#parts two through four are already planned out and half written

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! literary agent with fem!reader scenario

warnings: implication of obsessive thoughts or love.

There might be potential triggers in this story. If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant.

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Hey guys, welcome back to another yandere fic, introducing Yulian Prescott. I'd like to give a big shout-out to my dear friend @deathmetalunicorn1 for helping me write this and finding the perfect likeness for my character, especially when this idea came to me all of a sudden on a Sunday night when I should be sleeping instead of staying up an ungodly hour.

As always, bullying on here will not be tolerated. If it does happen, this scenario will be taken down. I'm not sure if this will be a series. At the moment, this is just a scenario.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's dive into the cutthroat world of publishing.

PART TWO

Yandere!Literary Agent is a man who prides himself on being very good at his job. He represented one of the best publishing houses in the country. Anything less than what he expected from his clients was unacceptable.  

If the manuscript arrived in his inbox exactly two minutes past the promised deadline, he would not look at it. If his client is acting like a stupid moron at a function or royally fucking up their reputation by posting something inappropriate on their social media account, he is not cleaning up their mess. He is not their babysitter. They are full-grown adults. And if one of them is not able to produce another book that will actually sell past the number of copies slated to be printed, he will let them go. Call him cruel if you want. Yandere!Literary Agent is simply being pragmatic. He wasn’t cheap. He only wants the best of the best.

So imagine Yandere!Literary Agent’s surprise when a particularly difficult client sent him a completed manuscript. He planned on writing her an email that after much deliberation, it was time for her to find another agent to represent her. The client, Abigail Crowley, had written an adult dark academia trilogy and a feminist retelling of the myth of Theseus, told from the perspective of his lover Adriane. The manuscripts following the conclusion of her last book, however, were complete shit. Her royalties were nearly gone, having squandered them on a penthouse in a high-end neighborhood, the latest clothes, and a wine fridge. You heard him. A fucking wine fridge when she could have replaced that shoddy laptop of hers with something better so she could keep writing books and not have it crap out on her. 

Half-amused and half-annoyed at this pathetic attempt to keep her contract with the publishing company from being null and void, Yandere!Literary Agent clicked on the attachment and read it. One page became four, then fifty. He had to force himself to stop when it was lunchtime and he was already at the mid-way point. 

This story, it was…good. No, it was more than good. It was absolutely fantastic. And Yandere!Literary Agent did not compliment his clients’ works very often, which meant he believed at this very moment, this manuscript will most definitely become Abigail’s comeback to the literary industry. Book sales would go through the roof, A Netflix deal was also possible. But the first hurdle he had to overcome was pitching the manuscript, and making sure the query letter was at least consistent with the story that Abigail was trying to sell to him.

And he’ll make it happen. He is very good at his job, after all. 

Once he had successfully pitched it with a bit of extra charm, he contacted Abigail. She was over the moon, promising to make any necessary edits to the manuscript and it will be sent to him on time. From there, time fast forwarded. ARC books were sent out, Abigail selected the cover designs for the regular and special editions, and a tentative book tour was scheduled. Seven cities, and one international trip, maybe another in the future. Sales for this book were projected to exceed expectations. Yandere!Literary Agent was very confident things would go smoothly from here. At least he had thought so.

A month before the book was to be published, his secretary knocked on his door and said he had a visitor. They insisted on seeing him. Yandere!Literary Agent raised his brow, rising from his desk and stepping out into the hall and saw you. 

In the beginning, he will begrudgingly confess that his first impression of you was someone who is painfully average and out of place. A backpack slung over your shoulder, dressed in navy blue medical scrubs and looking absolutely haggard. Your eyes, though, shined with anxiety and determination. You inclined your head. 

“I apologize for the sudden intrusion, I know you’re busy, but I have some concerns about the book that’s going to be released soon by Abigail Crowley.” 

Yandere! Literary Agent’s gaze sharpened.. “And what, pray tell, are your complaints?” He crossed his arms. “Are you one of the people who had signed up to be ARC reader and didn’t get their copy?” 

You raised an eyebrow. “...No?”

“Then why -”

“Because it is my novel that is being published. Without my consent.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I know it is hard to believe, I get it.” You then swung your backpack around to your front, unzipping the larger compartment. You pulled out a large notebook, some papers, and a flash drive. You held them out to him. “But I think what I have here might convince you to allow me ten minutes, if not five, to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking. This isn’t about money, this isn’t about suing your company. I just want my story back. I’ve already tried talking to Abigail about it, and she isn’t picking up my calls. Please.” You said. “Three minutes.” 

His schedule was clear until the two o’clock meeting with another client on the other side of town. That was about an hour and half from now, as he had just come back from lunch. He supposed he could give you three minutes. Rolling his eyes, Yandere!Literary Editor swiveled on his heel. 

“Let’s see what you have. Melissa, please hold my calls until I’m done.” His diligent secretary nodded and went back to her desk. You followed him like a lost little duckling back to his office. Once the door was closed, you handed him everything. 

Yandere!Literary Editor went over the materials carefully, flipping through the pages of the notebook. The outlines and character designs were here, all written in excruciating detail and in such tiny print. He asked you random questions, going off of his memory from the manuscript and these notes. You answered him without hesitation.

“Yes, that’s correct. What? No, absolutely not. I would never have those characters be romantically paired up! Their relationship is too toxic, and wouldn’t set a good example to the target audience. I’m sorry, what? No, that isn’t her name! It’s Cristabel, not Anastasia! She’s supposed to be assisting the Night Emperor with collecting intelligence via the gossip of salons under her alias, not swooning over his brother when he’s already happily married to his wife! Good God, no. That scene should not even be there! That’s filler content and makes the character growth of the protagonist seem like the pay-off wasn’t worth it, or that he didn’t learn anything at all since the beginning of the book!” 

Yandere!Literary Agent grounded the molars of his back teeth, inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nostrils. Keeping his emotions in check is one of the reasons why he has survived in the publishing industry for this long, and he’s such a successful man. 

But hearing you speak about the characters, perfectly recalling the manuscript’s themes and looking back at the notebook in his hand, seeing the colorful  sticky notes with edits and improvised scenes written on them…he couldn’t deny it any further. You were the real author of the book he’s representing, and Abigail Crowley played him like a goddamned fiddle.

 If this wasn’t enough damning evidence of his client’s plagiarism, you had shown him an original illustration of the world you had created. It was done by an artist you had commissioned on Etsy, with proof of purchase for their services and a timestamp. Three years ago. That was when Abigail’s last best-selling book hit the shelves, and when her creative well began to dry out. 

You must have caught on to his irritation, because you told him that you weren’t here to intentionally stir up any trouble. A coworker had told you about Abigail’s newest book coming out, and the premise was exactly yours, at least what was advertised in the BookTok and Youtube trailers online. You’ve been searching high and low for your manuscript, and the only other person who has been in your apartment and knew about your creative endeavors has been Abigail. She wasn’t really your friend, per say. You took some of the same creative writing courses. You eventually found another career to pursue, and you kept writing as a hobby. She went on to become a professional author and never missed an opportunity to show off her success whenever she invited you out for drinks at an upscale bar or went to fancy dinners. 

Why would Abigail steal the book you’ve been working on for three years when you work a full-time day job, you had no idea. She’s living the dream that she’s always wanted, defying her mother’s wishes to get a normal job because writing is everything to her, and she would never give up on it. But if you were to be hypothetical, it might be another attempt to somehow get one up on her self-proclaimed rival, Cindy Chen, who is an even bigger success than her. 

You then rubbed your eyes. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.” You murmured, standing up from your seat. “Keep the notebook, the maps, whatever you want. If you could return them to me when you’re done, that’s all I ask. And an apology from Abigail, if you’re able to get one out of her. Like I said, this isn’t about money, royalties, or fame. I just want my story back.” 

Yandere!Literary Agent immediately stood up, his eyes slightly widened in fear. “Wait, please, just a moment! I know you’re tired, you want to go home…but I need to set things right. If I had known that this manuscript, your story, had been stolen, I would have never spearheaded its  publication.” And he wouldn’t have. Not only would it affect his reputation, but the company’s too. Stocks would plummet, and there would be a feeding frenzy on social media with #abigailcrowley, #plagiarism, #sailboatpublishinghouse. 

When you looked at him, his heart lurched uncomfortably at seeing your lips fall into a crestfallen expression. You looked so tired, so done with everything, and oh god you looked like you were about to cry shit. Walking around his desk, Yandere!Literary Agent eased you to sit back down and quickly prepared an espresso, possessing a machine to make it in his office so he did not have to walk down five flights to the break room. 

You thanked him for the drink and took a sip, wrinkling your nose slightly, no doubt surprised at the taste. You must not be a regular espresso drinker, or prefer how you made it. Either way, he was grateful that you did not bolt out of the office. Picking up his office phone, he dialed Melissa’s number. 

“Call all of the heads, including the marketing and social media departments. This is an emergency meeting. Now!” Bless Melissa, she did not ask him questions and said she would get on it immediately, hanging up on him. The next person he called was Abigail fucking Crowley. He sweet-talked her into coming to the office, apologizing for interrupting her ‘creativity time’ and promised it won’t take long. She swore to be there in a half an hour, so long as traffic didn’t back up. Yandere!Literary Agent played the understanding card and hung up, his smile being replaced with a smirk. Hook, line, and sinker. He scoffed. He then turned to you. 

“Everything will be resolved soon.” He promised. 

“Sir -” You began. 

“Yulian, please.” 

“Mister Yulian, I understand that you want to make things right, but…can you really get Abigail to talk? She blocked my calls, and the book is hitting the shelves in a month, maybe less than that? How are you going to recover the money that has gone into getting it published, the fees for the printing companies, and the marketing? Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m not too familiar with how publishing works these days.” 

You weren’t wrong, at least in the aspect that the company has put a significant amount of money into the publication of the stolen manuscript, your work, he added mentally. It was too late to stop the printing, and the final draft would need a significant amount of changes. Unless…

“Abigail is a plagiarist, and you are the rightful creator. The way I see it, we can salvage the financial loss by putting your name on the cover, and fixing the glaring omissions as well as other scenes you claim shouldn’t even be there.” He sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Of course, we would need to have a press conference and explain why we are changing authors, and what she has done. Considering the timetable and coordinating with the printing companies, it will be cutting it close.” 

You stared at him silently for a long moment before placing the espresso cup back onto the tiny saucer with a soft clink, releasing a heavy sigh. “If I agree to do this, to help with the edits, probably fuck up my sleeping pattern and might potentially be fired from my job unless I can use some of my PTO, what will I get in return?” 

He smiled. “Abigail will be the one to pay for publishing and marketing fees. I can extend the deadline for the revisions by a week. And you will be paid for your time, of course. There will be no need to come here to drop off revisions either. All correspondence will be through email. As an agent, I am qualified to be your representative during press conferences, so you will not have to be present. All I would ask of you is to turn in the final manuscript on time and not say anything on social media until our legal team is fully prepared.”

“No need to worry about Twitter or Facebook. Haven’t logged  on to my account in years.” You raised the espresso cup to your lips. “Too much politics.” You tilted your head to the side, a puzzled frown stretching across your face. “Any chance I could get all of this in writing? I might need to get a lawyer if Abigail tries to take it to court and sue me for defamation.” 

Yandere!Literary Agent nodded. He opened up a blank document and immediately typed up the contract, including everything that you have discussed and a few other variables. Once he finished, he printed it out, handing it to you. You read through the contents carefully before handing it back to him.

“It looks good - it’s all here and I’m agreeable to the terms.” You said.

Humming under his breath, Yandere! Literary Agent signed the bottom. You signed your name next to his, with today’s date and the time. 

He ignored the tiny tingle that crawled up his spine when your fingertips brushed against his as you gave him back the pen. You agreed to stay until the matter with Abigail was over, and he would email you the manuscript so you could go through everything when you get home. 

As it turned out, you did not have to wait much longer for the best-selling author to make her entrance at Board Room 3. Exchanging numbers with Yandere! Literary Agent you would wait in the adjacent room until he sent you a text to make your entrance. Melissa escorted you to said room when he received a message from Abigail that she would be here in ten minutes. 

It’s time. That was the message he sent you. When you opened the door, revealing yourself to the staff and the flustered Abigail…she snapped. 

She rambled how she needed a book, just one more successful book, and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t lose her penthouse, she would still be considered a worthy rival to Cindy Chen, and above all else, she could still write as she had always wanted to do since she was a teenager. You already had a normal job, you had a steady income, you weren’t even a writer. Being a hobbyist writer did not count. Yes, she took your manuscript, but it wasn’t a big deal! You could just write another book when you had time between shifts at the hospital, right? 

The look you gave her…it was resignation. Hopelessness. Disappointment. 

“Abbie…it wasn’t just a story I wrote. You should know that. Writing is so much more than that. I’ve tried to be nice, to talk to you but you wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry it’s come to this, I really am.” You said. That was the last thing you said before you were escorted outside of the door. Seeing your part in this is over, Yandere! Literary Agent took control of the room. 

“Whether it is a hobby or professional writing, it doesn’t change the fact that you stole someone’s work and tried to pass it off as your own.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You are a thief, nothing more and nothing less.” Then the lawyers approached Abigail, presenting her with the fees she will need to pay. If there was an issue, going to court would not be an issue as he had all of the evidence needed to ruin the once best-selling writer Abigail Crowley. 

Her reaction was….amusing. 

After security had escorted the screaming woman off of the premises, Yandere!Literary Agent went to search for you, thinking you had gone back to his office to wait for him. You weren’t there. Melissa said you did stop by her desk, only to leave a message on a sticky note that you needed to go home but promised to get the revisions done as fast as you could, and thanks for the espresso it was really good. 

Yandere!Literary Agent smiled softly at the hastily written chicken scratch, pocketing it in his trousers before going back inside his office. You weren’t like any of his other clients. And he would like to get to know a bit more. Who knows? Perhaps….he could persuade you to sign a contract with him, be your agent. You shouldn’t hide your talents from the world. There were people who would love to read your stories, and he had no doubt that the company would benefit from it too. 

But there was no need to rush. There was a month until the book was to be released. That was more than enough time for him to work his magic. He is good at his job, after all. 

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@faesdreaming

@faux-ecrivain

@majestichugs

@abelheilonwife

@suiana

@lxdymoon0357

@dxmoness

@tired-of-life-86

@imperfectbloodmoon

@lovely-nightmares

@yandere-dark-cupid

@beardedblizzardexpert

@d10nsaint

@likesugarandcyanide

@justcressida

@mooly-artistic

@cassanderasblog

@swallowtailcherry

@amidst-the-tempest

@usernames-are-so-hard-to-create

@navierkalani

@yanderefangirl

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #fem!reader #yandere! literary agent #yandere fanfiction #yandere manhwa x reader #ns.fw #tw obsessive love #tw obsessive behavior

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Bare it all | Part 2

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Avenger!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 6.2K

SUMMARY | Your relationship with Tony has been a fairytale, but when you unexpectedly become pregnant with his baby, your entire world is turned upside down. You're not sure how he will react to the news, but you will always have your best friend Natasha by your side, no matter what.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Age gap, use of nicknames, established relationship, secret relationship, referenced near-fatal accident, accidental pregnancy, morning sickness, pregnancy test, referenced infertility, referenced anxiety, Natasha's past in the red room is referenced.

SMUT | Dirty talk, praise, daddy kink, innocence kink, size kink, slight breeding kink, teasing, back-scratching, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving), fingering, handjob, deepthroating, facial/cumming on the face, cockwarming, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, aftercare.

