walk back to your chambers. Luckily, the wound isn’t deep and you’re finally able to sleep.

~~~

The next day commences as normal.

That is, until Paul appears next to you as you walk down the beach.

“I was looking for you,” he grins as he approaches.

His smile could brighten the darkest corner of space. His eyes are piercing and perceptive, you fear you could drown in their depths.

You smile back at him, “You found me.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, has everything been alright?”

That’s Paul, always so considerate of you and your wellbeing. The reminder of his care brings a softer smile to your face.

“I’m fine, just been tired lately.”

“Why?”

“Sleep’s been evading me,” you chuckle, bending to pick up a stone near your feet. “I’ll catch it eventually.”

A sudden tension fills the air, bringing you upright immediately. You look at Paul and see his gaze fixed on your bandaged arm.

“What happened?” He asks, concern dripping from his words like rain.

You move your arm from his direct view, “Nothing, it was an accident.”

His eyes flicker up to yours.

“You’re lying.”

You curse his Bene Gesserit training which makes it so easy for him to read you.

“I told you it’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, you would’ve already launched into how it happened,” he points out. “Like that time you scraped your knee when you tripped down the stairs.”

You groan at the reminder, “You said you wouldn’t bring that up again!”

“Tell me what happened,” he reaches out to gently take your arm in his hands.

He examines the clean bandage before beginning to unwrap it. You shake your head but his eyes are pleading.

“Please.”

You sigh, unable to resist. He doesn’t even need to use the Voice on you, he controls you with his words, his eyes, his hands. You would give him everything if he simply asked for it.

He’d do the same for you.

“It was Aric,” you say, as Paul stares at the small cut on your bruised arm. “He got angry that I would never marry him in a million years.”

Paul’s expression goes dark, any mirth he might have had leaving him in an instant.

“Aric asked you to wed him?”

You nod.

“Then he did this?”

“Pushed me into the wall,” you confess. “I had ti use the Voice to get him to leave.”

You watch as Paul tenderly presses his lips to your arm, the contact warm and sweet.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You can’t be with me all the time, silly.”

He shakes his dark hair, “I promise, he won’t do this to you ever again.”

“How-“

Paul turns in a flurry, stalking back towards the castle. You race after him, suddenly unsure.

You knew you shouldn’t have told him what happened. This isn’t the Paul you know, this is someone else.

“Paul!” You shout as you run after him.

He’s too fast, storming to where Aric stands in the hall. Before Aric even notices his presence, Paul has punched him clear across the face.

Stunned, Aric stumbles back with a curse.

Paul doesn’t give him time to recover, kneeing him in the stomach so that he bends over in pain. You watch as Paul kicks him down to the ground, standing over him with a furious expression.

“I heard what you did last night, Aric.”

Aric groans in response.

Paul continues, “I know you tried to harm my beloved, tried to belittle her. Did you think you wouldn’t be punished?”

“Paul, I think he’s learnt his lesson,” you try to calm him.

“No, no he hasn’t.”

Paul watches as Aric rises to his feet, mouth bloodied.

“I should’ve known that whore would snitch.”

You wince, not at the intended insult, but at the fury blazing in Paul’s eyes. This isn’t going to end well.

“Stop talking,” Paul uses the Voice, before punching him once again.

“Get on your knees.”

You watch as Aric drops to the floor.

“Beg for her forgiveness and I’ll let you walk away,” Paul says casually. “If you don’t, I think you know what’ll happen.”

Watching with a flicker of amusement, you incline your head, “Go on.”

Aric grits his teeth, “I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t good enough,” Paul seethes, “Do it better!”

Aric slams his head on the floor, “Please, please, don’t let him kill me. I won’t ever speak to you again!”

“I know you won’t,” you nod at Paul. “I think all is well now.”

“Get up Aric,” Paul commands. “I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Aric nods and retreats with a burning face.

You turn to Paul, crossing your arms, “Beloved, huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, averting his gaze, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Paul, hearing you call me that fills my heart to the brim. Your my beloved as well, you know.”

Paul bridges the space between you, clasping the back of your head and pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I could ever be without you. Even the thought of someone trying to take you from me, turn you against me…”

“Don’t worry, Paul,” you ghost your lips across his. “That will never happen, not as long as I have breath in my lungs.”

He wraps his arms around you, “I’ll cherish you always, protect you always.”

“I know.”

[A/n - It’s my first time writing Paul so I hope I did ok!]

[austinbutlerslovers]

Master List 100% Smut

💝Romantic ❤️‍🔥Passionate ⚠️Hardcore 🚨Deranged 🏆 TOP

••••••••••••••••• New Releases ••••••••••••••••

🔗Good Girl Gone Bad 🔗Quick-Take 🔗 Wild Hearts

••••••••••••••••••••••••🔗Master List II •••••••••••••••••••••

🚨 Devotion

⚠️ Obsession 🏆 ✨

❤️‍🔥 Power & Control One Shot

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 1 Pleasure & Pain 🏆✨

🚨Feyd Fantasy 2 Baroness & Breeder 🏆

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 3 Kill or Be Killed 🏆

🚨Feyd Fantasy 4 Madness & Mayhem 🏆✨

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••••••••••••✍🏼 Upcoming Fic List 📖 ••••••••••••

Special thanks to @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @lindszeppelin for helping me create a masterlist 💗

[cryptidghostgirl]

hii i read your fic with the humanalastor! x reader where they become like partners in crime (i loved it sm)

and got an idea based off of it

what if Alastor dies first and a few years later Alastor and the reader reunite after she goes to the hotel? thought it would be kinda cute :)

A/N ngl I was thinking of doing something like this so I am very happy it is desired by the people as well. Also, we're gonna pretend that the timeline I created wouldn't make her like over a hundred years old when she died, okay? Okay.

Cover Up Pt. 2 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood, nothing graphic. Alastor being a depressed little bitch. Also a lot of dead bird metaphors for lost hope. Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Word Count: 1,971

Part One: Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

When Alastor had died, Y/n had shattered. Their years of holding one another's bloodstained hands had finally drawn to a close. They had a good run, nearly a decade before anyone caught on. His death also came with the added downside of throwing suspicion on Y/n. To say the event changed her life would be an understatement.

When Alastor had first woken up in Hell, he had mourned his loss as if she was the one who had died and not him. The allowance of such a foolish thing was short lived. He quickly realized there was no way Y/n wouldn't end up in Hell as well eventually, with her track record. He refocused his pain, his anguish into making sure he had the perfect world to serve up to her on a platter as soon as she arrived.

As the years ticked on, the little bird fluttering away in his ribcage became more and more despondent. He tried to distract himself by continuing his work, continuing his plans for her. Always for her. It worked to a certain extent but, soon it had been sixty years and she still hadn't made her arrival. It didn't matter how many overlords he killed, how many worthless souls he tortured. There was nothing that could take his mind off that.

Alastor wondered what sort of life Y/n had made for herself after his death. He wondered if she had found love again, held out hope that she hadn't. It was a selfish wish, he knew it. Alastor had always been selfish. It wasn't that he wished for her to be unhappy, just that he knew she was the only person, living or dead, out there for him. There was no hope for Alastor that wasn't Y/n and he wanted her to feel the same way about him. He didn't want to lose, to have been an idiot, to have been the one that loved more. At the same time, he didn't want her to feel that way either. It was complicated and confusing, the twists of his own logic.

Another decade and he began wondering if somehow his beloved wife had gotten into Heaven instead. He knew it was a long shot, after everything she had done but, she had also never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Maybe there was some exception for women who killed their pursuers, when the pursuers were coming on too intensely or had ulterior motives. He wondered if she'd remarried, if she had kids. If she was still on earth, there would have to be something that was keeping her there and that was the only thing that made sense.

Eighty years, as it turned out, had been all he could take. The bird had died and its corpse had rotted, festering into anger. Not anger at Y/n no, never anger at Y/n but anger at the world, at the system of the afterlife. He became bolder, brasher, more foolish. He got caught in a bad deal.

Coming to the hotel had been a command, yes, but it had also ended up being something of a salvation for the man. In the seven years of his disappearance from the rings of Hell, there had been little to distract him from the growing hole of Y/n's absence. It was a hungry thing, a deep seated want, a controlling desire. The hotel served to fill it. Not completely, but a little. It was better than nothing. Besides, for all her violence, Y/n had always had a way of seeing the best in others, in the world around her. He was certain she would have liked Charlie if she ever got to meet her, certain the hotel would shine in his wife's eyes.

Husk and Nifty were the only two who knew. They had both met him when Alastor's focus had been the creation of a world for Y/n, it was impossible for them not to. They had both noticed how as the years had passed, he had said her name less, how he had become crueler. Not even Charlie had in inkling of an idea that Alastor might be missing something, might be unshakable heartbroken. He hid it well.

Even now as he entered the lobby intent on finding Charlie in order to discuss some of the decor on the upper floors, he made sure his smile was firmly fixed in place. A smile was the strongest weapon a person or demon could have, the strongest disguise. He made sure he was never without one.

