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toji-bunny-girl · 15 days

Text

promises

pairing : f! reader x rots! anakin skywalker

word count : 1k

masterlist | ao3 link

summary

ever since anakin had killed dooku, your anxiety has never settled. for you were watching him slowly lose himself in the war. and you lie late at night lost in the idea that maybe, being with you didn't make any difference at all. so, you watched him sleep, at peace, stealing what little time you could have with him.

tags : angst, comfort, love, flangst (?)

warnings : pretty much none, just angsty stuff to cry to hehe

notes : hello beautiful people! i finished the film past lives and there's this one line that just shattered me 😭 so i just wanna share this little imagine before i go to sleep :) hope ya like it 🪽🩷

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated ! (and fuels me hehe)

Anakin Skywalker is your secret.

Your beautiful little secret.

Here wrapped in these sheets, where everything softens. Hushed. Kissed by the gentle rays of the moonlight.

You have been awake for some time now. But you didn't dare move. Anakin was still deep in his dreams exhausted from the day before. Despite his slumber, his arms wrap around you protectively.

You placed your head on his chest, following his breathing and listening to the soft thuds of his heart.

Your gaze lands on his peaceful expression.

How can someone look so beautifu?

You thought, he looked like the people in the paintings. Like how an artist would imagine a being with the perfect proportions. And he'd move as if each stroke is intended with grace.

The force made him. You'd sometimes catch yourself lost in his eyes, staring, studying the way it'd crease at the ends when he smiles. Is he even human? You'd think to yourself. He is the galaxy made flesh. That has to account for his prettiness, you think.

You take a deep breath; the scales of the ongoing war are further tipped to the Republic's advantage after Anakin had killed Dooku.

It was so close. Even the air itself has shifted. You can feel it, the end. You can almost visualize it.

Maybe then, things will change...

Selfishly, you feel your heart ache by the little amount of time you could share with Anakin. You can't help it, you have always belonged to him, and for that, you have suffered.

He is the Jedi Order's first. Before you can call him yours. You're not even sure if he is his own's anymore. Because you've watched how this war takes so much of him.

Be smarter, Be more cunning, Be more ruthless. Offer yourself again and again and again.

There's so little of him that remains.

You blinked, sighing once more. You reminded yourself that you are here, tangled in his embrace. It was enough to know that here he lies, with you.

Anakin shifts and you hold your breath. You begged the Gods to not wake him, not yet, let me have him, just for now.

Anakin mutters something. Huttese, the language he grew up on. Your eyebrows furrowed, you never really got to understanding the language even after studying it.

His heart paces under your touch. You kept your gaze on his face, deciding whether you should wake him up or have him rest.

He has been having so many nightmares lately...

His eyes abruptly open and you lent your weight on your elbow to better survey him.

"It's alright, Ani, it was just a dream" You spoke softly, careful not to startle him.

Anakin's wide-eye terror softens at the sight of you, his chest heaves trying to catch his breath.

"It's alright" You coo once more, placing a kiss on his forehead.

He presses his eyes close, and his eyes are intent in yours as he follows your breathing.

You can't help but feel a sting in your heart. He is reaching his limit, and it worries you that whenever he's away, he is close to blurring the lines and crossing it.

Anakin presses his face to your clavicle, and your hands find a way to tangle in his hair. Noticing his silence, you spoke soothingly "What's on your mind, Ani?"

Anakin's breath felt warm against your neck. You used to be able to read Anakin's thoughts. Like he'd write it down in words on pages of a novel for you to be able to understand him. But now, he's been more distant, more incoherent, and you feel as though you have to decipher every little thing that he allows you to see.

"mmm—just tired" Anakin's voice was gravelly and of resignation.

Stop turning me away. You wanted to say. But you already know that the more you try to push him, the further he'll hide away.

You take a deep breath, wishing you could take away some of the weight off his shoulders. "You know you speak in Huttese when you're asleep"

"I do?" Anakin tilts his chin, his eyes are still half-asleep.

"Yeah, I could never understand it though" You managed a wan smile.

"That's probably good for you, Huttese is a very coarse language" He claims.

"Still—" You held back your tongue, deciding it would only drive him away if you asked about his dream.

"I fear that you dream in a language I can't understand"

The silence hung. Anakin must be asleep.

Your gaze moved faraway— deep in contemplation. Wondering if you being in his life made any difference at all.

"You know, I only ever feel like myself when I'm with you, right?" Anakin speaks, voice barely above a whisper.

Your cheeks flushed scarlet, realizing your force signature may have revealed your anxieties.

"I know"

Anakin shifts his head, eyes latched on to you like he was memorizing every detail of your face.

"Ani" you began, "If there's a life after it all, will you come with me?"

Anakin's eyebrows flashed at the suddenness of your question.

"What do you mean?" He places his hand on the small of your back, tracing small circles.

"Well, I'm only wondering, will you come with me, even then?"