A/N | This one-shot is written based on this request. While writing this story, I kept getting more and more thoughts and ideas to add, so I decided to turn this story into a four-part mini-series! I cannot thank @ccbsrmsf1 enough for the endless support, supply of ideas, and proofreading you've done for me. You're an angel, and I love you 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Road Trip with an Unexpected Companion Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo Wild | Hair Pulling Masterlist | @mcukinkbingo | Free space

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | Photo: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

The moment you were recruited to join the Avengers after working through SHIELD's most challenging programs, you were paired up with Iron Man to show you the ropes. Your super soldier strength combined with Tony's intelligence was perfect because you two have become inseparable on the battlefield, already knowing what the other person is thinking before they even have to say it.

However, during all your work together, something happened that neither of you expected. You started developing crushes on each other, though you were both too stubborn to admit it out loud, let alone to the other person. When Tony finally gathered his courage to tell you about his feelings, you suffered a near-fatal accident, which served only to bring you closer together.

That moment was a year and a half ago, and the relationship is nothing short of a fairytale - even though you have to keep it a secret from the world. Because of this, Tony ensures you are sent on many missions together so you can have quality time together without having to sneak out of each other's rooms in the middle of the night.

Today, you're supposed to go on a mission alone, and most of the Avengers are ready to wave you goodbye since it'll be one where you will be gone for almost a week. They're all there except one: Tony. Little do you know, however, that he has a plan up his sleeve, and he will surprise you with it in less than a minute after saying goodbye to everyone.

"Have a safe drive-" Steve can say before he gets interrupted by Tony running into the garage, panting slightly with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His cheeks are red from the exertion, making him look cute as you look at him with a small smile. The only times you're used to seeing him like this is when you've worn him out completely in the bedroom, making a flurry of butterflies go wild in your stomach.

"Fury told me to go with you, Y/N. Something about needing an extra pair of hands," he said quickly as he opened the trunk of the car, throwing his bag in and winking at you when no one could see it. You raise your brow as you look at him, a smile simultaneously tugging at the corners of your lips.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Nat shake her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips, too. Neither of you knows she has had a slight suspicion about the two of you being together, but she never talks about it, figuring you will speak to her when the timing is right.

Over the last year, you've been visiting Tony's lab more often than you used to, and Nat has started to take notice. Paired with the fact that you're going on more and more missions together and the downright flirting as you've both had a couple of drinks during parties - it all adds up to only one thing for her. You and Tony are a couple, and she couldn't be happier for the two of you.

"Alright, I'm driving!" Tony tells you before grabbing the keys from your hand. A jolt of electricity goes through your body. You look at him to see if he's felt it, too, and based on his face, you know he has. After being together for the time you have been, you two can read each other like an open book.

"Just consider this a road trip with an unexpected companion, and you'll be fine. Let's go, we have a mission to get to," Tony tells you as he gets in, and you can't help but laugh out loud at his comment. He always makes you laugh, and you wave the rest of the Avengers goodbye before getting into the car's passenger side.

Tony quickly pulls the car out of its parking spot before speeding out of the garage and off to your mission. As soon as you're out of sight, his hand is placed on your thigh, squeezing it softly as you put your hand on his.

"Thank you for coming with me, but I am pretty sure I would have been fine on my own, Tony," you say to him, raising your brow as you look at him defiantly. A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he looks back at you for a second before concentrating on the road again, squeezing your thigh again.

"But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it, Babygirl? You don't think I will let my girl go on a solo mission when our anniversary is in two days?" those words make you realize his true intentions of coming on the mission with you. He trusts you to go on missions alone but also wants to be with you on your special day.

The two of you have about a three-hour drive ahead of you, but because of the nature of the mission, going by Quinjet was off the table, so you had to make the drive out there not to raise any suspicion to yourselves. During this trip, you and Tony share a lot of sweet moments, jokes, and flirty comments, and if it were up to you, you'd want this drive to last forever.

"I believe we're here," Tony says as he parks the car in the driveway of the safe house that Fury arranged for you to stay in. It's a simple house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. Nestled among the trees and manicured lawns stood a row of charming houses with white picket fences. The streets were lined with colorful flowers, and the sound of children's laughter filled the air.

You're standing on the porch overlooking the street, where kids ride their bikes and play games. Tony stands behind you, looking at them over your shoulder, his hands placed on your hips, and you sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment. You have pictured yourself in this scenario countless times, with your kids running around and playing games as your husband, Tony, stands there with you. Unfortunately, you will have to do with the moment you're sharing now, as this idea will be far in your future.

"What's on your mind, Beautiful?" Tony asks you in a soft tone, and you shake your head. You're not ready to discuss your ideal future with him yet, seeing how you're a bit afraid he won't like it or not see you in the same way.

"Nothin'. Just enjoying the sun while I can; I doubt it'll be up for much longer," you tell him, which isn't a lie, but it's not the entire truth either. You allow yourself to melt into his hold as he wraps your arms around your waist, pulling him closer. He doesn't respond, and even though he knows you're holding something back from him, he decides not to push for it. Instead, he opts to enjoy the moment with you - the love of his life - in his arms.

The first two days of the mission have gone well, especially with the help of Tony, and now you're in the kitchen as you're preparing dinner for you both. Tony just finished his shower, and soft music fills the house around you, making the atmosphere quite relaxed.

As you finish the last touches to simple seafood pasta, Tony walks into the open kitchen, and you almost drop the pan you're holding at the sight of your boyfriend. He's wearing tight, black sweatpants that perfectly highlight his bulge, and of course, he decided now would be the perfect time to go without underwear.

Today, you and Tony are celebrating your 1.5-year anniversary. He started the day by surprising you with breakfast in bed and a beautiful bouquet of roses on the kitchen island. A small box and a card accompanied the bouquet. In the box was a necklace with the letter T, which made you chuckle.

"I love it, Tony, thank you. But you'll have to wait for your gift until we're back home tonight," you told him before kissing him deeply. The promise of what's to come later has been buzzing around in both your heads all day whenever there was a spare moment to think about anything other than the mission, and you were both eager to come home tonight.

"So, when will I be getting my present? Before or after dinner?" Tony asks as you put down the pan you're holding. He pushes his chest against your back, allowing you to feel that he's already getting hard at the thought of what's about to happen.

"I was planning on giving it to you after dinner, but I can give you a little taste of what I'm planning for later if you want it," you tell your boyfriend as you turn in his hold, your hand mingling in the hair on the nape of his neck as you pull him close.

"I would love nothing more, Babygirl," Tony whispers against your lips before closing the gap, his soft, pink lips gliding with yours effortlessly as you fully give yourself to him. A soft tug on the hair you're holding has him smirking as he pulls away, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you with a love-filled look.

Without saying a single word, you push Tony so he's standing with his back against the kitchen island, and your hands roam over his chest, your nails dragging softly over his nipples, making him moan ever so softly. You take your time sinking to your knees, all while never losing eye contact with him as you pull his pants down just enough to free his hard cock.

"It's so big, Daddy! I don't think it'll fit in my mouth," you tell him in a semi-innocent tone, and you can see his cock twitch at your words. From the moment you found out Tony has a colossal innocence kink, you like to act the part now and again, much to his delight.

"Hmm, I think it'll fit perfectly in that perfect, tight mouth of yours, Babygirl," he tells you, his hand cupping your jaw as he looks down at the way you're sitting on your knees before him. His thumb slides over your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth, and your lips close tentatively around it before suckling softly.

"Good girl," Tony whispers before pulling his thumb away, grabbing his cock instead. Your gaze is immediately pulled to the way his veiny, pink shaft is slowly worked up and down by his large hand, his fingers curling around it just the way he likes. A small bead of pre-cum gathers at the tip, and you immediately lick it up, moaning lightly as the taste hits your tongue.

His free hand pulls you closer to it, and you open your mouth instinctively. Your lips wrap around the tip, and your eyes slip shut as you feel the comforting weight of it glide over your tongue. As you take everything Tony gives you, your hands grip his thighs, your cheeks sucked in with every inch Tony gives you.

"That's it, Babygirl, you're taking me so well in that beautiful mouth of yours," your boyfriend grunts out, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing as your arousal builds quickly. Once his tip hits the back of your throat, your eyes shoot open, and they immediately lock onto Tony's.

He pulls back a little bit before repeating the action, and this time you're prepared as he guides you further onto his cock. With a few more strokes, you're taking all of him as your nose is pressed against his pelvic bone, right between his Adonis belt. Tony groans deeply as he keeps you there for a second or two, quickly pulling out before doing it again and repeating this over and over again.

It doesn't take long for Tony to throw his head back, and he groans your name through his teeth as he's on the edge. Without warning, you pull off his cock with a loud pop before stroking his cock in tight strokes. As a result, Tony is surprised when he cums, and every last drop of his seed is on your face and outstretched tongue, making you look filthy.

"Look at you, Babygirl; here I was thinking you're such a sweet, innocent little girl, but all you want is to be painted by Daddy's cum, huh?" Tony asks before scooping some cum from your face and feeding it to you, making you swallow it with a content smile on your face.

"But I am your innocent little girl, Daddy," you say with a small pout and big doe eyes as Tony helps you up. You're still trembling a little from sitting on the tiled floor, but you're more than okay with that. He leans in to place a soft peck on your lips before sending you to the bathroom with a soft swat on your butt. He quickly cleans himself off before finishing dinner for you both, plating it beautifully right when you walk back.

"Thank you for that taste, Babygirl; I cannot wait to see what you'll have in store for dessert," Tony whispers before kissing your temple. You smile at his words, as he doesn't even know half of what you have planned for him later.

"C'mere, Babygirl," Tony says as you're seated on the couch, gesturing to your feet. You're enjoying a glass of wine, and there's a TV show playing that neither of you has heard of before, but it's nice enough for some background noise. With a soft groan, you lift your feet on his lap, and he takes off your socks, tickling the bottom of your feet.

"Hey! Not fair!" you tell him with a large smile. He nods before grabbing hold of one of them and massaging carefully - you can feel the tension seeping out of your feet with every move of his skilled hands, his long, thick fingers massaging every inch of them until you're fully relaxed.

As you give yourself over to your boyfriend's touches, you slowly feel his hand sliding up your legs to massage your shins and calves, making you groan at the comfortable feeling settling in your body. It doesn't take long for him to find your most sensitive spot, though - your inner thighs. He can spend hours planting countless kisses and loving touches there and take his sweet time as he marks them with hickies and soft bites.

"T-Tony," you plead softly as his fingers glide over the soft, sensitive skin there, goosebumps rising after his fingers take their time mapping out every inch of them, driving you insane.

"What's on your mind, Babygirl?" Tony asks, acting as if he doesn't know what his touches do to you.

"More..." you whisper, and as soon as you've put your glass down, Tony pulls you onto his lap smoothly. Before you know it, you're chest to chest with him, your lips mere inches away from each other, panting slightly as it dawns on you what just happened.

"More... what?" Tony's mouth curls into a mischievous smile, and your heart beats faster as you look at it. Moments like these have your mind racing and your heart beating out of your chest because he knows how to push you to the edge. Whichever one that may be at that moment.

Instead of answering him with words, you cup one of his cheeks with your hands, the other gliding into the hair on the nape of his neck as you close the distance between you two. Tony's hands move from your thighs up and under your shirt, and their warmth makes you melt into him even more.

The kiss is slow but filled with love and nothing short of perfection. This time, you decide to take the lead for a moment as you lick the seam of his lips for the entrance you're craving so desperately. Before your wish is granted, Tony pulls away to remove your shirt, leaving you in only your pants and a bra.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your skin as his lips find your neck and shoulder, placing small kisses that have you squirming on his lap. As you do, you can feel him getting hard again, which only spurs you on more.

"Let's take this party to the bedroom, Babygirl. I want to make nothing but sweet love to you for the rest of the night," Tony tells you, but before you can answer, he gets up, and you wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself, a squeal escaping your lips. His face is filled with nothing but love as he looks at you. He's head over heels in love with you, and he cannot get enough of telling you - and you can't get enough of hearing it from him.

"Okay," you whisper to him. Within less than a minute, Tony made his way upstairs and to the main bedroom, where he carefully placed you on the bed before stepping back and removing his sweatpants. His cock springs free as it's fully hard, and it slaps against his abdomen with a soft splat from the pre-cum that had gathered at his tip already.

You bite on your lower lip as you look at him. Your gaze slides from his broad shoulders to the arc reactor in his chest, surrounded by his soft, dark chest hair, and from his toned abdomen to the happy trail leading you to the place you love more than anything: his glorious, thick, long cock that manages to split you open perfectly every single time. Combined with his beefy thighs and muscled calves, the sight is complete, and the man looks like the God of Perfection.

"You like what you see?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you nod as a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You've never been shy about checking him out when the two of you are alone, and he enjoys taking his time to adore you and your beautiful body as well.

"I always do, Daddy," you tell him as you ogle him for a few more seconds. When you've finally had your fill of looking at him, you lie on your back, allowing Tony to crawl over your body before leaning on one of his arms, the hand on his other one moving to caress your face. Tony takes his time to commit every inch to memory, thinking about how beautiful you are.

"I love you so much, Babygirl; I'm the luckiest man on earth because I'm calling you my girl," he whispers, his hot breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth and back. He can feel his heart beat faster at seeing your smile, as he can never get enough of looking at it and listening to your laugh. Before you get a chance to answer him, he closes the gap between you two, kissing you gently, taking his time to explore the kiss. You two have to do just that all night, and he plans to make every second of it count.

Your hands glide through his hair before pulling on it, not hard, but just enough to make him groan softly into your mouth. Meanwhile, the hand caressing your face moves your neck and over your shoulder before moving over to your bra strap, curling his fingers around it as he slides it off your shoulder.

"Let's get this off, hm? It'll be a lot more fun if I'm not looking at a bra the entire time," Tony says with a wink after pulling away from the kiss. You feel the warmth spreading over your cheeks at his words. His eyes are immediately pulled to the blush on your cheeks, and he doesn't hesitate to pepper both of them with a generous amount of kisses, making you giggle.

"Stop it! You're tickling me with your facial hair!" you protest, but instead of having mercy, he places kisses all over your face, making you squirm under him while you laugh at his ministrations. You're definitely enjoying yourself right now, and being on a mission with Tony during your anniversary only made things even better.

When Tony finally decides to have mercy, he places one last kiss on your mouth that leaves you wanting more, and you follow his mouth when he pulls away.

"Not fair," you pout, and Tony chuckles at your words, shaking his head.

"You want to know what's not fair, Babygirl? The fact that you're still wearing this bra, even though I distinctly remember wanting to get it off," he says, his eyes narrowing at the offending fabric. He shifts so that he's sitting on his knees while straddling your thighs, and he quickly unhooks your bra at the front.

The moment your nipples are exposed to the air, they perk up, and Tony moves down to wrap his lips around one of them, suckling softly as he listens to the soft moan tumbling from your lips. He uses his fingers to give attention to the other, and your hands tightly hold onto his hair as he plays with your sensitive buds.

The constant stimulation has your hips rutting up to seek friction, but every effort is fruitless, as Tony is situated in such a way that he can give you all the pleasure he wants to give you. After a few more minutes of this torturous pleasure, he switches, giving your other nipple the same care and attention as the first one.

He's taking his time to give you the most immense pleasure you've ever felt by someone playing with your nipples. You moan loudly as he carefully bites down on one of them, and your panties are practically ruined from your arousal. At the same time, you pull hair on his hair, and Tony groans against the plush flesh of your breasts, which sends shivers down your spine.

