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badgyalshii · 3 months

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ITS NEVER OVER |||

+ (WHERE HAVE YOU GONE)

word count: 1.7?

Paul atreides x Reader (Always safe for POC + PLUS SIZE) Paul POV!!!

warnings: signs of depression? were happy in there tho, proof read? yeah something like that (god i am not good at these😭) y/n is not in this chapter but ofc shes mentioned entirely throughout the text.

A/N: AHHHHHH THE FINAL CHAPTER BEFORE THE FINALE, IM EXCITED TO POSTTTT, i hope you guys enjoyed and i love the feedback i recieved! i love you all, have a good day/night, whenever you get this! (Also, considering that this is from pauls POV i thought that i might add an extra title)

Hey! Have you read the first chapters? You didnt? What! Read it here!! I . II . III . IV.

Hmm? You said you like shii’z writing?! Omg me too! Check out her masterlist!

He let out a heavy breath before he ripped his mask off of his face. He wasn't supposed to be out alone considering he was the new crowned emperor. But he was, and he was searching for you and he wasn't gonna give up until he did. He wore heavy clothing to try and hide his identity from others, and a bag that slung around his shoulder consisting of his journal, water, and other things he might need. He settles for the night in a rock. A rock with a beautiful view. He has been on the road for so long, he's forgotten how long, he didn't really care to remember either, considering it would help motivate to find you. He walks around the rock, searching for anything to give him clues of you or if you might've been here.

As he looked around, It was clear that someone had been there before. He looked at the bad attempt of making a bed, but he didn't touch it. His eyes slightly closed from trying to study the bed, there were still prints of a body, maybe two, on the bed. He hunches over. There was a piece of hair, as disgusting as it sounds…he picked it up. It was the same as yours, he took a rather long pause before thinking, maybe he should smell the bed? No, what if he smells something he doesn't like. He shook his head before looking at the single strand of hair that was in his hand. He sat down on the bed, setting the hair gently aside before taking off his glove and putting the strand back in his palm. Everybody's hair could be similar, he thought. He let out a sigh before looking ahead of him. He didn't know what time it was, but all he knew was that he was tired and heart broken. He didn't miss his home, not at all, not with you not there.

He put his glove and his mask back on before placing the hair into his bag. Out of everything that was going on, at least the view was beautiful. He stood and walked to the view of the rock, carelessly taking footsteps before he sighed and dropped down, his legs open and his elbows on his knees as he took in the view. He let in a deep breath. ¨tired. I am tired¨ he let out in a whisper. He fought his sleep often because he knew it would make him less confident and he would grow to slack, but sometimes he just couldn't take it anymore. The yawns leaving his lips, difficulty holding onto the hooks that latched onto the sandworm, but he thought he could finally settle here for a while, as a reward for finding a piece of hair that have a 5 percent chance of being yours.

As he watched the view, he thought of you. He didn't cry as much anymore. When he cried, he cried alone in private. And during that time, he cried until he couldn't anymore. Every time he saw Irulan it made him sick to his stomach. As much as he wanted to blame her, he couldn't. His heart was too good and he knew better than to let a weak desperate moment turn into anger. ¨why did i offer?¨ he would think over and over, countless times, wondering how could he be so careless. But he wasn't, he didn't want to marry her for the reason of love, just wanted to keep her safe as a promise to the retired and overthrown emperor. Thinking about it made him question his character, who has he grown to be? hed remembered what you said, he always thought of the smart and wise things you had to say.

¨its okay to feel how you feel, paul¨ you looked at him with a pity smile on your face while your hand was on his cheek. He had another nightmare. He didn't want it to be true. ¨this is gonna make me go crazy, y/n¨ paul whispered back, leaning into y/ns touch. ¨don't let it fool you, don't let it phase you, don't let it change you¨ you replied. At times, all paul wanted to do was give up. He didnt wanna be the chosen one. It was all too much. He could stay here forever, with you. For all eternity if he could.

Paul sighs and looks to the side. Remembering what you said, he wished things weren't so quiet.he laughed to himself, all the dreams he had of the future, but none of you. He sat alone, all alone, not one book, not one sound, just him, by himself. He felt empty, he wants you, he needs you, he needed someone to make him feel complete again, but days spread thick and long, bored, fighting himself back and forth between hope for finding you and wondering if you had just moved on. He wished he had a dream of you, of your blue eyes glistening in the sun, of your laugh, He wished it was so vivid that he touched you, that he could control his dream and talk to you, make love to you, but he had nothing, nothing at all. Nothing to remember you by, just a stupid suspicious piece of hair, tears brimmed his eyes, he needs you. There was no one he could pray to if he was the chosen one. No matter how hard he fought, how he tried to distract himself from work, it all lead up to one person, not one other thought, never out of sight out of mind, he knew what he wanted and he fell so deep he felt like he just couldn't grasp it anymore, how was he supposed to live his life without you. Your soft gentle hands grazing his face and answering the stupid and goofy questions he asked. There was no one else and he knew that now, didn't even find anyone else attractive. Lonesome nights, he didn't want to be on his own, ever again. Once he found you he vowed to never let you go, no matter how loud your voice is, no matter if you kicked him down, your in his heart and he just cannot let go, but how long could he search? Huh? How long would it be until he found you? When will he hear your voice again? When will he kiss you again? He didn't even say I love you before you walked off, for all he knew, that was his last goodbye.

On the first day, he acted as if nothing happened, but then he realized you weren't there, he couldn't pick at your dinner plate, he could hear your laughs, he couldn't feel your pity hits after he whispers a dirty joke. He had no one to talk to, no one to ask him if he was okay. Was he...okay? Had he known he was okay? Or has he grown so long to the point where he wasnt and he just didn't know it. He wished he said more, begged you to stay, cried about it, weeped about it, there was so much he could've done and he didn't, he only said a short explanation of how he was waiting for you and now he's on the run, on the search. He was so tired, so tired of looking at the same spice on the ground, carving on the rock of the walls. He wanted to be next to you, holding your head in his shoulder, hear your soft snores as you slept like there wasn't a care in the world. He'd never expect this, a life without you. He sighed and shook the thought out of his head, noticing he was in too deep and he wiped the tears that slowly dropped from his face, letting out a sniffle as he looked ahead. He didn't want to be too deep, of course he missed you, but he wanted to find you with a clear conscience, a healthy mind. He needed something to keep him going. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked to the ground. He placed a palm down and leaned closer to the floor. What is this? This imprint on the floor? Looks familiar.

He looked over it, careful not to move or make any sudden movements. ¨y/n?¨ he muttered. Any normal person would've thought paul as crazy, looking like he's searching for spice on the floor, and then wanting to jump and cheer, because, well, because what?

The necklace

The necklace Paul got for her. It was there! Clear as day. What a time to cheer! He couldn't fight off the smile on his lips. She's alive! She's alive! What a joy, out for two years! Been all around Arrakis, and at such a time he was going to give up, go home, force himself to get comfortable with his new situation, you were out there. Shall he go home? To tell stilgar and have a celebration? Sweet red wine sounded like heaven. He wiped his eyes as finally, finally tears came down. Tears of joy, he waited for this moment, oh so long! He was so happy he could take the dirt and put it in his bag also.

He laughed, he found it funny how he grew so tired of being next to his queen that he went and found you himself after he told you to come back. He grew impatient. He took out his journal and wrote, writing his life away as he thought of you, as the warmness of love and hope crowded his vision and spreaded throughout his body. This is all he wanted, to find you. And he was so close, so, so close.

He hadn't felt like this in a long time. He got up and collected the dirt from the necklace in his hand and watched it fall from his gloves. Looking around and seeing the footsteps, all yours he believed! He looked before following the footsteps, he followed them foot by foot until he was in the sand again. He hunched over, trying to search for the footsteps as they were getting lost from the wind of the sand until he couldn't anymore. He stood and pulled out his compass for the direction that you went. When it pointed he saw and lifted his head in the direction you went. This was it, this was the final piece, this was the end.

You were home.

Taglist 🏷️

@ennycutie @cookiezxx

#dune part 2 #paul atredies x black!reader #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chamalet x black!reader #timothee x you #paul atreides x reader #timothee chalamet smut #paul atredies smut

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helenanell · 30 days

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Masterlist

My Works:

CHALLENGERS:

Breath of Life - Part 1 - Part 2 - Fem!Reader X Multiple Pairings

Every Saturday - Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader

Contempt of Court - Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader

A03:

First Light || The Bear - Carmy Berzatto X OFC - (89.9K Words)

Burn Your Village || The Last Kingdom - OFC X Multiple Pairings - (113.3K Words)

As Good A Reason || Succession - OFC X Multiple Pairings - (174.8K Words)

I Will Remain || Dune - OFC X Paul Atreides & OFC X Feyd-Rautha - (52.3K Words)

#masterlist #challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi x reader #succession #the bear #the last kingdom #dune movie #dune #dune part two

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yawnderu · 4 months

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HIIII LEMME JUST SAY I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SMMMM ESPECIALLY SIMON RILEY X BIMBO!READER

also, kind of random question. i'm new to the cod fandom and i'm not able to play the game. but i love it sm. and google isn't helpful whatsoever. so, i was wondering what character is in what team? i ofc know Task Force 141 but who all besides König and Horangi are in KorTac??

i really want to learn more about cod and the characters but i'm scared some random annoying boy would mansplain it to me and i dont got the patience for that shit 😭😭

MWAHHH thank u so much princess!💗

And yeah of course!! KorTac and SpecGru have both canon and non-canon characters, the non-canon characters do not interact with the canon characters, and aren't part of the story in the game.

The non-canon characters for each faction are the following:

KorTac:

Neymar Jr, Oroku "Shredder" Saki, Atom, Nicholas "Nickmercs" Kolcheff, Homelander, Black Noir, Nicki Minaj, 21 Savage, V4L3RIA, Lilith, Skeletor, Sardaukar, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, Firecracker and Michonne.

SpecGru:

Abolisher, Paul Atreides, A-Train, John Doe, Rick Grimes, Paul Pogba, Lionel Messi, Kevin Durant, Timothy "TimTheTatman" Betar, Io, Arthur, Starlight, Snoop Dogg, Lara Croft, Spawn, Alucard, Ash Williams and Inarius.

You can find more information about the factions, including canon characters, using these links:

KorTac

SpecGru

I hope that helped!💗

#stray answers #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #specgru #kortac

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justafandomgvrl · 6 months

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You’re Bleeding

Leto Atreides x OFC

Word count: 500ish

Fluff. Mentions of blood.

Ana winced as she walked back into the House, knowing she was running late. She could only pray that the Duke would be forgiving - to her and to the idiot who had hurt her. She looked to her arm and mumbled curses when she realised her shirt was stained with blood from when she’d dabbed at her temple to stop the bleeding. Her hair fell in her face, hiding the wound.

“You’re late.” She sighed with relief that it was Paul’s voice she heard. She smiled sheepishly, moving both arms behind her back to clasp her hands together. “Are you okay? You’ve never been late.”

“Yes, Master Paul, I’m fine. Just got a little bit waylaid-”

“You’re bleeding.” She flinched, turning to see Leto staring at her. “Leave us, Paul.” Ana tucked her hair behind her ear, knowing Leto would ask to see the wound. He inhaled sharply at the sight. Blood had matted into her hair, and bruising had already covered her temple. “Who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter, sir.” She whispered, trying to duck past him but his fingers circled her wrist and yanked her back into place in front of him. His other hand wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to look at him and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Who did this to you?” He repeated, his voice lower, heavier, darker than usual.

“I don’t know, sir.” His gaze hardened. “There were three men. They wore weird symbols. I don’t know who they were.” She whispered.

“They don’t know what they’ve started.” He murmured, so low that Ana wondered if she was supposed to have heard it. “Come, we’ll get you cleaned up. I’m assigning you a guard, too.”

“Sir, I’m not sure it’s worth the fuss. I’m just one of many maids.” His grip on her tightened.

“If I say it’s worth it, then it is worth it, and I will not have you question it.” He said firmly, letting go of her jaw and dragging her behind him as he marched through the House to the medical wing.

“Sir…” She sighed as he sat her down at a counter, taking care of her wound himself. “You don’t need to go through all this trouble, sir.”