"So you just arrived today?" he heard Charlie saying as he began to make his way down the stairs.

He could see her by the door, talking to a demon whom her position obscured from his vision. A new guest. Internally, Alastor sighed. This was throwing a wrench into his plans for the day.

"Yeah I... it's all so confusing here. Wonderful in a way, don't get me wrong but... when I heard about your hotel, it seemed safe."

The unknown demon's voice was soft, it pulled at his heart strings. The corpse of the bird was a puppet at its familiarity. It was a sickening feeling, the dead body of his hope being pulled up and twitched around for another's unknowing amusement. Alastor nearly faltered, hesitating on the last step.

"So are you actually interested in redemption?" Charlie asked, sounding downcast.

"Well, I'm not really sure yet. Is that okay? I mean, I just got here today and... either way, I love the idea of your hotel and I want to help. I could work as a maid? Or I'm a pretty good cook? My husband always said so anyways. I'm sort of trying to find someone too so... What I'm trying to say is that I could work until I've figured it out, if that is alright with you?"

Charlie hummed in thought as Alastor began to cross the room, heading straight for the pair.

"It's a bit unorthodox but, I suppose. We could always use another helping hand."

"Really!?" the stranger exclaimed, "Oh thank you!"

Alastor was over Charlie's shoulder practically now. She shifted on her feet, allowing Alastor to at last see the person she was talking to.

"So, what's your name?"

The demon opened her mouth to speak but, before a word could leave her lips, she was interrupted by a static filled voice. It brought back memories, hurt her heart to hear.

"Y/n."

There was no doubt about it. Even in her new demon form, Alastor knew. It was the curl of her hair, it was the brightness of her eyes, the way she held herself. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"When did you get here?" Charlie asked in confusion as she turned to the side, turning the pair into a group of three all facing one another, "Also, you know her? Oh my gosh, wait. Are you okay? I don't think I've ever seen you not smiling before."

Neither payed the princess any mind, each absorbed in one another's eyes. Y/n took a sutering half step forwards, her mouth slightly open.

"Alastor?"

It was barley more than a whisper. She took another step towards him, then yet another. Lifting her hand, she gently cupped it around his cheek. Instinctively, the Radio Demon leaned into the touch.

"It really is you... isn't it."

Alastor pulled Y/n into his arms, wrapping her in his frame and resting his chin on the top of her head. Y/n was frozen in shock for a moment before she returned the gesture, balling her fists in to the back of his coat.

"Wow. You guys really know each other." Charlie mumbled to herself, eyes wide.

The pair pulled apart, Alastor still holding Y/n's waist as Y/n held his coat. She looked up at him, disbelief etched into her features, her sentiments reflected back to her in Alastor's own face.

"I thought..." he mumbled, raising a hand and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Y/n laughed tearfully.

"Me too."

"Where have you been? What happened? What... what took you so long?"

"If I had known I was coming to you, I would have died way sooner. I lived, Al. That's what happened. I only just got here today."

"I know, I heard, but what... what kept you?"

Y/n heard the tremor in his voice, the fear. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous?"

Alastor's eyes flicked to the side momentarily. One of his ears twitched. It might have been nearly ninety years since they had last seen one another, they might've looked completely different and had whole lives the other wasn't in, but it felt like they had just seen one another yesterday.

"Oh, you so are!" Y/n teased brightly.

"Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. It's just dumb is all, especially now I know you've been here all along."

"So tell me."

Y/n had always loved his insistence. It was what kept Alastor to his code, kept him to her, kept him him. She smiled once again.

"Soooo..." Charlie stepped in, her hands behind her back, "Either of you want to explain?"

Both Alastor and Y/n at last turned to look at her. He was smiling again, Charlie noticed. Not the normal ear to ear grin, teeth bared, she was used to. Something smaller, something softer. They released one another, only for Alastor to immediately drape an arm over Y/n's shoulders. It almost seemed like each feared the other would vanish into thin air if they weren't physically touching. She reached a hand up, gently holding his hand where it hung off her shoulder, keeping him to her.

"Charlie, this is my darling, lovely wife."

Y/n shoved him playfully and he smiled down at her.

"You're married!?"

"Yes." Y/n nodded, "We are. Have been for what, like one hundred years now?"

"So what kept you?" Alastor asked again and Y/n sighed.

"You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head. Y/n slipped out from under Alastor's arm, taking both his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his knuckles, the lines of his bones beneath the surface of his skin. Her eyes watched their hands, she sighed.

"After... well, Al, you died burying a body. It was hard for people not to know. I..."

"You got caught? You went to jail?" Alastor interrupted, his smile having fallen once again.

Y/n laughed slightly under her breath.

"No, heart. I stopped my own work but, the whole world knew of yours. I thought that... it was so dumb! I thought that... if I was alive, then so was the real version of you in some way. Not the true crime, vandalized version, but the person I knew."

Alastor lifted her face to his, his hand lingering under her chin.

"You were always secretly quite the romantic, weren't you."

"Oh hush you."

"Make me."

Y/n cheeks suddenly flushed bright red.

"Okay!" Charlie interrupted, laughing nervously, "Okay, well, I'm happy for... this, um, Alastor! Why don't you show Y/n around?"

"With pleasure."

Alastor leaned down, kissing Y/n gently. Her hand was half raised to burry itself in his hair when he pulled away, smirking in response to Y/n's irritated glare. Linking arms with her, he began leading Y/n to the staircase.

"I must say, I rather like this new look of yours." he hummed placidly.

"You're not half bad yourself deer boy, if a little cocky."

"I was always cocky. That's what you liked about me."

"Wrong. It's only one of the things I love about you."

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 3

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: The RPG

[shegatsby]

I’ve been thinking of one where Reader is a concubine of Paul, but she gets ignored because he has Chani & Irulan. Paul mainly has her around because she gets along with him, Chani, and Irulan and keeps the peace between them as a concubine and as a healer. He is possessive of her but doesn’t love her romantically, but reader wants to be loved and held. Then Feyd comes in-he gets injured-reader tends to him and he falls for her, but she doesn’t know what to do because she’s loyal to Paul and never had this type of attention before. Then Feyd becomes like her personal bodyguard & shenanigans ensue.

A/N: Omg this was in my drafts for so long. Thank you so much for the request I loved writing it. Hope you'll like it.

Warnings: Battle but not any detailed gore or depictions.

“Lord Paul expects his wife and his concubines. It is urgent.” You were chatting with Chani when one of the guards barged into the garden section of the palace, drinking spice coffee and talking about life was your favorite activity to do with her, she was a great friend to have. Whenever something important accured Pauld would request his partners at his side, his wife and Chani on his right and you were standing on his left.

Paul was sitting on his gold throne, the colorful windows at the ceiling casted rainbow lights on the marble floors of the throne room. He was dressed in Atreides colors, red and after his victory dark shade of green. Irulan was already there, Chani smiled at you kindly and took her place. Paul didn’t even notice you, he wasn’t a bad person, he took you in because you were an orphan and you had great skills. Especially healing, because at the Siech you helped your old Reverend Mother, she thought you many things. You stood in your space, facing the tall doors and waited. “Let him in.” Paul’s voice was heard and the tall heavy doors opened, you wondered about the person you were about to see. He must be important.

You saw a tall, bald headed man walk in with pride, his uniform was jet black, his combat boots made it sound like he was marching to war… or was he?

“Bow before your Emperor Paul Muadib Atreides.” Duncan Idaoh’s voice harsh voice echoed in the throne room. The bald man looked at Idaho and then Paul, and he fell on his knees. “Your message intrigued me.” Paul began which made the man look up at him, “Rise and explain your scheme, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.” He finished and you felt your heart burn in fire, “A Harkonnen?!” You thought, they were the reason you were an orphan, they were the reason why your people suffered for years. Your hands were in fists you had to be calm. Your harsh gaze found his already staring blue eyes, his eyes were originally blue not because of the spice. His eyes trailed a path on your body and found your face, you were wearing a tight orange dress, your long hair loose, you had golden bracelets on your arms. You didn’t flinch from his stare, in fact, you stared back into his eyes with primal fury in your soul. His gaze turned back to Paul, ''I have interesting news about my uncle and I thought you might like to hear and make an alliance.. so to speak.'' his raspy voice sent shivers to your body, so dominant and cold. Paul didn’t say anything, just let him speak.

“Baron Vladimir Harkonnen has been gathering troops from Salusa Secundus.”

Duncon Idaho whispered but enough for you to hear, “Old Emperor’s troops.”

“He is planning on attacking Arrakis in a few days.” He finished, staring at Paul with a smirk.

Paul regarded him suspiciously, “Why are you telling me this? He is your uncle after all.” He was right.