Once he's finally satisfied with the way your nipples look - red and puffy from all the time he spent playing with them - Tony moves down to the button of your pants to pull these down as well, but he ultimately decides to leave your underwear on. He wants to have a little playtime with that first.

"My God, I can smell how turned on you are, Babygirl, and it makes me so hard for you," he whispers as he noses your soaked panties, taking a whiff before letting his tongue glide over the fabric. Your back arches as the feeling of the fabric combined with his skilled tongue has you feeling everything as your sheets are fisted in the sheets to ground yourself.

"Such a sweet, tight, and perfect pussy," Tony whispers as his fingers slide the panties to the side, exposing your dripping and puffy folds, which he spreads to have a look at your fluttering entrance. It clenches around nothing as he blows on it, and you bite on your lip to supress the moan that wants to escape.

Tony looks up at you through his lashes at the sound of your muffled moan. If there's one thing he's always insistent about, it's that he wants to hear you because there's nothing more beautiful than the sound of you falling apart like that because of him. His brow is raised as you look down at him, wondering why he stopped.

"I want to hear you, Babygirl. I want to hear you fall apart on my fingers, my tongue, and my cock," Tony tells you in a stern voice, and you nod in response. With a content smile, he returns to his earlier position, this time latching onto your sensitive clit, making you moan loudly.

He smiles against your pussy as his tongue takes turns to pleasure your clit and your entrance, building your orgasm up quickly. Your chest rises and falls quickly, the pleasure quickly building to an almost blinding high when he surprises you with two of his thick, strong fingers as well. With a loud exclaim of his name, you cum on his tongue and fingers, and he works you through it carefully.

"That's it, Babygirl, let go for me! Good girl, you're a perfect girl for Daddy like this," he says between your trembling thighs, his thumb still working your clit as he laps up every last drop of your arousal. He hums in appreciation at the taste of it; his eyes closed as it coats his tongue again.

"Thank you, Daddy," you say in a breathy voice when you've come down from your high. It didn't take much for you to cum after Tony's teasing and the nipple play, but it was most definitely worth every second of anticipation. He knows your body better than you know your own, and he can play it as if it's an instrument that he took years to master.

"You're more than welcome, Babygirl, but I'm not done with you yet," he tells you between the kisses he places in a trail over your stomach and through the valley of your breasts. You sigh contently as he noses along your jaw, his facial hair feeling prickly yet lovely against the soft skin of your neck.

"I love you," you whisper as he's hovering over you, his cock achingly hard between his legs from the anticipation. He's been ignoring it for a long time, but it's finally time for him to have his fill now, too, and he's getting impatient.

"I love you too, Babygirl, so much," Tony practically purrs before capturing your lips in a heated kiss that catches you off-guard, but you quickly catch up as you pull him closer, and his cock is now resting on your belly. A small puddle of pre-cum gathers there, and you snake your hand between your bodies to give him a few strokes, getting him ready for what's about to come.

"Hmm, do that again, Babygirl," Tony says, his voice dropping almost an octave as you squeeze his tip softly, and he grunts into your ear as you do exactly as he asks. He ruts into your hand at the feeling of your small fist around his cock, your fingers barely touching as you're wrapped around him. He groans as he keeps fucking your hand, but before it's too late, he quickly pulls away, leaving you with a slight pout on your face.

"Don't worry, sweet girl, there's plenty of time to do that later, but I can't wait any longer to be buried in your tight, pink pussy." Your heart races as his words sink in, and you involuntarily clench around nothing but air, your pussy eager to be filled by your boyfriend's thick cock, splitting you open just the way you like it.

A few seconds later, Tony lines up with your entrance, a loud moan tumbling from your puffy lips as the tip breaches your entrance. Your hands are fisted in the sheets as you allow him to fill you up completely, short strokes ensuring he doesn't hurt you in the process. Grunts fall from his lips as he works his shaft into your squeezing, tight pussy.

"That's it, take my cock, such a good girl for Daddy." You will never get used to the feeling of Tony sliding, but you welcome it nevertheless. From the moment you two stopped using condoms, and you started birth control, your sex life has changed completely. Where you were always ready for each other before, you have become insatiable after that.

The second his cock hits your sweet spot, you arch your back into him, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. His face is nuzzled into your neck as a comfortable silence has fallen over you both. Your fingers trail abstract figures on his shoulders and back as you enjoy each other's feelings. All you have to think about is each other and your love.

Once Tony cannot take it any longer to stay still, he starts with slow, shallow thrusts that have you whimpering softly and a smile tugging at Tony's mouth.

"So good, Babygirl, you feel so good around my cock, I can't wait to fill you with my cum and watch it leak out of you when I'm done. God, my balls are so full for you," he whispers in your ear, his hips thrusting into your welcoming pussy faster and faster with each stroke. The sound of your combined moans and skin slapping against your skin is like the chorus of your love, and you never want this song to end.

"I'm close, Babygirl, 'm gonna fill you up," he groans, and you're so far gone you cannot even form coherent sentences anymore. Your moans are becoming louder, and your nails are now digging into his back instead of tracing lazy figures, and red welts are appearing where your nails are raking down his broad, muscled back.

As his high is quickly approaching, Tony moves his face from your neck in a way that has your foreheads touching, making this moment even more intimate than it already was. The brown of his eyes has been completely replaced by his dilated pupils, lust being visible in them.

"Cum with me, Babygirl, please," he begs, and you nod as your bodies move together perfectly, your highs both building rapidly. The second Tony's hand moves between your bodies and reaches your clit, and you're squeezing him like a vice, your legs trembling as you cum for him, shortly followed by Tony.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Squeezing me perfectly, Jesus! Can't wait to fuck you so full of my cum that it has no way to go but inside you, get you nice and round with my babies," Tony grunts through his orgasm, the long, slow strokes replaced by short and quick ones as he spills every last drop of him inside you, the warmth filling you up completely.

Tony takes his time to ride out both your orgasms, but as soon as you're both too sensitive, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty yet satisfied after everything that happened. With a smirk, he keeps hovering over you, your faces mere centimeters apart. You reach up to kiss his lips softly, making your heart flutter at the feeling.

"I love you so much, Babygirl," Tony whispers before placing one more peck on your lips and taking his place beside you. As you curl onto his side, you hook your leg over him, and your arm lies on his stomach, your hand tracing circles over his arc reactor. You two stay in the comfortable silence for a few minutes before getting up for a much-needed bath.

"You can stay in bed, Babygirl. I'll run a bath for us both and get some of your favorite fruits to eat as we're relaxing," he tells you, and you nod at his words. The second he slips out of the bath, you miss him and his warmth, but that is quickly forgotten when he's ready for you to get into the tub's warm water.

"There you go, such a good girl," Tony says as you sit in the bath, a blush creeping over your cheeks. His praise will always make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. Your boyfriend quickly joins you in the bath before pulling you onto his lap, his fingers massaging your sore muscles as you nibble on the sweet fruit he brought up in a bowl.

"Happy anniversary, Daddy," you tell him right before popping a piece of the fruit in his mouth, and he smiles contently as he chews it.

"Happy anniversary, Babygirl. I hope there will be many more just like this one," he says, sealing his promise with a soft and loving kiss.

It's been about eight weeks since you and Tony celebrated your anniversary on the mission, but now you're lying in bed with a cold compress on your head and your trashcan nearby in case another wave of nausea threatens to come back. You were supposed to be training with Natasha, but you had to cancel due to how you're feeling.

Instead of being in the training room with you, Natasha sits on your bed to keep you company, talking your ear off about her crush on Bruce. While you're usually all ears about it, you can now only think about one thing: the birth control pill you forgot all those weeks ago.

"I think I might be pregnant," you croak out when Natasha is waiting for an answer to a question you didn't catch.

"You're-"

"Pregnant, yes. Or so I think," you tell her with a groan as you slide the compress onto your eyes to shield them from the light in the hopes that you're saved from your next wave of nausea, but to no avail. While Nat usually chats to her heart's content, she's silent as the news sinks in.

"It's Tony's, isn't it?" she outright asks, and you sit up too quickly, which is a bad idea, as you grab the trashcan once more.

"H-how did you-" is all you can say, but she just gives you a reassuring smile.

"I'm not blind, Detka; you and Tony have been hanging out more and more together, and believe it or not, you're not as subtle as you both think you are. While I doubt any of the others would pick up on it, I have had my suspicions for quite a while," Natasha tells you, and you nod.

"We've been together for a little over a year and a half; we started dating after the mission that almost cost me my life," you tell her with a smile. He makes you truly happy, but the thought of being pregnant also scares you.

"On the one hand, I'm hoping it's true, that I am indeed pregnant, but on the other hand, I'm not sure what to feel if it's true. We never even talked about having kids, and even though I'm more than ready to take the next step, I don't know about him! What if he leaves me and doesn't want the baby? Do I take care of it by myself or put it up for adoption?" The words are all coming out in a long stream as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

"Why don't we start by calming down and taking a test before jumping to conclusions? I understand it's scary, but before we take a test, there's nothing to worry about, okay?" she tells you, and you nod. This is how you find yourself sitting on your bed, staring at a timer after taking a test.

The moment it goes off, you turn the test over, and it shows a clear positive. You're carrying Tony's baby, and mixed feelings are swirling through your body. Happiness and anxiety are at the top.

"I'm having a baby," you whisper as you show her the test. Without saying a word, she pulls you into a hug, and you let your emotions go for a moment. Sobs are tearing through your body, and she's there to comfort you through it all. Natasha has been there for you through everything since you became an Avenger, and this won't be any different.

"I'm so happy for you, Detka," Natasha says as she lets her tears fall. During her time in the red room, the ability to carry children has been brutally taken away from her, but that doesn't mean she won't be there for you. She will live the pregnancy vicariously through you, and you're more than happy to share it with her.

"You'll be a great Mom, Detka. They're lucky to have you as a Mom," Nat whispers, and you nod in her hold. When you've both come down from the initial shock and emotions, you stare at the test some more, and the worry immediately makes way for happiness. You're going to be a Mom, and you can't wait to meet the baby growing inside you.

Eventually, Natasha has to leave for an appointment, and you go to the kitchen, though your bounds of nausea are most prevalent in the morning. As you stand by the counter, you hear Tony's footsteps come into the kitchen when, and you close your eyes, gripping your glass as he comes to stand beside you.

"Can we talk for a moment? I have barely seen you for these past two weeks, and I'm worried about you," Tony asks. The worry in his voice is evident, and you know you don't have a choice other than to talk to him. With a soft sigh, you nod and follow him to his office, the closest private space where it's normal for the two of you to talk.

Here goes nothing, you tell yourself as you close the door behind you, the pregnancy test still in your back pocket as you step into the ample space. Tony's about to discover your recklessness, and you're 99% sure you will be single after this conversation. However, nothing could be further from the truth.

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[auphelia]

Restock day in Dottore's lab

A/N: Listen, I'm sorry but this idea has been rattling around in my mind for so long now and I'm afraid I will not know peace before it's been evicted in the form of writing. It was planned out as a chapter of the long fic I've started working on, but it'll be a long time before that catches up to where I want this. My english is bad and my writing skills are even worse so yeah, proceed at your own risk… Big mention to @/boundinparchment and @/surveyycorps whose amazing Dottore works have most certainly influenced my subconscious and this by extension. Warnings/tags: Alludes to mental breakdown, no comfort, very brief gore, fem!oc x dottore, reader x dottore but reader will get personality and backstory, isn't really an x anything since assistant oc doesn't show up until very last bit (and doesn't do much) but it's part of a long fic I've started writing which will be oc x dottore. Minors do not interact

It was by no means an imposing door. Made from worn fir planks it had an almost domestic feeling to it. The more he looked at it, the more out of place something felt. Although it was currently impossible to determine whether that 'something' was him or the door. It was ridiculous how much a simple piece of wood could annoy anyone, but compared to the otherwise sterile and metallic surroundings this stuck out like a sore thumb. His brow furrowed as he caught his mind slipping, it had been doing so more often as of late, and the mere thought of such ineffectiveness was enough to make his fingers twitch at his sides. This would be a quick in and out, simply grab what he needed urgently and get back to work.

He could still recall the conversations he'd had with Pantalone when the lower levels of the Palace had been refurbished to house his primary base of operations. The banker had been stingy, insisting that he would not pay a single mora for something so frivolous as the storage rooms being remodeled to fit the appearance of the laboratories. At the time, Dottore had written it off as some ridiculous principle and complied. After all, he'd been more than content to forego aesthetics and instead funnel his attention into making his workspace functionally perfect. But right now, accompanied by already frayed nerves and the dull thudding in his head, it felt like a blatant attempt at establishing control.

So that's what Pantalone had been trying to do all along, limit and influence him? Just as narrow-minded and afraid of change as the rest of those miserable fools Dottore had dealt with during his long life. Years of bitter resentment flared to life, cradling his body in it's warm embrace as bile rose in his throat. No doubt a scheming leech like the damned banker wouldn't be above weaponizing something as trivial as interior design to subtly nudge him. A willingness to make small sacrifices was the first step towards being manipulated. What else had he agreed to over the years? His thoughts were jumbled and disorganized, a consequence of Omega's little stunt no doubt, and just sorting through all the memories made him queasy. He felt his pulse pounding behind his eyes, the capillaries no doubt on the verge of bursting. His mind barely registered it as his body took two unsteady steps forward, a calloused hand instinctively reaching for the wall to steady his weight. The cool stone against his skin didn't serve to quell the embers of his anger even half as much as he'd hoped.

There were the constant squabbles for funding. Was he being spied on? The compromises on subject sourcing. One of his notebooks were missing. It had been too long since he'd had something sweet. He needed to get rid of the contamination in lab four. When had he last checked on Haeresys? Having to settle for parts and-

A faint laugh escaped his lips, the sound lost between the cracks in the walls. He'd done it again, forgotten his intentions and drifted into a string of preposterous thoughts. Being away from his work wasn't doing his mind any favors. A hand made its way towards the gleaming earring, the movement subconscious as he sought to disconnect from the network. For a moment placebo kicked in as he deposited the jewelry into his back pocket and all fell quiet around him. But ever the fast mind, it soon occurred that the voices, his voices dammit, weren't something that could simply be turned off anymore. They all- No, he just needed some time to assimilate and he would endure as he always had. With a renewed sense of determination, and a small shake of his head to clear his mind, he pushed open the door. Forcing himself not to wince as it creaked on its hinges, his jaw tensed. Another thing he'd need to get fixed. Not bothering to close the door behind him he stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back as he let his gaze scan across the shelves and stacks of equipment. Dust lingered atop the surfaces, a testament to how long it had been since he'd last had to restock he mused. The younger segments, not quite mature enough where he'd trust them, trust himself, to be in charge of any real research took care of such menial work as restocking the labs. Following the incident the laboratory had been stocked for a while, with material turnover naturally slowing down to match the available workforce.

He pushed down the intrusive thoughts reminding him that he'd been cutting corners and compromising on various things the past couple of days, actively avoiding having to leave his experiments to pick up new pipettes, tubes, plates, glassware, spare mechanic parts… He'd need some of the chemicals as well, unwieldy containers that took more time moving than what it was worth. He wanted to curse at himself, he should've written a note of what he needed. A glance over his shoulder and across the corridor was all it took to remind him how close his laboratory was, it would be easy to do a quick check. The thought had barely formed before a scowl settled on his face, going back and forth was hardly a necessity, he should know what he needed to bring over.