“Just shut up, please, for five minutes, and let me help you.” He huffed, tilting her head to analyse the cut. She blinked at him expectedly and he sighed, leaning against the counter. “You’re not just a maid, Ana. How have you never noticed?” He whispered. “You are so much more.”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

“Call me Leto.” He demanded, leaning forward and pressing his lips over hers, leaving no room for argument. Her eyes widened before she relaxed against him.

“Leto.” she breathed, pulling away. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to understand. Just trust me.” She nodded slowly and he smiled, pressing another kiss to her lips.

#duke leto atreides #leto atreides #duke leto #leto atreides x ofc #leto atreides x original female character #leto atreides x original character #leto atreides fanfic #fanfic #drabble #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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lokisgoodgirl · 3 months

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hi fav writer - I have a question :)

Saw that you're also a fan of Timothee Chalamet (so am I haha) and now I'm wondering if you like Dune and Paul Atreides? Do you read or write fro him too?

have a lovely day

Hiiiii love! Good LORD do I LIKE DUNE?!??! Girl I BREATHE Dune 🤣😂 I had a Dune-dad who got me into the series when I was young, and so ofc when the first movie came out we went to see it and I was a GONER from the moment Chalamet smouldered his way onto the screen. Sitting between my dad and husband like an absolute whore. So YES! I love Dune. Massive nerd. Come talk to me about what makes the ornothopter engines fly (SPOILER: It's a giant mollusc)

I don't write for Paul, because my brain can't handle more than one fictional boyfriend at a time and that space is occupado at the moment. Plus, I'm not sure what that would look like. Lots of sand in awkward places. If I ever did go down that road I'd probably make a new account, I wouldn't want to bombard anyone with something they didn't sign up to 🤣 Plus - I feel like I'd mention too much nerdy shit. You don't need my Dune nerd shit when you're trying to be horny. Like the mollusc thing. BUT IF I DID.....Here's some oneshots you could expect from Paul Atreides x Reader

All the smutting smut with Paul on a sandworm. Absolutely. Ultimate danger-fuck.

Prescient wankst

Cockwarming and trying not to sweat as he fucks you in the stillsuits (logic be damned)

Gom Jabbar except he eats you out

Kriss knife fight to the death for your honour

#dune asks

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witchywomanrunningupthathill · 2 years

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Dreams (Chapter 1 - A Visit)

Pairing: Paul Atreides x OFC

Description:

"And I'm not sure I could trust the person who conceived this plan," Kynes said. "Arrakis has its own plan that we—" "From the throne," Paul said, "I could make a paradise of Arrakis with the wave of a hand. This is the coin I offer for your support." “Who said I was offering my hand? Rhaenia asked. “If I do recall,” she started, “Arrakis doesn’t need us. We need Arrakis.”

Rhaenia Khumali is vying for her place in the Known Universe. She serves as Junior Imperial Truthsayer to Emperor Shaddam IV for little more than a year until the emperor sends her to Arrakis to put her skills to greater use - a ploy to surveil House Atreides as they take control of their new fief.

Unknown to the Imperium is the immensity of Rhaenia’s role on Arrakis and in the Universe, as she finds herself in the middle of two Bene Gesserit prophecies, one rejected millennia ago in favor of the Kwisatz Haderach, now come to fruition.

Warnings: None (for now)

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hi guys! So this started out as an idea for a really short fic but then snowballed into something else altogether and now I’ve got a series on my hands! Chapter 2 coming soon! Also, I put this on my ao3 as well, but I’m looking for one or two beta readers for this fic, so if anyone is interested, pls DM me or comment on this post! X - Iz

Dreams Masterpost

Chapter 2

“Religion is the emulation of the adult by the child. Religion is the encystment of past beliefs: mythology, which is guesswork, the hidden assumptions of trust in the universe, those pronouncements which men have made in search of personal power, all of it mingled with shreds of enlightenment. And always the ultimate unspoken commandment is 'Thou shall not question!' But we question. We break that commandment as a matter of course. The work to which we have set ourselves is the liberating of the imagination, the harnessing of imagination to humankind's deepest sense of creativity.”

Bene Gesserit Credo on Religion

Rhaenia Khumali never stayed anywhere for too long. She first abandoned her eponymous homeworld at age seven, when four Bene Gesserit sisters arrived shortly after the girl’s breakfast time to accompany her to what would become her new life. An unpleasant surprise She remembered giving silent goodbyes to the planet she had once called home, trying to remember every detail of Khumali’s abundant sand dunes, paradises, and creatures.

She was pleased, though, to bid her stifling family farewell. The Khumalis were a regal clan, ruling over their edge of the universe from the comfort of their desert planet. After the untimely death of her father Masjid, her older brother Radames became Duke. It wasn’t the desired plan of succession, but given that her youngest brother, Cassius was called to the Imperial Court and her concubine mother had no legitimate right, they were left with little choice.

She wanted to rule. At least that was what she had thought when she was a girl, when she was too busy learning Prana Bindu or mastering the Voice from her witch-sisters. But now as she sat in the throne room across from Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV watching him go back-and-forth with a band of Guild Navigators, the childhood desire to rule couldn’t be further from the truth. She was exhausted just watching the ordeal. She was never going to be an Empress, that was silly daydreaming. Full stop. But she surely couldn’t imagine herself being Viscountess of House Khumali. She was more than happy to let Radames hold the reins.

Imperial business had been particularly vapid lately. That was until representatives from the Spacing Guild had shown themselves today. She could feel the Emperor’s discomfort. She’d never really liked the Guildsmen either.

“I trust your journey was well?” Shaddam asks. The Navigator remains silent for a moment before finally responding.

“Many machines on Ix…new machines.” The Navigator says.

“Oh yes?” The emperor says, eyebrows raising.

Thinking machines. Rhaenia had heard of those. The Khumalis had allied with the Corrinos during the Butlerian Jihad, back when they were still Butlers.

“Better than those on Richese… You are transparent… I see many things… I see plans within plans” the Navigator muses.

Her great-great grandmother had fought alongside Serena Butler herself. That was a long time ago. And as far as she was concerned, this Universe had long outgrown the paranoia surrounding the thinking machines. The jihad was over. They had rid the universe of the thinking machines. No, they were not back. No, they would not annihilate humanity.

“Is there a problem? Usually there is a problem when one of you visits,” Shaddam posited.

The Navigator doesn’t respond for a while.

In her opinion, man had better concern itself with itself. It was more likely a person would plot against another and kill them. Rhaenia’s thoughts were interrupted as she felt the deep, formidable voice of Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam’s intrude on her thoughts, commanding her to focus.

“You work for the emperor now. You cannot make mistakes,” the Reverend Mother says

“They’re always so…their minds move in strange directions,” Rhaenia defended.

“You must not let that hinder your sensing. Now pay attention.”

Rhaenia tensed at the older woman’s tone, but straightened up just as the Guildsman started speaking, nevertheless. She closes her eyes, focusing on the flow of words.

“The answer is within the problem,” the Navigator said cryptically. Shaddam looks unbothered. “I see two Great Houses – House Atreides, House Harkonnen – feuding… I see you behind it.”

“Yes…” Shaddam confirmed.

The Navigator breathes the spice gas heavily before continuing.

“You must share with us.”

The Emperor bides his next words carefully.

“I have ordered House Atreides to occupy Arrakis to mine the spice…thus replacing their enemies the Harkonnens…House Atreides will not refuse, especially given the Duke’s increasing popularity in the Landsraad. And with the Harkonnens cast out of their Dune, they will have little choice but to make a self-appointed return. I have promised the Baron five legions of my Sardaukar troops…”

“So the Harkonnens will rid you of House Atreides…”

“Yes,” said Shaddam. The Navigator sits still, thinking before the Emperor speaks again. “If this visit has anything to do with spice…”

“The spice must flow! Our power to fold space is in the spice…Without us, your empire would be lost in an isolated, ever-scattering universe… You would be lost.”

“I can assure you…”

“Do not speak lightly of the spice!”

Rhaenia fights the urge to roll her eyes. The Guild Navigators were no better than any of the other zealots in this universe. The spice was their religion. But then again, the spice was everyone’s religion. Without it they would be nothing but one infinitesimal speck in an ever-expanding Universe. The spice brought out the worst in everyone. Sometimes she questioned whether it was truly the spice to which everyone had become addicted or the power one acquired in exercising control over it. That is why she wanted to leave, seeing as this meeting wasn’t going anywhere productive anytime soon.

“The Bene Gesserit witch must leave.”

Rhaenia’s eyebrows furrowed at the Navigator’s command. There’s more than one of us here. That didn’t stop the Emperor.

“Leave us,” Shaddam commanded.

“My Lord,” Rhaenia, the Reverend Mother, and the other three sisters said, bowing, before leaving the room.

Rhaenia wastes no time in returning to her quarters. If the Guildsmen didn’t want her there, she surely didn’t need to be told twice. Plus, she had an extra hour now to do as she pleased. The prospect was exciting, and she was interested in what the Navigator had said about the Atreides and the Harkonnens. Perhaps she’d spend her extra hour with the princess.

The Imperial Palace was a conglomeration of globes and towers, all entirely too drafty for Rhaenia’s liking. As her boots clacked upon the aventurine floors, a pair of footsteps in the distance sped up slightly, coming out of rhythm with her own.

“You’re looking fancier than usual,” her brother Cassius said to her in the Khumali battle language. A mixture of Persian and Italian from Earth.

“You must want me to dress as a beggar then,” Rhaenia challenged.

Cassius chuckles, laying his hands on his sister’s shoulders as they start up a staircase.

“Sister, you know me better than that. I could never be seen with you if that were the case.”

Rhaenia shakes him off with a laugh. As they round the top of the stairs, she stops and turns to him.

“I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than to follow your sister around like a lost puppy.”

“I’ll come find you later.”

Rhaenia nods then watches as Cassius retreats back down the staircase before continuing down a corridor. A glowglobe comes to life and follows her path to a closed door. She knocks before turning the knob.

“You know, it’s not a good look to just knock and enter,” Princess Irulan’s voice rings out through the royal chambers. She lays on her bed, book in hand, staring up at Rhaenia.

“Oh, you know me…the princess of impatience.” Rhaenia says, flipping her hair in jest. She pads over to Irulan, climbing onto the bed with her and sliding the book out of her hands to look at the cover. One of her histories. Rhaenia tosses the book aside then lays her head in the princess’ lap. Irulan brushes her hand through Rhaenia’s long, wavy raven locks. Rhaenia closes her eyes as they sit in silence a while.

“How did it go with the Spacing Guild?”

“Dreadful as always, grotesquely confounding? Something …unexpected…did come out of it.”

Irulan hums in acknowledgment and Rhaenia reopens her eyes. “Has your father mentioned anything lately about the Atreides and the Harkonnens?”

“Apart from the arrangements over Arrakis, no…Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…this Navigator, he picked up on whatever it is your father plans on doing – using the Harkonnens to get rid of the Atreides.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. The Navigator also could’ve been trying to make an example. They’re all slaves to the spice and nothing more.”

“They may be addicted to spice, but they weren’t lying about the Emperor’s intentions.”

“It’s curious, that’s for sure…but don’t you think we have more pressing matters to attend to?”

“Such as?”

Irulan rolls her eyes at the girl.

“Such as…skipping dinner and staying up here…”

“Pshaw!”

“Oh, don’t give me that! You know you love it!” Irulan banters. Rhaenia folds her lips inward, intent on not giving her a response.

“I happen to love eating.” Rhaenia says matter-of-factly. “Especially on days like this. You know how the Reverend Mother is! I swear the woman doesn’t believe we need food…”

“If you’d been doing your Prana properly, you wouldn’t feel that way.”

“Ugh, you sound just like her, too!”

“Nia, I’m just saying this might be one of the last times we can be together like this for a while…”

“What makes you say that?” Rhaenia says, raising up on her arm and turning to face Irulan.

“Nothing! I’ve just been thinking about us…this… a lot lately. And I just want it to work,” Irulan admits. Rhaenia grabs Irulan’s face with both hands, stroking her thumbs across the redhead girl’s cheeks.