“I am tired of being Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, I desire to be it’s Baron and only ruler.” He confessed one of his deepest desires, Paul raised an eyebrow, “I would like to discuss this with my advisors. In the meantime you’re our guest. You shall have a second of the palace for yourself and servants to attend your every need.” Paul swiftly stood up from his throne, and walked down the stairs, his subjects including you following him. You never liked these situations where you had to follow him like a puppy. You wanted to stand next to him as his concubine. He was a nice man to you but it was obvious that his affections laid with Chani, not you and certainly not Irulan. You desired to be held by him, considered to be his equal but he discarded you so many times. His cold eyes never regarded you with… anything really. To him and others you were just a Fremen healer girl.

As you walked past Feyd-Rautha, he looked at you again, in a way all women wanted to be looked at… your trainings had told you so but you brushed his intense gaze off, kept your composure and walked past him gracefully.

Next day you were having breakfast at the gardens, the palace had gardens but the part you usually went was at the back. Not many people visited here so it was peaceful and calm. You were seated by the fountain which used to overflow with water but you made the servants cut the water. To you it was a waste of water and Arrakis was never kind to her residents whom regarded water as insignificant.

Over time you started to tend to the flowers and trees, ever since you became Muad’Dib’s you could access to knowledge of anything thanks to the lavish library. You started to learn about plants which you have never seen or heard before and slowly it became your passion. You were in your deep thoughts when a sudden cough attracted your attention, you turned to face the owner and it was him. Even though you didn’t want it you had to get up and bow respectfully, “My Na-Baron.” You greeted him. He was wearing a sleeveless tunic and satin, loose pants. His arms looking strong, up close he looked paler than usual. “What’s your name?” His direct question startled you. “Y/N. My Lord.” You said, still in shock.

“Your name is pretty as your face.”

You could feel your cheeks heat, it had been a long time since someone had complimented you.

He sat on the empty seat, “Sit.” He gestured for you to sit and you did. “Eat.” He said as he started to eat a fig from your plate. You continued eating, there was a silence, noticing his piercing blue gaze on you.

“What are you to him?” He was the one who broke the silence.

You understood what he meant, “I’m sure my Lord already knows.” You replied, didn’t want to say it.

Feyd smiled wickedly, was he playing a game?

“I do… but I want to be sure.”

You sighed before you spoke, “I am Paul Muad’Dib Atreides’s concubine.”

He scuffed in annoyance, “A concubine who doesn’t warm a bed isn’t truly a concubine.” His remark made you look up at him sharply, he was still smiling. How did he know that Paul never had you? Not even once…

“Our Muad’Dib-“ he cut you off, “He doesn’t care for you-“ he paused for a split second, “properly. Does he?” His tone carried something carnal. You couldn’t reply back to him for he was telling the truth.

“If you were mine you would be… looked after and taken care of.”

What was he trying to say to you?

You had heard so many horrible stories about him and how he treated the slaves he took to his bed or his servants in general. Most died in a few days. Thankfully you weren’t alone. You belonged to someone, even though he didn’t want you in that way.

''My Lord Na-Baron..'' you protested in shock, didn't know how to reply in a respectful manner and you saw the wicked smirk on his face. He got up from his chair, got a purple grape from your table and he leaned on the small table, you had no idea what was going on before it was too late. He made you open your mouth and eat the grape, the juice running from the corner of your lips, he wiped the juice with his thumb and licked it, ''Just saying.'' he said and left.

The rest of the day you couldn't eat anything or focuse on anyhting, even the servants around you had noticed but didn't dare to utter a word.

The second day he was on the palace you ran into him. You were walking to accompany Princess Irulan in her chambers, you had to bow when you saw him, ''Lord Na-Baron.'' you greeted him properly, you had no choice but your cheeks flushed with the memory of yesterday. He hummed in pleasure when he saw your cheeks, he had two bodguards wgiven him by Paul hismelf. Of course they were spying on him and reporting everyhting he did so he wanted to put on a show for him, ''Lady Y/N, how lovely to see you here.'' he began, his raspy voice wasn't something one could get used to, it sent electricity to her body, she nodded in return. ''May I accompany you to your destination?'' he offered extending his arm to you and you could not refuse a Na-Baron.

You took his arm and together headed to the section of Irulan's chambers, ''I cannot stop thinking about our conversation yesterday, I would love to talk to you more.'' he mentioned, making sure the bodyguards aka spies heard him correctly. ''I do love to entertain you with conversations Na-Baron but unfortunately I am very busy.'' you reached to Irulan's double doors, no men was allowed from here.

''I must attend to our Princes Irulan. I bid you good day.'' you said getting your arm back from him, he swiftly held your wrist and planted a kiss on the back of your palm, ''Till next time.''

You walked into Irulan's chambers dizzy.

The news of Feyd's interest in you have reached Paul's ears. He was in his study when his spies had explained the situation, was this a game or was he actually interested? Nonetheless you were his, his concubine. It was unacceptable. He specifically asked if you were also interested but his spies only said that you were respectful and didn't cross a line, he was glad to hear that your loaylty laid on him.

It was the 5th day of his arrival that he took things further, until today he kept teasing and impyling things to you but you were stubborn. Why did you insisted on belonging to someone who didn't take you? Or showed any interest at all. In these past 5 days all he had seen was that you followed Chani and Irulan like a lost cub, you hid behind the shadows but no longer. His plan was to tear you from the shadows and give you the spotlight you deserved.

As he was dwelling on these thoughts siren was heard, it was show time. He had told Paul that it was most likely for Baron to strike on the 5th day and he was right, he quickly wore his uniform which was given him by Paul himself, earlier today he was visited by him.

''I want you to lead the attack. I want Baron to see you in Atreides unfirom.'' he demaned and it was the perfect opportunity for Feyd, ''If I do so I might ask something in return.'' he replied as he was holding the dark green uniform with a golden Atreides badge on the left shoulder, ''You shall have your planet and rule it as it's Baron, as we have agreed.'' Paul pointed out the agreement, ''I know but I want something else too.''

Paul was intrigued, ''Which is?''

''Once I have won your battle for you I will reveal it. Do not fret.'' Feyd placed his hand on Paul's shoulder and gave a wicked smile. Paul didn't know what it was but if it was soemthing he could give then it was settled if he won the battle of course.

The battle took only few hours for Atreides soldiers ready and plannes have been made beforehand thanks to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. He led the troops to victory, as he fought his brother Rabban in a combat he got injured but he managed to defeate Glossu Rabban Harkonnen, by defeat Feyd took his head and put it on a spike and placed it on the battlefield, after that Atreides chanted their voictory shout. Baron was sent to prison along with remaining Sardaukar soldiers.

Feyd marhced the marble halls of the palace to the throne room, the doors opened for him, he heard Paul clap in victory, ''As you have said, Baron attacked on the 5th day and you have defeated him. Bravo Feyd.'' he greeted him with a smile, seated on his golden throne. Feyd was glad that he had audience, advisors, politicians and highly ranked soldiers.

His eyes found you, behind Irulan and next to Chani, and yet you had chosen to stand a step behind her. You wore jet black today, why? He loved the color on you and he couldn't wait to touch you. Your eyes also found him, he was covered in blood and you noticed that he got stabbed. Why was he here instead of getting treatment? He was a crazy man you were sure now.

Others had followed clapping, chanting in his name.

After the loud sounds died down Paul spoke, ''As I have promised, you shall have Giedi Prime and run it as its new Baron. I am sure our alliance will continue from generation to generation.'' he announced.

Feyd bowed on one knee, ''Emperor!'' he raised his head from his place, ''I have another wish too. A small and pretty one.''

''Oh, yes you have mentioned something earlier, pray tell.''

''I do not wish to run my planet alone. I want a woman by my side.'' he began which attract the entire ton's attentin.

''I want Lady Y/N by my side, as my wife.''

And everyone held their breaths, everyone in this room knew that you were an untouched concubine, his least favorite companion. However you were still Paul's. You were in shock, was he serious or joking? Harkonnens do tend to have a strange sense of humor. Chani held your hand and squezzed in reassuringly.

Paul Muad'dib's face was stoic, not giving any clue on how he felt or what was he about to say. His most rusted soldier and advisor was by his side, Duncon Idaho looked more stern than his Emperor.

''She is my concubine, as you know.'' Paul's voice was flati matter of factly.

There wasn't a single sound in the entire throne room, Feyd got to his feet, he could feel his open wound, throbbing softly but he didn't mind.

''Haven't I been generous?'' Paul said questioningly, ''You have your own planet to yourself now and no doubt high ladies in Giedi Prime would love to be your wife.'' Paul didn't understand Feyd's reasons behind this request.

''You are right, however I do not wish to have any of them. I only want Lady Y/N. In my time I have come to a realization that,'' he turn to the audience to gain their favor, ''she is the only one who could be my equal and represent my name with respect. Her loyalty is unmatched and If you let me,'' he turned back to Paul. ''I am going to take care of her and make sure she is comfortable till the day she closes her eyes to this galaxy.''

Your heart was beating at it's full capacity, was he telling the truth or was this just a game? It was true that these past days he was courting you and trying to get your attention but now it was serious.

The ton started to ramble, he heard whispers saying that

''He betrayed his uncle for god's sake''

''New Baron looks devoted''

''He won the battle in few hours''

Paul raised his hand to silence the crowd, ''Due to Feyd-Rautha's outstanding victory in the battle and his sacrifice of his family, I would love to give Lady Y/N to him, however..''