As his focus returned to the dimly lit room, a feeling of unease seeped into his bones. Nothing was placed as he remembered it. Granted, it had most likely been more than a century since this body had last been in here. The shelves were lined from floor to ceiling with various necessities, and he had to stop himself from swearing as he realized none of the boxes were labelled with anything save for some seemingly random assortment of letters and numbers. No doubt they had meaning, but the symbols refused to part with their secrets as his eyes roamed over them. He'd recognize his own handwriting anywhere, this version a little more legible than average. One of the youngsters had made the system then, that would only make figuring it harder. His hand ran through his hair, a small voice briefly reminding him how long it had been since he'd last washed it properly. Every box had a letter and between one to three numbers, the digits appearing random in their placement along the shelves. So they didn't indicate position in the room, meaning it must pertain to the content of the box. In that case, they were likely numbered so the things most often used had the lowest numbers, a simple yet relatively clever system. Perhaps the letters were some sort of category indicator, it could be based on the type of work it was required for? It wasn't a system without fault of course, the value having needed to be assigned based on subjective opinion. The youngest segments had likely never looked through any documents that could indicate how much or how often everything was ordered.

His headache was pushed back at the satisfaction of having cracked the code, now he'd just find the box with the lowest value and use that as a reference to grasp what things had been ranked as 'important'. A small smile tugged at the corner of his chapped lips as he perused the shelves, crimson eyes systematically skimming across the stocks. The heels of his boots clicked against the flooring with every step he took into the maze of shelves and loose containers lining the floor. Incredible how much had been shoved into the modest room. An accident in here could set his research months back, the thought in and of himself bringing some odd semblance of comfort which should by no means be there. A small hum of approval left him as his eyes found what they'd been looking for, bringing his scattered thoughts back to the present. Reaching out with gloved hands he grabbed a box, the container surprisingly light in his hold. Labelled as 'G-3' he'd expected it to contain something like glassware, but the feeling of it in his hands suggested it must then be largely empty. He set it down on the ground, kneeling to get a better look as he impatiently pried it open.

"Cotton?" The word had left his lips before he could stop it, the sound grating his ears. He could already hear the mocking laughter in his head, wanting nothing more than to rip whatever nerve cells were responsible for it out. Too distracted to put the crate back, he simply stood up and gave it a small push with the tip of his shoe, having already forgotten it as his mind ran rampant. If cotton was labeled so high, surely it couldn't be based on importance. What did he even use cotton for? Could it have been of use to one of the others in case a subject was bleeding? His stomach churned involuntarily, shoving aside memories of mangled bodies, picked apart for nothing in particular. It had been a disgusting endeavor, spearheaded by his worst perspective. But why should they have bothered with first aid when most of those subjects weren't even reused? An utter waste of materials.

He grasped another box, desperate to find what he needed and get out. The air weighed heavily on him as he kept pulling out crates and containers, all of them landing unceremoniously on the floor. Within just five minutes his movements had become erratic, almost desperate in the need to find something, anything he could use right now. This was his creation, fostered by his mind and realized by his hands. Another perspective, but ultimately him. The Doctor. A Fatui Harbinger. There was nothing he couldn't solve if given the tools and time, and he most certainly would not let something as inconsequential as… Glass crashed to the ground, the sound rattling his bones and pulling him back to the present as hundreds of delicate glass pipettes shattered. The fragments spilling from the crate he'd so carelessly tossed on the ground. He'd needed those. The realization made his movements falter, the jumbled voices in his head screaming for him to continue, stop, cry, anything and everything really. His finger tapped against his thigh in a quick rhythm, counting the taps in the back of his mind. A shaky hand reached up to unclasp the mask as he found himself desperate for anything to cool his burning skin. This was too much.

At least he didn't see any shattered or broken chemical containers meaning this was still only a disgraceful inconvenience, not a health hazard. Laughter erupted from his throat, the sound foreign and intrusive as he felt it worm its way inside his skull. His knees hit the hard stone before his mind could catch up. His head lowered, eyes widening as he saw a few unfamiliar droplets wetting the ground in front of him. The laughter died down to a faint chuckle as his throat constricted, only serving to make the sound of his gloved finger tapping more prominent in the ravaged room. His entire body stiffened as something not of his making reached his ears, the breathing pattern recognizable enough by now that it made him want to sink into the cracks beneath him. Instead, scarred hands moved by themselves to clip the mask back on before he straightened his back. "How. Long?" the words were by no means rude, a faint voice in the back of his mind praising him for not lashing out. If nothing else, he could cling to that small display of control to remind himself that all was well. "Long enough," she sounded like she'd wanted to say more but refrained, at least it seemed his technician was learning to control that damnable tongue of hers. The relief at her lack of further questioning had barely manifested when her next words washed over him like a bucket of cold water. "But pray tell, Doctor, how am I supposed to prepare the new solutes and buffers when you've seemingly decided to break all the clean glassware?" His fists tightened at the accusatory tone in her voice, making him feel like a scolded child. Making no effort to tread lightly, he got to his feet, hard heels slamming into the ground hard enough that the thought of looking for additional cracks in the ground briefly flashed through his mind. Within seconds he'd crossed the distance, no thoughts spared for the mess of items that cracked and broke beneath his feet. Towering over the young woman, he bit into the inside of his cheek to keep himself from doing anything rash. She had proven too useful for his research, especially with the segments gone. He only had to endure until they were rebuilt. He leaned forward, hands clasped behind his back as he brought the beak of his mask uncomfortably close. A thin smile stretched across his lips as he saw her resolve crumble just enough for her to take half a step back. "As resourceful as you are, surely you can think something up, hm?" His voice was laden with derision as he straightened back up, fingers itching to dig into her skin hard enough to draw blood. Once more he found himself grateful for the mask that covered half his face, letting him close his eyes unnoticed for a brief moment of respite before striding past her. He had half a mind to grasp the door handle and slam the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway. "Ah, one moment Doctor. There's no system to it really, Xi simply had it memorized. I made an overview of sorts for my own convenience, it's on the back of the door," he swore there was a smug sort of satisfaction to her words as she continued, "in case you need it in the future." His hands had tightened into fists while she spoke. Of course it had been nothing but wishful thinking that such a foolish child would've created anything as worthwhile as a storage system. Despite his wounded pride, curiosity plucked at the edges of his thoughts and spurred him on. He'd already sunk low enough for a subordinate to see him in such a disgraceful state, satisfying the question on his mind would hardly make matters worse. "The codes. What is their purpose?" The words came out more clipped than he'd have liked, but just the act of forming a coherent sentence proved troublesome. He wanted to roll his eyes as he heard her sigh softly, it was a bad habit on her part, six even breaths followed by a sigh. Another miserable tool to fix.

Her words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears, vision blurred at the edges as he marched across the hallway and into his laboratory. The lock clicked into place as he shut the door behind him before ripping the mask off and tossing it aside, gloves following soon after. Fingers swiftly tangled in his locks, massaging at his scalp in an attempt to ease the tension. If he was lucky, his technician would get the message. Even if she had a key this was no time to intrude. His body slumped onto the nearest chair, his forehead almost immediately making contact with the table. Raspy chuckles mixed with quiet sobs as his nails scraped off the bloody scabs that had recently made themselves at home on his skin. His thoughts raged, mute voices mocking him for not having predicted this outcome. 'The codes? Oh, they're for Pantalone's convenience. It's how he prefers the materials we order to appear in the expense reports. Something about product codes.'

#dottore x oc #dottore x reader #lab technician reader #il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #il dottore x reader #dottore x female reader #auph writes #memento mori #magspy look away lmao

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Bloody Beetle | Part Three

Summary: a conversation with Harrow decides your fate

Pairing: this chapter is mostly Arthur Harrow x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Manipulative Harrow/Lying Harrow. a LOT of artistic interpretation on Harrow’s abilities...

A/N: So sorry its been a year since I updated this story but im fully back on the Moon Knight hype right now and I actually have part four written, part five half written and the rest of this story *mostly* planned out! For the purposes of this story, lets just pretend Harrow has the ability to give people strength or make them need to sleep... As always, spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Two | Series Masterlist 

- - - - -

Nothing.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that you feel nothing. No aches, no pain, no shortness of breath. Before you fell asleep you felt so weak, you weren’t sure you would even make it thought the night. And now here you are feeling better than you did before Harrow made you ill.

You get out of bed and go straight to the door. To your surprise it opens. You half expected Harrow to have locked you in here. But then he probably thought you were still too ill to move.

This is your chance to escape.

You open the door as quietly as possible and try to remember the route back to the exit. The floorboards creak under your feet and you freeze, listening to hear if anyone is coming after you. You only hear silence so you continue.

Eventually you make it back to the communal area you had walked through yesterday, only now it is completely empty. It’s still night. Everyone must be asleep. You spot the exit ahead of you and your heart skips. This is it. You're free. Free to go to Steven.

But wait; Steven left you here.

Or did he? What if Harrow was lying? What if Steven is trapped here too?

You stare ahead at the exit, take a breath and turn away. Away from your chance at freedom.

Steven said he would find you. He promised. He wouldn’t just leave you here.

Which means he must be in trouble.

You have to find Steven.

You head back into the communal area, a huge stone walled courtyard with half crumbled arches and mismatched furniture. You pass the selection of random armchairs, all facing towards a giant screen. Past the shelves covered in various items, boxes and books. Past the tables and chairs and the small kitchen area. You reach the end of the room and as your about to start climbing up one of the sets of wooden stairs…

“You intrigue me, Y/N.” Harrows voice comes from the archway behind you. You turn around to see him step out into the light, his eyes fixed on you. “You could have left. The doors are open, there’s no one here to stop you and yet you didn’t leave. Why?”

“Did you want me to leave?”

“Oh no. Quite the opposite, I’m actually glad you decided to stay. What I do want is to know why?”

“Where’s Steven?” You ignore his question.

“Ah.” He says, nodding with understanding. “You believe he’s still here.”

“I know he’s here.”

“What makes you sure?”

“He wouldn’t abandon me.”

“No you're quite right. I can’t imagine Steven Grant would do such a thing.” He pauses. “But Marc Spector did.”

“I don’t know what you're getting at, but I already know all about Marc. Steven told me everything.”

“What exactly did he tell you?”

“The truth. He said he didn’t fully understand it himself but there’s this other person, Marc, living inside of him and that he is basically the reason Steven’s life has been falling apart. Sometimes Marc takes over the body and does things… are you saying that Marc took over and forced Steven to leave me here?”

“Let’s take a seat.” He moves over to the closest table, sitting down and gesturing for you to sit opposite him.

You stare at him for a moment, watching as he leans his cane against his chair and places his hands on the table in front of him. He looks back up at you again then back to the empty chair. You sigh as you pull out the chair and sit opposite him with your arms folded across your chest, leaning back away to create distance between the two of you.

“Steven Grant doesn’t exist.” He starts and you look at him confused. “Marc Spector created this Steven persona and ran away to England in an attempt to escape the many sins of his past. He is a very bad man Y/N, he has done some terrible things. He was a mercenary. He killed a lot of people and got in a lot of trouble. That is why he made up Steven. He pretended to be someone else just so he could hide. But it wasn’t real. His gentle personality. His job at the museum. His friendship with you-”

“No-”

“-It was all an act Y/N, and I am so very sorry to have to tell you that. Truly I am.”

“Just stop-”

“I know how much you cared for this Steven-”

“You're lying!”

“You're feeling better now, yes?”

“What?”

“You're alive, you feel no more pain. Why do you think that is?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, placing on the table in the middle of you both. “He gave me this.”

It’s the scarab beetle.

“He gave me this and told me to keep it. And you.” Harrow explains, a false sympathetic look on his face. “He told me he has no use for either of you anymore.”

You can’t take your eyes off the golden beetle in front of you. Your heart sinking further and further with every second as you take in what Harrow is telling you.

“I know this is a lot to process Y/N but there is one more thing I must tell you. You are free to leave if that is what you wish-”

“Great!” You get up out your seat and start to walk away.

“But I really think you should stay.”

“Why the hell would I do that?!”

“Because if you leave you will become weak again and you will die.” He states, making you stop and turn back.

“What?! No, he gave you the scarab and now I’m okay, that was the deal.”

“An error on my part.” He stands, taking a step towards you. “I failed to mention that in order to keep you alive Ammit must restore your strength every day. Through direct contact with me.”

“You..? How?”

“A simple touch of my hand.”

You remember him last night, placing his hand on your head right before you fell asleep.

“You healed me last night?” More of a statement than a question.

“I did.” He takes another step closer to you.

“But you told me Steven had left with the scarab. Why did you lie to me?”

“I was trying to protect you, protect your feelings. I knew you weren’t strong enough for the hurt that the truth would cause.”

“And you think I’m strong enough for it now?” you scoff and he reaches his hand out to hold yours.

“You are stronger than you know Y/N.” He locks eyes with you, his bright blue eyes almost staring into your soul. “Ammit sees something special in you. That is why she’s allowing you to live.”

You shake him off, taking a step back as you gather yourself. You take a breath.

“So either I stay as a prisoner for the rest of my life or go out there and die? Are those really my only options?”

“You're not a prisoner, Y/N, there are no locked doors. No guards forcing you to stay. You could live a happy life with us.”

You think for a moment.

“Or option three; I leave, go live my own life in my own home and then I’ll just come back here every day so you can top up the life support.”

“That won’t work I’m afraid. I move around a lot from place to place, there is no way of knowing exactly where I will be from one day to the next. The safest option for you is to join me.” He pauses. “Join us.”

He raises his arms out to the side as small groups of disciples begin emerging from the doorways and shadows, all facing you. The way they’re all looking at you makes you feel uneasy.

“Just to be clear, if I agree to stay with you that does not mean I’m on your side. It’s purely self preservation, okay? I am not helping you find Ammit. I will not help you murder innocent people. Got that?” Arthur nods. “Good.”

“Good.” he echos, smiling.

“Okay. So what happens now?”

“Now, we go to Cairo.”

Part Four

Taglist : @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii / @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker

(If you want to be added/removed on the tag list please let me know, but note that I can’t reply to comments from this blog)

#moon knight #Steven Grant #Marc spector #layla el faouly #Arthur harrow #Steven Grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector x reader #arthur harrow x reader #layla el faouly x reader #khonshu #marvel #marvel fanfic #moon knight fanfic #Ethan Hawke x reader #Oscar Isaac x reader

[endereies]

Fuck it - Matt Sturniolo - Part 6

Spotify playlist:

Authors notes:

I'm finally finished with school for the break so I should be updating a little quicker over the next 2 weeks.

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 3265

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Is this something we are meant to do?” “Fuck it.”

“Okay, so, we submit this on Monday and we still have four scenes to analyse and then two exam questions to go through.” Matt mumbles as he places his back down next to me in the library and unsheathes a load of sheets, more are crumpled than ones that aren’t. The amount of them excelling the more meetings we had after school.

“We can get that done in a weekend, right?” My voice tainted with uncertainty. I had got to the library fifteen minutes before him so all my work was already displayed out in front of me with scribbles of different coloured pen one each of them.

“right.”

We were a little bit behind in our project since the majority of our meetups end in us just talking about random things or playing music with our home equipment. I would borrow Chris’s old guitars which was covered in a metallic red with black strings. The picks he bought matched perfectly dividing the red and black shades with lines of silver. Matt’s drumkit was similar to the school’s own designs yet on the base drum was the name ‘sturniolo’ in a faded midnight blue. Each drum fastened with the same blue wrapped around them. He had custom drum sticks too, fading from the original beige wood to a dyed neon-blue. The vibrancy capturing my attention every time, I bet he knew that to with the amount he’d smirk at me when he noticed me staring.