“It will. Trust me. Plus, I’ve got that new assignment coming up – you, me, and the other sisters – a new chance to go off-world. We’ve got this” Rhaenia exclaims, never tearing her gaze from Irulan’s jade orbs. Irulan nods, a smile stretching across her lips. Rhaenia pulls her in closer, pressing a kiss to her lips. Irulan deepens the kiss until they are interrupted by the noise of another door opening. They quickly pull apart, watching the figure that comes through the doorway. A servant.

“Your Highnesses, supper will begin in ten minutes,” the woman started, bashful and blushing. She quickly exited.

“Hear that? Woman cannot live on love alone,” Rhaenia jokes, prompting Irulan to lightly hit her shoulder. They both snicker as they head out of the princess’ rooms.

Caladan. A rainy, green planet of paradise to those who’d never seen water fall from the sky. It was a stormy night, and Paul Atreides lay sprawled across his bed, asleep. Boyish. Gentle snores exited his parted lips. He mumbles, immersed in a dream.

He sees the desert. Twin rows of tall date palms. And a girl who can’t be much younger than him. Eighteen years-old maybe. Her back is to him, as she kneels in front of one of the palms at the middle, as if praying. Her long, dark, wavy hair blows in the desert breeze. It’s sunset, and a sizable crowd of people in earth-tone, linen clothing stands around the arrangement of palms, chanting loudly: Alhayya jalib! Alhayya jalib! Alhayya jalib!Paul’s dream takes him closer to the girl. Her head is bowed, eyes closed. She rests one hand on the trunk of the tree. Her skin a dark bronze. It’s as if the trees are pulsing as soon as the girl’s skin meets the rough, spindly surface of the palm. The crowd grows even louder as they gather in tighter behind her. But this moment between her and the tree is singular, sacred.

“Alhayya jalib! Alhayya jalib!” A woman wailed, tears falling from her eyes.

He doesn’t recognize the words. Suddenly, the sand begins to shift around the girl, around everyone. What is happening? Paul thinks to himself. The chanting becomes drowned out to him, and just before anything else can happen, Paul watches the girl reveal her face to him as she lifts her head, now eye-level with the palm tree. She abruptly opens her eyes. Sapphire blue within blue. His name leaves her mouth, not much louder than a whisper:

“Paul.”

The boy Atreides wakes suddenly to his darkened bedroom and the serene pitter-patter of rain from the storm outside.

#paul atreides x ofc #paul atreides x oc #paul atreides fanfiction #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #dune fanfiction #dune #dune part one #dune part 2 #paul x reader #dune fandom

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 2 years

Text

Good to You

Chapter One: Power & Control

AO3 author’s note and info one

I can’t take anymore; it’s your touch, it’s your taste, it’s your dress on the floor. Take it home, take it home, ‘cause I’ve been waiting all night for you, and this is what I’m gonna do; ice ice, melt your heart. Baby girl, the time you’ve got. Rush rush, for that touch; just one taste, can’t get enough.- White Tie Affair, Take It Home

Caladan, Callisto was finding, was an incredibly odd planet.

Nobody kept plants inside—she’d had to go outside and get her own—, everything was strangely dark, it snowed (though she’d found that part rather exciting, if she were honest), and the people here seemed to be so formal and on edge.

Her people didn't wear form-fitting clothes, which earned her plenty of odd looks; her skin was much darker than most people’s there, too. And the strange focus they had on table manners! Apparently, she and everyone on her home planet had been eating incorrectly their entire lives.

Who knew?

Well, House Atreides, apparently.

As it stood, however, Callisto felt that their practices were far more barbaric than those on her planet Uepra. And they couldn’t claim that it was because they were a Great House, either, because House Agal was— well, they were a Minor House, but they were still a House.

Which was why her brother had pressured her into agreeing to be Paul's concubine.

They had developed something akin to friendship, which was nice, even if he was disarmingly attractive. He was significantly taller than her, which wasn’t that impressive of a feat, to be sure; he was also a great deal paler than she was—also not terribly impressive, as nearly everyone on Caladan was paler than Callisto—, and he was quite thin, she rather thought. He had inherited the incredibly striking facial features of his father, Duke Leto (namely high cheekbones and a jaw that looked like it could slice glass), as well as his dark hair, though the green eyes that seemed to almost glow, he got from his mother, Lady Jessica.

He had celebrated his twenty-first birthday not long after her arrival, which confirmed that he was not, in fact, old. Or at least not terribly old compared to her own eighteen years.

When she’d been told he’d selected her out of all the girls presented as options for concubinage, she’d assumed he’d misheard another girl’s name and requested her by accident.

Not so.

As it turned out, he had somehow known she hadn’t wanted to touch the title of ‘concubine’ with a ten foot pole and found that that suited him quite well, as he’d been getting pressure from his parents to take one and didn’t want one to begin with.

In exchange for helping Uepra with its healthcare and infrastructure issues, Paul had requested she be his concubine for an indeterminate amount of time. It was indeterminate because while the contract (and yes, there was a contract. House Atreides had paid so much money for her that it made her head spin) specified that the concubinage would be no shorter than three years, Paul had said they could end it any time they liked.

It was rather suffocating to be away from her family and in such a stifling place at first, but she did get used to it eventually. It helped, too, that she’d grown to rather like Paul, though his appearance was terribly distracting. As of late, she’d found herself wanting to be close to him—even touch him—for no explicable reason. He’d also gone from smelling pleasant to so delectable it was downright obscene, which she found odd but easily explainable nonetheless.

As it happened, Callisto had forged a sort of friendship with Paul, which made living with him easier. She quite liked his mother, as well, though his father was somewhat terrifying until he’d warmed up to her a bit.

Lately, however, the Duke had been giving her a rather wide berth. So had Duncan, the swordmaster, actually. And quite a few of the guards. She’d been burning sage in her bedroom, the way she often did, which could very well explain why some people appeared to be avoiding her.

Thankfully, Paul was normally candid with her.

“Do I smell bad?” she asked him one day while they were playing a card game.

He froze, looking up from his hand with wide eyes. “What?”

“Do I smell bad?” Callisto repeated. "It's so strange, I've noticed people sniffing me and putting their hand to their nose—"

"Who's been sniffing you?" he interrupted, narrowing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter who," she answered hotly. "Just smell me." She leaned forward over the table to thrust her arm in his face.

Paul practically lurched backwards, dropping his cards to press his hand over his face in the exact same way as everyone else had, mumbling an apology as he stumbled from the room.

Yes, she thought, the people of Caladan are very odd indeed.

“Callis,” Paul said while they were eating dinner one evening. She glanced up from her soup in askance.

Spoons were significantly less difficult than forks, she was finding.

“Is your food alright?”

She blinked at him a couple of times, considering his question.

“Yes,” she told him before adding on, “though it does taste a bit different than it did the last time I had this. The chef must've used different ingredients or something.”

He looked at her intently as she scratched idly at her arm, which she thought was strange. But then, Paul had always been rather… intense, for lack of a better term.

“Do you need new clothes?” he asked, motioning to where she was scratching. Glancing down at the offending hand briefly, Callisto looked back up at him with a slight shrug of one shoulder.

“No,” she responded, shaking her head. “My skin has just been a bit sensitive lately. Even my softest dresses feel rough.”

He furrowed his brow but said nothing more.

More incidents such as that happened over the course of the following week. Paul asked numerous questions she found rather odd, but again: the people of Caladan were odd, and therefore, Paul was, too, so she didn’t think much of it.

Callisto would be lying, however, if she didn’t at least admit to acting a bit strange herself. She kept noticing Paul’s scent, even when he was across the room, for… whatever reason. It was a delicious scent, it always had been, but recently it had become intoxicating and irresistibly strong. Even so, should that really have made her lean towards him and inhale deeply without realizing?

After that incident, he’d stumbled off again, which was a fair reaction, she thought; who sniffed another person unprovoked?

He had returned this time, however, though he was red as a tomato and his mother was in tow.

Lady Jessica shooed her son out of Callisto’s room with a wave of her hand a quick, “To your own room, Paul,” before she sat down in a chair by Callisto’s bed.

“Callisto,” Lady Jessica addressed seriously but kindly, “what do you know of alphas and omegas?”

Callisto blinked. “Uh… I kind of assumed that they weren’t real, to be honest. Just a story, you know.”

Lady Jessica nodded her understanding. “They’re real.”

Callisto raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I am an omega,” the older woman told her, touching her fingertips to her collarbone. “The Duke is an alpha, and so is Paul.”

“Alright,” Callisto said slowly, “but what’s that got to do with me?”

Lady Jessica stared at her. “You and Paul haven’t been intimate yet, as I understand?”

Callisto flushed to the roots of her hair but said nothing. She didn’t see how that was relevant. Her concubinage was a sham, anyway.

“I thought not,” Lady Jessica said when she saw Callisto’s face. “Allow me to explain a bit about alpha and omega biology.” Callisto nodded silently. “Alphas and omegas rely upon each other a great deal. Omegas upon alphas for protection and reassurance, and alphas upon omegas for their increased fertility. Both parties tend to be very devoted to one another, and rely upon each other for affection. Alphas who are connected to an omega in some way or another can use the Alpha Voice to compel an omega to do something; this is for the omega’s safety, and to help keep them calm in stressful situations.”

Alphas—Paul and his father included—had the ability to force their own will upon another person, like Lady Jessica? Callisto practically shuddered. That was far too much power for one person to have over another.

Still, Lady Jessica continued. “You can expect someone who is an alpha or omega to present—start showing signs of their secondary sex, that is—around the age of sixteen to eighteen. Paul presented at seventeen, for example.” She took a breath before continuing, “When an alpha presents, they go into what’s called a rut every month, which is a period of time where they tend to retreat somewhere with either their partner or a temporary lover. It’s not terribly dangerous to endure it alone, but it is incredibly painful. An omega’s presentation is similar: but when they go into heat, they must have an alpha accompany them or it becomes incredibly dangerous. Omegas were not made to endure heats alone.”

This was a great deal to take in, but Lady Jessica went on.

“What a heat is, essentially, is an insatiable need to be with an alpha.”

Ah. Sexually. Callisto understood that much.

“Heats and ruts can both trigger and be triggered by each other,” the older woman continued. “Very often, an omega’s presentation will be triggered by prolonged exposure to an alpha they find themselves drawn to. In such cases, when that omega’s heat comes, it is not only dangerous for them to not have an alpha with them, it is incredibly dangerous for them to not have that specific alpha with them.”

But why tell Callisto all this? No one on her home planet had these secondary sexes, as far as she knew, so why was she being told? She wasn’t about to help Paul through his rut, either. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she didn’t much like the idea of someone else doing it, but she also couldn’t fathom doing it herself.

“Callisto,” Lady Jessica addressed her, bringing her back to herself sharply, “you are an omega, like me. And it has become clear that Paul… Paul has triggered your heat.”

“W— what?” Callisto blinked at her with shocked eyes.

Lady Jessica nodded. “Close proximity to Paul has triggered your heat.” She examined Callisto’s face, the way she scratched at her clothing. “You’ve likely got a few hours yet, however.”

“Paul did this to me?” she breathed.

“Not exactly, no. You would’ve gone into heat at one point or another. Paul’s presence simply triggered it sooner.”

“And now we have to…” She gulped. She knew what sort of ‘intimacy’ Lady Jessica had meant, though she didn’t know a great deal about it. Such things were typically reserved for married couples on Uepra.

Lady Jessica said nothing, only nodding once in response.

Paul—her friend—had done this to her. Paul had made it so she’d have to— to— to do that with him.

Well, alright. Heats were dangerous, but they wouldn’t kill her, would they? She just needed some time to clear her head.

…Oh, very well. She also needed to get as far away from Paul as physically possible.

Maybe distance from him would prevent things from… progressing.

“Excuse me,” Callisto mumbled, standing abruptly.

"Don't go far," Jessica warned as Callisto moved towards the exit. "You will start feeling panicked and confused before long, it would be safer if you stayed close to Paul…"

But Callisto had already shut the door and started hurrying down the corridor. Slow, she told herself as she walked down the grand hallways. Slow, calm. Nothing is wrong. Do not alarm anyone.

Her mind was scrambling to catch up with all these things she didn't want to know. She wasn’t even sure where she was headed, but then she remembered: Duncan. Duncan could help her get offworld. Maybe he could fly her home. It wasn’t that far, after all.

She knew the castle well enough to make her way over to the wing of rooms where Duncan and the other higher ranking staff slept.