he looked around, testing the waters, ''It is for her to decide. It isn't my place.''

Paul was hopeing maybe you would stay, now that someone was interested in you he thought how beautiful you were... it was too late though.

Chani urged you to walk, you walked down the stairs of the throne and you bowed once you were below Paul. ''My Emperor, thank you so much for your protection over the years,'' she began, her body was calm but her mind was screaming at her ''What are you doing?''

''I believe I have served you enough. I would like to be on Baron Feyd-Rautha's side.'' once the words slipped her mouth there was no going back. She couldn't believe herself.

''Then it is settled. Congradulations.'' Paul announced with a sullen look but only Duncon could tell.

You turned and walk to Feyd quickly with the worry in your eyes, ''Let's take care of your wound my Baron.''

He liked it. ''My Baron.''

Back at his chambers you were stitching his sound on the side of his stomach in silence, the events of what happened still ringing in your ear. ''Why?'' he asked calmly, watching your sitting form, your hands quick and with his question you hurt him unintentionally of course. ''Sorry,'' you looked up, ''Why did you accept me?'' he asked directly.

You were silent for a few seconds, after you were finished with his wound you rubbed an oil to heal it quicker, his back was leaned on the couch, legs spread, you got up from the couch, placed your healing stuff back to the kit and turned to him, ''Because of you.''

He looked puzzled so you explained, ''You look like you would kill an entire nation if someone touched a strand of my hair. Paul could never give me that.''

It was true and it made Feyd smile to see that you understood how possessive and protective he was towards you.

He got up from the couch, walked to you and his hand went to your hair, he had never seen scuh beautiful color and length, he had wanted to touch your hair for so long and now he felt how soft the strands were, ''You and I, against the galaxy.'' he whispered as he leaned for a kiss.

Thank you for reading. :)

[itsreallynotriri]

✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”

“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.

Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”

“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”

Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”

Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”

She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”

Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”

“That’s why we’d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.

“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.

Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.

One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.

That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.

“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”

Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”

part two !!

[trevuorzegras]

cowboy!quinn x reader | the only mistake .ᐟ

the way back — zach bryan 🧺

authors note | i am going to try, and be more active, i promise! a lot going on currently, i apologize for the lack of content.

also thank you for 400 followers!

@wnderify @star2fishmeg ♥︎

Quinn was sure of everything he did. From the way he carried himself, to how he preformed during shows. He was as confident as they came.

This though? This was the only thing he was unsure of. Quinn made no mistakes. None. Almost everyone he met saw him as this perfect man, the man people envisioned themselves with someday. Now, this had Quinn questioning everything he had once known.

౨ৎ

Y/N jumped as Quinn slammed his larger hands down against their kitchen table, “I don’t need you on my ass all the damn time!”

All she could do was stare at him, shocked, and scared. Quinn was the quiet type, even when he held his head high. Yes, he was confident. That was a fact, but he had never been the type to raise his voice, especially not at his Ol’ Lady.

Before Quinn can ever register what he had just done, Y/N was already muttering apologies as tears began to fall from her flushed cheeks.

His eyes snapped towards her, the anger that once filled him vanishing quickly. He took a step towards her, only for her to take a step back. In that moment, Quinn had realized just what he had done.

౨ৎ

When Quinn had gotten home from work later that night, Y/N was nowhere to be found. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop replaying their fight in his head. It was like a record stuck on repeat, and he had no idea how to stop it.

He shouldn’t have left her. He knew that, but he wanted to give her space. He had never raised his voice at her before, and he knew she’d need time.

Quinn was raised to be respectful to everyone, especially to those you love. God he was such an idiot. Y/N was the woman he loved most, and he was pushing her away like a dumbass.

౨ৎ

Quinn couldn’t think straight for the days following their fight. Y/N had been gone for three days now, and he genuinely started to think he was going insane.

Though, eventually, she turned up. He wasn’t sure where she had been, and hell he didn’t care. He just wanted her safe, he needed her to be safe.

His eyes followed her from his place on the small brown sofa as she opened the front door. She seemed to be looking around, checking to see if he was home, making his heart ache. He watched as she let out a shaky breath when their eyes met, his heart breaking from the sight alone.

౨ৎ

Y/N ended it that night, though he couldn’t blame her. She had put her faith in him, and he ruined it. To some, yelling isn’t a huge deal, but to her? It was the biggest deal. Growing up with a family like hers was not easy, but allowing yourself to love again? even harder. Yet she loved him. Loved. He wasn’t sure if she could look at him the same, let alone love him.

His performance began slipping, rapidly. He wasn’t riding as good as he should. He just overall was not focused on anything - though how could he be? He lost her. He lost the person he loved most in life.

No one had ever seen Quinn so distracted before, he had been doing shows since he was 14, and had never been so distant from reality. His mind was somewhere else, that was clear to anyone.

His mother, Ellen, had been the first to notice it. His smile no longer reached his eyes, his smile no longer seemed to be genuine. Everything that once came so natural had become a chore to him. The sport he loved seemed to become a chore right before his eyes.

That’s when she learned just why he was acting the way he was. Quinn was fully convinced he was going to marry Y/N. Except now, one simple mistake ruined every chance at his perfect future, his perfect wife.

Now she had just been a distant memory. A constant reminder of just how easy it was to lose everything.

[ricketycr1cks]

And if I say Mac grew up equating love to cigarette burns and absent fathers and getting told to toughen up, that Mac doesn’t understand love that isn’t conditional, love without equal parts hate or distaste, that never in his life has Mac understood earnest love, that even though Dennis isn’t trying to, he often ends up re-confirming this idea in Macs head, that love is hatred, that-

[amybloomz]

pt2 to ur recent fic? It’s soo good

ᯓ★ is it a crime to say i still need you?

where tobias erin rodgers was your best friend.

part one : everything eats and is eaten

author’s note: like two people requested a part two and that was enough for me to make one! i’d like to thank you for all the love i’m getting on the first one btw?? like hello?? i was not expecting it to reach more than like 10 people im ngl… also this is inspired by two reverse by adrianne lenker bc ofc it is

masterlist. , part three.

you slept in late— you always do during the summer. your mother never tends to bother you though, and she definitely doesn’t shake you awake with a panicked expression. you look at her with sleepy eyes, exasperated.

“what is so important that you decided to wake me so violently?”

“something terrible has happened.”

your eyes shoot open, like a light has been shined into them. your mother stops shaking you, opting to sit on the edge of your bed instead. that feeling from the before overwhelms you as your heart jumps into your throat. you don’t move. you don’t say anything. you don’t even breathe. you can’t.

“toby’s missing, and his father’s dead. the police believe that toby has done it but..”

she trails off, searching for something, anything in your expression.

you jump as drops of water fall down your face, their salty taste causing you to frown.

“is there a leak?”

your mother doesn’t reply with words, but her actions speak a million for her. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you close to her tightly, like she’ll never let go.

more droplets roll down your face— where is this water coming from?

an hour ticks by and your eyes feel like they’re on fire, burning you simply for existing. is this what hell is like? you push away from your mother. pity is written all over her face. or is it grief?

guilt consumes you, feeds on you. you knew something was wrong yesterday. you felt it eating away at your very core, your soul. it starved you of finding any way out of this endless rabbit hole of shame. he had told you he was going to do it, yet you did nothing to stop him. why didn’t you believe him?

you were still in yesterday’s clothes— you were too tired to change last night. grabbing at the sides of the hoodie, you pull it tighter to your body, bringing him closer to you. why didn’t you stop him?

your mother stays close by your side as you both make your way down the stairs. you don’t brush your hair. you don’t brush your teeth. you don’t even breathe. why can’t you breathe? keep walking.

you mindlessly sit down on the couch when there’s three intimidating knocks on the door. your mother gets it, and suddenly there’s three people in the same uniform asking you too many questions.

name? age? how do you know toby? when did you last see toby? why can’t you breathe?

you answer their questions the best you can while trying to seem as calm as you can. but you’re shaking, and your voice is wobbly. your mother brings the people in uniform some tea, and you some water.

one sip. two sips. three sips. glass shards on the floor. your mother apologises to the uniformed people profusely and begins to clean up your mess. you don’t move. you don’t even breathe.

the room is silent, and everything feels cold. your house barely feels cold, your mother always turns the heating up so high that she might as well be cooking you alive. so what was different?

the uniformed people leave after while, but they say they’ll be back. your mother shuts the door and locks it behind her. she doesn’t speak to you. she doesn’t even look at you. out of the corner of your eye, you see a tall shadow looming menacingly in the corner.

you wish to drown.

abandoning your seat on the couch, you make your way back up the stairs and lay on your bed. you figured if you laid there long enough, your body would decompose and you’d be nothing but ash and bone on top of the sheets. never breathing.

a knock on your window breaks your train of thought.