It's why we planned on staying in the library to finish the project, hopefully none of us get distracted. That’s if Matt stopped tapping his pen on the table.

“Matt.” My tone is stern as I frown still facing the pages of my book. He was too distracted in his ‘mini-concert’ that I grabbed his wrist firmly, which made his pen fall out his hand and onto the wooden desk below him.

He stammers a little as I glare at him and raise an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck did I do?”

“If you keep tapping that fucking pen on the desk, I will snap it in half.” I hold eye contact until I’m finished speaking and I let go of his wrist, watching his circulation fade back.

“And yet, you can do it all the time.” He smirks at me again and I retort by scoffing.

“When I’m in class and have nothing to do…you haven’t written anything for 10 minutes.”

“Normally by now we are playing music at our houses, this is a long ass day and this is only making it longer.” A sigh escapes my lips and I drop my pen, lean back for a moment and fold my arms loosely across my chest.

“Okay. If you work with me until six, I’ll buy you lunch all of next week.”

“Ain’t no way, you aren’t serious.”

“And you can get whatever you wish, no matter the cost, doesn’t even have to the food on campus.” I interject him by cutting him off and leaning closer over the table.

“Fine. Deal.” He holds out his hand in front of me and I look up at him with a blank expression.

“What are we, in 6th grade? I’m not shaking your hand.” I roll my eyes to him to just pick up my pen and start writing again.

“Damn, you’re no fun.”

“No…I just happened to hit puberty.” I click my tongue inside my mouth

I feel his glare on me before he continues to work on the papers in front of him. I take out my small white case and take out one of my headphones and pick up my phone to play some music in to them. I don’t bother checking what playlist I click on and immediately blast heavy dubstep into my ears, loud enough to make Matt pay attention to me again and giggle when I jump from the volume. I spam the volume control and turn it down rapidly until I can tolerate it. Matt immediately looks away from me, trying not to laugh when I hold my gaze on him for a few seconds.

-

“Is it nearly six, Alyia. My hand is fucking cramping up.” Matt whines for the fourth time in ten minutes.

“Like I said two minutes ago, no. Besides you have yet to finish of that question and it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve been writing for that long without taking a break.”

“I want to get this finished; I don’t exactly want all this effort to go down the drain. I’ve stayed up too many nights for this.”

“Really…?” His voice filled with concern as his smirk and joke-filled demeanour faded quickly.

“What.”

“I would’ve done more of you asked me to…you didn’t have to stay up for any of it.” I interject him before he can continue

“Matt. I have more time than you, the project’s getting done. Does it really matter?” I look up to him, dropping my pen for the first time in a while.

“Of course it matters, you need sleep Alyia.”

“I also need this project done.” He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, returning the glares I’ve been giving him all night.

“Promise me you’ll relax after the project is due and let me finish off the last two questions.”

“You really like your promises, huh?” My page fills the silence as it crumples, getting caught on itself, making me purse my lips as I try to fix it before continuing to write.

“Alyia.” He grabs the pen out my hand and places it far from my reach and I narrow my eyes at him again. “I mean that, let me handle the rest of it and get some rest. Please.” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“I’ll sleep appropriately, fine, but I’m writing the last question. You can happily take the other one if you so desire.”

“Thank you. I’m not having your sleep decrease because you don’t want to ask for help.” His words make me raise my voice at him.

“What do you mean by that.”

“I don’t recall me stuttering. You have been sacrificing your sleep because you didn’t want to ask me to do a little more work.” He leans in to me, as if he is mocking me and I scoff.

“Not true.” My words mumble, subconsciously knowing he is right.

“Whatever, look it has gone six now, c’mon. We can work on this later on.” He shuffles papers together and stuffs them into his bag, lacking organisation which makes me stare at his back with a slightly shocked expression.

I follow his actions, however, and with a heavy sigh I put all my work in a pile, putting the sheets in between two books to keep them straight.

“You want to hang out later or something?” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and looks back at me.

“Hang out, me and you somewhere. I would recommend my place but Nick is there with Chris and Madi.”

“I know a place we could go if you want? I haven’t been there in a while so I don’t know how overgrown it is.”

“Wait wait. Did you say overgrown, what kind of fucking place is this.” Matt waits for me to catch-up to him and I walk slightly faster so he doesn’t have to wait so long.

“Amery Grove? There is a line of old houses at the back that people kind of forgot about, maybe like twenty years ago? I’m not sure.” Matt gaze falls to me as I start to ramble, simply listening to my words.

“Well, anyway, about two years ago a few of my friends and I decided to fix a few of them up during the summer. We didn’t decorate or anything but we cleaned old furniture and threw out what we didn’t need. While it wasn’t the prettiest, we hung out there a lot.”

“So, you just went to abandoned buildings and fixed them?” He keeps walking and opens doors in front of me as I keep talking. When he does, I quickly walk through them and turn to face Matt, proceeding to talk with my hands.

“Yeah, it was fun, even if our skills were mediocre, it made for good hangouts and a few parties.”

“You go to parties?” He gives me a side eye and I roll my eyes in response.

“Not as much anymore, I went when I had more friends to talk to and less schoolwork on my back. Maybe at some point…”

-

“Cmon you are slow” I drag out my words and groan as I get more excited, wanting to jump up and down to reduce the amount of energy but instead I shake my hands around.

“Jesus Alyia, I’m just putting our bags in here, I’m not carrying all of this across the Grove.” He arranges the bags in the back seats like some real-life game of Tetris. After another minute or so he finally shuts the car door and locks it.

“Okay I’m done, let’s go.” He puts his keys back by his belt and returns to my side.

“I haven’t been here in a while, so no promises on how clean it’ll be.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” He smiles at me briefly before focusing on walking through some reasonably tall grass.

The trail I normally use is more overgrown than what I used to walk through so as we walk, we use old trees to climb past different areas and our feet to stamp on brambles and stinging nettles. It is pitch-black outside by this point so we are using our phone’s flashlights to guide our way through the trail. Leaves hang down from nearby trees and I start to wish I brought my jacket with me.

I place my feet onto a tree stump and try to climb over a fallen branch, but when my weight switches feet, I slip on some moss and fall backwards from the stump. My phone drops from my hand and the flashlight goes into my eyes, making me close them. I place my hands back to support myself for when I hit the floor but I never do. Instead, a tight grip snakes around to the side my waist and upper back, slowly pushing my body back to stand straight.

“Woah woah, are you alright…” I open my eyes to see Matt looking down at me with concerned eyes. I can barely make it out since he dropped his phone and its flashlight instantly to catch me. His chain dangles above my face and once I stand up properly, he uses one of his hands to push his hair back, keeping the other on my waist.

“Uh huh…” I regain my focus and brush myself off and pick up our phones from the damp grass. “Thanks”

“Of course,” He takes his phone back, brushing off the debris, continuing to walk ahead of me and over the branch I just slipped on. “You need to be more careful, sweetheart.”

It’s that fucking nickname again.

-

“Here we are!” I run ahead of Matt and smile bright at the few houses on a quiet lit up street.

“Its still the same…” I smile to myself, remembering how I used to run around here.

“Yeah? I think it looks fucking awesome.” He circles around me looking at the few houses, clearly seeing a difference between the ones I fixed up and the ones I left.

“Really?”

“Really. Y’know…maybe one day we could fix one up?” I turn my head a little too quickly to face him, who was already smiling at me.

“You wanna? Like, for real?” He simply nods to me before walking off to look at one of the houses closest to us.

I run to catch up to him again and I grab his wrist to show him inside one of the houses. The inside walls occasionally spotted with carvings of names and dates, ripping through worn out wallpaper. Unfinished projects left abandoned, mostly within the kitchen. I pick up an old and now rusted hammer and spin it around in my hands, recalling the last use of it going towards a leg of an old chair that lay on its side next to it. A bittersweet smile covers my face the more I venture the house, with Matt always following right behind, dragging his fingers across old cabinets and cupboards.

“you guys did so much work in here…” He picks up old projects that remain unfinished and analyze them one by one, awe showing within his eyes. “Why did you ever stop this?”

“We stopped being as close I guess...nothing personal to one another, just different schools and points in our lives. I still have contact but no one really talks as much anymore.” I quiet my voice and sit down on one of the chairs and put down the hammer.

“None of us ever took that personally, we just drifted. Miss it all like hell though.”

Matt stays quiet for a moment, just looking at me with slight pity.

“That’s a shame, especially since nothing even happened that you could’ve changed.” The distance between us closes as I stand up again but I simply keep walking towards the bottom of the stairs before I slowly walk up them.

Matt pov:

I follow her up the stairs, stepping where she did in case any areas are weak enough to break, but once I put that focus into the decor upstairs, I stand still. The upstairs was so much nicer, covered in intact wallpaper and furniture that made it seem like someone actually lived there. More carvings were decorating the walls and less tools were on the floors. I take in more of what’s around me, admiring the hard work.

Hearing the stories about her old friends make me smile but also makes me wonder why she is more closed off to people now.

We start to wonder around the different areas that she decorated and I admire the craftsmanship and efforts they put in to it.

“We can chill up here if you want?” Alyia points to a balcony that is guarded by a wooden fence, a few old chairs are stacked up and leant against the glass door and I walk through.

“Can I ask why you took me here, not that I hate it or anything. Just…if this place reminds you of your friends, why bring me here.” Alyia’s face falters slightly and I feel bad for bringing them up.

“This place has many memories but I feel stuck whenever I come here, and I love this place. I don’t want to come back here and feel self-pity when I see those carvings on the walls.”

“I meant it by the way.”

“Meant what Matt?” I look up at her before looking over the edge and down onto the weakly lit street.

“Fixing a place up with you, could be fun.” I smile at her before looking back over the edge and laying my arms on the wooden fence, trying not to apply a lot of weight onto it.

“I have no idea if any of the lighting still works properly, a few faulty lights here and there but nothing major enough to set anything up properl-“

“So? We have already walked through here in the dark easily enough, besides we don’t have to come here only at night.”

I turn back to look inside the house but my vision is slightly impaired from looking at the street lights too long. I change my point of view and glance down to my phone to check the time.

9:24pm

“Shit, it’s kind of late, do you parents want you back at a certain time?” I message Chris and Nick an apology after seeing the copious number of texts and missed calls.

“Uhm no, I can be back whenever” She trails off and I remember the phone call she had at my place.

“Oh…is she not home again?” I receive a small nod in return.

“You can stay over if you want to?”

“No, it’s okay I have things to do anyway…” She avoids eye-contact with me but I try not to question anything

“Alright then, should we head back, I’m being attacked by Nick so much” I see her smile as I finish speaking and just stands up and starts to walk back to the stairs.

-

“Just here, okay?” I turn the wheel and look through my window for any parking on the edge of the road.

“Yeah, this is perfect, thanks again” She thanks me for the millionth time tonight.

“Kid, I’ve already said it’s okay to drive you places.” I finish parking which makes the car tilt slightly as it reaches over the curb.

“Goodnight Matt.”

“Yeah, goodnight.”

The drive back to my place was quite bleak, even when I turned aux on, none of the songs fit the mood I was in. Whatever that mood was. I just focused on the road ahead and the way the lights shone through my windshield and lit up areas in my car like a mini disco. I sigh when I hit another red light and pull the cable from my phone and I resort to the radio music. It immediately blares and I turn it down quickly to a volume quiet enough for some background audio.

I should hate you – Gracie Abrams

It was already half way through the song but I let it play none-the-less, letting the calm guitar fill the car. The quiet and soft vocals relaxed me and I was able to take a deep breath that didn’t result from frustration.

I notice the song fading out just as I pull into the road that I live on so I turn the radio off completely as to not ruin my mood, but as soon as I step inside it gets dampened anyway.

“Oh my God, Matt. Where were you!” I drop my keys into a small bowl and I instantly get bombarded by Nick’s concerned voice.

“Out.”

“Out? Is that all you have to say. You said you were revising the project until six and then you would be home. It is nearly half ten and this is the first we have heard from you!” he starts to exclaim and honestly, I can’t blame him for the way he is acting

“I went somewhere with Alyia…that’s all. I guess we lost track of time.” I mumble quietly, knowing I’m in the wrong but I’m not going to apologize for having a good time.

“I’m not saying you can’t hang out with people, just let us know, okay? It could be three am for all I care but as long as I have some form of communication. You had us worried…” Nick takes a deep breath and looks down to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve said something…Where is Chris?” I try and change the subject to lessen the amount I get yelled at.

“He’s asleep upstairs, he wanted to wait for you but he was exhausted after hockey so I refused to let him.”

I look up to Nick and give him a tight-lipped smile, feeling guilt twinge inside briefly.

“You better go have a shower or something, you’re covered in dirt, Matt.”

“Yeah, I will…sorry again.” Nick simply hugs me tight.

“It’s alright, just don’t let me stay up again.” He punches my arm lightly and we smile at each other.

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07

#sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo

[ken-dom]

Come Back To Me

Holland March x Mrs March

Summary: Nightmare or dream? Why not both.

Author's notes: Written as part one to @heresthestorymorningglory's heartbreakingly gorgeous Holland x reader fic, Of Dreams And Dances, which came about after she had a dream that eerily coincided with the contents of a deleted scene I was watching from what turned out to be one of our favourite films. Of which the main theme is coincidences. Coincidence or not, it resulted in us teaming up to explore Holland as a husband and a father, and what his future could look like.

Warnings/content: fluff, angst, mentions of pregnancy (and conception — one nsfw line from holland midway through), alcohol

It had been a quiet Saturday. All three of them, taking advantage of some rare time at home to relax together.

Holland had a case. Technically. It wasn’t one he was particularly worried about, just a simple problem he could string out for more cash while doing the bare minimum. And with a relatively new baby at home, who could blame him?

Well, Holly wasn’t really a baby. Holly was three and a half years old now. But he still called her his baby, wishing the time hadn’t moved so fast since she was born, hoping that she wouldn’t grow up too fast and have to take on the horrors of responsibility in the real world too soon. He wanted to protect her for as long as he could, be a better dad to her than his own father was to him. Let her have the childhood he wished he’d had.

So he would take the money, regardless of the morals involved, and use it all for her, to build her a future.

He still remembered the moment in the hospital when his wife had looked up at him, glowing after a horribly long labour, and said, ‘She’s perfect. I want to name her Holly. After you.’

His heart broke every time he remembered that moment, because already, at three years old it seemed too long ago. But he wanted to live in it forever.

Today had been almost as perfect, the entire world shut out as they enjoyed their perfect little bubble in their perfect little house, Holland not even bothering to dress properly and his wife feeding him chocolates and making him tea “the English way” — whatever the fuck that meant — reading to each other and to Holly, playing hide and seek with her between naps and lazing around. It was heaven. He was in heaven.

‘Holland, darling, put some music on!’ His wife cooed when she appeared from upstairs, finding Holland slumped over the kitchen table. She tugged at his shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

Holland didn’t budge for a moment, lost in a haze of melancholy nostalgia. His life was completely perfect, he knew that, so why couldn’t he live in the moment and just fucking enjoy it instead of lamenting how three years had passed so suddenly? Four, if you counted the pregnancy.

‘Holland, darling, what’s the matter?’ his wife pressed, sitting down on the chair beside him and laying her head on the table too.

He loved that about her. She always got on his level, always managed to soothe him back to her so easily.

He slowly lifted his head and his big, round, blue eyes locked on hers, glistening with something unreadable. ‘I wanna have another one.’

‘Another one what?’

‘Another baby.’

‘Oh-’

Before she could even really answer, he had sprung up, his chair crashing to the floor behind him, and he had offered his hand out, pulling her close to him when she took it, and breathing her in as she pressed close. She felt so warm against him.