Her skin was itching terribly, and she was getting increasingly light-headed, but she was certain that if she could just get far enough away from Paul, get back to Uepra, she could stop this whole heat business before it really started.

The Druids on her home planet would have some sort of medicinal herb to stop it, surely. They had herbs for everything.

Callisto had almost succeeded in not panicking completely by the time she reached Duncan’s room.

“Duncan!” she hissed, knocking sharply on his door and looking around in paranoia. She wasn’t sure why, but something about being out in the open right now made her feel exposed and naked, even though she was fully clothed down to her wrists and ankles in her loose layers.

He opened the door, towering over her so much the top of his head neared the ceiling, and she sidestepped him, inviting herself into his room as fast as she was able.

“Callisto?” her friend muttered in surprise. She heard him inhale through his nose, then said lowly, “You… you shouldn’t be here.”

“I need your help,” she insisted desperately. “I need you to get me home, to Uepra.” He stared down at her in shock, but she rushed on. “Please, it’s not safe for me here. I’m frightened, I— I need to go home.”

Duncan sighed and opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly, there was a shout.

“Callis!” came Paul’s bellow.

Oh, spirits.

How had he managed to track her down so quickly?

Her eyes wide and terrified, she shook her head urgently at Duncan, who looked torn between which friend to help: Callisto, who he’d only known a short while but had become close to, or the master he’d practically raised.

Paul shouted her name again, closer this time, and Callisto felt her heart thumping wildly against her ribcage.

Hide, hide, hide, hide—

There was a large wardrobe to her left, so she rushed over to it, wrenched the doors open and scrambled inside before Duncan could object.

Curling up in the corner of the wardrobe as the doors closed, bathing her in darkness, she tried very hard not to whimper, choosing instead to draw her knees up to her chest and wrap her arms around her skirts.

Her body had betrayed her. Paul, whom she’d thought was her friend, had done something she didn’t understand to her, and she was terrified. She was even more scared still of facing Paul now, knowing what he'd triggered in her.

He had a great deal of power over her; the ability to force his will over hers if he so chose, and that was a petrifying ability. A real sense of panic was rising in her chest now, and she couldn't seem to think clearly. Her thoughts were flighty and confusing, her heart beating out of her chest.

Despite everything, as she hid behind Duncan’s shirts where they hung in the wardrobe, she found herself wishing they smelled more like Paul. Even though she liked Duncan, just then, his scent was unpleasant and suffocating.

Another shout of her name, and then she heard the door to Duncan’s room slam open. Callisto buried her face in where the skirts of her dress covered her knees and wept silently.

“Where is she?” Paul demanded.

“What happened?” Duncan asked rather than answered. “She’s scared out of her mind and about to go into heat, from the smell of her, and—“

Oh spirits, she thought miserably, trying not to cry audibly. Duncan can tell what’s happening to me? How humiliating.

“Apparently, I triggered her heat,” Paul explained, exasperated, “then when she found out, she ran!”

“Can’t be the first time a girl’s run from you,” Duncan barbed.

“This isn’t funny,” she heard Paul snap. “She—“ he cut himself off then, and inhaled deeply. “I knew she was in here,” he muttered.

Then, footsteps.

She looked up at the doors with wide, terrified eyes that were still wet with tears, though she couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the wardrobe.

Suddenly, the doors were yanked open again, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the abrupt change, another tear sliding down her cheek from her rapid blinking.

As he looked down at her, his angry expression evaporated. He knelt down and held out his arms for her.

“Callis,” he breathed. “It’s alright, I’m here now, I—“

Run.

Ducking underneath his outstretched arms, she hiked the skirts of her dress up enough to dart away from him, her legs carrying her into the corridor of their own accord.

She was barely out of Duncan’s room when she felt a firm grip around her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She turned around to glance up at Paul, whose anger had returned full force, then tried fruitlessly to wrench her arm from his grip.

“Callis,” he threatened, “do not run from me.”

“Let me go!” she demanded, tugging harder on her arm. “Duncan!”

People began to stick their heads out of their rooms, looking on curiously, though Duncan was the only one to actually step forward.

“Get her out of here,” he told Paul, and what little hope Callisto had left of escaping shattered.

She looked around the hallway, desperately trying to find a sympathetic face who might come to her rescue, but they all looked rather scared of Paul, which was understandable.

She was scared of Paul, too.

“It’s not safe for you to be here,” her now former friend told her, dragging her down the hallway.

“What,” she screeched hysterically, still fighting, “and I’m safe with you? Is that it?”

“Yes!” he insisted, incredulous.

She shook her head vigorously and yanked her arm, feeling herself slipping into hysterics, “This is your fault to begin with! I think I’d be safer with anyone else than I would be with you—“

That seemed to snap something inside of him, because next thing she knew, she was thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and he was walking briskly down the hallway.

She shouted again for Duncan, pleading for him to help her (“I’m helping you!” Paul snapped) until he was no longer in sight, after which time she focused her efforts on kicking, screaming, and hitting Paul’s back with her fists.

He came to a sudden halt with an exasperated noise, lowering her to her feet with her back to him.

Relief flooded her veins, and she debated trying to take off again, but before she could consider it further, he’d wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her up against his chest. He leaned down, his breath in her ear.

“Stop fighting me, Callis.”

His voice was vibrating in her bones, in her veins, in the very essence of her being, and she immediately stopped struggling, her arms falling limp at her sides. It was warm, and it was safe. He was warm and safe.

“Come with me.”

With that, he took her hand and led her in the direction of his room. When she realized she was following him obediently, the warm fog of safety and contentment vacated her mind, as it hit her that he’d used the Alpha Voice on her.

He controlled me, she thought in horror. She still found it impossible to fight against him. She couldn’t make her arms move for that purpose.

Instead, she focused on tugging at her dress buttons as they walked through the halls together. Even the soft linen of her breast bindings felt like sandpaper against her skin. He glanced over at her movements.

“These clothes need to come off,” she huffed, unbuttoning her dress at the neck and using it to fan herself slightly. Her skin felt like it was on fire and rubbed raw all at once. “I’m going to jump in the lake to cool off,” she announced.

“It’s frozen over,” Paul told her, irritated.

“It is? Perfect.”

“That’s not happening,” he informed her, opening his bedroom door. “There’s no need for it, anyway.” He spoke gently to her now, and she felt a strange sense of ease at the sound of his voice as he led her into his room and shut the door, locking it behind him. “Those clothes are too rough on your skin. I’ll get your nightdress for you.”

She scrunched her nose up at the thought of her coarse nightie, then sighed in relief when she spotted one of his used shirts lying over the back of a chair. It looked so soft, and she could detect his scent on it from here.

“No, this is perfect,” Callisto said, grabbing it and unbuttoning her dress further, eager at the idea of being fully enveloped in his scent.

He paled, taken aback as her collarbones came into view. “I’m right here,” he pointed out, as if she weren’t aware.

“Well, turn around if you’re embarrassed.”

He did so.

She removed her dress, noticing him flinch a bit at the sound of the fabric hitting the floor, the muscles of his back twitching. She hadn’t been planning on removing more than just her dress, but suddenly her breast bindings and even the pins pulling her hair were unbearable, too.

She pulled off her undergarments and unbound her hair, combing her fingers through the thick braids until it hung in waves down to her lower thighs, just past the hem of his shirt. The sleeves were too long for her, as well; her fingertips were only visible if she stretched them. But the fabric smelled deliciously like him, and it wasn't scraping her skin the way her own clothes had.

“That’s better,” she said when she’d finished, sighing in relief.

Paul turned slowly, and his eyes widened when he saw her. “Callis,” he breathed.

She looked down at herself briefly, then back up at him. “What?”

“It’s just, uh.” He gulped. “Your hair. I didn’t know it was naturally that long. Where did it all come from?”

She lifted a lock of the dark hair in question, examining it with a slight shrug before dropping it again. “I put it up because it gets in the way. No one cuts their hair on Uepra.”

She compulsively buried her nose in the delicious smell of the shirt collar again, trying to ignore the tightness growing between her legs, the strange clenching of a muscle deep inside of her she’d never noticed before.

Her quest to ignore it failed rather miserably, and she rubbed her thighs together to try to find some relief.

Paul glanced down at the action, groaned softly and raked a hand through his hair.

Callisto sat down on his bed and absentmindedly began to arrange the blankets and pillows in a way she found comforting.

Just then, an idea occurred to her, and she started to gather pillows up in her arms.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

“Bringing these to my room,” she explained as if it were obvious, making her way towards the connecting door between their rooms. “Help me, would you? I can’t carry all of these on my own. I’ll just borrow them for a few days. And if you wouldn’t mind sending for my sister, I’d appreciate it. Have her bring some medicinal herbs, I’m sure they’ve got—“

Paul strode over to her, putting a hand on the door to keep it closed. “You can’t leave now,” he told her sternly, taking the pillows from her and returning them to her place on his bed. “You need to stay here.”

She frowned. “I can’t very well kick you out of your own room for days at a time, can I?”

“You won’t be,” he assured her, taking her hand again and leading her back towards his bed.

She stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

He looked awkward then, shifting uncomfortably as he searched for the right words. “I have to… You can’t go through this alone. My mother told you that, didn’t she?”

“She said it was dangerous to go through it alone,” Callisto corrected, frowning again and sitting down on the bed again when he gestured for her to do so. “My sister has Druid training, she’ll be able to—“

“Your sister cannot help you,” he told her, avoiding her eyes as he sat next to her on the bed. “I can.”

“Errrr…” She blinked at him, feeling terribly uncomfortable in more ways than one. “No, that’s fine, thank you. I’ll handle it on my own.”

“Callis,” he said slowly, “it’s more than just dangerous. Going through a heat without me, especially a heat that I triggered, could be fatal.”

“Fatal?” she gasped, lurching back from him in horror.

He nodded, looking gravely serious. “It’s not something you’re meant to endure by yourself.” He went to pick her hand up again, but she pulled it away before he could. “Let me help. I’ll look after you. You can trust me not to hurt you.”

She stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. “How is inducing a heat in me not hurting me?”

He raised his eyebrows as he accused, “My pheromones wouldn’t have triggered your heat at all if you weren’t attracted to me in some way.” She blanched at that, horrified at the thought of him being aware she found him attractive, but he continued speaking, smirking slightly, “Your subconscious mind must have recognized what it wanted in an alpha, seen me as someone who would look after you in a heat, and reacted accordingly.”

“I don’t need any help,” Callisto told him hotly.

“Caring for you is also part of my responsibility towards you as my concubine,” he insisted.

She bristled. “I’m barely your concubine. Only in a titular sense, really. And I most certainly did not react to your pheromones, subconsciously or otherwise.”

“You did,” Paul said flatly.

When she turned her face away from him in frustration she heard him sigh.

“Let's stop arguing," he said gently. "You're not thinking clearly, and neither am I. Your heat is coming fast and it's riling us both up." He ran his hands through his hair and shifted in his seat, as if he couldn't get comfortable. "Let me take care of you, Callis,” he pleaded softly.

She was aching now, throbbing between her legs, and she fought the urge to whimper.

“I can help,” he told her again, sensing her discomfort. “Look, will you— will you just let me stroke your wrist a bit?”

Well… that seemed harmless, and her wrist was aching to be touched; she realised she was rubbing it absently against her sleeve. She nodded hesitantly, pulling up the sleeve to reveal her wrist.

He brushed his fingertips over it lightly, his touch barely a caress, and, to her horror, she let out a soft moan at the blissful sensation, her eyes sliding shut. Callisto’s skin was tingling, but the uncomfortable burning had stopped; seemingly just from him touching her.

“Does that help? Would you like me to continue?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

She nodded shakily, not responding aloud.

Gently, ever so gently, he took her wrist in his hand and brought it to his lips, pressing them lightly to the sensitive kiss just below her palm.

Callisto’s mouth was clenched shut, but a small whimper managed to escape her regardless.

“I’m going to make you feel incredible,” he promised with another kiss to the skin of her wrist.

Her nipples were rubbing against the fabric of his shirt. His clothes, fabric that had touched his skin, was touching her bare breasts, and her breath came faster at the thought. Another whimper forced its way out of her throat, though it was muffled by her closed lips.