you sit up abruptly, staying still for a moment to allow your body to adjust to the change. hesitantly, you stand up and make your way to your window, looking outside. a dark figure could be seen outside, carrying what seemed to be an axe of sorts..? perhaps even hatchet. it was hard to see from your window.

the curious figure gestures to you, and then the door. they want you to let them in. out of the corner of your eye, you see it. the shadow. you swing your head around but it’s gone. are you going crazy? no.

you turn back to look out of the window again only to see the dark figure gone too. maybe.

you don’t breathe as you walk towards your bed. you don’t breathe as you get under the covers. you don’t breathe as you hide underneath them. maybe he had the right idea; maybe the tall man was coming for you now that he had toby.

is it that you are drowning?

getting out of bed after a sleepless slumber was useless, but realising things in your bedroom had moved around was even worse.

it was the small things you noticed first. like your red sweater was on the floor when it’s supposed to be on your clothing rack. maybe it fell off in the night? don’t be an idiot. some of your jewellery was missing. papers on your desk had been moved. your journal was left wide open with a pen on top of it. and you can’t breathe.

‘ believe me now? try not to drown. ’

[writtenbyan-aries]

I know you have a ton of requests, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts or plans for a part 2 of “That’s what you get for waking up in Vegas?” Because it’s definitely one of my favorites! Thanks for all of your work ❤️🖤

PART ONE | PART TWO

Warnings: this story is going to contain reader CHEATING on fiancé with Colby, SMUT18+, Hall pass Colby, angsty, oral (m rec), fluffy angst

Word Count: 4.6k | unedited

· · ─ · 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 · ─ · ·

ＳＵＮＤＡＹ • ＡＦＴＥＲＮＯＯＮ

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the cursor in the message box blink. You knew you wanted to say something, but didn’t know what to say.

“Hey, are-“ Hadley stops as she walks into your room, “You’re not packed?”

You look up at her, “I think Avery and Cam have been sneaking around together.”

Her eyes go wide and she walks over to you, “Wh- how- huh?” You look up at her from your phone and let out a sigh, “they called me at five this morning to tell me that they loved me and they were excited to see me, but right before they hung up, I swore I heard a door close on their end.”

She stays silent and shakes her head, “I-“

“And..” you cut her off, “I know, trust me, I know that I don’t have any room to sit here and be upset over it, I’ve been cheating all fucking weekend, but I just-“

“Are you looking for a reason for Avery to be the bad guy in this situation?”

Hadley was always straight forward with you, and you appreciated it.

“Am I?” You furrow your brows and she nods, “Yeah, I think that’s what’s happening here.” You lay back on the bed, “You know, Colby was going down on me as they called.”

She laughs, “Shut up!”

“I’m serious!” You look over at her, “He heard it all, and after we, you know, we went to take a shower and he told me that he was falling in love with me.”

She turns towards you, “What did you say?”

You take a deep breath, your voice quiet, “I told him I think I’m falling in love with him, too.” You sit up, “But that’s the thing, like I don’t-“

“You don’t what?” Hadley cuts you off, “You don’t want to call off the wedding with someone who is potentially cheating on you for someone who is ready and willing to give you everything you could ever ask for right now?”

You stare at her, “Well when you put it that way.” You laugh slightly, “I can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t- if I call and ask if there’s anything going on with Cam, it’ll just-“

Hadley stands up and you watch her as she walks towards her door, “Where are you going?”

She walks into her room and comes back in with her phone, “I’ll call Cam. Where is Colby?”

You shake your head, “What- I- um, he’s out getting lunch with Sam, they had a reservation. He asked if I wanted to come but I said I needed to figure things out.”

“So you’re thinking about staying?” She looks at you and you shrug, giving her a groan as you fall back onto the bed, your eyes glued to the ceiling, “I’m not sure.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the phone ringing cutting through the silence.

You shoot straight up, asking quickly, “what are you do-“

“Hello?”

“Hey, Camie. It’s Hadley.” She looks over at you and shrugs, “I have some downtime before needing to go to the airport and I just thought I’d do a little check in about the soon to be newly weds.”

“Why me?” She asks, attitude slowly seeping through her words.

Hadley tilts her head, “Well I know you’re Avery’s closest friend and I’m y/n’a closest friend so I figured we-“

“Avery is excited about the wedding.” Camie cuts Hadley off, “I just seen them last night.”

Your eyes go wide and Hadley stops you from talking, “Oh, really? Well that’s good.”

“Yeah, they called me, they were kinda drunk, and I just wanted to make sure they were good, so I went over and calmed the nerves, you know.”

You stand up, walking towards the door and walking back.

“Yeah, y/n said Avery called her at like, I forget what time, like five I think.” Hadley looks up at you and Camie sighs, “Yeah, I stayed there until about two, I think?”

You shake your head, holding up five on your hand.

Hadley nods, “I mean if they’re good, y/n is good.”

“Okay. Can I hang up now?”

“Yeah you-“ Hadley stops when a familiar voice in the background sounds and she sighs, “Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

You tilt your head, mouthing to Hadley, “Is that Avery?”

She shrugs, mouthing back, “I think.”

“It’s no one. Just.. family. Okay. Bye.” Camie hands up and you scoff, “I’m going to call Avery, see if we can figure this out.”

You pull your phone out and hit the call button. The line rings two times before going straight to voicemail. You pull the phone away from your ear, “I think they-“

Your phone lights up with Avery’s name and you sigh before answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry. I hit the wrong button.” Avery laughs, “What’s up, baby?”

“It’s fine.” You put the phone on speaker, “I just wanted to see where you were, maybe FaceTime before I head to the airport?”

They hesitate for a second before letting out a sigh, “I’m actually with my mom right now picking out a gift for you. I didn’t want to spoil anything, but I don’t want you to think I’m being sneaky or something. If I get back in time before you board I can?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever works.” You hang up and look at Hadley, “Wanna go out to lunch?”

“Don’t we have to be at the airport in an hour?”

“I don’t really give a fuck right now.” You stand up, “Get changed.”

She laughs, “Did you just make up your mind?”

You pull your shirt off your body and sigh, “I think I did.”

· · ─ · 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 · ─ · ·

Colby hasn’t messaged you back in a few hours, the radio silence was making you think - over think, actually.

Did I just ruin my life? Did I potentially make a wrong choice? What do I do? What if he decided he doesn’t like me anymore? What if this weekend was just a mistake?

“Hey.” Hadley snaps you from your thoughts, “You’re having second thoughts aren’t you?”

You shake your head, more so trying to convince yourself, “No, no. I’m fine.” You pick up your phone, “Colby just hasn’t.. texted me back in a few hours.. I’m just-“ you sigh, shaking your head, “Did I just fuck everything completely up?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t think you did.”

“You never really cared for Avery, Hadley. Let’s be honest here.” You laugh slightly as she sighs, “Okay, you’re right, but if they made you happy, then that’s all that really mattered to me, you know?”

“Yeah.” You nod, “I just.. I hope I didn’t sc- no, it just doesn’t make sense to me that Colby would tell me he was falling in love with me and then just up and-“

Ding!

“Nevermind.” You laugh slightly as you see Colby’s name appears on your screen, “He just got back to me.” You read over his message, Hey I’m sorry, Sam and I went to lunch and we got to talking and we’re now just leaving. Did you head to the airport yet?

“He wants to know if I went to the airport yet.” You look up at Hadley and she raises her brows, “At this point, if we leave now, get through security and shit.. we’d miss our flight, so.”

She purses her lips and you lean back, bringing your phone to rest in your lap, “Do you have anything important to be back for?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. You’re my priority right now.”

You smile slightly and nod, “I’ll just tell him that we extended our stay. If you want to call the hotel and get two more nights added?”

“Just two?” She asks picking up her phone, and you sigh, “Or whatever you think is best.”

“A week, got it.” She dials the number and you laugh, “Do you think-“

“Y/n. You’re going to need a week if you do what I think you’re doing.” She raises her brows and you nod, going back to text Colby, I may or may not have missed my flight so…

Colby instantly reads your text and starts to type, So… what does that mean? Are you staying for another night because I’d love to take you to dinner, or get dinner and bring to you?

You look up at Hadley as she’s on the phone with the hotel and you tilt your head, We can do dinner on my balcony? I also want to talk to you about everything.

You bounce your leg as you hit send, freezing when you see a text from Avery come through, Did you board yet? I just got back home, so I’m free to talk now if you are baby.

You roll your eyes at your phone and turn it around to show Hadley. She scoffs, “The audacity.” She rolls her eyes, “they could have FaceTimed you. If they were at the store, they didn’t have to show you anything but themselves.”

“I know.” You chew on your lip, “I’m having dinner with Colby tonight.” You look up at her, “I told him I need to talk to him about.. everything.”

“That’s good.” She nods, “I think it will be good to talk about everything.”

“You know..” you lean back, letting out a laugh, “When I came here, this isn’t what I expected this trip to bring.”

She gives you a smirk and you furrow your brows, “What?”

She shakes her head and you lean forward, “No, seriously. What? Tell me!”