‘You can’t name the next one after me, too, though. It’s gonna get silly.’

She chuckled against his chest, swaying with him. ‘Why, how many little Hollands are you planning?’

‘Oh, hundreds. I was thinking, we should try for twins this time, get two in one go.’

‘Steady, Holland, you’re not the one carrying them. Besides I don’t think it works like that.’

‘I’m serious — what do you eat to get twins?’

‘I’m not sure…’

‘Whatever it is, I'll find out and I’ll make it for you every day,’ he leaned closer to her ear, whispering, ‘and I’ll pump you full of me every night until your belly is full with our children.’

She giggled, slapping him playfully on the chest. ‘I would have a hundred children with you, you know that?’

‘Wanna start tonight?’

She looked up at him, smiling at his dumb but seductive expression. ‘Yes I absolutely do. And I’ll do my best to get you twins.’

He kissed her tenderly, arms tightening around her shoulders as they swayed.

There was no music. There didn’t need to be. He hummed, though, low against her ear, the tune of her favourite song, gradually adding in the words until he was serenading her.

‘Dad-’

Holland looked up, toward the stairs but Holly hadn’t appeared at the top, looking for him.

‘Dad.’

‘Honey? Was that-’

But his wife was silent, face buried against his chest.

‘Dad!’

Rubbing at the wedding band around his finger with his thumb, he closed his eyes, it was there. It was safe.

When he opened his eyes again, Holly was in front of him.

He grasped for his wife, arms flailing in front of him, but there was nothing. She was gone. So was the ring.

And Holly was… older. Almost ten years older by the look of her. 

Had he fallen asleep dancing with his wife? He needed to get back to her, needed to snap out of whatever vision this was.

‘Dad, wake up!’

‘Believe me, I’m trying,’ he slurred, mouth struggling around the words. ‘Why am I wet?’

‘Because you’re in the tub again. I told you to get undressed next time. You’re gonna ruin all your suits!’

Holland groaned. The water was cold and he was shivering. It felt real. This was no vision, no dream. This was real.

‘You need to get up, Mr. Healy’s here to see you.’ Holly growled with frustration and turned on her heal, storming out of the bathroom to carry on making breakfast.

‘Tell him I’ll be out in ten minutes,’ Holland grunted, flopping back into the cold water and closing his eyes. ‘Come back to me,’ he breathed, her song playing on loop in his mind all the while, ‘come back to me. We were gonna make twins, come back-’

#not s f w 💀 #holland march x mrs march #holland march angst #holland march fluff #holland march fic #holland march #the nice guys fic #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys #ryan gosling fluff #ryan gosling angst #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #ken-dom writes

[favorjtecrime]

girl group member, Jia Y/N, became increasingly popular due to her self written song ‘RUN2U’ and blew up for months due to the addicting song that hit overseas and nationally. By the time she felt her song’s popularity decrease, she awoke to her name being trended on twitter with a familiar name next to hers.

previous next

warnings : rude jokes, kys jokes

──────────

“y/n!!” the older man called out, he was Itzy’s manager and was currently on the set of KBS’s music bank with the younger girl who rushed over and stood next to her manager as soon as she was called, saying a curt yet polite ‘goodbye’ to wonyoung whom she was just introduced to. In front of her stood Park Sunghoon and enhypens personal manager, Jung sumin, the four were assigned a meeting to discuss everything for the rest of the program and any specifics. Sunghoon sent y/n an awkward smile as their managers spoke about the set up, the two already being friends yet unable to talk due to the peering eyes and the presence of their managers.

“I don’t know if they’ve informed you, but the company was actually planning on taking sunghoon off air soon as well, meaning he’d have maybe 2-5 airings with yn before parting” yn’s manager, Manager seok nodded as the other man spoke about his client “Ahh, i wasn’t informed but thank you. And you said Sunghoon cant attend the day of yn’s debut on set right? Have you figured out whether another boy from enhypen will replace him or will they be paring her with FNC’s boy?”

At the mention of replacements, Sunghoon quit the app he was scrolling through and began paying more attention to the conversation. “I believe that we were originally planning on sending another one of sunghoons members, jake, to the set but he was booked last minute for a talk show with other members so unless that changes, yn will be assigned to work with Choi jiung that day” He spoke directly to yn’s manager before looking down at yn and flashing a serious yet kind smile. Sunghoon watched and sighed dejectedly, hating that he was the one who had to break the news to jake. The meeting continued for around half an hour before all was settled, yn and sunghoon bowed at one another and went on their seperate ways.

──────────

(*´꒳`*) TAGLIST .. CLOSED !

@hanniluvi <3 @mokiverse e <3 @flowers4thalia <3 @yenqa <3

send an ask or comment to join :D

A/N

it’s literally 12:20 for me and i have midterms started tmr at 8… goodbye passing grades 😊 neways i have a literally love triangle planned rn and im saur proud of my brain for creating it

#kpop x reader #enhypen jake x reader #jake x reader #jake sim #jake x you #enhypen fluff #smau #kpop smau #enhypen smau #enhypen jake #🫀juno. archive #favorjtecrime

[pagegirlintraining]

AO3 wrapped (writer’s edition)

Well, this was a lovely way to close out the year. Here goes:

1. How many words have you written this year?

An unbelievable 331,924 👀

2. How many works did you publish this year?

12 in total. 6 are oneshots, and of the rest I’ve finished 4.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

I’m extremely proud of Oh, Those Summer Nights. The dialogue in this one flows so beautifully, I love the way I got to incorporate some of my favorite places in Stockholm, and it just altogether has this magical atmosphere about it.

But also, for entirely different reasons, Vi har bara varandra, det är allt vi behöver. Because I wrote a freaking story in Swedish, what even?!

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

Overall it’s Dancing Through Life with a little over 22k, but considering we didn’t start publishing The Prince And The Popstar until August this year, the 16k on that one feel worth mentioning. On a chapter basis they’re also very close to one another.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

The Prince And The Popstar. For sure. That one blew both of us away I think.

6. Favorite title you used?

Both One, two, three, four, five, sex on my mind and Stop the world (I wanna get off with you) fit so nicely with what the respective stories are about.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

I haven’t actually checked, but it’s probably Sabrina Carpenter from Prince and Popstar alone 😂

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

Wilmon. They’re also the only pairing I wrote for.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Same answer as 8.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

Copy and Pasta went from a batshit idea to a fully-written thing within 4 hours, that’s got to be a personal record.

11. What work took you the longest to write?

The writing process of Prince and Popstar was very spread out because both @the-amber-fox and I had lots of life stuff happen in between. All in all it took us 4 months to even have enough to start posting, and then another 3 to finish it.

12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

I have two new ones I firmly plan on writing, and one idea I’m not so sure about yet. Also two I plan on finishing next year.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

Based on the amounts of them that were written this year, it’s The Prince And The Popstar. Then again I only wrote about half of that, so it may also be The Time Of My Life with 45501 words and counting.

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

Vi har bara varandra, det är allt vi behöver (714 words) for obvious reasons 😂

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

Dancing through life (don’t look at me, I swear I will get myself to finish that epilogue at some point🙈), The Time Of My Life and Killing me softly (with his song), which still hasn’t gotten a second chapter yet but is very much not abandoned.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Alternate Universe. Who else is not surprised?

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I swear, the answer to this changes every time I think about it. For now I’ll go with my Dirty Dancing AU version of Simon, because he’s somehow the version that feels closest to canon Simon even though plot wise the story is the farthest from canon. That’s a nice mental stretch to keep up.

18. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

Can you hear me laughing? It’s Wilmon all the way.

19. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

It’s probably a tie between Copy and Pasta (short, sweet, always cheers me up) and the already existing parts of The Time Of My Life (it’s two of my favorite things combined, has my favorite version of Wille I’ve written and some beautiful Wilmon moments I really like revisiting).

20. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

4448.

21. Which work has the most comments?

Per chapter it’s The Prince And The Popstar.

22. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

Yessss 😍 I realized the other day that I’ve written four complete works with my darling @the-amber-fox this year and could not believe it. They’ve been some of my faves to write, and that’s hugely thanks to her, so thanks 💜

I also got to write the first chapter of Killing me softly with the amazing @ishotforthestars . Mayyyyybe we’ll get back to that one for a special occasion…😁

23. Did you write any gifts this year?

I sure did. Got to cowrite two birthday presents, for and with @the-amber-fox and @ishotforthestars respectively. Then another birthday present for @omaremioo and a Christmas present for @zee-has-commitment-issues .

24. Did you receive any gifts this year?

Yes again. Got a lovely birthday gift and the very best Christmas gift this year (Thanks, Foxy, and thanks times two, Elin 😂🫶🏼)

25. What’s your most common category?

M/M unsurprisingly.

26. What do you listen to while writing?

When I do it’s either my ever-growing annual playlist or the cheesiest 80s ballads for intimacy scenes.

27. Favorite work you wrote this year?

I think I’ve had the most fun with Prince and Popstar, but the most moments of giddy pride with The Time Of My Life. That’s all I can say for this one.

28. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I can’t possibly choose a favorite, mostly because I’d have to reread all of them and I don’t have a whole week off to do it😄 so I’ll go with something that, while pretty simple, resonated with me a lot when I reread it: “Just because that’s what he expects doesn’t mean it’s what you need to give him, Simon.”

29. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Learning that despite what I’d been told before, I seem to have a knack for comedic writing.

#ao3 wrapped #ao3 writer #yr fanfic #fanfiction #young royals #wilmon

[northernreads]

book review

My rating: ★★

I received an e-arc copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

When I requested this book I did so because I have enjoyed previous books by these authors, and did not realize that Mourning Glory was written not as a traditional book, but with the intention of it only being an audiobook. As such it's really more of an audio drama or fiction podcast than a book. Normally when accessing a book through audio format I try not to let any issues (if any) with the audio narration cloud my view on the book. Mourning Glory, however, was intended to be published as an "audiobook" and so I will include comments on it's format in this review.

First though, the story itself. Mourning Glory is following three sisters and their cousin as they try to deal with their family history legacy and also the demon that haunts their family.

The characters are all so likeable and distinct and I loved seeing how they interacted with each other and with other family members. I loved how family-oriented the whole story was, with the main relationship plots being sisterly ones.

I also really liked the A plot in which the family trying to deal with this demon and learning about how they came to be haunted by this demon in the first place. Rooted in southern American history and those horrors, this book was giving characters the agency to take on the past.

The only B plots in this story were the relationship plots between the four main characters, which should have been enough, but some how came across as shallowly done. Without enough B plot, this story seemed to lack dimension.

There was one scene I was confused about near the end in which two of the protagonists wind up having to kind of time travel and steal souls, and rather than follow them do this, we sit with the other two girls and listen to them wait and chat. I truly don't understand why we couldn't have seen both perspectives, and if we were to only get one why we only get the duller one?

The ending was also wrapped up far too neatly. There was no real hitch in the plan that our characters had to overcome. They made a plan and followed it through and that was it, it was rather uncompelling.

On to the format. This story was narrated by none other than Bahni Turpin, who is a favourite audiobook narrator of mine. Her voice truly brought this story to life and added so much dimension to the story. The story itself, being written with audio narration in mind, would lose a lot if ever published in print as it currently stands.

This story also came with so. many. sound effects. Too many. I was continuously pulled out of the story by the sound effects, some of which didn't even exactly match up with the sound described. There was also often background music alongside the narration that made the scenes feel cheesy rather than actually adding anything.

Then on top of all of that there were some lines delivered at half the volume as the rest of the narration because the character was mumbling or was supposed to be further away that I just could not hear at all. I did however, check out this story on spotify to see if the quality was better and it did seem to be a bit clearer than the file I received.

If I hadn't received this story as an ARC I would not have included it as part of my reading and probably would have DNFd it for the sound effects alone, however I promised an honest review so here we are. I would recommend this to people are already fans of fiction podcasts or audio dramas as the format may be more to their tastes.

#I really wanted to like this story #but the format was not it #i still highly recommend other books by these authors #mourning glory #ll mckinney #bethany c morrow #booklr #book review #mine

[phykios]

If I Were A Blackbird, part 9 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

For three days, Percy had gone back to his room in the evening, taken out his phone, and stared at the name Annabeth Chase in his contacts. He’d toyed with the idea of changing it a few times to Princess Annabeth. Or maybe just adding a crown emoji or something. But he’d done nothing, save for closing his phone, and sighing with relief when Jason showed up and he no longer had the space for a long, quiet, private conversation with… no one. 

But on that third day, he had nothing to do. It was a rest day, with no practice, press things, or even friend’s events to watch. Jason was right on the cusp of his big race, so he wasn’t even around to distract him. 

And as the hours dragged on, the name in his phone could not be ignored.

He’d called his mom. He’d facetimed Estelle, managing to avoid Paul for royal watcher reasons. Luke was technically at work, but they’d spent an hour or so texting. He’d even IMed Nico about his travel plans.

All his attempts to reach out to Rachel had ended with her asking if he’d called his princess back yet. 

He was basically down to messaging Thalia, who would be rightly pissed if he interrupted her in the middle of something important, or breaking down, and actually calling Annabeth. Just to talk to her. Just to hear her voice.

So he listened to half a podcast on the history of the Byzantine Empire. But he could not focus, barely making it through half an episode on the history of the Fourth Crusade. Not when Annabeth’s phone number waited for him. 

He tried to imagine what she would even say to him, if he called to talk. In your dreams? Thanks for the memories? 

For that matter, what would he even say to her? 

The minutes ticked on. He watched his battery drain, ever so slowly, rubbing his thumb across the screen every time it threatened to go to sleep. It was just after 3 pm when, finally, he hit her name on his contact screen, and listened to it ring. 

After two rings, he was ready to give it up. This was a stupid idea. She didn’t want to talk to him. She was screening his calls. She had something more important to do. She didn’t…

“Hello?” 

And his heart jumped.

He’d almost expected her to sound different. More princess-y? What were princesses supposed to sound like? More European, at least. He still didn’t hear much of an accent from her. 

“Percy?”

Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant to not say hi.

“Oh, did you not mean to call?” 

Oh, shit, he hadn’t meant to swear! “No,” he said, quickly, “no, I just… I didn’t really expect you to pick up.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, sounding… confused. Or sad. Maybe. 

“Cause… I figured you had more important things to do than talk to me,” he said. 

“I always want to talk to you,” she said, simply, and with a palpable conviction, even over the phone. 

He blushed, even though she couldn’t see it. How do you even respond to something like that? “Me too,” he said, then immediately had to physically sit on his hand so he didn’t smack himself. Fucking idiot. 

But she laughed, a tinkling, musical thing. Like stars strewn across a dark sky, pointing the way to shore. 

He let out a laugh too, shaky, but firm. “So… am I going to be put on some government watchlist for calling you?”

She laughed again, a soft chuckle. Gods, her laugh was the same as he remembered it. And so damn pretty. “I don't really know how to tell you this, but they've already run like four background checks on you.”

That was… something. Not exactly surprising. But still not something he’d considered. “So… find anything good?” he asked, partly out of a sense of preservation, because boy, did he have some wacky stuff in his background. 

“We have determined,” she said. Was that the Royal We he had heard so much about? “That you, Percy Jackson, are a sailor, a historian, and an upstanding gentleman who loves his family and his sport.” 

Oh. Well that was nice.

“My dad was very impressed by your academic background, too,” she added.

“Oh.” Her dad was impressed. He had impressed her dad, the future king of Sweden. If Paul were here, he would have had a coronary. “Anything else?” Hopefully he would impress the future queen, too.