“Let me hear you, don’t muffle yourself," he urged her. With that, he took the skin of her wrist between his teeth, nibbling lightly before sucking on it.

His command was soft, gentle, even affectionate, and she couldn’t help but obey, freeing the moans she’d been holding in. The throbbing between her legs was intensifying; a sort of tightening she couldn’t explain.

Paul wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulling her towards him and releasing her wrist. He cupped her cheek and leaned closer, their lips nearly touching.

“Have you ever been kissed before?” he asked softly.

She shook her head.

This seemed to please him, and he said, “Can I teach you?”

Callisto nodded, her mind in a daze, and he closed the distance between them slowly, as if he was afraid of scaring her.

When he pressed his lips against hers, the fire on her skin reignited, though it was a pleasant sort of burning this time.

Something about the softness of his lips and the taste of him made her lose her self-awareness, all she could think was that she wasn’t close enough to him. She needed to be closer, as close as it was possible to be, so she climbed mindlessly into his lap, putting her legs on either side of him without breaking the connection of their mouths. He immediately wrapped both arms tightly around her, his hands fisting in her hair as his lips moved over hers in the most delicious way.

She felt a hardness in his trousers pressing against her core, and she had the strangest urge to rub herself against it, so she did, tentatively grinding her hips over him. He groaned into her mouth, pulling her closer and slipping his tongue past her lips and rubbing it against hers.

Enjoying his response and finding that the sensations rubbing brought on were exquisite, Callisto repeated the motion, this time with a bit more pressure. He groaned again, so she continued until she was grinding herself against him.

She was wet, it would seem, though she didn’t understand why, and she wondered in the back of her mind if he would take issue with a wet spot on his clothes, because there definitely was going to be one.

She pulled her lips away from his, and he started mouthing at the column of her throat as she leaned back with a whimper of, “Paul—“

“I know,” he murmured against her flushed skin. “I’ll take care of you.”

Alpha, something inside of her whispered. My alpha. My Paul.

Callisto braced herself on his shoulders, kissing him again and continuing to grind against him.

Her tongue was in his mouth this time, and that muscle inside of her kept clenching and unclenching. His hands slid down her back to grip her ass, encouraging her grinding against him for a moment before moving down to her thighs, sliding his hands beneath the fabric of his shirt and freezing when he reached her bare hips.

“Callis,” Paul addressed her softly, “are you… not wearing anything under this?”

She shook her head mindlessly, wanting to return to kissing him as soon as humanly possible.

He groaned, sliding his hands up her sides and around to her back again, touching her bare skin this time. She wished he’d have touched her breasts instead.

Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me.

Next thing she knew, his shirt was yanked over her head and thrown to the floor, and she pressed herself against him, as close as she could manage, but still not close enough. Not nearly close enough.

“Why do you still have this on?” she whined, tugging at the neckline of the loose-fitting shirt he wore, her hips still grinding against him.

He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her softly before picking her up with gentle but firm hands and laying her down on his bed.

He sat back to examine her body with greedy eyes—her breasts, her waist, her hips, her stomach, her hair spread out around her like dark rays of sun filling the sky, what skin he could see at the apex of her thighs—and yanked his shirt over his head wordlessly. Wide-eyed, Callisto stared at his bare chest as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Without him touching her, her skin was burning unpleasantly again, but she could think a bit more clearly.

Paul, her friend, was about to do to her what husbands did to their wives. But she… she wanted it. She wanted him. Desperately so.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her softly, dropping his shirt to the floor and looking into her eyes. “I’m going to take care of you, Callis. I promise.”

Then he pulled his trousers down, revealing his… his…

Oh no.

She gulped.

She’d tried touching herself once before; a finger inside where he was supposed to put that monstrosity, and it had made her list of top five most physically uncomfortable experiences with relative ease.

It was ridiculously long, ridiculously thick, and she was absolutely positive that if they proceeded, she was going to die of blood loss or something.

“Are, um.” Callisto gulped. “Can we get someone who won’t impale me to do this?” It wasn’t a serious suggestion, not really, though she was genuinely afraid. She didn’t like pain, but if she was going to die without that… thing going inside of her, well.

Paul didn’t seem to like her question at all, for he leaned over her with a soft growl in the back of his throat, taking one of her breasts in hand and squeezing possessively.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No, you’re mine now. Mine, understand?” He nosed at her neck, inhaling deeply. “How could I let another have you, man or alpha, when it was me who brought on your heat, little starling?”

He’d called her that before after he’d heard her sing for the first time; saying her black hair, colorful clothes, and melodic voice reminded him of the songbird.

“And I won’t hurt you,” he continued, kissing her neck slowly, gently. “I’ll make you feel the best you’ve ever felt.”

Callisto seriously doubted that, but she wanted him—needed him, truth be told—badly enough that she didn’t care.

“Spread your legs for me, Callis,” he murmured against her, nosing along her flushed skin. “I need to be inside you, and I know you need me, too.”

She did. Oh, spirits, but she did need him. More than she ever thought possible. Spreading her legs obediently, she watched as he settled between them.

“But first,” he said, squeezing her breast again, this time with a tweak of her nipple that made her gasp sharply, “I’m going to make you cum.”

With that, he trailed a hand down her body, watching her face as he began to stroke over her core.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured against her lips. “So perfect for me.”

Still, she said nothing, choosing instead to look up at him with wide eyes.

He spread her folds apart then, pressing the tip of his finger against her opening and brushing his lips over hers. His finger slid up to a spot just above her entrance then, pressing down lightly in a way that shot a jolt of… something up her spine, spreading through her like lightning across the sky.

Her hips bucked up into his hand, and he chuckled softly. “Patience, lovely one. Patience.”

“Paul,” she whined, not understanding what it was she needed.

“I know,” he assured her, “I promised I’d take care of you, and I will.”

She whined again, growing increasingly frustrated, and he smirked, kissing her and slipping a finger inside of her, his thumb rubbing that spot above her entrance.

Callisto gasped against his mouth as he began to thrust his long finger in and out of her slowly, moving his thumb in deliciously agonizing circles.

It felt nothing like what she had attempted on her own. It was… it was wonderful and torturous all once, and she wanted more, more, more.

“My omega,” he whispered with another kiss, sliding another finger inside her alongside the first one. “My sweet little starling.”

She whined in response, lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts. He curled his fingers inside of her with a swipe of his thumb, and she moaned loudly, unable to stop herself.

“That’s it,” Paul encouraged gently, thrusting his fingers a little harder. “You’re doing so well, Callis.”

“P— please,” she whimpered, unsure of what she was asking for. “I need— I need—“

“I know,” he reassured, brushing his nose against hers. “I know exactly what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

He moved his thumb a bit faster, and her moans increased in both volume and frequency. Something was building inside of her, something she didn’t recognize or understand, and whatever it was, it was so strong that it was frightening.

“What’s happening to me?” she gasped out, clutching at his arms desperately.

“Shh,” he shushed her gently. “Hush now. Let go, lovely one. I’ll take care of you.”

“Paul—“ Callisto cried out as that something built higher and higher within her, winding her up so tightly she thought she might snap.

He was watching her with eyes that seemed to glow a shade of green she hadn’t known existed before she’d met him, and then he pressed his lips to hers, his tongue in her mouth.

Returning his kiss eagerly, she moaned, lifting her hips with each curling thrust of his fingers, each delicious swipe of his thumb.

“Let go,” he told her again, the words a command this time; one that was gentle and sweet and safe.

A few more rubs of his thumb and that something inside of her snapped—or maybe it exploded, she wasn’t sure—, and she cried out his name as her body wracked with pleasure.

When she came back to herself, mind hazy and chest heaving, he was kissing her neck and kneading her inner thighs, rubbing his thing against her slowly.

“You're so gorgeous when you fall apart,” he breathed, his exhale filling her mouth as he cupped her cheek, spreading her folds with his other hand and putting the tip of him just at her entrance.

She whimpered again, still out of breath. “Paul, please, I—“

“I know,” he hushed her softly, slipping into her, though just barely. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

The further he went inside of her, the more it stung, and she clenched her eyes shut.

“It’s alright, Callis,” he reassured her gently. “I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

His hips met hers; he was fully inside of her now, and she winced in discomfort.

Kissing her softly, he murmured, “Open your eyes, little starling. Look at me.”

She obeyed, and he smiled down at her, stroking her cheek with his thumb affectionately.

“Tell me when it doesn’t hurt anymore, alright?”

She nodded in agreement, though she couldn’t imagine it not hurting.

Looking up into his eyes, it hit her like a punch to the head that she had fallen in love with him. Maybe she had been for some time.

Not that she was about to say it, of course. He had enough power over her as it was; she didn’t want to add to it. Nor would it do to set herself up for the pain of heartbreak when she left.

She felt full; so stretched. Her skin was tingling pleasantly, and despite the pain, Callisto felt complete, whole; she wondered if he felt that way, too.

He was kissing her, running his fingers through her hair with one hand and teasing her nipple with the other, when she realized the pain was gone.

“Paul,” she said softly as he mouthed at her neck, “it’s stopped hurting.”

“Good,” he told her, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her hungrily, pulling out of her slowly before sliding back in.

It didn’t feel good, exactly, but at least it wasn’t painful anymore. He continued to thrust in and out of her, each movement gentle, almost leisurely.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Callisto began to find it a bit pleasant, and her enjoyment rapidly increased from there until she was whimpering into his mouth, lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“How does it feel?” he gasped against the skin of her neck, nibbling it lightly.

“More,” she moaned by way of answer.

Paul fisted a hand in her hair, thrusting a bit harder and pressing more kisses to her throat. “You like it?”

She nodded vigorously, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“I like it,” she said obediently, her voice breathless. “Paul, I—“

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, cupping her cheek again. “Do you understand what this means?” he demanded sharply, his hipbones digging into her flesh with every one of his thrusts. She looked at him in askance, so he went on, “It means you’re mine now.” Another snap of his hips. “My concubine. My omega. Mine.”

Yes, her body sang. Yours. I’m yours.

She whimpered his name again, and he kissed her, weaving his fingers back into her hair.

“God, Callis—“ he groaned against her lips, “you feel so good, so perfect.”

She tightened her arms around him, needing him closer. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “I need more.”

And she did. She thought she would lose her mind if he didn’t continue, didn’t keep filling her the way he was. It was wonderful and exquisite and—

This is what I was meant for. This is the reason I was born.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I’ll never stop. You’re mine.” He repeated those two words over and over, as if he were trying to engrave them in her mind, into her soul.

He moved within her, and she couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get enough of the way he was making her feel. Moaning his name, Callisto lifted her pelvis to meet his, desperate for more of him.

His teeth grazed her neck, scraping against the skin, and she felt a sudden and incredibly urgent need to have him sink them into her flesh, marking her, claiming her, though she couldn’t guess why.

Sliding her hands up his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his skin and clutching at his slender shoulders, she looked into his eyes and said, “Bite me.”

He froze, his thrusts halting. “What?”

Leaning her head to the side to further expose her neck to him, she explained, “I want you to bite me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck and resuming the movement of his hips, withdrawing and thrusting into her again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she practically hissed. “Please, Paul. Please bite me, I need it, please—“

Without another word, he slammed his hips against hers, filling her exquisitely just as he sank his teeth into the skin of her neck.

Callisto exploded again immediately, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, holding him against her, and he growled, biting down on her neck harder and gripping her hips, squeezing the flesh roughly. Still, the sensation of her… completion, for lack of a better term, didn’t dull, didn’t falter.

She was moaning mindlessly when he pulled his teeth away from her, bucking her pelvis up into his as he pressed kisses against the mark he’d given her, his lips soft and almost apologetic on her skin.

“I love you,” he breathed, continuing to kiss the mark. “I love you, Callis.”

She was so far gone she couldn’t hear what he was telling her, the devotion he whispered against her skin.

“My mate,” he murmured, kissing her mark repeatedly. “My mate, my beloved.”

“Don’t stop,” she begged, not hearing him as she clawed at his back. “More. Please, Paul. More.“

He obliged her, kissing her lips and saying, “My sweet mate,” though neither of them really understood what he meant or why he was saying it.

Sitting up on his knees, Paul gripped her hips with firm hands.