Anakin's expression softens, recognizing your fears. You were losing him, slowly, bit by bit. And if you're bound to him in this life, why not in the other?

When you can finally feel like you're not constantly the only one holding on.

He doesn't answer for a while, you feel the need to ramble, to withdraw.

It was silly of you to ask, he is free to choose whatever life he wants to live after it all, besides, if he decides to want to rest, you won't take that away from him, if he ever wants to—

"I'll go wherever you go" he declares, halting the thoughts plaguing your mind.

His eyes drift away from yours "I can't... I know what my duty requires of me and I'm sorry if I haven't been here for you."

"But, I'll love you in a time that isn't stolen" he promises, tucking your hair away from your face.

You felt tears glistening in your eyes. You smiled, leaning in to tenderly kiss Anakin.

The hope of it all would be enough to keep you going.

Just a little while longer.

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toji-bunny-girl · 1 month

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choosing to love God + instilling his values into your life isn’t some sort of trend you can just pick up. its a lifetime commitment. its surrending your old self and bad habits and accepting a new life pleasing to God. by allowing the holy spirit to guide you on the right path to your destiny. despite your circumstances and what life brings. despite what the world says and what you see. you choose God.

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toji-bunny-girl · 2 months

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His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!”

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.

A life with your love was within reach.

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no.

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love.

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

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toji-bunny-girl · 2 months

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Tethered - P. 1

Author's Note: I haven't read the books yet so my understanding of this universe is based solely on the first movie and my research lol

Summary: Feyd-Rautha is reunited with someone from his past when he makes a play to gain the Emperor's favor.

Feyd met you when he was still but a young boy, being shuffled around by his uncle before he became of an age where he could be taught the politics of war. He was taught by many different scholars, all with tight-lipped smiles stretched across their faces and stern lessons. They didn't want to anger his uncle by being flippant with him, but they never went out of their way to make things easier, either.

You were his favorite of all. Your robes were so very simple, but made with the finest of fabrics and often having tasteful, hidden designs in places most wouldn't think to look. The insides of your sleeves and cuffs were the most frequently utilized by design, along with the underside of your dress hem.

The designs usually depicted constellations, which was the subject you taught the young Feyd-Rautha. Astronomy, since space travel was so valued. You were a gifted Navigator as well, but were never able to use your talents because of your high status in the Known Universe.

A daughter of Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV; a princess-scholar. You were older than your student, naturally, but barely a young woman—still virtually a child yourself. But you were intelligent, clever enough to memorize sky-maps and shipping lanes, and an easy tutor. You weren't often let out of the palace, but you had your stars and your gardens, and the occasional student to indulge in.

Feyd could see, even then, that those three things made you happiest. Something you could see, something you could touch, and someone you could impart your love of knowledge to.

A warrior had no need for gentleness.

He was furious with his uncle when he called him away for the more intense subjects—war strategy and combat—he no longer had time for needless topics like astronomy when he had Navigators and pilots to do it for him, but nothing seemed to quell his longing for those easy days and nights he enjoyed while under your tutelage.

Over the years, he thought of you less and less, satisfying his uncle with many a bloodied victory in the arena, his nature morphing into one of violence, pain, and death.

Every so often, his mind would betray him and he would remember your soft smile and gentle hand on the back of his neck, guiding him to look up at the twinkling planets. The memories played out in his dreams and he would grow angry, often choosing to distract himself with a pleasure girl—or two—instead of letting his mind wander back to you. Only when he was coated head to toe in blood and sweat and sex would he be free to laugh off his dreams, the image of a clawed, shadowy hand swiping through your apparition in his mind, your figure dissipating into tendrils of smoke.

***

"Apparently, the emperor is having trouble finding a match for his second oldest." Glossu smirks, devouring his meal with little to no grace across from him. Vladimir sits at the head of the black marble table, fat, ringed fingers strumming absently as his eyes wander. His massive appetite having already been quenched, he'd soon head towards his chambers to sleep.

Feyd eats with his hands, more deliberate than his cousin. He chews the meat, savoring the flavor. A slave keeps his goblet full of water. He has no desire to dull his senses with alcohol.

"Yes," Vladimir murmurs in thought. "The Reverend Mother states the girl can bear no fruit. A marriage to her would be pointless unless the husband takes a second wife or concubine."

"She could be the concubine."

"Marrying her would be considered a personal favor to the emperor, no?" Feyd finally speaks, Glossu eyeing him suspiciously.

"No, no." Vladimir chastised. "She is a princess. Shaddam won't allow such a thing."

The silence that permeates the great dining hall is only disrupted by the sounds of Glossu demanding seconds.

Vladimir levels his gaze at his youngest nephew for a moment. Then he has his suspensors raise his body up, his black robes fluttering across the floor as he sits himself down on the edge of the table next to Feyd's elbow.

"You would do such a thing for the emperor?" He asks—a loaded question. Feyd looks him in the eye, steady as always.