She sighs, “Fine!” She leans forward, “Colby could have been anywhere in the world, you know that with what they do for a living, and the fact that he was here and willing to even come and speak to you.. like if that isn’t the universe being on your side then I don’t know what is.”

You think about her words and how truthful they really are.

“I mean.. maybe it’s just all so crazy.. like what if I’m just passed out drunk somewhere and this is all a big crazy dr-ow!” You slap your hand over where Hadley pinched you, “What the hell?”

“I don’t think you’re dreaming.” She laughs as she leans back over the table, “I think this is just the universes way of saying they didn’t like Avery either.”

You laugh, trying to stifle it back but you can’t, “Oh my god.” You shake your head, “This is just.. wow.” You look back down at your phone, “What do I even say to that?”

“You have two options here, okay? You can, ignore them or.. you can tell them the truth. Or.” She raises a finger, “My favorite which is secret option number three, have me call them out on all of their bullshit with Camie.”

“I think I’ll just opt for option one right now.” You nod and go back to Colby’s thread, reading over his new text, I’d actually like to talk to you about everything, too. I can bring dinner up to your room say eight?

“Eight.” You say as glance up at Hadley, “Dinner with him at eight.” You look back down after she nods and you type, sounds perfect. I’ll see you then, Colby.

You lean back, “So we have some time before I need to go back and get ready. I need to clean up my room because I have my luggage strewn all over the damn place.”

“I noticed.” Hadley laughs, “We can walk down the strip if you want or we can go to the casino in the hotel?”

“Oooh, the casino please! I forgot we’re staying at one.” You stand up, grabbing your bag, “I’ve always wanted to go to one.”

She nods, “Let’s go then.”

You make your way back to the hotel and enter the casino. You look around and shake your head, “This place is huge. Where do you want to go first?”

“I’ve always wanted to do the slot machine.” You laugh, “I’m going to go over there.” You point and Hadley nods, “I’ll meet you in a second. I’m going to go check out the blackjack table.”

You nod and walk over to the slot machines.

You take a seat on the stool, looking around to try and figure out how it works. Once you figure it out, you take a deep breath and pull the handle.

You won twenty bucks, not bad on your first try.

You opt to play again, pressing the buttons and pulling the handle. You watch as the bright colors flash and spin on the screen before you gasp.

Five. Thousand. Dollars.

You look around as the machine plays its celebration sound, hoping no one is paying attention to you. You take your ticket as soon as it spits it out and you go look for Hadley.

You can’t find her anywhere.

She’s not by the blackjack tables like she said she would be, so you pull out your phone to call her. As the line rings, you feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn around, “Oh, hey.”

Hadley smiles, “Hey, what-“

“I just won five thousand dollars.”

Her jaw drops, “Are you serious?”

You shake your head, showing her the ticket, “No. look.” She takes the ticket and points, “You gotta go cash that out. Holy fuck? Y/n. See! You needed this!”

You laugh, nodding as you take the ticket back, “I’m starting to realize that.”

You walk over and cash out. As you’re waiting, you can’t help but notice that Hadley is looking all around, “Hey. You nervous or something?”

She shakes her head, “No. I’m just-“ she sighs, “Okay, I just.”

“What?” You furrow your brows, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just.. need a drink.” She laughs, “Do you want one?”

You shake your head, looking back at the attendant as you take your cash, “Thank you.” You look back at Hadley, “I think I’m going to go up to the room.”

She nods, “Okay.”

“Are you coming?” You ask as you turn towards her, and she shakes her head, “No, I’m going to go try my luck on the slots.”

“Okay.” You nod and tuck your money into your purse, quickly making your way to the elevator. As you get on and turn around, you could have swore you saw Sam, but the doors close before you can attempt to look again.

You bring your phone up, seeing it was only four something, you decided to just get ready for your date with Colby.

You pulled your room key from your bag and swiped it on the key pad. As you push the door open, you stop, the sight of lit candles illuminating the room coming into view.

“Colby?” You call out quietly, “Is that.. you?” You ask as you set in and close the door.

“I know I said eight, but I just..” Colby walks up to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands, “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You smile, closing your eyes as he leans in to press his lips to yours, “No I’m glad you’re here.” You look up at him, “I w-“

He cuts you off, “Before.. you say anything, I just.. want to say something first, please?”

You nod, “Okay.”

He pulls you over to the middle of the room, “If this is too much, at any point just tell me to stop and I’ll stop, okay?”

You nod and watch as he takes a step back, your hands in his, “Y/n, when Hadley first came up to me, I thought to myself that this was a massive joke and it was just some drunk girl screwing with me.”

You laugh slightly, “it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t.” He nods with a laugh, “And I just.. I can’t express to you how much it means to me that it wasn’t and it was actually about some girl who wanted me to be her hall pass, which I’m still honored for by the way.”

He smiles and you nod your head with a smile, “Yeah, yeah.”

“Over these last three days, I have felt like more myself than I ever have with someone. You..” he squeezes your hands, “You coming into my life was literally a blessing that I needed and I just want you to know that I am falling in love with you, hell.” He scoffs, “I fell the minute I saw you sitting at that table.”

“This is kind of embarrassing, but a part of me always felt like I could get you.” You laugh slightly as you feel your cheeks heating up with the slight embarrassment, “I just thought that maybe I was just too full of myself.”

“You’re not.” Colby shakes his head, pulling you closer, “You aren’t, not even a little bit. You’re literally so perfect and Hadley filled me in on a few things and you deserve to be with someone who wants you to celebrates the victories in your life. Someone who cheers you on from the sidelines while you’re out doing big things for yourself but doesn’t try to tear you down within it.”

You can feel your heart start to race and your breath catches in your throat as Colby pulls out a ring box from his pocket, “O-oh my god.”

“Y/n y/l/n. I want to be that someone in your life. I want to cheer you on. Be with you every step of the way and watch you accomplish anything and everything you could ever possibly want. I know.. I know.. this is a big jump, but I just-“

“When you know, you know, right?” You look up at him from the box and he nods, “Yes. Exactly that.”

You look down at the ring box before slowly reaching up to take off your ring from Avery, “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Colby asks surprised, “You’ll marry me?”

You nod, “Yes, Colby Brock. I will marry you.”

He gasps, sweeping you up with his arms, “Oh my god.” He laughs, sniffling as he kisses up your neck, “Oh my god. Really?”

You nod as he sets you down, “As soon as I seen you, Colby. I knew that I wasn’t with the person who I was meant to be with. I never felt with them what I felt, feel with you.”

He smiles and presses a kiss to your lips, “I’ve never felt any of this with someone else. Nothing even close.”

You nod, looking down as you hold up your hand, “So is there like a chapel or anything we can go to? I mean, it’s Vegas, so..” you look up at him, “Why wait?”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah. I just.. wasn’t sure what you were going to say so I just-“ he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his hand as he slips the ring on your finger, “Fuck I was so nervous.”

You reach up, your own hand shaking like his, “It’s okay.” You sniffle as you watch the ring slide over your finger, “Oh my god.”

You pull him into a hug, your arms tight around his neck, “Fuck, i genuinely do feel like i love you.” You lean back, looking into his eyes, “I do love you.”

He nods, “I love you.”

You smile and press a kiss to his lips, “Oh!” You lean back, “I won five k on the slot machine downstairs.”

His eyes go wide, “No fucking way!”

You nod, “Yeah, I have it right here.” You pull out the stack of bills and he scoffs, “That’s my fucking girl.”

He pulls you back in and things get heated quickly. He leads you back towards the bed and he sits down, you climbing into his lap as your lips stay on his.

His hands slip under your shirt, sliding up your sides to push your shirt up. You drop your bag, reaching to take off your shirt and he takes the opportunity to take off his.

He lays back, pulling you with him, and his hands slide to your ass and gives it a squeeze.

You kiss down his neck, fully in the moment until you sit up with a gasp, “Oh fuck.”

He sits up, worry settling on his face, “It’s okay if you’re changing your mind, y/n.” You shake your head, “N-no.. I guess I just need to call off my first wedding before I-“

“Do what you need to do. I promise..” Colby reaches up to cup your cheek, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smile, resting your hand on his, “Okay.”

You move off of him, sitting down on the edge of the bed as you reach down to grab your phone. You move your shaking thumb over the phone icon under Avery’s contact and let out a breath as you bring the phone up to your ear.

A few rings in and they answer, “Did you not get on your flight? What is going on?”

“I need to answer one thing for me.” You close your eyes, relaxing into Colby’s touch as his hand runs up and down your back.

“What’s that?” Avery asks and you tilt your head, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Do what? Get married to you?” They ask with a scoff, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“How long have you been seeing Camie?”

“I-I’m not.. why would- why would you even-“ Avery stops as Camie’s voice is heard in the background, “Get off the phone with her and come back to bed.”

“Yeah. Okay.” You let out a laugh, “That’s all I needed to know. We’re done, wedding’s off.” You hang up and look at Colby, “Get off the phone with her and come back to bed is what I heard Camie saying in the background.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Colby frowns and you shake your head, “oh I’m fine.” You laugh, dropping your phone as you turn back to him, “I’m onto bigger and better things.”