“Harder,” she pleaded. “I want more of you, harder—“

In response to her request, he started to pound into her hard and fast, reaching up to squeeze her breast with a rough possessiveness that should’ve scared her. Instead, though, she moaned, putting her hand over his to hold it there against her.

“Mine,” he growled again. “My omega. My mate. Mine.”

“Paul,” she whined, eagerly meeting each of his thrusts with her hips.

“Say you’re mine,” he demanded. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” Callisto gasped. “I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised lowly. “Look at how well you take me.” She whimpered, and he went on, “I’m going to fill you, mate. I’m going to fuck you until you’re full of my cum, and then I’m going to knot you.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew she wanted it.

“Yes,” she agreed vehemently. “Anything you want, just please don’t stop.”

“My little mate,” he groaned, sliding a hand down her body to rub at that spot he’d found before. “I’m going to make you scream. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to move.”

Her walls clenched around him, and he slammed into her harder, rubbing at that spot faster and faster.

Her hands roamed his chest, and he squeezed her hips in encouragement with his free hand. “Good girl,” he praised again. “There you go, touch me.”

“Alpha,” Callisto whined as he continued to rub her. She wanted something, but she wasn’t sure what; she only knew that the things he said sounded perfect, and she thought she might die if he didn’t give them to her.

“I know, Callis,” he told her reassuringly. “I know. I’ll take care of you.”

Whimpering and undulating her pelvis as he rubbed her with each sharp thrust of his hips, she felt she was nearing that something again. It was building inside of her, and she found herself aching for it.

“There you go,” he encouraged when he felt her walls fluttering around him. “Cum for me, little mate.”

With a few more swipes of his fingers and corresponding thrusts, she burst again, moaning his name and arching her back off the bed.

“My omega,” he gasped breathlessly, watching her breasts bounce as he continued slamming into her, his thrusts short and halting. “Fuck, Callis—“

He made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut, rocking into her now rather than thrusting.

He collapsed atop her, showering her face in sweet, gentle kisses, though he didn’t pull himself out of her the way she’d have expected. Instead, she felt an additional fullness just inside her entrance, which she found odd.

“Paul,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him to hold him close to her, finding that his skin against hers brought her contentment, peace. “What’s happening with, um…”

He cupped her cheek and captured her lips in a slow, intense kiss. “It’s my knot,” he explained quietly. “It keeps my seed inside of you, so it doesn’t spill out.”

Smiling giddily at the thought, Callisto kissed him again. He grinned against her lips, murmuring, “We’ll be here awhile yet. Sleep, lovely one. I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

“You won’t leave?” she asked hesitantly, finding herself terrified at the very thought.

He smiled again, shaking his head and stroking her cheek. “Never.”

With that, he rolled them over onto their sides and pulled her closer to him. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and sighing in contentment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her scalp.

She fell asleep there, wrapped in his arms, cocooned in his warmth.

@meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones

To be added, please ask 💗

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of-house-atreides · 2 years

Text

Under the Veil | Part 8

Summary: House Atreides doesn't get the rest they so desperately need

Pairing: Duke Leto Atreides x OFC

Words: 3374

A/N: Please do remember that I am French so there might be some mistakes here and there, also I wrote this at work and was quite distracted so I hope this isn't too bad/weird

Warnings: mentions of death

Masterlist

Tags: @karolajnx0yep @partypoison00 @beepboopyoda @cute-baby-ducks @theliterarybeldam

The greenhouse was dark and chilly, but Sierra enjoyed the calm and quiet of the empty garden. The events of the day had given her a burst of energy she couldn’t safely let out within the walls of the castle. The gardens were the perfect place for it, she could just give it all out to the plants and the flowers and focus on her recovery undisturbed. Leto had given her way too much potion, and although it did manage to restart her heart and allow the regenerating ice to cleanse her system from the poison, she still suffered from the overdose of strong medicine that was causing her incessant pain.

Leto found her sitting at the fountain, her hands tightly gripping at the cold grey stone, her head bent down, her eyes closed shut, pain written all over her face. He approached her slowly, unsure if she was aware of his presence, wondering if his accusations had made her physically sick.

“Do you have more questions about my father’s plan to have me killed?”

She spoke up as he came to a stop before her, not moving an inch as if her pain had paralyzed her. He clenched his jaw as he held back his frustration. He had offended her, and he knew it, but he needed to be certain, he needed to know if Caladan still stood a chance. He sat next to her, leaning over as he rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Are you in pain?”

“My stomach is on fire,” she replied slowly, quietly.

“I gave you too much potion, didn’t I?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’ll pass.”

“I…” he paused. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You saved my life.”

“You died. In my arms.”

His tone startled her. She opened her eyes as she heard the heartache in his voice. She hadn’t realized he had witnessed her death. She hadn’t realized it had affected him so. She looked up at her husband and saw the sorrow in his gaze as the tormenting memory replayed in his head.

“You did everything you could.”

“I couldn’t do enough. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect Paul. I failed you today.”

“You did fail me today,” she agreed, and he looked down in shame as he accepted the blame, “but not in the way you think.”

He frowned, puzzled by her comments, until he realized she wasn’t talking about her death. As if the implied insult to her father had pained her more than her own demise.

“I need to know how to protect my people, my House. I can’t do that if I don’t know who my enemy is.”

“My father is not your enemy,” she stated, her anger returning to meet her pain.

“I need you to really think about this…”

“Leto…”

“No, Sierra. I need you to really think about it. Is he capable? Would he even entertain the idea? Because our other suspicion is Dr. Yueh and if you can look me in the eyes and promise me your father could never, ever, do this, I will have him arrested and tortured until he gives us answers he may not have.”

She gave him a confused look.

“Why Dr. Yueh?”

“He was in a position to do it. All of it. I need you to be sure, Sierra.”

She tilted her head to the side, winced at the pain traveling from her liver to her stomach and back, and waited for it to fade away before she managed to look back at her husband once more and lock her eyes with his.

“We are a proud people, Leto. We are strong and loyal. That is our honor. The Harkonnens have none. The Emperor has none. They work in the shadows to better their own interest, they don’t care about anyone else. My father meant every word he said to you. He respects you. And I know he despises them. Their own people hate them. There is no honor in treating with people like that. My father wants to be part of the Great Houses, yes, but he wants to be respected like you are. The Harkonnens are known for their evil ways. My father is a smart man, he knows not to trust the Emperor’s word. But he also knows to trust yours. Because you are House Atreides. And there is no faith that you betray. And the least you could do is have faith in us in return.”

Leto listened carefully to her every word, studied every well-reasoned argument, and judged the honesty in her eyes. He had dealt with Abel Valen in good faith, despite his advisors’ doubts. He had cast away every bias for one reason, and one reason only: Sierra. He thought he could trust Lord Valen because he was giving him his daughter, trading her for legitimacy. His marriage to Sierra had opened doors for Valentia they had been trying to open for centuries. But Gurney was right. It seemed too good to be true, and perhaps that had caused Leto to doubt Valentia in this moment of crisis. If Sierra died, it could potentially give Valentia a good excuse to walk back on their word, but, if Sierra died, murdered by the Harkonnens, then siding with them would close all those doors back. If only the other Great Houses knew what the Harkonnens were playing at with the Emperor.

“Alright,” he nodded as he stood up. “Gurney will arrest Wellington now.”

“I am not wrong about my father.”

“I know. I trust you,” he said as he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her knee. “You need to rest now. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you could use a few hours of sleep.”

“Actually, I was wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Do we have a steam room here?”

***

Although Leto had found her request quite strange, he was relieved to hear the baths had helped her recover speedily. She had left the sauna feeling anew, the heat and sweating allowing the potions to dissipate quickly. She was happy to find Edward waiting for her outside looking seemingly unharmed, and to her relief, not afraid of her. She wondered if Nesta would be as brave. She didn’t have the chance to find out as her chambers were empty when she returned to them. She was relieved to see the mess had been cleaned, and the Harkonnen agent had been removed from the wall in the hallway. There was no trace of blood and the sheets she had died in earlier in the afternoon had been changed. Sierra made a mental note to thank Nesta for it in the morning. She took a long relaxing bath before sliding into her bed, wondering if Leto had gotten any answers from Dr. Yueh yet, hoping he was really to blame. Not that she doubted her father, she hadn’t lied to Leto, but if Dr. Yueh wasn’t responsible for the recent gruesome events, then not only was an innocent man being tortured, but the real traitor was still roaming around the castle, perhaps planning another attack.

The sunrise filtered through the windows and reflected on the silk sheets of Sierra’s bed as she enjoyed a well-deserved rest. Someone came to disturb her at dawn, unfortunately, for them. Sierra woke up to a hand on her shoulder she couldn’t recognize. It wasn’t Leto, no, it was a woman’s hand, but it wasn’t Nesta either. And perhaps she would have reacted differently if it weren’t for the day she had just had, perhaps the terrible amount of stress she was under had her overreact, but she seized the stranger’s wrist as her eyes shot open and pulled, bringing the woman close enough for her to grab her throat with her free hand and pin her against the mattress.

“Sierra!” the woman choked.

Her eyes grew big as she realized she had trapped Jessica under her firm grip. She released her immediately and jumped off the bed.

“Sorry!”

Jessica coughed as she sat up, raising a hand as a way to let Sierra know she was fine.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Sierra sighed as she went back to the bed to sit by her side. “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re strong,” Jessica answered honestly as she brought a hand to her throat. “I’m sorry to wake you so early.”

“What’s happened?”

“I have news.”

“Dr. Yueh?”

“He confessed immediately upon his arrest. The Harkonnens have his wife.”

“Oh,” Sierra’s face fell. “Did he think they would release her?”

“He knew better. He just wanted to make sure she didn’t suffer for too long.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“Leto hasn’t decided yet.”

“Treason is punishable by death, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jessica nodded sadly, although Wellington’s actions could have led to her son’s death, she didn’t know what she would have done had she been in his position. “There’s more.”

“Really?” Sierra complained, feeling too exhausted for any more surprises.

“A Valen ship has requested permission to enter Caladan. It will land in half an hour. You need to get ready.”

Sierra’s heart skipped a beat. A Valen ship? What did it mean? Valen soldiers? Valen diplomats? Could it be – and she didn’t know why the thought made her so anxious – her father?

“Due to the unexpected nature of the visit, Leto doesn’t want you to dress too formal. Nesta is on her way to help you.”

“What about you?”

An amused smile appeared on the concubine’s face.

“My presence would be an insult to you before your people. I won’t be there.”

Sierra opened her mouth, but said nothing. She had always considered herself the insult to Jessica and Leto’s relationship, but as a concubine, Jessica was the constant reminder of Leto’s infidelity to his wife, the insult to their marriage. But she didn’t care. The last thing she wanted was for Jessica to be cast aside. But she knew she was right. If her father was coming to visit, Jessica shouldn’t be present. Jessica shouldn’t be anywhere near him.

“I’m sorry…”

“What for?” Jessica chuckled.

“I don’t know,” she whined, running a hand through her face. “I’m too tired for this.”

“Yes, the timing is unfortunate. Hopefully, they’re bringing good news.”

Sierra scoffed. Could they really bring them more bad news?

***

Sierra was nervously picking at her dress as she stood in the hall, waiting for her husband. She had to be presentable – she had to be perfect – if her father was the one to step off that ship. Nesta, whom, to her relief, hadn’t seemed too wary of her, had done her best to conceal the traces of the previous day from her face. She was fidgeting when Leto joined her. Her heart broke as she saw him. He seemed tired, and weak. Exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He gave her a small smile as he approached her and placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice quiet and breaking?

“Tired,” she answered quickly, dismissing his worry, as she would rather focus on him. “You look…” she paused, unable to find the words as she found herself concerned for her husband in a way that was unfamiliar for her, for them, for their relationship.

As she wondered what could be upsetting him so, she remembered the two attempts on his son’s life, her own demise followed by the uncertainty of her survival, and the betrayal of Dr. Yueh, who was a trusted member of his House, all in the span of sixteen hours. However awful the recent events had been for her, they had been as hard on him, and she wished they had had time to rest and gather their strength for future potential threats, rather than dress up and welcome potential more bad news.

She brought a hand to his face and gently stroked his cheek with her thumb as she locked her eyes with his and gave him what she wanted to be a reassuring and encouraging smile. He placed his hand above hers as he smiled back, standing there with her, just enjoying the moment together, just the two of them, understanding each other without saying a word.