"For House Harkonnen." He replies. Vladimir nods, beady eyes full of pride.

"Good," He pats his cheek with a big hand, delighted. "Very good, nephew. His Majesty will be grateful. He'll owe you. Yes, very good."

Glossu stews as Vladimir leaves them to sleep. Feyd simply continues with his meal, staring him down. Glossu is rash—always has been—and so he isn't surprised when the older man storms off in a fit, furious he didn't think of the idea first.

***

The marriage is announced in a month's time, after Feyd meets with Shaddam.

"I know your people," He says, narrow-eyed as the young Harkonnen stands before the throne in full military dress. "My daughter is delicate, not suited to the likes of Geidi Prime. Why would you, an ambitious young warrior who could very well be declared Baron of your House soon, want a woman who can not bear children?"

Feyd sees a female slave, shrouded by white robes and head covering, make her way to the emperor's side, her eyes downcast above her veil as she waits for her next directive.

"You wish for her to remain safe. Who better than the Harkonnens to protect her?" Feyd asks as he looks back at the emperor.

Shaddam clucks his tongue, reaching for a golden chalice. "Are you implying she isn't safe here, in her own home?"

"No, Emperor," Feyd inclines his head in apology. "Of course not. I only point out that should an attempt be made by the Atreides to attack the palace, she would be far away from danger."

"Perhaps. But you didn't answer my first question. Why her?"

Feyd pauses. The image of you passes through his mind, your hands caressing a moonflower as he walks beside you in the gardens, his head barely reaching your shoulder at the time.

"I remember her," He admits. "From when I was a boy. I think we would suit each other."

Shaddam looks up in interest. "You've met her? I should think I'd remember a Harkonnen child being here in my palace."

"I was one of her students." The girl peeks up at him, surveying his features before looking back down at the floor.

"Hm." The old man massages his chin, deep in thought. "She had many students, all of whom loved and admired her. It broke her heart when someone sent their child to poison her."

Feyd recalled hearing about it. The child was killed in the process, and the princess fell severely ill. He was sure the parents must have been executed.

"I was glad to know her health prevailed." He bows his head.

"Well, it certainly didn't do her any favors...she feels the effects from it to this very day. She needs to be treated with care and—"

Feyd looks up to see the girl had stepped forward to whisper in Shaddam's ear, keeping her gaze on Feyd as her veil barely moves against her lips. Shaddam squints before looking up at her.

"You're certain?"

She nods vehemently before stepping back to her place. Shaddam sighs through his nose.

"Fine, fine." He waves her away. "Go."

She leaves in a flurry of swishing fabric and bare feet, and Feyd swears he hears a giggle as she slips through a doorway.

Shaddam glares, still suspicious. "Where did she teach you?"

"The gardens. The observatory."

He humphs, satisfied, and waves a hand in dismissal.

"You will have your answer tomorrow. I expect she will want to see you before you depart for Geidi Prime, no matter what her answer is."

He bows low. "Your Majesty."

His mouth waters at the thought of what she could be hiding underneath her veil and robes.

On the way to his quarters, led by a soldier, Feyd senses eyes on him. He looks up to the mezzanine and spies two girls, one of them seeming to be the one from earlier, watching him and talking amongst themselves as they follow along. They're not subtle in their attempt to see where he's being taken so he's not surprised to see them waiting around the corner when he arrives at the room, giggling like children. He almost feels annoyed, but this isn't Geidi. These women, slaves or not, are raised differently. To be angry with them is to be angry with their way of life.

He waits for the soldier to leave before inclining his head towards them, but the taller girl steers her friend away, her eyes crinkling with mirth as they leave him in peace.

Feyd's suite is amassed with silk bedding and gold accents, and he slips his boots off to feel smooth granite beneath his feet. He dozes off in the middle of the massive bed, sitting up against the headboard. Twinkling lights from the city can be seen at night, and a thermal regulator keeps the room from becoming too cold during the night, even with the open archways to the balcony.

It's in the middle of the night that one of the girls comes to him. Dainty feet can be heard landing on the deck, and he barely opens his eyes to see flowing white satin in one of the archways. It's dark in his suite so he doubts she can see when he closes his eyes again, keeping his breathing steady as she approaches.

"That wasn't very smart of you, sneaking in here like this," He rasps, her wrist trapped against the sheets. She wriggles against him half-heartedly and he presses the edge of his blade more snugly against the layers of fabric that cover her throat. Her eyes are angled sharply but she doesn't appear afraid. "It's almost as if you wanted to be caught."

She slowly leans her hand on the bed and Feyd bides his time until he feels the full weight of her body settle, lashing out to grab her wrist and haul her further up the bed, straddling her waist with his small-knife at her throat.

His fingers are quick and deft at searching for the pin that secures her veil, and he's not shocked to find the face of his old mentor staring back at him.

"Hello, Teacher."

To be continued...

#like and reblog this rn #cuz miss writer slayer right here deserves 28374738 notes on this post

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