You crawl onto him, his hands welcoming your body as it lays over his.

His lips find yours and a groan escapes them as you grind down onto him, “I wouldn’t have found you if I didn’t come on this trip.”

“Damn right about that.” He smirks, biting his lip as he watches you sit up, “What are you doing?”

You move down his body, “Just going to give my fiancé a little attention before we go get married.” A smirk spreads across his lips as your hands move to undo his pants.

He lifts his hips as you pull them down, along with his boxers. You lick your lips, glancing up at him before flipping your hair over your shoulder and leaning in.

He gasps out as your lips come in contact with the head of his cock, moaning out as your tongue works along the underside, “Oh.. shit.”

His hand moves to your head, holding your hair back from falling down and disrupting his view. You slowly bob your head as you work on taking more of him into your mouth.

“F-fuck.” He bucks his hips, “Fuck that feels so good, baby.”

You look up at him as you pull your head off of his cock, smirking before dragging your tongue up the underside and returning to a rhythm bob.

Colby lets out a groan, his breathing growing more rapid as your speed picks up.

“Fuck, fuck.” He bucks his hips up, “Y-you’re- shit..” he gasps, reaching down to grab your head, “I-I’m gonna c-co-“

You push his hands away, continuing to bob and suck him into full blown pleasure.

You feel his hot strings coat your throat, slowing your head down to a stop before pulling off and swallowing.

“You’re gonna.. what, baby?” You smirk and he shakes his head, “I’ve never came that fast from a blowjob before.”

You shrug, moving to lay next to him, “What can I say? Looks like you’re marrying into blowjob royalty.” He laughs and pulls you in for a kiss by the neck, “You’re so funny. I love you.”

You smile against his lips, pressing yours to his once more, “I love you.” You sit up, “So. Are we doing this or what?”

“Yeah.” He nods as he sits up, “We’re doing this.”

You walk over to flip the lights on while he gets up to blow out the candles. You pull out your white dress and look at Colby, “Would you be mad if I didn’t wear white?” He looks at you confused, “What do you mean?”

“This dress was for..” you motion, “I’m just going to wear this black one.”

Colby nods, “I think that’ll look better on you anyway.” He smiles and walks over to you, pulling you into a kiss.

You nod, quickly changing before walking over to Hadley’s room. You push the door open and she stands up, “Well?”

You smile and nod, “I’m getting married!”

She runs over to you and hugs you, “Oh my god I’m so glad this worked.”

“What?” You look at her and she sighs, “Colby and I have been planning this since yesterday. I was so scared you were going to find out.”

“You were in on this?” You push her shoulder and she nods with a laugh, “Yes.”

“Well.. thank you.” You laugh, “I called Avery to call off the wedding and Camie told them to get off the phone with me and come back to bed so I guess everything works out in the end.”

“Everything works out in the end.” She nods, “Now.” She spins you around and pushes you towards Colby who is standing in the open doorway, “Let’s go get you married.”

· · ─ · 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 · ─ · ·

You and Colby stood across from each other, hands holding one another’s as the officiant spoke, “In all my years of doing Vegas weddings, I’ve never seen two people look at each other with such love like these two do.”

Colby smiles and nods, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love this girl right here.”

You smile, a tear falling down your cheek, “It feels like I’ve known you for a lifetime, Colby.”

“So without further ado, I’ll just get to it, right?” The officiant laughs and Colby look at him with a laugh, “Please.”

You nod, “Yes, please.”

“Do you Colby Brock take y/n y/l/n to be your wife?”

Colby nods, squeezing your hands, “I do.”

“Do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take Colby Brock to be your husband?”

You nod, “I so do.”

“Then with the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. Kiss her Colby.” He chuckles and within a second, you’re dipped down by Colby with his lips on yours.

Hadley and Sam clap and cheer as Colby presses a few kisses to your lips, “God I fucking love you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck as he stands you up, and you can’t help but cry, “I’ve never been this happy. I love you so much.”

You press your lips to his and turn to face your best friends, “Time to celebrate?”

“Hell. Yeah.” Sam nods, “Let’s do it!”

· · ─ · 🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺 · ─ · ·

Thank you guys for reading!!! I love you alll sooo much! I will catch you in the next one!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[ughdontbeboring]

Sweet boy

Feyd Rautha x Black/WoC Reader (can be read by anyone)

Yours and Feyds son has a moment and you can’t help your reaction.

warnings none but fluff honestly lol

note: so this was NOT what I was supposed to be working on but I came across it in my notes and just couldn’t stop my fingers 😅 but this is inspired by one of my favorite Feyd arts of him as a child. I’m so upset I can’t find it or the artist. It’s like different drawings of him or his face as a child and he gives the meanest side eye lol so if yall know what im talking about please send it my way so i can tag the artist so others can see it.

If yall like it, love it or fucks with it please share and comment! I love talking to y’all about our mans.

I give no permission for my work to be used anywhere.

it’s fluff and short babe but it’s Feyd so you know 😭 @peggyao3 also again not what I’m supposed to be working on 🥲🥲🥲

x

x

⚔️

The day had been long and tedious but you would not trade it for anything when it dwindles down to become this kind of evening. One which you were lucky to say you had often when your husband wasn’t away for diplomatic purposes. Even then you usually all stayed together more often than not. 

The large tinted floor to ceiling windows on the right side of the dinning room allowing for a view of the planets setting white sun to shine its last bit of light on your blessed life. The tint allowed the room to stay bathed in all its natural colors. Your skins hue still vibrant against the elegant black dress that you had chosen for the day. 

You couldn’t wait to get back to your shared bedchambers and slip into nothing but your silk bed sheets and your husbands arms.

Your eyes drift back to the table you’re seated at with the two loves of your life. Years ago no one could have convinced you THIS would be your life and you’d be the HAPPIEST you’d ever been or could be. None of the of wise women of your home planet could have foretold this. Not even your own visions nor dreams could have conjured enough to convince you this was the life you wouldn’t only lead but love with every once of your being. 

But when you take in your husbands jewel blue eyes that are already watching and only soft for you, you smile happily before your eyes slowly land on the beautiful boy sitting before you and to Feyd’s right from the head of the table.  

And just as your heart swells with more love than either you and Feyd ever thought possible, a loud laugh erupts from deep within your chest. 

You slap a jeweled hand over your mouth to try and contain your laughing from the startled identical faces before you. 

You’re in a fit of giggles as you feel both your husband and son’s look of confusion and it only makes you laugh harder.

You miss your husband’s face of pure awe at the sight before him even if he is confused he can’t help but be in awe of the women he somehow convinced to love him as deeply as you do, full of joy.

You wipe at the tears that have started to spill as you catch Feyd soft questioning eyes.

“I-I’m sorry but he looked just like you with his little evil side eye” you reveal in between laughs. 

Feyd looks on proudly at your son who’s looking between the both of you with his face scrunched up not fully understanding or liking the attention and laughs at his expense. 

Your son had just gave the most evil side eye to the servant who put the extra vegetables on his plate at your request. And all you could see was Feyd. They looked almost identical already and in that moment it was your husband who was a 5 year old boy not wanting to eat the food before him. 

And for all the reasons in the world it made your heart happy. 

“Looking just like your father” you say again as you control your laughing. You can feel the pride rolling of off both of them. “A grumpy baby”. 

“What?!” Your husband yells in disbelief, the fork and meat hanging mid air the same time your son yells his own defense.

“Mother I AM NOT A BABY!” His little voice rages before you with no true anger. 

“Don’t raise your voice at your mother” Feyd scolds quickly.

Your all smiles though. This was all you ever needed. 

“Yes you are, you are my baby always” You tell him as you take in his little face, the beautiful child you both created. The best of both of you. 

He huffs and crosses his little arms across his chest. The angry face he’s trying to pull off is completely identical to his father’s. You could draw it in your sleep the amount of times you’ve seen it over the years.

“Come here” you call to him softly as you push your chair back slightly. 

“No” he says trying to stand his ground that he is not a baby.

“Do not tell your mother no” Feyd scolds again watching the two of you go back and forth with eyes full of love.  if your husband continues on this path and your sure he will, none of your children will ever tell you no or misbehave with you. Feyd has spoiled you almost rotten, your son has received the same attention from his father. The amount of times he’s done wrong and Feyd has come to his defense, you too but you always stress the he can’t be quick to anger.

He had nothing of yours physically expect for you spiced blue eyes, which you weren’t sure how long they last so blue without a constant exposure to spiced air. You were born to parents who were born to parents and so on and so on for as long as you could say who had been born to and live with spice exposure. It was literally apart of your blood. So it made you happy that was the one thing that couldn’t escape your son who spent most of his time on Giedi Prime. So it made you sad to think about the fact that he could loose it one day but you tried to make frequent enough trips to your home planet to help him keep his Fremen feature and traits. 