She wished she had some strength left to give him some energy, to cheer him up, to make it a little bit better, but she was drained, and even standing on her own two legs was a struggle at that moment.

“I know,” he merely said before he placed a kiss in the palm of her hand.

He positioned himself on her right and straightened his uniform one last time before nodding at the guard before him. The doors opened, letting the sunlight shine on the Duke and Duchess of Caladan. He intertwined his fingers with hers, surprising her. He nodded at her as she looked up, making her a silent promise. She hadn’t said it, and had barely allowed herself to think about it, but if her father was the one to step off that ship, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to handle it. What should she say? How should she act? Should she be his daughter, or Leto’s wife?

He let go of her hand as they walked out onto the platform where they were to wait for their guests. Soldiers and officials were already waiting all around the landing area, positioned behind them and before them on either of their side. Only a few minutes left before the ship was to touch ground. The knot in Sierra’s stomach grew more painful as the seconds past and she started pulling at her fingers as she prayed for everything to go alright. Leto took her right hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles, turning the knot in her stomach into butterflies in her chest. He winked and smirked at her, and she held back a giggle. She squeezed his hand as a way to thank him for making her laugh, as a way to thank him for knowing her so well. The ship slowly came into view, and she released a sigh of relief as she recognized it to be an Explorer.

“It’s not my father.”

“Are you sure? Who is it?”

“Sentries, emissaries,” she shrugged. “Those ships carry soldiers but also mind fighters, they’re led by an ambassador. They’re meant to seek planets who could potentially treat with Valentia.”

“Why would your father send them here?”

“I have no idea.”

The ship was thin and rectangular shaped, the white color had turned a dirty mossy green which told Sierra they must have been under heavy rain for a certain amount of time for such deterioration to happen. It came to a stop in silence, the doors opening quietly after a few minutes, the walls crumbling down and turning into stairs. Sierra tried to remember exactly how many envoys were sent on an Explorer. Four mind fighters – one of each – an oracle, a weatherman, a telepath and a telekinetic, and an ambassador, someone of high rank, a good fighter, a leader to make them a team.

They came out together, the oracle and the weatherman on one side and the telepath and the telekinetic on the other, following their ambassador before them. They were wearing the same colors, white and gold, although their outfit was different. The ambassador was all dressed in white, the sunlight reflecting on the gold medals on his chest.

Sierra gasped as she recognized him, a grin forming on her face. All her troubles disappeared, the events from the previous day almost forgotten, as she brought a hand to her chest, trying to stay calm and keep her excitement to a minimum.

“You know him,” Leto stated, wondering if it was some general’s boy she had known as a girl. He studied him from where he stood, a blond, young man, tall and strong, wearing his planet’s colors with pride, and his medals with irony.

“Jason,” she breathed out, her smile somehow growing even bigger.

His eyes moved from hers to him, a frown appearing on his face as he wondered who exactly he was to her, as he could tell she was trying very hard to stay put and not run to him. But, obviously, he didn’t have her restraint. He transposed himself from the other side of the landing field to the bottom of the stairs, right at their feet, catching them by surprise.

“Sierra!”

“Jason!”

He jumped up the stairs and opened his arms to her, expecting her to launch herself at him, which she did, with an ease that told Leto they had done this a thousand times before. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her and swirled her around.

“Oh, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he told her as he put her down.

“You’re so pale!”

“Haven’t seen the sun in months,” he complained, “but I don’t look nearly as bad as you. You look awful! Caladan not treating you well?” he teased as he looked up at Leto.

The duke raised an eyebrow at him, trying to remain calm and not respond to the insult made against him, his wife and his planet. Sierra rolled her eyes as she playfully slapped his arm.

“Caladan’s been treating me very well,” she assured him.

“I know, I know, Sophie’s told me all about it. Actually, that’s the reason why we’re here, we tried to warn you about yesterday, but found ourselves unable to make contact,” he said, finally looking straight at Leto to whom he held out a hand. “Apologies, I’m not a diplomat, my father would be terribly ashamed of my manners.”

“Leto,” Sierra said with a proud smile he had never seen on her, “this is my brother Jason.”

“Your Grace,” Jason grinned as he gave an exaggerated bow.

“Lord Valen,” Leto nodded as he shook his hand, and any animosity birthed out of jealousy (that he might have felt for a second) vanished away. “Welcome to Caladan.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances,” he said with honesty, before he turned to Sierra. “Sorry I missed your wedding, sis’.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Nor have you lost your vigor, I hear.”

“You said you tried to warn us about yesterday?” Leto questioned.

“Yes,” Jason sighed, all traces of amusement vanishing from his face. “Valentia hasn’t been able to contact you for a few days now. We think the traitor in your midst tampered with your comms.”

“I’ll have them check now,” Leto said as he gestured for one of the uniformed men to his right to take care of it.

“My father is happy to learn the spies have been neutralized,” Jason said, eyeing his sister, “and very glad to hear your son is safe.”

“I thank you.”

“We have a few ideas on how to proceed from now on. I know you’ve had a short night, but would it be possible for us to sit down and talk about a plan to put your Harkonnen problem to rest?”

Leto tilted his head to the side, carefully guarding his hope from a promise too good to be true. The four mind fighters caught up to their ambassador and bowed to the Duke and Duchess of Caladan as they came to a stop before them. Leto politely nodded at them before returning his focus on his brother-in-law.

“Put it to rest?”

Jason smirked, then stepped forward as he put a hand on Leto’s shoulder, invading the duke’s personal space, something he only allowed three people to do. He raised an eyebrow as he met Jason’s arrogant eyes, seeing nothing there that reminded him of his sister. But the words he said next shattered the walls he had built around his hope, and he allowed himself to believe them, to believe him, to believe his wife when she said her father only wanted the best for House Atreides, because that meant the best for Valentia.

Jason spoke quietly, only allowing his sister and her husband to hear him.

“Put the whole Arrakis problem to rest.”

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nexusnyx · 3 years

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no escape is SOOOO good !!! you’re so so SO talented!! <3 i saw someone say they’d like a part two/continuation of that fic, so i’m here to say i’d also absolutely love to read more paul x reader stuff from you, whether it be a part two of no escape or a different fic!! :) no pressure tho ofc! 💖 have a nice day!💐

hi lovely! i do plan on writing more Paul stories. i've seen a couple of people asking for the continuation for "no escape", but i was also thinking about an arranged marriage scenario, or perhaps even an Atreides!Warrior Reader.. what do you guys think?

#paul atreides x you #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides fanfiction

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 2 years

Text

Confessions of an Imperial Concubine

Chapter One: Best Laid Plans

AO3 Author’s note/glossary/info one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

Throw me in a landfill; don’t think about the consequences.- Daughter, Landfill

Sera hadn’t attended the Emperor's speech, as she hadn’t cared what he had to say. He’d made such speeches on dozens of planets in the five years since he’d ascended to the throne, and Beakkal was no exception. She wondered if anyone had actually thrown rotten vegetables at him, the way they’d bragged about having planned to do. Clearly no one who’d boasted their intent to kill him had done so, at least. But then, no one but Sera had actually prepared for the task.

She’d trained for months, and she’d fully accepted the likelihood of her own demise, whether she was successful or not. That was fine, she figured; one less mouth taking food from her younger siblings. Her mother always said she ate too much of the bread they made to sell, and that it showed.

She wasn’t skilled enough—or strong enough—to best a warrior like Paul Atreides in combat, so she was relying on the element of surprise. She’d have one chance at cutting his throat with her knife. One chance to right the wrongs he’d done, avenge the lives he’d taken in his foolish war of revenge.

The late afternoon sun was hot on Sera’s back as she moved silently between the buildings, noting the shift in material as she moved between the buildings the Emperor walked past; rotting wood that changed to well-kept stone in the rich part of town. This was good— there were less people here. Not that anyone would get in her way, of course. No one on Beakkal would take issue with the Emperor being killed.

Except, she thought with a smirk, the glint of her dark green eyes locked on her oblivious target, for those idiot officials who didn’t think to instill extra guards to protect the Emperor, of all people.

Well. Their foolishness was Sera’s gain. No, it was the Known Universe’s gain. Every single one of the Atreides’ subjects would benefit from his death, they just didn’t know it yet. Centuries from now, they’d thank her. She didn’t need to be a martyr, didn’t need to be a hero, but it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt if people appreciated her taking one for the team. There was no way she’d make it out of this situation alive, but she’d do her damnedest to take him down with her.

She inched closer to him. Damn. He was so much taller than she’d expected; men on Beakkal didn’t tower over her half as much, but this snooty rich boy born of the Bene Gesserit breeding program must’ve had at least a foot on her, the bastard. She’d have to use the extra weight she had on him to her advantage. That was fine; she could do that.

She was close enough now. Just a few more steps, and then…

Sera launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground and straddling his waist. Her knife wasn’t the best quality, but she put it to his throat anyway.

Except—

The air around his form vibrated and changed color, much to her astonishment, and she realized there was a crucial fact she hadn’t thought to account for:

The bastard could afford a shield.

Frozen in shock, Sera looked into his eyes. A strange, incomprehensible feeling washed over her.

You, her mind told her in an unfamiliar, echoing voice. I am meant to know you as I know no other. I was crafted for you and you alone.

To make matters even worse—if that were possible—he was staring into her eyes intently, the blue glow of his gaze eerie, and then he reached up and yanked the cloth that covered her face down so that it pooled at her neck. An unmistakable glint of both recognition and awe filtered into his shocked expression.

“Sera,” he breathed.

Her eyes widened, and before she could blink, she was pulled off of him with a jerk.

Two of his guards held her by her arms so her feet were barely touching the ground. “How do you know my name?” she demanded, the abrupt hiss of her voice hiding the sharpness of her fear.

She’d assumed that in the event of her failure, she’d have been dead by this point. Instead of ordering his men to execute her, however, the Emperor stood to his full height, towering over her even on her toes, and addressed his guards with the commanding tone of a man who was used to being obeyed.

“Don’t harm her.”

His guards froze, and Sera stared at him in shock.

“In fact,” he went on, “release her.”

The guards raised their eyebrows at him but obeyed the command instantly.

“Leave us,” the Emperor said shortly, not taking his eyes off her.

“Majesty—“ one of the guards spoke up hesitantly.

The Emperor fixed the man with a look, and both guards immediately walked away.

Sera had heard about the glowing blue eyes of the Emperor, but she hadn’t been entirely sure the rumors were true. They very much were, though— the Atreides had a spice addiction, and the effects on his eyes were most certainly unnerving.

“You tried to kill me,” he observed.

Sera said nothing.

“Why?” he demanded.

She still didn’t respond, and he tilted his head slightly, his unnervingly blue gaze flitting over her form as if he were trying to see everything that she was.

He wouldn’t tell her how he knew her name, so why should she tell him why she’d tried to rid his Empire of him?

“Very well,” the Emperor said with a sigh, “I’ll take you home. Your parents should hear of this.”

Sera blanched. “Kill me instead.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather die than be taken to your parents?”

Again, she said nothing. She was being melodramatic, true, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“Then that will be your punishment,” he decided.

Sera gaped at him and wondered why in the hell he was being so lenient, so merciful. Before she could even think to ask how he knew where she lived, she was being led home.

“Seraphine,” her mother snapped the second the door was opened, the syllables of her name drawn-out and enunciated; See-ruh-feen. “Where have you been, you ungrateful girl—“ she cut herself off upon seeing who her daughter was with and quickly swept into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty!”

“My lady,” the Emperor said politely, inclining his head in acknowledgement, though he must’ve known full well that Sera’s mother held no title. “I wish I came bearing happier news,” he continued, “but I’m afraid that your daughter has committed a most egregious crime.”

Hands on her hips—wide, much like Sera’s own, though her mother would never admit it in a thousand years—, she asked, “What’s she gone and done now?”

“She attempted regicide,” the Emperor said apologetically.

Sera glared viciously at the back of his head and wished very much that the dirt floor would swallow him whole.

Putting a hand to her chest as if she hadn’t known full well her daughter had been planning the assassination for months, her mother exclaimed, “I am so sorry, Majesty. She is a vile and willful girl; I pray you will not judge our family as a whole on her misdeeds.” Before the Emperor could speak, she added, “You may do as you will with her. I’m far too ashamed to keep her here.”