“Yes. We determined that you were also devastatingly handsome.” 

“Well… that’s nice.” He had expected flirting even less than the future king of Sweden being interested in his academics.

“Were you expecting them to find something?” 

Talk about loaded questions. He was suddenly extremely thankful for all the times Luke had been there during a run in with the police. No one ever caught Luke up to anything. And some minor larceny had never been Percy’s modus operandi on his own, anyway. “Not really,” he said instead. “But, ah… got any weird holes I might be able to fill?” he offered up, thinking about a rather glaring one, and wondering what her people might have come up in the father-sized void in Percy’s life.

“Yeah, actually.” He thought he could sense a light layer of trepidation in her voice, hidden beneath her casual tone. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to listen to her voice for hours, mining for every hidden meaning and nuance. “Your father? His name’s not on your birth certificate.” 

“So,” Percy said, “before I actually tell you,” sort of, “I want to state, for the record, that it is super weird that you know that.” 

“Sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he said, sitting up as the tone of her voice dropped. “It’s okay, I totally get it. And I’m sure Swedish James Bond has a gun trained on me right now.” 

She laughed again, maybe a little bit more subdued. “You aren’t that big a deal.” 

“Ouch,” he grimaced. “That is just what my ego needed to hear.” 

“Good. Girls like a little humility, especially from a sports star-turned-influencer.”

“Do they? I thought they were into bad Olympic puns and blue sandwiches.”

“Some of the weirder ones, maybe.” 

“Nah,” he said, “only the ones worth knowing.”

She was silent, for a moment. He imagined her maybe sitting on her hotel bed, a mirror image to him, holding her phone, and smiling down at it. At his words. He imagined her lips as they curved upwards, highlighting her strong cheekbones, little crinkles at the corner of her gorgeous eyes. 

He coughed, dry and useless. “Anyway, um… my dad.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she said, extending him the same grace he had given her earlier.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If it helps, I don’t mind.”

And she didn’t push back against it.

Percy sighed, leaning back against his headboard. “My dad… He’s… I don’t even know how to describe him.”

“What does he do?” 

He had a sudden image of Annabeth at a desk, pencil in hand, bent over and furiously scribbling away in her Percy dossier. It had hearts all over it, and a cartoon valkyrie on the front. The mental picture made him smile. “He’s kind of a bum. He fishes a lot, but other than that… I’ve gone fishing with him a few times, but,” he shrugged, “I’ve really had next to no contact with him.��

She hummed over the phone, sympathetic. “Does that bother you?”

“Not really,” he scoffed. “My dad’s the kind of asshole who had a fling with an eighteen year old girl who was completely alone in the world, and then didn’t even stick around long enough to put his name on the birth certificate.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not. And I don’t need you to be sorry about him, either,” he said. “It’s just… you know when you spend your whole life swinging wildly between cursing someone’s name and wanting nothing more than their acknowledgement and approval?” 

“Yeah,” she said, softly, and with more than a little bitterness. “Yeah, I do know that feeling.”

“Things are good with your dad, though, right?” He prodded, softly. Her dad. Prince Frederick. Future king of Sweden. 

“He’s only about half of it.” 

Ah. “Your mom?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“Wikipedia said she died when you were a baby.” He cringed as soon as he’d said it, as absolutely nothing from that sentence worked on any level.

Annabeth actually snorted in response. “Want to talk about weird? Cite my Wikipedia page.” 

“Well, you were probably breaking down my high school transcript with Maxwell Smart before I even knew you had a Wikipedia page. So there.” 

“Oh, yes, I was very disappointed by that B+ you got in Latin.” 

“That was my teacher’s fault for scheduling the midterm the day before my swim meet.”

She sobered. “Percy, I was kidding. I haven’t seen anything like that. I… doing checks on you wasn’t my idea, I swear,” she said. “It was more a… preventative measure once the pictures got out. I only knew about the thing with your dad because it was mentioned in the debrief.”

“You had a debrief on me, and my calls are still allowed to come through?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said. So damn earnest. His heart skipped another beat. “And I didn’t mean to be weird about your father. I just… I do know what it's like to be missing a parent and to desperately want their approval, and also to hate that they aren’t there for you.” 

“Did your dad ever look at you, and you knew he was seeing your mom, and it kind of crushed you?” Percy asked, quietly. It hadn’t happened a lot, not really. But every time he’d noticed it, he’d felt it in his chest. He’d felt guilty about it, too, which was why he’d never mentioned it to Luke. Luke had so much worse to deal with on the mom front than he did. It hadn’t seemed fair to bring it up. 

She sighed, heavy, world weary, and tinny. “He did.” 

“It sucks.” 

“It does,” Annabeth agreed. “Is… I saw that you had a stepfather. What’s he like?”

In his mind’s eye, he was at his mother’s wedding again, walking her down the aisle, and trying not to cry at the naked love and adoration on his stepfather’s face. “Paul’s amazing,” he said. “He’s just what my mom always deserved.” She’d avoided relationships for so long, devoting so much of herself to taking care of Percy and May and Luke. He couldn’t even really remember her having a lot of friends. He’d been so happy when she’d seriously started working on her writing again, and then going back to school. And then when she’d met Paul, and they’d gotten serious, he’d been absolutely thrilled for them.

“Oh,” said Annabeth, taken aback. “I… I’m glad.”

Oh. “Um… I guess you and your stepmother… uh…” He trailed off, unsure how to continue his thought without accidentally insulting a member of the royals. Somehow, Paul would sense it, and then he’d probably have a heart attack. 

Annabeth sighed. “You don’t want to hear about my messy family politics.” 

“I think family politics for royalty might just be normal politics.” 

“That’s my point,” she said, tiredly. Percy figured maybe she had tread this ground before, maybe even hundreds of times–with her family, with her friends, with her country, even. She had no reason to rehash it, and especially not with him. 

But. “I love my stepdad,” he said, “and he's awesome for my mom. But, also, when I was two, my mom started working for my Aunt May, who we later found out had a relationship with my paternal cousin. I am pretty familiar with weird, fucked up families.” Even giant, old, European ones. Though he didn’t say that part. “So, if you want to vent, or something… I can listen. I don’t mind.” 

She didn’t say anything, not for a long time. But he could still hear the gentle static of the ambient noise of her room. Sitting here, together, in silence, separated only by a phone signal, it was strangely, wonderfully intimate. 

“I don’t really want to,” she said, after a few minutes. 

“Of course. You don’t have to share anything with me.” 

She sighed. “It's not that. It's more just like… I want to talk to you about happier things. Things I actually like. I may not like my stepmother, but I do like you.” 

Percy smiled, slow and creeping, even though she couldn’t see him. “You… like me?” 

“I do,” she said. “Do you like me?”

“I do.” 

And if either of them noticed that those sounded like the responses at a wedding, they didn’t say it out loud. 

“So,” Annabeth said, the noises over the phone making it sound like she was readjusting her position. Maybe she was snuggling into bed, pulling a blanket over her, her hair spread out over her pillow as she relaxed. “What are you up to, today?”

“It's a rest day,” he said. “With the big race coming up, I have to relax at least a little. I have one every two or three days, but my last rest day fell on the equestrian event, so I went and watched my cousin. And my other cousin Nico was there, so we had fun.” He was finally going to get to properly see Nico at dinner tonight, which was good. And Nico hadn’t given him any shit about the whole princess thing. Which was doubly nice. Though, Percy couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t because of the whole countess for a mother thing, or because he’d spend so much time in his father’s court. 

“But not today?”

“Not today.” Nico and Hazel were celebrating her silver together. And he’d been invited, but with that kind of reluctant vibe that made it clear the siblings wanted some sibling time, at least until dinner. “What about you? Don’t you have some babies to kiss, or some war to avert, or some village to sack?” 

***

She laughed, despite herself, her head back against her pillow. “I wish,” she said. “You could come with me. We’d sack up and down the coast.” 

“You think I’d be good in a fight?” He asked, a smile in his voice. 

And yeah, actually, she did. But she wasn’t sure why. “You did mention fencing in an interview, right?” 

“You watched my interview?” 

“Wikipedia,” she quickly responded. That was going to be a good get out of jail free card so she didn’t look like a total stalker. At least for a while.

“Well, I did do some fencing, both standard style and more of a–period style, for a time. People tell me I’m not half bad with a sword.” 

“Neither am I,” she said, “We should have a go, sometime.” 

“Oh, I’d like that very much,” he said, his voice tipping down an octave or so. 

Color rising in her cheeks, she changed the topic. “I was–I was actually thinking about the boat thing. Vikings were seafarers, as much as anything. I bet you could get me to all the most well-stocked monasteries.” 

“Well, I’ll admit I’m better in salt water, then fresh, and I know the vikings liked to go up river.” His voice was so bright, like he was talking to a normal girl, a regular old twenty-something who was chatting up the boy she liked, asking if he were down to do some pillaging. “But I bet I could handle a longboat. I’ve managed a lot of boats in my time. I could get you anywhere you want to go.”

“Guess you should have run away with me that day in the marina. We could be living large by now, viking down the coast of Florida.” 

“I do hate Miami,” he said.

For a moment, she could picture it: him, her, a boat, and the open waters. No shitty family to hold them down. No reporters to trail their every step. No responsibilities beyond each other. “I’m sorry, Percy.” The words tripped out of her, like a runner out of the gate. “I’m so sorry that I dragged you into all this.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.”

He sighed. “I guess not. But I understand.” 

“You do?” she asked, twisting the blanket around her finger. “You’re… not mad?”

A pause. “Maybe I am, a little bit.”

She swallowed. “Makes sense,” she mumbled. “I did lie to you. I’m really, really sorry. I should have told you the truth from the beginning.” 

He actually let out a little laugh. But it wasn’t his normal, buoyant, grinning laugh. It was wry, instead. A little dark. A little guarded. “That’s not why I’m mad.” 

“It’s not?”

“Of course not,” he said. “Look, I’m not, I don’t think, unreasonable. You had no reason to tell me at the beginning. Honestly, it would have sounded like a line. And as hard as it is for me to believe, we did only just meet a little while ago.” And that was the truth, wasn’t it. They’d only just met, not even more than a month ago. They’d known each other for so little time… but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. “And I’m not entitled to all your secrets. Just like you’re not entitled to all of mine.” 

“You have secrets?”

“Of course I do, Annabeth. Gods, yes, I have secrets. And I like you–a lot. But I’m not–I don’t want to share them all with you right now. And I’ll always extend to you the same courtesy.” 

“Oh,” She said, a wave of curiosity bubbling up in her. A desperation to know. To find out. He’d learned her secrets, after all. But then again, not all of them. Not even the juiciest of them. But, then… “So, why are you mad?”

She heard him blow his breath out, tinny and staticky. “Because… Look, I totally get not wanting to give me the whole story. I’m sure starting off with ‘Hey, I'm a princess and I have security and sometimes the press follows me around’ would have been intimidating. But we didn’t have to go somewhere so public as a movie theater. Or even just walking around the city. I would have happily kept up seeing you in private places.” 

And then, a second fantasy, even more whimsical than the first. They were walking down the streets of Stockholm together on a bright, sunny afternoon, holding hands. She closed her eyes, willing it away.  

“I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me you were a princess. I’m still scared the Swedish government is going to put out a hit on me, but I’m not mad about that. But I am mad that you put me in a really shitty situation with the paps and Twitter and the world, when you knew better, and I didn’t.” 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say in response. It was not enough. 

“Me too,” he agreed. “I… I can’t say it's okay. Or that it isn’t a big deal. But I know you didn’t mean to do it. So, that helps. I can take negligence over cruelty any day.”

“Still.”

“Yeah. But I’ll get over it.” 

“Soon?” And it was such a dumb, childish thing to ask. 

“Probably,” he said. “You’re pretty cute.” 

“I thought I was beautiful?”

“That, too.”

“Well,” she said, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling too hard, “if… if you want something private… You said it was a rest day. I could send my driver to pick you up. I’ve got a princess suite and I can get you almost any kind of room service for dining.” 

“Almost?”

“Well, I haven’t tried everything yet.” Or… “Or, if you wanted… Maybe I could give you something better to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

Sense memory reared its head, the tug of his lip between his teeth, the feel of his hair in her hands. “I think it could easily be arranged.” 

He hummed across the phone, vibrating into her ear. “I like the sound of that. Tell me more.” 

“This bed is awfully big,” she said, lowering her voice to match. “And I’ve been in it all by myself for days now.” 

“No other Olympian gentlemen callers?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “No one else would help me sack Palm Beach. What use would I have for them?”

“Is that all I am to you? Some muscle? A tongue and a pair of thighs?” 

He didn’t sound too put out at the idea. “But what strong thighs they are, and what a talented tongue. I’ll give you a sword, if you want.”

“But I already have a sword.” 

Boy did he. It reminded her of her favorite dagger, actually. It wasn’t the biggest or flashiest. But it could get into where it needed to go. And do all sorts of damage once inside. 

If Percy had taught her anything, it was that the old saying was true: it wasn’t the size of the wave, it was the motion of the ocean.

“I mean, I do really have a sword, but… that’s not what you meant… uh…” And now he was all tongue tied and adorable and he was probably blushing and she was so blindly desperate to see him. And his sword. Metaphorical or not.

“Um,” she confidently began her offer, “I can call Hans, my driver from the other night, to go pick you up. Sound good?”

But she was not met by any more delicious flirting or awkward stammering. Just a long moment of silence that got longer and longer. 

And his voice had returned to its normal, pleasant tenor when he said, “Maybe we should pump the brakes a bit.”

“Oh.” And she knew she couldn’t keep her deep deep disappointment out of it. 

“Not–not for long,” he rushed, “just… maybe until after the Olympics are over.” Another three weeks. She felt her heart jump into her throat. 

It was probably the smart thing to do. She was working. They were both working. But, then again, the idea of waiting on pins and needles for the rest of this pomp and circumstance was not exactly her idea of a good time. “Sure,” she said, eventually. “That sounds good.”

“Thanks.” 

But, she supposed it was worth it, just to hear the relief in his voice. She could give him a little more time to think about it before dragging him down with her into her world. 

“I should probably warn you, while you think about things,” and she hated to do this, but it was only fair. “Things might calm down a little, but speculation, attention, media stuff. It won’t go away. Even after the Olympics. So… you should probably consider that, while you’re deciding if this is a thing you want to get involved in.” 

“I think you misunderstood,” he said. “I’m not deciding about anything. I’ve made up my mind. I am so down to date you.” The grin that broke out on her face could have left a permanent scar, her heart jumping in her chest. “I just… I need some time for my races. And maybe to warn my mom.” 

“You’re really cool with this.” It was kind of unbelievable. It was kind of amazing. 

“Should I not be?” 

“No, I’m just… surprised, I guess. But, pleasantly.”

“Would you believe me if I said that the hot girl I was seeing turning out to be a princess isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me?”

She paused. Because not really, no. And then Piper’s words came wiggling into the back of her mind.

“So, I have to ask,” she finally said, hating every word that was about to come out of her mouth. “Are you a secret prince?”

“...Am I what?”

“Like, maybe of some dynasty that lost its power in the wake of one of the world wars? Or maybe in the German Unification?” 

There was a long moment of silence. 

“Is…” He didn’t seem sure how to respond. “Um… is that a thing that happens?”

“Not in my experience,” she admitted, “no.” But stranger things had happened. 

“I mean… there’s a family legend that my mom’s mom’s family was descended from the Byzantine emperors,” he said. “But other than that… probably not.” 

“Probably?”