Feyd allowed him to be born on Arrakis much to a lot of displeasure from some of Giedi Prime. You just couldn’t see giving birth here and raising a child here almost full time, you needed your people, your culture to be apart of his life. Plus you both knew it was the only way for your son to be accepted, he needed to embrace both half’s of who he was if he was going to make a great change one day. Greater change than even you and Feyds union.

It was worth noting all of the people who were displeased with your birthing choice weren’t around anymore to speak on it. 

His personality? It was 60/40 usually, him always leaning towards his father’s ways of behavior especially right now. Right now he was 100% his father’s child. 

“Come here my sweet boy” you call again. 

“Mother I am not a sweet boy! I’m brave and scary” He says as he makes his way around the back of Feyd towards you, very slowly. The posture straight in his small body. 

You pull him in quickly once he is in arms reach. Your hands hold his little precious face gently as you plant kisses all over. You can feel his posture slowly start to loosen.

“Yes you are, you may not be sweet to others that is yet to be seen but you will always be sweet to your mother yes?” You ask softly as you stare into his deep eyes that mirror yours. 

You hear a small but confident “Yes, always Mother” as all the fight leaves him and he snuggles into your body embracing you back fully. His little arms reaching around your neck and squeezing tightly. Your eyes tear a little and you know it’s just your hormones. You have a couple weeks before your due it’s still been an emotional roller coaster everyday. 

You’re so wrapped up in your little boy in your arms you don’t notice your husband. Feyd is over the moon seeing his child get the love he never received. Seeing his wife who he adores more than anything loving their child, his child, a child that looks and acts just like him regardless of what he may have done wrong that day. Your love for him was unconditional. 

He loves to see you showering him with love and care even on his bad days when he’s throwing a tantrum. 

This was everything Feyd never knew he wanted and needed. 

He’d burn everything down to protect this, their little growing family. 

⚔️

[austinbutlerslovers]

Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine ����Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying. 

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Margot—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Austin grins at something Lea says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. The inky darkness of his black out smile makes the gesture both unnerving and magnetically attractive as she leans in closer to playfully tease him.

The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment in Austin’s trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “—Tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan fades from your lips. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly. @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @thejoywillburnoutthepain @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesfics @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @jjubilee-fluff

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | 𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐝-𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: feyd-rautha was used to have whatever he wanted, it was well known, but so were you; what you desired, was already yours. and what you crave right now, is him. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!reader —word count: 1.5k —warnings: death, mentions of killing, blood, fighting (yk the usual feyd), just the reader and feyd-rautha being horny and a slut for each other.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

yes, i'm finally back!! dune part 2 has dragged me out of my cave and has given me inspiration like never before.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. Everyone knew it, perhaps the whole galaxy was aware of his very eccentric... preferences and appetites. He was well known for his immaculate and animalistic way of fighting, of destroying anyone who dared to present themselves as his enemy, of anyone who would dare to challenge him. But he was also honorable, proud and loyal to his beliefs, perhaps too self-confident for your own liking.

But every strong man had a weakness, a weakness that could bring them to their knees, to yield, to be left vulnerable. You were Feyd's weakness, rather, his strength, his fortitude, the fire in his veins, the beating of his heart. And it was quite strange and utterly unimaginable to think that someone like Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen would have any feelings at all, there were those who firmly believed that he didn't even have a heart, not even a soul, that he was a demon in human form, a ruthless and bloodthirsty beast, the worst of the worst.

But there you were to prove otherwise.

It had been your idea to actually take him as a husband. Your parents disagreed, of course, for they thought you would be better off alone, after all, you were one of the strongest women alive, you didn't need any man or woman by your side. They called you the Golden Dragon, someone with too much power for this world, you had abilities that the world could not really understand yet, connections with the universe that could not even begin to be explained, the last descendant of one of the most ancient Houses, one that had vanished in time, detached from battles and senseless wars for power, a House that was recognized by that flag with the roaring and menacing red dragon on a golden field. That ancient beast that many thought extinct... until you came to Giedi Prime riding one. 

And you had arrived just on his coming of age day, where his favorite ceremony was battles, of course.

You watched him fight the Atreides men from your seat, your mother and father sitting at your sides, watching him as well, all in silence. Your eyes followed his every move, not even pausing for a second to watch the other poor men being annihilated, no, for your attention was solely on Feyd-Rautha, noting the predatory nature of his steps, his precise and powerful movements, eyes darkened with delight, eager for more death and blood. 

"He is a good warrior" Your father commented looking at him in awe as well.

"Too much so, I'd say" Your mother added in a naturally stern voice, distrustful dark eyes, observing the gory spectacle.

"He was born for it" Your father continued to comment, turning his head so he could look at you for a few seconds "For slaughter and death. Only to bring that."

"I think he's cute" you finally stated your opinion, voice low and serene, not even having the audacity to look at your parents, for you didn't have to look at them to know that they were both giving you horrified and scandalized looks now. 

Your father muttered your name in a warning tone of voice.

"He would look good in our home. He's built for fighting and protect, just like us." You explained, finally detaching your eyes from Feyd-Rautha, who had just killed the last Atreides standing, unleashing a wave of applause, praise and cheers from the audience. "Don't you think so, father?"

Your look was almost defiant, and yet composed, and your father took it as a challenge, but he would never be so foolish as to show any disagreement with you, for what the dragon princess desired, she had.

So, after sharing a short glance with your mother, he gave you a short nod of his head.

"I do."

And so it was settled.

Feyd-Rautha, for his own part, saw you and knew you were meant to be his.  He had heard of you, of course, his uncle used to insist that he must behave himself once your family arrived, for you were worthy of having the full respect of House Harkonnen, and that losing you as allies was not an option at all. So behave he did... or at least he tried to.

"I dreamed of you last night." 

Was the first thing he said to you, both found in one of the large, dark halls of his home, just a couple of hours after his victorious fight in the arena. The Baron and your father were in an important and pending meeting in which neither your presence nor Feyd's was required, because the whole focus of it was the two of you, and a possible marriage to ensure the alliance and heritage.

His eyes were barely distinguishable with the all the thick blackness surrounding him, his pupils dilated with desire, hands clasped behind his back, as inflexible as ever. He had put his all into making a good impression, his uncle had ordered him to, and Feyd was quite obedient when it came to the Baron's wishes. He was so loyal to that foul man that you thought it was something no better described than adorable. 

The thing was that, as powerful and menacing as he was, he was just another man, another pawn into this colossal game of power and thrones. And you felt rather pity for him.

"Na-baron." You greeted him somewhat pragmatically, turning fully towards him, golden eyes gleaming even amidst all the darkness through your gold mask. "It was a good dream, I hope."

"(Y/N) Pazuk, princess." He just took the satisfaction of deliciously savoring the name of your House, pronouncing it in that husky, deep voice of his. He also had the courage to move closer to you, rising from the wall and stepping cautiously, holding your gaze, looking down on you as if you were prey, a small helpless animal under his looming shadow. He then reflected, thinking about choosing the most suitable words... and the most appropriate ones "It was a very good dream."

You were in his territory, his planet, you knew it well and so did he, you were walking straight into the mouth of the hungry beast. Everything that was there belonged to him, he controlled it all and saw it all. 

And everything he was seeing now was you. And he was intrigued, captivated even. Because he usually encountered boring and vulgar people, people who were nowhere near his level, people who he liked to torture and make bleed to death. And the thing was, you happened to stand on his level, and even higher.

"Tell me more." You had the courage to order him in a soft tone of voice. He knew instantly that you were testing him, he was smart and knew how to read people well... but you, you were different, he could see it too, you were much more complex than other people. And he was delighted.

A hint of a phantom smile tugged at the corner of his lips just as he stood in front of you, posture rigid and dominant. "You showed me the way. The right way. The way of victory, the way of life."

You swallowed spit slowly and he noticed it, for his eyes descended to your throat for a few moments before rising again to your face, analyzing every expression that passed through your gaze, every gesture of your lips, every sign you allowed him to see.

Then he twisted his head slightly, face turning somewhat mischievous. "You think I'm scary, princess?"

Now it was his turn to test you.

He watched as your lips parted before responding, raising your voice with pure confidence, naturally, holding his dark gaze. "I think you're quite the opposite really, Feyd-Rautha."

He was silent for a few moments, long moments in which he simply gazed at you intently, with his full attention on you, on your body, almost as if he was looking at your pure soul.

"You are my destiny." He finally uttered, you could hear how his voice had wavered more for softness than harshness this time. "Show me the way, my princess."

You managed to feel the warmth of his body against yours. For someone so cold and distant, his body was hot and warm like fire.

"Are you going to ask for my hand?" You ask in a small voice, feeling suddenly intimidated by his closeness. There were very few who dared to stand so close to you, yet there he was, threatening your personal space. "Because here I am, na-Baron."

Before I could answer you anything, you spoke again, twisting your head slightly, barely narrowing your eyes. "You think I'm scary, my lord?"

He had never been so profoundly proud and thrilled by his title as he was at that moment, when you slowly modulated it with your tongue like a purr, your voice tastefully savoring it.

"I think you are beautiful." He immediately responded. "And I want you to be mine."

And so, fate had done it's work.