The Emperor froze, and Sera could hear the shock in his voice when he spoke, though she stood behind him and couldn’t see his expression. “You’d give your own child up so easily?”

Her mother crossed her arms and glared fiercely at Sera. “She has dishonored our family. I have no use for her.”

“No use for her,” he mused softly. “Very well then.” Turning abruptly on his heel, he strode back out the door, stopping once he’d stepped over the threshold and realized that Sera still hadn’t moved from where she stood. “Let’s go, Sera.”

She followed in a sort of daze, though she snapped out of it once she passed through the door. “I won’t be your servant,” she snapped. “You’ll just have to kill me.”

“You’re not going to be my servant,” the Emperor assured her, “and I’ll not kill you, either. You’ll be safe with me.”

“Safe,” she scoffed. “I’m safer here.”

Pausing his stride and turning on his heels to face her, he said, “How is a life with a woman who is willing to give you away at the first opportunity better than a comfortable life with me?”

Sera’s jaw tensed and she lifted her chin defiantly. “A life with anyone else is better than a life with you.”

And then, for the first time since she’d met him, the Emperor smirked, and he said, “Give it time. You’ll change your tune before long.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was flying offworld, bound for the new seat of the Golden Lion Throne:

The Atreides homeworld of Caladan.

In collaboration with @dunefandomevents for the Dune Mini Bang 2022. Art by @alexagirlie, moodboard by me, brainstorming with @meetmyothersouls, and betaing by @patronsaintofthetwinks

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

To be added, please ask 💗

#My writing #fanfiction #fanfic #dune mini bang #paul atreides #dune 2021 #dune film #dune movie #Original character #original female character #Paul atreides x original character #Paul atreides x oc #paul atreides x original female character #dune fanfiction #Paul atreides x ofc #fem!oc

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 2 years

Text

Keep Your Enemies

Chapter One: Humiliation

AO3 Author’s Note/Info/Glossary one two three four five

All my work is 18+.

I was raised by wolves, taught to fight until the death. Slowly wear you down to your very last breath. I can hear your heart pound; you don’t think I’m a threat.- In This Moment, Hunting Grounds

Seraphine of the impoverished jungle planet Beakkal had made a number of mistakes in the nineteen years of her life. She had sassed her mother one too many times and been slapped in response. She had put the cloth of her young siblings’ diapers on incorrectly, resulting in downright unspeakable messes. She had burned the bread in the bakery her family owned, costing them money they didn’t have. She had eaten too much of said bread and gained more weight than was strictly necessary. She had stayed up too late reading books that were falling apart. She had done a number of things and regretted them.

Planning an assassination attempt on the Emperor most definitely took the cake, though. She hadn’t even gotten that far in the execution of her plans— her plot had been discovered before he’d touched down on Beakkal to make his stupid speech.

As it turned out, she wasn’t the first woman to attempt his assassination. She was one of several dozen who had been shipped off to Caladan, the Atreides homeworld where he had chosen to move the seat of power upon his ascension to the Golden Lion Throne.

All of them were made into dancers for his entertainment. It was beyond humiliating, most especially because so much of her body was exposed. There was a strange contraption sculpted to her breasts so that the tops of them were bare but still held in place, and the skirt of the ensemble was a belt with a floor-length piece of fabric covering her backside and a corresponding one in the front as well. There were two additional pieces of fabric draped below her hips, which were otherwise bare. The fabric was a shimmering white, which was supposed to indicate to the Emperor that she’d never been to bed with anyone. She wouldn’t have disclosed that information had it not been forced out of her by a Bene Gesserit.

A jeweled bracelet adorned her ankle, and a matching veil of jewels and metal concealed most of her face from view. This was for the best, she thought; at least the Atreides wouldn’t see more of her face than her eyes, if he saw her at all.

Sera had been instructed to dance with the others in a group—what she’d been shown hardly seemed like dancing to her; a strange undulating of the hips, mostly—unless she was singled out by the Emperor himself, in which case she was expected to perhaps even straddle him. This was unlikely, she’d been informed, as he’d never requested it before. Still, she’d told the women who had attempted to train her up front that she wouldn’t dance for him no matter what was done to her. Her bones could be broken and she still wouldn’t. They acted as if they didn’t believe her, but she was firm in her convictions.

The Emperor sat on his throne, high on a dais above her and the group of girls where they were being presented to him. She hid behind the others and the bright colors some of them wore. Hiding was easy, she had found— they were all so much taller than she was, than any Beakkalian she’d ever known. One of the women who’d measured her had tutted, informing her she was 4’10”.

The Emperor didn’t seem terribly interested in the group of dancers; he looked at them briefly before continuing to speak to one of several scantily clad (though not quite as much as Sera currently was) woman standing beside where he sat.

“Go!” hissed one of the guards. “Entertain him!”

Several of the women stepped forward hesitantly, beginning to move their bodies the way they’d been taught, and Sera soon found herself without her shield.

“Dance, girl!” snapped the same guard.

Sera didn’t budge.

The movement of the others must’ve caught his eye, because the Emperor shot the group another cursory glance before finding his advisor again, and then—

And then he suddenly stopped speaking to the woman beside him, slowly, ever so slowly, turning his head back towards the lot of them.

To Sera’s absolute horror, his gaze went straight to her.

He stood, all those speaking falling silent as he did. She watched fearfully as he descended the dais without ever taking his eyes off hers, not even for a moment, and within less than a minute, he was standing before her.

He was tall— far taller than she’d been expecting, towering over her and staring at her intently as she shrank back.

Whispers filled her ears of how this never happened, that no dancer had ever caught his attention, he never bothered with them, preferring to speak with his friends, advisors, or concubines, especially those that had beared his three daughters.

When he spoke, she almost didn’t understand him; his voice was low, as if he didn’t want anyone but her to hear. “Remove your veil.”

Sera didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Why did he want her to do that? How dare he order her to do anything?

The guard hissed again. “Do as your Emperor commands!”

She remained still. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could move.

“Either you remove it or I do,” the Emperor warned.

Horrified at the mere idea of him touching her, she hastily removed the veil, turning her gaze to the floor and letting her white-blond curls shield her face from view. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want him to see her.

“Look at me,” the Emperor demanded. “Let me see your face.”

She did nothing, and just when the guard snapped, “You will obey the Emperor!”, the man in question put his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him, her eyes wide with terrified confusion.

“Sera,” he breathed, awe filling the glowing blue of his gaze, and she gasped, jerking away from him. How did he know her name? Had someone told him? That wasn’t even her full name, it was her nickname, her personal name; only those who knew her called her that. How had he known? Why had he wanted to see her face? Then he turned to the guard who had been so angry at her not doing what she’d been told. “You will never command this woman again,” the Emperor informed him. “From this moment on, she answers to me and no one else.”

The guard sputtered in shock, and Sera choked on the air she hadn’t realized she’d begun inhaling again.

Then, he turned to address his court, who were looking on in astonishment. “I present,” he began, pointing at Sera’s trembling form, “Lady Seraphine of the Atreides, High Concubine and Imperial Consort. She is to be treated with the respect and reverence her position deserves. Anyone found in violation of this is to be brought directly to me.”

There was silence for several seconds before every person in the room knelt with a collective murmur of, “My Lady.”

Finally finding her voice, she gasped out, “N— no,” shaking her head as the Emperor whipped around to face her once more.

“No?” he asked. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

She shook her head more firmly, backing further away from him.

“I won’t be your concubine.”

“You misunderstand, little Sera,” he told her slowly. “I am not asking your permission.”

“I won’t let you touch me,” she hissed. “I’ll fight against you every second, and I will never, never, give you children the way those women have.” She jerked her chin to where his concubines stood, looking on in shock.

“I won’t force you,” he assured her.

“Liar,” she snapped. “I know what you people are like. I want no part in it. You deserve to die.” She spit at his feet.

He smirked. “I was with the Fremen for several years, you know,” he told her casually. “They view that as a gift; the water of one body to another.”

“I’m not Fremen,” Sera pointed out. “I’m Beakkalian. We have no shortage of water, Atreides.”

He shrugged. “You’ll taste me soon enough regardless.”

She jerked forward, ready to strangle him, but guards surged up and grasped her arms, her feet dangling in the air.

“Release her,” the Emperor immediately demanded. “This is my woman. You are not to lay your hands on her. Her body is reserved for me alone.” She thrashed against their hold, desperate to get at him, to throttle him, and was given the chance to do just that when the guards released her, albeit reluctantly.

Sera launched herself at him, intending to tackle him to the ground and choke the life from him, but he caught her in his arms. She pushed back against him, but he was stronger than he looked. He was skinny, but his arms were like iron around her.

“Out,” he commanded his court. “All of you.”

Every person in the throne room shuffled through the doors, which she quickly found herself backed up against, but at least he let her go.

The Emperor was staring into her eyes with an intensity she didn’t know what to make of.

“I’ve envisioned you being mine for years,” he told her, his gaze trailing down her form and fixating on her breasts for a moment before continuing on to where the panels of her skirt left her hips bare. His hands twitched at his sides, and she wondered if he wanted to touch her, hold her against him once more.

With him so close, some traitorous part of her wanted to know what his skin would feel like, if his hair was as soft as it looked. Sera was becoming increasingly frightened. What was happening to her? Had he done something to her, something to make her see him in ways she shouldn’t? This was the Emperor, for god’s sake! She’d planned his demise, and he’d be dead if he hadn’t been caught. So why…?

“You were always meant for me,” he interrupted her thoughts. “I know my destiny, little Sera, and you’re part of it.” Sera tensed at the mention of how much taller he was than her, felt a wave of indignation flow through her, but he ignored the expression on her face. “I’m going to take care of you,” he promised lowly. “In every way. Mentally, emotionally, sexually. You will never know another, and one can give me what you can.”

“I don’t understand,” Sera confessed shakily, too frightened and shellshocked to vocalize anger. “Give you what?”

The Emperor smirked. “You’re going to give me a number of things only you are capable of,” he informed her slowly, tilting his head to the side. “Happiness, sons.” He paused. “Love.”

Rage filled her veins. “I will not— you’d have to force me,” she hissed, “I have no love for you, and I never will. If you touch me, I’ll slit your throat the first chance I get. I swear it.”

He looked insulted, almost. “I’m not going to force you.” He paused. “I won’t take you until you want me, but you are going to want me.”

“I’ll never want you,” she insisted. “Never.”

“You will,” he responded flatly. “I have prescience, Sera. Did you know that?”

She shook her head, eyes wide.

The Emperor nodded. “I know exactly what you and I are meant for, what we’ve always been meant for. The first time I take you, it will be in my bed, and you will spread your legs and beg for me.”

She was confused. Why would she spread her legs? She bled from there, had seen her mother and sister-in-law birth babies from there— why would he want that?

“Oh, my darling girl,” he breathed, caging her in by placing his hands on the door her back was against at either side of her head. “You really are an innocent, aren’t you? Worry not. I’ll teach you. I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life, give you more pleasure than you know what to do with. You’ll get addicted to me, and I to you.”

“I don’t understand,” she confessed, terrified. “You aren’t going to force yourself on me?”

He shook his head vehemently. “No. I have no desire to touch a woman who doesn’t want it, first of all. Second, I need only wait. You’ll want me before long.”

“I think not, Your Majesty,” she snapped back.

“Call me Paul, lovely one. And you will. I’ve seen it.”

“Seen what, Paul?” Sera demanded, scoffing as she said his name.

“You. Us.”

“Us?”

“It’s difficult to explain when you don’t know how it works,” he informed her slowly. “I’ll describe it in more detail when you’re ready, but I’ve seen us in bed together. I’ve seen you kissing me, touching me, loving me. I’ve seen you pregnant with my children. You are mine, Sera. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not yours. I will never be yours.”

“You will,” Paul informed her flatly. “You can delay it, but there is no escaping this. We are inevitable. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. You cannot prevent it, either.”

She lifted her chin at him defiantly. “Watch me.”

Yeah I know it took me awhile to get chapter one out but what you have to keep in mind is that 1) I’m severely ADD and 2) I do what I want get rekt

Tag list: @meetmyothersouls @ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea

To be added, please ask 💗

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