“Anything’s possible, right? But really, no. I promise, I am just a Connecticut Yankee in Princess Annabeth’s Court.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” she said. “I hate that.” 

“Thank you. I try very hard.”

“I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Definitely, princess.” 

She shuddered. “Annabeth.” 

“What?”

“Please, just… call me Annabeth. All the time, but especially if you’re just talking to me.” Beneath her blanket, she curled her legs up, tensing her toes against the soft fabric.“I can do that, Annabeth,” he promised, and she felt like she could breathe again. “I can do that.”

#princess sailor au #percabeth #pjo fic #my fic #perseannabeth #darkmagyk #patatayo #frenchswissborder #the rivalry ends here #tadaaaaa

[fragmentsofsorrow]

2, 4, and 9 for the fanfic asks?

2. What fanfic do you wish you got more response on?

I'm gonna have to go with (Nothing Is) Whole; not that it's been ignored or anything—it's honestly been pretty well received—but I have to pick something. I've put a lot of work into both this fic and the much larger AU it belongs to over the last four years and it's definitely the favorite child, so I'm always going to want to share it with more people

and yeah, when all there is so far is a single introductory chapter posted just shy of a year and a half ago, it's understandably not gaining much new attention, but also consider: I love that AU so much

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

in general, I prefer writing multichapters. I like to write scenes and even lines out of order for my multichapters, and I really enjoy the whole planning process for my larger AUs

but it also depends on what works best for any particular story. if I have a fic idea and it works best as a oneshot, trying to write it as a multichapter regardless is not going to go well for me

9. What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

okay, look. I'll be honest, the entire 2000 word Memory's Skyscraper scene in the first chapter of Not Your Sacrifice is my favorite thing I've written. there's a lot of different things I love about it and I'm not about to quote the whole scene to talk about all of them

but that's a short and boring answer, so I'll talk about one of them!

there are two parts of that scene that involve Xion summoning a keyblade; one with Oblivion, and then another one later on with Oathkeeper. taken individually each one is some of the best writing I've ever done, and I'm really proud of having written them

but they're also intentionally very structurally similar to each other and are meant to mirror each other in a few ways. I'm really happy with how well it turned out

I'll throw the two excerpts under the cut because they about double the length of this answer and it's long enough already (plus, y'know, the fic link is right there anyway)

the Oblivion part:

There was a flash as Xion summoned their keyblade, and moments later one of the heartless exploded into darkness as the black blade cut an arc through them. Oh. That was new. Xion looked down at their keyblade, taking in its unfamiliar new form. Instead of the silver coloring they were used to, this one was mostly black, though some silver remained in the handle and at the tip of the keyblade. Two bat wings served as the guard, with a purple gem inlaid where they met at the base of the blade. A chain ran the full length of the blade, which ended with ornate teeth more detailed than the ones on their Kingdom Key. Somehow, they knew this keyblade was called Oblivion. A fitting name for a keyblade wielded by someone who wasn’t supposed to still exist.

the Oathkeeper part:

A flash of light accompanied Xion's last few words as they readied Oblivion, and when it faded, Xion held another keyblade in their hand. In their left hand. It wasn’t Xion’s keyblade. That was still in their right hand and once again pointed at Riku. In several ways it was the complement of Xion’s keyblade. While Oblivion had a pair of bat wings, the wings that made up this keyblade’s handguard were feathered. While Oblivion was primarily black, this one was mostly colored a silvery white. And while Oblivion had a single blade, the blade of this new keyblade was split into two. The name Oathkeeper came to their mind, but Xion barely registered it over the realization that this was Roxas’s keyblade. It was all they had left of him; a reflection of who he was, one last echo of his— They let out a pained scream, both keyblades falling to the ground and dematerializing, as the realization from earlier that day finally caught up with them. Roxas had a heart.

#q&a #stresslitzia

[thequietproblem]

AITA for not wanting to be on my in-law's Christmas Card because of my BIL & his wife?

I have never written one of these before but as the holidays are approaching I am dreading spending time with my in-laws and I feel racked with guilt.

Backstory: I (23F) married my husband (23M) last year. We had been dating for five years and we are high school sweethearts. A month after our wedding, my brother-in-law texted us saying he was going to propose to his girlfriend for maybe 5-6 months. I was shocked and a little upset because my husband and I had to go through so much just to get married.

When my husband and I were dating we had to follow some pretty strict rules about when we can or cannot be associated with the others family. The general rule was I had to have a ring on my finger before I could be included in family celebrations. When COVID Christmas rolled around, I got to be on the family Christmas card but with the distinction of my maiden name. My MIL didn't want any distant relatives to think we got married without them knowing. I totally understood and was just happy to be included. After my BIL proposed not only did my SIL get to be on the Christmas Card, she designed it and put my name at the bottom and very last (I know what you're thinking "OP do not be upset by that it's literally a stupid card that only a handful of people will keep. All the ones from last year have been thrown away." Trust me, I know, that is why I want to know AITA). I was hurt because everything has been a struggle and I have always felt a need to prove myself to my in-laws like it was never enough for me to just be me.

My BIL married her this past year and we were all getting along. I have had some hurt feelings here and there because my parents-in-law treat our new SIL better than they have ever treated me. They always take my BIL & SIL's side on what to do or where to eat. They've held countless family celebrations on days my husband and I couldn't make it (we live an hour and a half away). My husband and I noticed that the four of them all hand out and make family decisions without the two of us. It made both of us pretty sad and upset because we were already excluded just because we live out of town and then we have no say when it comes to family events.

This past October I reached out to my SIL to ask her what specific days we would do holidays with our husband's family. I did this because last year, my husband and I had made our plans before we got married and let everyone know. She changed the plans and my husband and I had two thanksgiving dinners on the same day and an unequal amount of time spent between my family and his because of my SIL.

We agreed that Thanksgiving Day is with the in-laws and the day after is with our own families. I then said that to keep it fair with my family, I will need to do Christmas Eve with our in-laws and Christmas Day with my parents. She said that was a great plan and we left the conversation alone.

Last week my MIL called to ask what I would be baking for the holidays. We had a quick chat and she asked about what our Christmas plans were. I told her what SIL and I agreed on in October. My MIL then said that SIL and BIL would be leaving town at noon on Christmas Eve and that they would be doing the 23rd with my in-laws. Both my husband and I were shocked because when we make plans we stick to the plan. Especially when it involves other people. My husband and I reserve the 23rd to do our Christmas together so we don't have to awkwardly open our gifts in front of the family (most of the time it's cheesy stuff that is inside jokes between us). We agreed that we cannot trust our SIL with plans again because she continues to disregard anything we tell her.

I've told my husband before that I just want to be excluded from things and that maybe running away would make them love us more. AITA for not wanting to be a part of the "picture perfect family" my SIL & MIL are trying to make it?

#am i the asshole

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

2, 23, 27 for the writers ask meme!

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

I actually think I could write exclusively by hand, if I really needed to. I already did it for a decent portion of Studious III when I didn't have my laptop! For part IV, I've actually been doing it by choice, as I feel like it helps me with Aemond's diary entries.

So I guess I'm like a wizard's apprentice? And also, pen 100%.

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what's around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I write in two places: my office and my living room.

My desk in my office is a corner desk, and it is where my desktop computer (a hand-me down from my dad, who worked from home before he retired) lives. It has a large monitor, behind which one of my two cats likes to lie when it's cold out. Otherwise, they sleep in the two beds I have set on the right side of the desk, in front of the two slim windows set into the office wall. My dog has his bed on the floor immediately adjacent to the desk, and he likes to rest his head on the windowsill to watch the critters and people who pass the house. Currently, the sage green walls of the office have no decoration, as I may or may not be moving soon, and I am not one to do more work than absolutely necessary. The rest of the office, including the oak roll-top desk on the wall opposite the windows, is quite messy at the moment (and kind of always is), because I'm still in the process of sorting through both my and my dad's office stuff. This is where I wrote most of my master's thesis.

When I write in my living room, I write on my couch. It is a new couch, I think I only got it about a month, month and a half ago. It's very long, with four spacious seats and an ottoman. It is made of a delightful pink textured fabric, and I keep a brown faux fur blanket spread across the middle two seats for my dog to sleep on without risking the couch itself. I always sit in the rightmost seat, closest to the windows of the room. Typically, I have my dog (Tocky) to my left, one of my cats (Data) on the ottoman at my feet, and the other cat (Spot) in my lap. I also usually have YouTube pulled up on the tv playing this as ambience.

As I live in Texas, the fan in both rooms is always on full blast.

27. Who is the most stressful character you've ever written? Why?

I'd have to say Daemon, I think. Aemond, with all his delightful issues, is a close second, though. But Daemon, who in The Silver Dragon is a definite villain, has been a struggle. Since my usual interpretation of him, just as a reader of the book and a viewer of the show, has him as a strong moral gray, writing him more on the darker side (for Arianwyn's story) can be pretty tough. I think writing his POV in The Silver Dragon Stories - which I promise I'm getting back to soon! I already have a couple new entries planned out - helps me, since it can sort of help me balance his villainous nature toward Arianwyn with the rest of his character.

Thank you so much for sending in questions!

#asks #ask games

[mymadmedleyw]

For the Wips ask game.

First of all, you have so many wips. I'm a little scared for you. 😂

Seriously though, everything looks so exciting. I'll ask specifically about "No other choice Left" and "Lightness of Dark."

Thank you for being interested! ❤

Yes, I have many WIPs - especially in my mind 😅 - and you don't even know half of it. 😄 (I did not list the many short ones for GG or WTPH because that would have been long, so it was a shortened list. Now, you can imagine why I am going ahead with everything this slow. My mind is chaotic, working on its own most of the time and against my plans.)

Anyway, so ‘little’ summary about the asked ones.

:readmore:

No Other Choice Left:

Technically it'll play after WTPH/21, but it could be read independently. You ask how. Well, it'll contain a revealing scenario. Without mentioning how that particular circumstance happened that led the happenings there, it could be about anything, so then, working as a simple reveal fic too, and as a sort of standing alone one. On the other hand, it will be the continuation of the mainline, cutting off a question about a not-answered sideline.

Right now, I don't know if it will be a two-shot - as I would need at least two POVs - or it will 'just' one chapter with cuts init. I had this idea for a while, and I think I could say it is mostly written, but since it (could be) connected to WTPH, it's in queue now.

However, I'm going to share its main synopsis:

"Mr and Mrs Fenton,

This is Phantom. This is an automated message in case of an emergency. Please detect the signal. The Specter Speeder is attached to it.

Whatever happened, remember, I'm on your side. I always was. Be hurry.

Note: if it is Danny, please don't take him to the hospital, this is important! Later he will tell why. If it is me - Phantom - it is just as important not to shoot me. I will tell you everything later.

(Please don't freak out if I change in front of you before I could tell you everything.)

The attachment will help you in case of a medical emergency."

(Side note: it is a sequel of previously shared Portal)

---

Lightness of Dark (a.k.a. 'LoD'):

Oh, god, I could rant about this... This's my next planned long story. This was my medicine during December when I was having my final exam at the university, writing my thesis, and other great stuff... I was longing for that to start writing on this. It was tormenting me at the same time and was helping me to go ahead too. You can imagine the headache. So, the moment I could sit down for that, getting free from school obligations, I began to work on this idea as soon as I could. And I managed to figure out mostly its whole plot that time too. 😁

It has already a prologue, four and a half chapters right after that, two and a quarter chapters in the middle, and the earlier shared 'concept' (Sailor) is somewhere in its 'third' part. (I have three separate docs for its sections to write: the continuation of the beginning part, the middle, and for the end).

The whole idea got born from this little idea because it was bugging me so much that soon my brain had to come up with some background for that little scene. So then, it turned out into a complete story, into LoD. (And the scene itself is actually in the first chapter, so...)

I have so much to tell about this story, but I think I have to keep myself back a bit to avoid bringing out the surprise factors.

Technically, the story will play between WTPH and GG, but it could be read entirely independently from those. The little connection LoD will have to those will be mentioned, but only briefly. (I could say its only reference to GG will be that once or twice Dan's dreams about a girl - Dani - will be brought up, but really just for some side notes. Anything relevant that happened in WTPH will be explained too, through some short comparisons of the happenings in LoD, but nothing more will be needed.)

The story itself won't be about Dan. Sure, he'll be one of the main characters, but the focus will be on Valerie. LoD, even though won't be as complicated as WTPH was, it'll have its surprises, I am sure. My longest chapter in this so far is 4k long, so it won't be as gigantic either, as my 'usual' chapters are in WTPH. Which, hopefully, would allow me to work on it faster too if its time comes.

I think I can't say more about it, but here are some interesting (irrelevant) facts. It won't be mentioned as clearly, but it'll mainly be played in Europe. I was like, 'hey, why not write once a fic playing a bit in Europe?'. So I did it. And it happened similarly with the sailing stuff. (I could drive a boat and more or less could sail too, so yeah, I am stealing some stuffs init from my life. 😅)

Also, some could say it'll be a darkgray fic. I can't decide if it could be counted as that or not. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Personally, I can't write romantic things, and I am far away from Deliverance-level - even though that story gave me the idea to once write on my own one with Valerie and Dan - so it could be said it will be darkgray one, as much that it won't.

The story itself will play in a TUE timeline - but I can't say more about it without saying too much.

Officially LoD was planned for InvisoBang, but I very soon realised I wouldn't be capable of finishing WTPH and writing this to be done at the deadline, so plans changed. This decision freed me from a huge weight, though, allowing me to go ahead at my own pace with writing both. (Which means I haven't touched LoD in a while... 😅)

The story itself will be about Valerie, along with Vlad, kind of having no other way but working together with her thought-to-be enemy to avoid an event. But of course, things wouldn't be this easy. Things (that were never said before) come to light, and trusts get shattered, old stuffs return, and other lovely things will happen. So 'Lightness of Dark' will be kind of about Valerie finding herself again behind the Red Huntress. Just as much it'll be about not necessarily seeing everything 'black and white', so then neither her enemy as just her enemy, but as a person, and facing severe issues meanwhile too.

---

(Collecting these thoughts, I realised how much I miss writing these ideas. Now I've got curious and took a quick check, 'No Other Choice Left' was updated on 1st February 2021! 😳 I can't even speak about LoD without causing me heartache wishing to work on that again. 😔 But maybe, soon! ☺)

Thanks for being interested in coming stuffs! ❤

#my stuff

[sansaorgana]

— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

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

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

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

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

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

WORD COUNT — 12,780 (😳)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Human… but weak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what about that idiot brother of yours?”

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

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

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

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

You smiled nervously at his words and bowed down slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you hear me?” You thought.

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

It was a comforting thought to know that. 

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

“I can try,” he answered. 

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

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

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

But, after all, you were a Harkonnen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I disagree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you two had more in common now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For my father’s life, I would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like Baroness Harkonnen was not his sister.

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

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

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

“Your pet?” He asked Paul.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The long silence occurred.

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

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

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

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

Hesitantly, Stilgar nodded at the man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My Lady,” he nodded.

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

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

“Chani,” she answered proudly.

“Was Muad’Dib your lover?”

She hesitated before answering.

“Yes.”

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

“My Lady,” he bowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shouldn’t I be dead now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?” He furrowed his brows.

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feyd nodded at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my darling, it is,” you nodded.

“Oh, what a relief!” Cara sighed.

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

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

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

And you wanted them more than anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My Lady?” Cara asked, worryingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not noon yet.”

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

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

“He’s strong already,” Feyd noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded at him with a soft smile.

“I love you, too, my Baron.”

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

MASTERLIST

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